#i take the parts that i remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what i say or love me back

[waterparksdrama]

awsten gotta come back so this blog can thrive again, i live to see awsten being the 31 year old insane white man he is and what THE waterparksdrama gotta say about it

he's been away long enough that i can misinterpret his character freely and joyfully

^^^^ this is a gummy bear. and a woman - iz

[asthmasam]

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, brief mentions of sex, oral sex.

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 2 PART3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel that comes home tired of another day at the spider society, dealing with more than he can take on.

Needy Miguel that feels the weight of the multiverse on his shoulders and feels empty inside when he opens the door of his room and nobody is there to greet him and comfort him.

Needy Miguel that drags his feet to bed exhausted, disengages his suit and lays flat naked on the bed, his body drained of energy.

Needy Miguel that tries to drift off to sleep but thoughts of you earlier on the day when you were together on a mission start invading his head, making him hot and bothered.

Needy Miguel that even though he’s tired and he know he’ll regret this in the morning gives his already hard cock a couple of testing tugs and immediately moans and squeezes his throbbing member at the thought of how good the curve of your ass looks in your spider suit.

Needy Miguel that dry fucks his fist angrily out of frustration of not having anyone that can satisfy him, not having a warm body against his, at the frustration of not being able to tell you how he feels about you, about not having the opportunity of fucking your sweet cunt instead of his own fist like every other day when he finds himself at this exact same situation.

Needy Miguel that stitches his eyebrows together as he thinks about how your moans would sound probably like heaven as he fucks you senseless, picturing your legs spreading out for him, your inner thighs full of bruises that he left after eating you out and making you come on his tongue at least 3 times before he buried his fat cock deep inside you.

Needy Miguel that decides to finally reach out for the lube and drip down some drops, moaning and arching his back at the sensation of the cold substance against his hot head.

Needy Miguel that likes to edge himself, likes to fuck his fist fast to then slow down and just rub his thumb against the underside of his weeping swollen red tip making his legs shiver and whimper in need.

Needy Miguel that plays with his balls with his free hand, pulls them down, kneads at them, stretches them and brings them together as he feels a sweet relief from that.

Needy Miguel that changes positions in bed and closes his eyes, resting his feet flat on the bed to meet each violent and fast tug of his hand with a thrust of his hips as a loud groan erupts from his chest and resonates all over his penthouse.

Needy Miguel that was too tired to even notice that when he threw his gizmo next to him in bed, he accidentally called you, the live feed option turning on, making you witness everything; hearing each moan and sweet sound he made, praising your name over and over again until finally loads and loads of thick cum ran down his knuckles when he met his release.

Fair for me to say you’re gonna probably have an interesting chat with him tomorrow.

AN: This is my first post writing smut for Miguel, I had a revelation about him after I woke up knowing that I dreamed about him but sadly I don’t remember what it was about 😭😭

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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Fics Masterlist

[taintandviolent]

feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites  out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage,  and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.   

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”  

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin.  “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.  

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.  

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…”  He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

~

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…”  You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”  

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

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[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 17

George is so sweet to put so much effort into helping Ringo write his song and to not ask for any kind of writing credit. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, right? But also, I’d do that for Ringo too if I were him. Ringo deserves it for everything he’s given to that band and the little credit he’s received. 

“What am I playing, Richie?” “You’ll be on drooms.” If the Beatles know how to do one thing, it’s be cute. 

John, stop talking about Paul’s strong arms, you're embarrassing yourself. 

I do have to just include this here. From my Get Back book. I never heard, “was it sexually oriented?” on the nagra reels, but apparently that’s what Peter Jackson’s cleaned-up version gave him, and again, he was like, “hmm. Too gay.” 

He’s known Heather for how long? Less than a year, right? But if somebody had showed me just this footage and told me he’d raised her from a newborn, I would not blink an eye. That kind of tired but fond interaction is exactly how a dad plays with his kid. And she’s climbing all over him and bossing him around like he’s never not been in her life. It’s beautiful. 

And John, with his “are you going to eat them?” is the perfect sort of bad-example favorite uncle. The kind that would check her out of school when she’s older and go get her ears pierced when her dad had said she was too young. 

Sorry, I promise I’m not just going to be thirsting over dad Paul this whole time. I have to just make one thing clear, and this is the only thing I’ll say on the subject and then I’m done. If a man is a 3 and a good dad, he’s a 10. Paul was already an 11, so I’m literally just done-for. Okay, I’ll shut up. 

John and Paul doing their usual thing, only paying attention to each other. Talking about an Elvis gospel ending for Let it Be. George, smirking, stands up: and we’ll all kneel as you do it. If John had said it, Paul would be in stitches. But George said it, and he might as well have never opened his mouth for all the notice he gets. And it’s honestly heartbreaking, if you can take your eyes off of the insanity of John and Paul’s weird eye-contact, to watch George’s face go from excited at his own wit and hopeful for a laugh to just completely downcast. Twelve years of that. Twelve years. 

Ringo, you’re an absolute saint. He’s being so sweet to Heather, even letting her mess with his symbols, and then Paul has the audacity to tell him to “keep it lighter.” Like. Paul. Do you think that maybe the fact that he’s got a five-year-old over there “helping” him might have anything to do with how the drums are coming out? Just a thought. Anyone else would at least have something to say about it. Ringo just sort of nods along but he looks SO tired.

TFW you’re inspiring the next generation of women to be loud and free and take up space.

“Dig it” is actually insane to me. I know I’m crazy, but remember those twin dreams they had about buried treasure when they first met? “If you want it, you can dig it up.” ???

When George and Paul just jump into harmonizing together when they’re talking about The Long and Winding Road arrangement? Their voices are like magic together. I wish they would’ve had George sing that part in the final thing, actually.  

[maximumkillshot]

"I Can't Lose You" Part 5

Warnings: Aftermath of a miscarriage, some fluff, descriptions of grief due to losing a baby, Crying LeeKnow, There are flashes of death. Shock, Grief, There is anger... and yes that's a warning.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters:  Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Ok if you read the above, you'll notice that anger is in the warnings... We are going to see a lot here. Hold on, okay? I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE.

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

Previously:

That half an hour never went by quicker. They stood on the phone as they waited, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. As soon as the clock hit 8:30 am all I could hear was wind… 

"We are running to you right now!" Minho said. 

I could hear the occasional shove and giggle. A few minutes later there was a stampede of sneakers on the floor and as they walked in Minho said "In 3..2..1.." then he pulled the curtain back and hung up. 

Now:

Everyone gave Minho a little room. He wouldn't admit it, but he has a soft spot for you, he always did. From the minute you came into their lives, Minho always treated you like a sister. 

He held and still holds the utmost respect for you. He trusted you so much. He would fall asleep on you during long drives, give you the keys to his place to play with the cats, he also would talk to you about any and everything. 

You still looked pale, frail, and exhausted. Your face sunken in, every move causing a slight wince. You were a shell of who you normally are. He could sense it. That is what made him want to break. Where is his bubbly, eccentric, and lively sister? Where is the sparkle in your eyes? The immediate hearty laugh that he came to know and love.

Some of his best memories with you were full of smiles and laughs. Like when you tried to learn how to cook beef Wellington and you almost burned the kitchen down and all you did was laugh and say "it's the Wellington's fault! I did what I was told to do and it decided to burn." Your smile was ear to ear and your cheeks had the cutest blush to them.

Now when he saw you, you did smirk… but not smile. It didn't reach your eyes. He could feel the hole in your heart. Fresh and still bleeding. He wanted to find where that chunk of your heart went, put it back, and stitch you back together again, even though, deep down, he knew you wouldn't get that piece back.

Minho wanted to put you back together, like what you've done for him thousands of times. He wanted to hold you and protect you, to shelter you, he wanted to take it away. All of it. As the oldest he didn't want to let it show, but he felt responsible.

How did he not see the signs? They were all right in his face. Leaving practice last minute, chuckling and giggling at his phone but refusing to show it to him, even some as blatant as he's going to meet up with a "friend". Minho still replays it in his head. Seeing Soo walk down that hallway only took the knife already in every single one of the boys' hearts and twisted it more. She was mortified when she saw the boys staring at her. Her face looked like it was already white, the blush of embarrassment was clear. He remembered everyone's faces and reactions. 

Felix looked disgusted to be in the same room as her. Seungmin was glaring at her, clear that all he wanted to do was scream at her, shame her. Han almost screamed at her as well as Hyunjin. Minho had to cover Han’s mouth while Innah covered Hyunjin’s. Minho knew that they had to listen to what was happening down the hall. They had to make sure that you were okay, that’s why it was imperative for everyone to be quiet. Minho knows it takes two people to cheat, and that fact alone made all of this even worse. How could anyone do this to their best friend? She let herself out with a small ‘I’m sorry’.

But by far the worst expression was Changbin’s. Bin’s eyes still haunt Minho. He was the first to see her walking down, as he was the most on edge in the room. Seeing Soo? That shocked his system, he slowly backed up until he hit the wall farthest from the hall, clearly not his conscious being doing it. Minho could see the fact that Bin was not completely registering he was seeing her. When it finally did hit, Minho saw Bin’s being shatter for you. Minho saw as his eyes snapped from Soo to the hallway. His feet were frozen, he was trying to move closer to the hall again, wanting to move. Minho knew why he couldn’t move, he was broken for you. How do you comfort someone that was betrayed by their spouse and their best friend? He was so shocked, he let his body slide down the wall, hands in his hair. He kept looking down the hall, hearing intently, just in case he was needed but still in a crouch.

He felt a rage building at the memory, he saw himself going back to the house and dragging him here. Watching as he sees his whole life crumble in front of him. Even that wouldn't be enough payment for what he's done. 

Then he looked into your eyes, kindness and strength were all he could find. After all of this shit how are you still kind? How are you strong? He thought to himself. If he was in your shoes he would’ve dropped everyone and everything. Yet here you were. Welcoming Minho in. Your broken pieces in your hands, heart still bleeding, your life crumbling in one night, Why are you looking at me like that? He thought. 

A look of comforting silence, the want to help, why do you always want to help? Your hands open, showing the pieces, offering them to him…Everything is gone and you still want to give? His chest was getting tight and he didn’t know it but he started shaking slightly.

 Your voice mere minutes ago playing, ‘I can’t lose you MinMin. I can’t lose my boys, m’not strong enough,’He felt his being deflate, his soul cracking. Oh… we’re all you have. You are kind, loving,giving, strong, resilient, graceful, funny, and a million other things. Why? Why did he do that to her, why I don’t understand. She didn’t do anything. She only gave, time, affection, love to everyone she meets so why? Why did he do that to her? Why did they do that to her? It makes no sense. He was subconsciously bargaining. Wishing he fell asleep in the car, or he was in some elaborate nightmare… then why isn’t the nightmare ending, he feels his heart breaking, it should be over. He’s scared, not for himself but for you. The scream was real. Bin’s reaction was real… this isn’t a nightmare I WANT TO WAKE UP!.. He already was awake. 

Minho was so in his head that he didn't realize that he was crying, he was brought back by Changbin…

"Would you like to touch her? You can, Hyung." He said gently. His touch was equally as gentle, nudging Minho to the bed. Changbin loves you, a lot. A close second is Minho. No one, not even Minho could pin the type of love it is. All he knows that if you so much as get cut he is physically restraining himself not to coddle you. Which has never happened in his life, even with his exes. That’s why Bin is taking such a soft approach to this. 

Changbin’s aware that he had no choice but to accept what has happened. He was there when it happened. He saw all of it. Minho didn’t. The most he heard was your scream. Which, given, is enough to understand the severity. Believing and understanding are two things. Believing is the heart. Understanding is the mind. Understanding why a door opens is completely different from believing the door can open. He understood you screamed but his mind didn’t believe that what happened actually happened.

You patted the open space you made for him to lay as you said "C'mere MinMin… you wanted a hug, yeah? I promise I won't break." 

You noticed that Minho looked scared. He looked like you had asked him to throw porcelain at a wall. So you said, "I know it's a shock, but I'm here… I'm going to be okay. Can I have a hug or a cuddle please?" 

He walked to you and laid down. The minute you touched his skin he started crying harder. He’s a visual person. He can imagine a move before he makes it. That same gift is why he cried harder. He knew how close it was to him visiting a corpse at a funeral home. The milisecond you touched him, he imagined himself touching you for the last time, cold, in a coffin. That sent searing pain through his heart. He had no other choice but to sob. All you did was hold him and put his head right to your chest so he could hear your heartbeat. Letting him know in your own way, that you'll be okay. That you are alive. That there's nothing for him to feel bad or responsible for. 

He has been through a lot, and because of his outward nature he isn’t seen as a super touchy feely person, but he can never explain to you how happy he was that you put his head where you did. He had confirmation that you’re alive. It was beating right by his ear. Your heart is strong, you are here. He looked to Bin; whose face looked so empathetic then, as if to say to him I understand. It’s okay. 

He held your waist so gently, you could barely feel it. It ghosted over your frame like the sadness rolling off of Minho himself. As he laid there, crying he noticed how close he was to your belly too. That added on yet another level of sadness and pain. He knew you would've made a great mom. You're caring, compassionate, and to top it all off you carry yourself with such strength and grace. He would've loved to see it. 

Han came up to Minho and rubbed his leg as he directed the rest of the members except for Bin to hang back. Bin closed the curtain a little more.

Bin told him, "She's going to get better. She's seeing another doctor today a little before lunch and then after lunch, they're doing more tests for her iron count. But she's already feeling better." 

Han said, "I know she looks really sick, but she is going to be out of the woods soon." 

You said "Just having you here makes me feel so much better," and you kissed the back of his head. 

Minho said, "I'm sorry. I should've seen it."

You looked at him and said "It was something no one would have dreamed of him doing. I saw odd occurrences but I just said 'he'd never do that' and here we are. You are not responsible for another man's actions, okay?" 

You wiped his tears as he looked up at you, "Are you okay?" He asked with the most broken look on his face.

"I am now," you smiled at him and he just stood there for a bit. Lying on your chest while you combed through his hair with your hand while he calmed down. 

After a few minutes, the curtain was opened back up and you were swarmed by hugs, kisses, and everything in between. When everything settled down you asked a question that no one expected you to.

"How is Chris doing?" You even surprised yourself with that one but you couldn't help but wonder how he was.

Minho said, "he collapsed after Bin told us the news." 

I.N. continued "Everything from ‘I want to take it back’, to ‘Please God let her get through this." It was clear that he was over even giving Chan another iota of his time and breath. He didn’t tell you or anyone else about his feelings often. That’s because I.N. can come off as unfeeling, very blunt in many ways. He knew that if he were to say what he actually wanted to, it's not only going to do no good to the situation, but it’d also cause more grief for everyone involved. He just wanted the storm to be over already, the more he looks at you, though, the more he can tell that the storm just began. 

None of the boys would tell you, but I.N. was very close to killing Chan last night, you see he was the only one in the same room as Minho when he called Changbin. Chris was pacing so much right next to Minho that after he yelled at him to shut the fuck up, he ducked into Han’s room, to talk to him, I.N went with him. He just wanted to hear you were okay. That was all he wanted. He heard your screams, and Hannies stunned silence for what felt like years, only to hear “I’ve gotta go.” Right after that happened I.N stormed out, looking for Chan to kill him, if it wasn’t for Seungmin heading him off, I.N. would probably be in prison right now.

Seungmin said "Oh you forgot about my favorite, ‘I promise I'll make it right’. Like he ever could." His face turned hard at that moment. Understanding that no one can bring that baby back, take that trauma away. As if  a baby could so easily be forgotten, to ‘make it right’. 

You didn’t know but Seungmin felt nauseous at that sentence. Knowing Chan like he does, he’d probably try to not only convince you to get back together but to try again too fast. That thought is what made bile rise in his throat as he knows that Chan is the type to try to fix things quickly before anything sets in. Just recounting those thoughts made him debate running to the bathroom to puke. 

He couldn’t understand how someone could see all of the blood on Changbin, narrowly avoiding death via Changbin’s hands, and seeing the proof that a baby once was thriving in his wife and now that is not the case. Literally because of the shock that he caused. If he knew what he did he wouldn’t have said, “I’ll make it right.” He can’t raise the dead, erase your memory, hell he can’t even keep his dick in his pants, apparently; so how pray tell would he do the impossible… He can’t. 

Hyunjin said, "To be honest, none of us care what it does to him because he was the cause of it. He did this to you. To all three of you. We left before we beat him within an inch of his life. We have been waiting in the parking lot since."

There are so many emotions in the room, from disgust, all the way to enraged. One of the people who was enraged was Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin was the type of person to be closed off. A lot of people see him as just a pretty face but he is so much more than that. He’s a fantastic vocalist, rapper, and dancer. However, he is also an amazing artist, painting and drawing being his favorite mediums. So when you came around, Hyunjin was very hands off. You didn’t give up though, seeing his studio and complimenting him endlessly on his talents. 

It took a few months for him to really warm up to you, but once he did, you couldn’t get rid of him. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was very warm and loved to make paintings for you, especially loved studying and drawing your face. He loved the angles and the emotions your face conveys, so some days he’d just walk into whatever room you’re in and he’d start snapping photos. Then he’d disappear into his studio, then the next week he’d bring you the oil painting of your face. Every single one was so pretty and you told him that you aren’t that pretty and every time he’d say, “You aren’t pretty… You’re gorgeous and don’t you ever forget it, My Queen.” His nickname for you was “Queen”. There’s no one as beautiful and regal as a queen, which is why it fits you perfectly. 

The first time he called you that nickname you giggled and said, “Hyunjin, you’re the royalty… not me.” He just told you, “Sure Prince’s are royal and handsome. But there is no one as beautiful, noble, wise, and royal as a Queen on her throne. If that isn’t you I don’t know what is.” Him being his dramatic self, kneeled down and kissed you hand, making you blush and giggle.  

When he looks at you now he is enraged that Chan did something so abhorrent to the person that he considers to be the most beautiful person inside and out, to the Queen. When he sees you now, your eyes lost their spark, lost their brightness. Your gorgeous skin, pale, dull, lacking iron. Your body, weaker than he’s ever seen it be. Your laugh, half hearted. Your smile, his favorite feature, can’t even reach your eyes… All of this and more made him want to tear Chan apart. 

Saying and doing the things that he did and said about you stunned everyone. Especially since you love each and every member and would walk through fire for them. All of the members could see in their heads the analogy ‘stabbed in the back’, coming to life. Both of them took a knife and stabbed you, their sister, their Queen, their best friend. In their eyes, he stabbed all of them, ripping apart the family he spent years creating, gone. 

Just hearing what Chan said after he left, Felix got thrown into the memory of barely 9 hours ago, at the 3 Racha house:

Felix asked Chris to join him on the couch right after Minho and I.N. left the room to talk to Bin. Chris was still waiting outside the room and Felix called him into the living room, once more. As soon as Chris sat down Felix grilled him, “Why Chris? She would do anything for you. Walk through Hell and back, face any and every threat for you… And this is what you do? Why did you even ask her out if you knew Bin-” he got cut off.

“Don’t finish that sentence Felix.” Chan looked at him through lidded eyes, rubbing his face. 

Felix could still see the marks on him, the hickeys, the light scratches on his back. If he got close enough he could still smell her on him. It made Felix sick to his stomach. Felix got angry at that, “THEN FUCKING ANSWER ME CHRIS! WHAT WAS THE POINT? WHY DID YOU HURT HER LIKE THIS?!” 

“She was never supposed to know.” Chris said in a detached manner, “It was just harmless fun! I needed a release Felix, something you wouldn’t know about.” 

Felix’s face broke, throwing his hands up, “Oh really? That’s disgusting. YOU are disgusting. You needed a release? How about going to your gorgeous wife and making love to her? Or y’know, go to the gym, watch some anime… LITERALLY ANYTHING OTHER THAN CHEATING!”

Chris said, “I tried all of that, Felix. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Felix’s jaw dropped, “ You’re right, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I don’t know how we didn’t see you before. This,” he motioned to Chris’ body, “Is the real you… and it’s vile. How dare you do that to her! How dare you make her feel inferior, degrade her in her own home, in her own bed.” 

Then Felix said something that he will never regret in his life, “You never deserved her. Bin should’ve been with her from DAY ONE! You are pathetic.” He glared at Chan, who got up to size up to Felix.  Felix got up and matched him, unphased as he said, “I hope she leaves you. As a matter of fact, I pray that she leaves you because she doesn’t deserve to wonder what her husband is doing behind her back. She deserves to be pampered. She deserves to be with someone who actually wants to spend time with her and love her. She deserves to be taken care of. Because all she has EVER done for us, is take care of us.”

He then got in Chris’ face as he said, “I hope to GOD that she leaves you for Changbin. That way she’ll know what real love is. And if anything happens to Y/N or my niece or nephew… God help you. God help you and your whore. You both ruined two lives today and I will NEVER let you forget it. I promise you that.” 

Chris didnt say anything as Felix growled with all of the base in his voice, “Now…Sit… the fuck… down.” 

It was only when Han changed the subject that Felix was ripped from the memory.

Han could sense where the conversation was going and he immediately changed the subject, he started to crack jokes and mess with the other members. After a bit you yawned and reached for Bin, “Binnie…” 

He looked at you, saw you yawn again, and he laid down with you, “ok come here.” He said as he gently cradled you. He petted your hair back as you wiggled yourself closer, finally sighing when you deemed Binnie close enough to let the heat seep into your bones.

Han looked and said, “Oh I get it. I am right here, perfect for cuddling and you pick him I get it.” he started smirking at you but leaned over to kiss your forehead on Bin’s chest. 

Despite the noise in the room, you were out in minutes. Hyunjin was the first to notice, who nudged Felix, who then set off a chain reaction until everyone was smirking at you and Bin cuddling. 

He wasn’t focused on them though, he was running his fingers through your hair, drawing random patterns on your back as he watched you sleep. It was only when he saw a faint flash that he looked up to see Hyunjin with his phone up. He looked at them and mouthed, “don’t make me laugh she just got to sleep.”

But no one was laughing. They always could tell the fondness he had for you. It was so obvious Minho would tell him to stop following you around like a puppy. It was their way of saying that they knew.

That whole thought made his face drop. In his head, he should’ve never let Chan within 100 feet of you. He went to Chan about the crush he had on you first, being one of his closest friends. He was asking for advice on how to get over his nerves and just ask you out.

  Chris has psyched him out, though, saying things like, "I don't think she's into you, man. She seems a bit more interested in me. But don't worry, I'll take care of her." And "I don't know man. I mean you can try but if she rejects you, you have to be prepared for that. I wouldn't if I were you though. You seem like the friend type for her. Not the boyfriend type." 

He was thinking about how he should've followed his own heart and gut, which are rarely on the same page. Both of you love working out, music, food, nutrition, the list goes on and on. One of his favorite memories with you is before anyone asked you out. 

You had invited him to the Han River. He didn't know why but it was a picnic you set up for him especially. He had gotten very stressed out during a meeting with the execs in the company he works for. They had told him to lose weight… yet again. He doesn't feel comfortable at a lower weight. He feels physically weaker, his mind not as sharp. 

You yourself had tried to explain to Chan what Bin was feeling. That’s largely because you have always struggled with feeling good at the weight you were at but everyone told you, you were just too big. When you had gone through similar diets you felt like a walking zombie. You couldn’t even think of going to the gym, because your brain just didn’t work with no fuel.

The societal pressure onto that only added to the chaos, and you couldn’t imagine how lonely it felt to be told by employers that you need to cut down, as well as go to the hectic schedules that Bin had to, and worry about making content, and trying to keep at least some of your life private. You couldn’t see him go through that alone. 

That was when you had the picnic. He had no idea that you knew about that meeting, but it was actually Felix that tipped you off to it. If there’s anyone in the world who would get what Bin was going through it was you. As always, you knew how to make Bin smile. You set up at his favorite spot, making healthy foods and also packing some of his favorite shakes. When he walked up to it, his face lit up, and so did yours. He ended up playing hooky that day, and spent the whole day with you. It’s one of his favorite memories. Now it's bittersweet.

He was mad at himself at those thoughts, Chris was so clearly into you so he used Bin’s insecurities against him… and it had worked. He thought about how all of this wouldn’t have happened and you and him would be happy together. That’s all he ever wanted for you. That was why he let you go in the first place. He wanted you to be happy.

After about a half an hour of hushed talking while Bin kept you relaxed, a set of footsteps walked down the hall. Just hearing them, Bin’s ears perked up. They had an authority to them, almost pompous in nature. Commanding… he knows those steps.

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[glorious-spoon]

U …on a place of insecurity for steddie? 👀

Hi, and thank you! This got a little bit out of control, :D

-

The scars don't bother Eddie. They're not the first ones he's gotten; they won't be the last. He mourns the ragged bites missing from some of his tattoos, but he can always get new ones. And all things considered, as far as body art goes, it's hard to get more metal than a bunch of scars from being nearly torn apart by supernatural monsters.

Like. Metal as fuck.

It doesn't occur to him for a long time that Steve might feel differently. Part of it, at least for a while, is a case of embarrassing hero-worship that was probably inevitable after the guy slung him over his shoulders and carried him out of the underworld. Part of it is that Steve has a better poker face than Eddie anticipated, and a lot of experience at shoving down the stuff that bothers him so that he can keep moving.

So it takes him a while to notice that Steve wears collared shirts all the time now, scarves in the winter, turtlenecks that make him look like some kind of artsy hipster that he definitely is not. 

The scar on his throat fades from vivid purple to pink, but it still shows up when he tans, which Eddie knows because Robin (and, okay, the judicious application of Eddie's best weed) has convinced Steve to pull off his shirt and join them in the lake on this particular late-August day when they are, for once, not babysitting a pack of children.

"Come on," Steve complains, but he seems looser now, easier in his own skin than he usually is these days.

"Come on," Robin mimics. "Or I'm going to push you in with your clothes on."

"I'd like to see you try," Steve mutters, but he peels his polo shirt up and off over his head and tosses it behind him on the dock. There's miles upon miles of gorgeous skin, dotted with freckles and moles, and—yeah, a whole bunch of scars. Most of them are similar to Eddie's: torn skin stitched back together, the ragged lines of grafts and stretch marks that the doctor assured him would fade with time, as if he gives a shit. Eddie's are worse, but Steve still has the look of a patchwork doll clumsily stitched back together in some places. The line around his throat makes Eddie wince, though. It looks like someone tried to hang him; it reminds him too vividly of that moment in the Upside Down. Steve on his back, trapped and struggling and slowly strangling as he was eaten alive.

Steve glances at him. His shoulders hunch, almost imperceptibly, and then he shakes his head and dives smoothly into the water, taking long enough to surface that Eddie considers panicking about it.

Then Steve's sleek head breaks the surface. Robin splashes him, and he blows a fountain of water at her, and then Eddie gets in on it and it rapidly turns into a free-for-all before they all finally retreat back to shore, exhausted, and Steve pulls his shirt back on without even waiting to dry off.

They don't talk about it, not then. But Eddie spends the rest of the day thinking about it, and the rest of the following day, and then it's a week later and he's making out with Steve on the couch at his new trailer, which has probably been a long time coming, to be honest.

Steve's an unsurprisingly good kisser, and he seems perfectly enthusiastic about Eddie's wandering hands, laughing under his breath and hauling Eddie in until he's straddling him. Eddie laughs, delighted, and kisses him again. It's all going fucking great until his fingers brush the edges of the scar that winds up to a narrow terminus under Steve's jaw.

He feels it when Steve goes still, and doesn't realize why for a moment. Then he remembers.

"Should I not—"

"Sorry," Steve says immediately, and drops his head back against the couch, wincing. Eddie shifts his weight, wondering if he should move. But Steve's hands are still on his thighs, and he doesn't seem like he's about to shove Eddie off.

"Nah, man, it's okay. I get it, trust me. If you want me to be like" —he lifts both hands, palm out, demonstrating— "you know, hands off about the battle scars kinda thing…"

Steve makes a face, half a wince. "You noticed that, huh."

"I notice a lot of things about you," Eddie says honestly.

"Sorry."

"Like, I totally get it—I mean, not totally, obviously, but I'm not gonna do something if it freaks you out."

Steve sighs. "It doesn't freak me out. They're just—I don't know. Fucking ugly."

"They're not," Eddie says immediately.

Silence for a moment. Then Steve says, "I'm sorry. That was a dick thing to say."

"Oh, what, you mean because we got matching body art now?" Eddie asks.

"I mean. Yeah."

"Doesn't bother me. They're metal as fuck."

Steve smiles a little. And it's wanting to keep that smile, maybe, that has Eddie sitting back across his thighs to pull his shirt off and toss it aside, leaving him on display—scars and all. Steve's breath catches a little, but the look on his face isn't freaked out; instead, it's soft and wondering. "Can I—?"

"By all means knock yourself out," Eddie says, and then Steve's warm hands are smoothing lightly up his sides, over the patchy scar tissue. It still feels weird—oversensitive in some places, numb in others—but something about the way Steve is touching him right now feels reverent, almost. Then he leans forward to press a careful kiss to the worst of them, a big ragged shiny patch spanning the front and top of Eddie's left shoulder. Eddie shudders; Steve sighs against his skin.

"You like that," he says.

"I'm gonna be totally honest with you, I'll probably like just about anything you want to do right now."

Steve huffs out a laugh, ducking his head, and leans up to kiss Eddie's mouth again. Then he leans back and peels his shirt off too, a quick movement that almost ends in him elbowing Eddie in the face.

He's gorgeous like this, all freckled skin and sturdy muscles. And yeah, the scars—it's not that Eddie doesn't get Steve's deal with them. They're a physical reminder of the pain, of all the shit they went through, and they're the kind of thing that most people would probably have questions about, even if that question was just holy shit what happened, did it hurt?

Eddie was there, though. He knows.

"You can touch me," Steve says after a moment, during which Eddie seriously contemplates sitting on his hands to keep from doing exactly that. "If you want."

"Oh, thank god," Eddie says, all in a rush, and Steve starts laughing, the tension between them breaking.

Or not breaking, he thinks, as he slides a careful hand up Steve's scarred chest, lightly flicking a nipple as he goes and watching the quick intake of breath that nets him. Not breaking, just changing shape. Becoming sweeter. He keeps touching Steve, slow and careful, and feels Steve's tense body loosen beneath him just as slowly. Only then does he lean forward to press his mouth to the side of Steve's throat, where the scar is thickest.

Steve's breath catches again. Eddie stills.

"This okay?" he asks. His lips don't leave Steve's skin, so he can feel the way that Steve swallows before he nods.

"Yeah," he whispers. "It's okay."

Eddie kisses him again, closed-mouthed and lingering and as sweet as he can make it.

"Just means we survived," he whispers. "All this shit just means we made it. We're still here."

"Yeah," Steve whispers again. He tilts his head back, baring his throat to Eddie's mouth, and shudders when he kisses him there again. "I'm really glad we're still here."

[wardenparker]

Next to Normal, part 3

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: 18+! Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Reader's age isn't pinpointed but you/she are old enough to remember the way the world worked before the Outbreak. Swearing. PTSD, past death of a child, mentions of pregnancy and STIs, panic attack, trauma reactions, home invasion, threats of murder, infliction of mortal injuries, descriptions of broken bones and other wounds, blink and you’ll miss It mention of drug use, manipulation, gaslighting, revenge, conspiracy, death. DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT. This chapter contains graphic violence! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Summary: Things have been going well with Joel until one fateful movie night. It will take fighting past all of your demons to make it to your happily ever after. Notes: The finale of this three-parter was particularly emotional for me to write and the relief of a happy ending was absolutely necessary. My hope is that there is absolutely no one in the world who can relate to the reader as she/you go through hell, but I'm realistic enough to know better. So to all my kindred spirits who struggle, I hope you find catharsis in reader's journey.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

Winter turned to spring with an ease and grace that almost made you forget that times are hard. The outside world is moving in whatever way it does, but Jackson is doing well. Ellie is learning basic agriculture in the fields on her school break and Joel is becoming more and more a way a part of how this town runs. He gets consulted on matters as a prominent citizen, from the basic to the complicated. This morning he was off at another meeting but he’ll be all yours for the afternoon, and then there is the movie at night. It is shaping up to be a nearly perfect day, as days go in this world, and you sit in your sewing nook letting out the seams on some dresses for a family in town with young girls — they’re growing like weeds and the girls’ favorite dresses are now too tight. Well, you can certainly fix that.

“Joel?” The door opens and Tommy sticks his head in to see if his brother is here. “Sorry, is Joel here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s in the basement.” It’s become something of a workshop for him, but you wave for Tommy to come in. He knows the way down. “Is everything okay?”

“Had something come up.” Tommy admits, shuffling into the house and shutting the door. “Need to see if he can help.”

“I’m sure he can.” Instinctively, and wanting to be helpful, you set your sewing aside and move to the open door at the top of the basement stairs. “Joel? Tommy’s here to see you, honey.”

“Send him down.” Joel calls back up, grunting and there’s the sound of something being set down on the concrete floor. “Or send him away. Hell if I wanna put up with him.” He jokes.

“Asshole.” Tommy jokes with a rumble, but thanks you and heads down the stairs. “The hell you doing down here, building a bunker? The world already ended.”

Joel snorts and shrugs. “Makin’ some cabinets for her.” He motions towards the half-finished organizers. “For her doo-dads and stuff. Figured I might get it done by Christmas if I started now.”

“She’s happy.” It makes Tommy smile to see the two of you together these days. You’ve come so far with Joel, and he has softened so much with you. “It’s good to see.”

“You come to see me for any one reason? Or to comment on domestic bliss?” He raises a brow at his brother, slightly uncomfortable with the idea that your happiness is tied to him. You’ve been healing, but he’s not entirely sure that it’s because of him.

“Need you to come downtown.” Leaning back against the wall, Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Patrol got their asses handed to them by a group of raiders and some wanderer helped them out of a tight spot. They blindfolded him and brought him back to town to stitch him up and they’re talking about letting him stay. But town council needs to meet on it and interview the guy.”

Joel isn’t a council member, even though some apparently thought him as good as one. “Can’t.” He shakes his head. “Gotta work on that pen with Ellie and then it’s movie night.”

“I know it’s movie night.” Tommy digs the toe of his boot into the floor of the basement. “That’s why they wanted this settled fast. Nobody wants to give up movie night.” He nods though, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll tell ‘em you were busy.”

“Sorry.” Joel frowns slightly. “I just— I promised her a night.” He lowers his voice and looks towards the stairs to make sure you aren’t coming down. “It’s…that time and I’m tryin’ to keep her busy so the nightmares don’t come.”

“I know.” Tommy nods, knowing exactly what time of year you were found, considering he was the one who found you. Your boy should be turning a year old tomorrow, but that will never happen. “Is she…how has she been?”

“There’s some rough days.” Joel won’t deny that, he can’t. “But I think being here with us, living with me and Ellie, has been good for her.”

“It’s as normal as any of us are going to get.” Tommy offers, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll get out of your hair. You good, otherwise?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoots his brother a look. “Thanks, for covering for me.”

"Once Maria gets your ass on the town council there won't be any helping you." He shoots his brother a grin and Tommy shakes his head, laughing at the thought. "See you tonight?"

Joel snorts. “See you tonight.” He promises, frowning as Tommy quickly ascends the stairs and huffs. His own knees would be crackling at the pace his younger brother was moving. The truth was, Joel didn’t want to stray too far from you over the next day or so, so he had come up with reasons to work down in the basement.

"Everything okay?" When you stick your head down the stairs a few minutes later after seeing Tommy out the door, Joel has his head back over his workbench.

“Yeah.” Joel looks up and is met with a worried shadow in your eyes. “Nothin’ to worry about. He just was tryin’ to recruit me for council business again.”

"They want you to join." Coming halfway down the stairs, you sit on the middle step as you've become accustomed to. It keeps you close to him but not close enough to be underfoot.

“Councils.” He snorts, looking up at you with a roll of his eyes. “Can you imagine me on a council?”

"They'd probably get more done," you tell him honestly. "Because you wouldn't put up with them sitting around talking in circles all day."

“I don’t talk, I act.” You know this, though he probably talks to you more than anyone else in this goddamn town.

"I know, love. That's why they want you." Still, you understand his hesitance to join in on anything like that. Joel doesn't like politicking and he doesn't like being responsible for anymore than just your little family.

“They can want in one hand…” he trails off and looks back up at you. “How’s the sewing going? That peddle workin’ alright on the machine?”

"Things are going a hell of a lot faster thanks to you." The previous town seamstress's sewing machine had broken and there hadn't been any luck in fixing it before Joel. Now, though? You're moving through projects with ease. "Thank you for that."

“Anything for you.” The simplicity of the words don’t smudge their meaning. Joel would do anything for you. It’s just the way he’s wired.

"I love you, too." A fact which still reduces you to a stammering schoolgirl in some ways, but it's the truth. Loving Joel has restored you in so many ways.

He huffs in embarrassment but his eyes soften as he sends you a small smile. “Love you too.”

“I’ll let you work.” As much as you like to be close to him as much as possible, you know he has work to do and so do you. “When are you going to help Ellie with the pen?”

“When she comes tracking back in.” Joel snorts and shoots you a look. “You tell her that if she doesn’t brush off her boots, she’s sweepin’ the floors.”

“Okay, love.” You chuckle softly as you get up from the stairs and blow him a kiss before heading back upstairs.

Joel watches you walk up the stairs, frowning slightly. He’s worried, waking up with a sense of foreboding that he’s learned to not ignore. Something’s going to happen. Walking over to a cabinet, he opens it to reveal the supplies he’s started slowly acquiring. His eyes narrow slightly, reaching out and touching the hunting knife in front of him.

******

“Joel c’mon, we’re gonna be laaaate!” Ellie wails across the pen, pulling her jacket back on after their work is done.

“Alright.” The kid needs to learn to put her tools up, but she did a decent job. “Grab your stuff.”

“I got it!” She yells, triumphantly holding up the tool belt that Tommy had lent to her for the work.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You aren’t eager for the movie are you? Or is it more the person you’re sittin’ with?”

The grin instantly slips from Ellie’s face and morphs into an embarrassed blush. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” she mumbles, kicking the dirt.

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” Joel scoffs. “Dina’s a nice girl. You obviously like spending time with her.”

“She’s so pretty.” There’s a dreamy quality to the teenager’s face when she looks up again and Ellie swings herself over to Joel’s side enthusiastically. “And she…she holds my hand sometimes. But I probably shouldn’t overthink that, right?”

“Don’t under think it either.” Joel cautions her. “Don’t want her to think that you’re bored by her.”

“Right.” That seemed to not even occur to Ellie, and she furrows her brow in tight as they start to walk back toward their house. “Is that what happened with you guys? Why she didn’t know you even liked her at first?”

“Probably.” Joel admits easily. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, kid, but I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Oh no, I know.” The grin she beams at him is enormous, like Joel’s grumpiness is her private amusement. “Somehow she doesn’t seem to care, though.”

“No, she doesn’t.” A fact that continues to astonish him. “But I try to be less of an asshole to her. That’s important in a relationship.” He tells Ellie like he’s imparting important wisdom.

“Don’t…be an asshole…to…Dina.” Ellie mimics writing the advice in the air on an invisible chalkboard and smirks. “Got it.”

“Good.” He snorts, rolling his eyes and huffing at the sarcasm displayed by the teenager. “You could get her some ice cream tonight.” He suggests.

“Ya think?” It seems to be an idea that hasn’t yet occurred to Ellie and immediately her eagerness has her walking faster. “Ohhh, yeah. She’d love that!”

Joel watches her pull ahead in amusement. “It’s the little things that count, kid.”

She could make a joke about his little thing, but that’s just gross to think about and she flinches instead as she walks along the road. “It’s just hard to know, ya know?” She says after a while. “If she likes me or not, I mean.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Joel doesn’t treat it as a joke, because it’s not. People are still emotional creatures and yearn for connection, even at the end of the world. “You should ask her to do something.” He suggests. “Something different.”

“Like when you guys go star gazing?” She asks, turning around to face him while she walks backward.

Joel smirks slightly, knowing that the star gazing often turns into more, but he just shrugs. “Something like that. Bird watching, star gazing, collecting shiny rocks from the riverbed.”

“Shiny rocks is good.” Like it’s the most profound thought in the world, Ellie nods. “We could go, like…walking on the river and pick up stones and look for birds?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and smiles at the sight of Ellie staring off dreamily as she imagines her date. “Just be safe, you know?” He adds, clearing his throat. “Just because, you know, there can’t be babies doesn’t mean you can’t catch something.”

“Oh, ew, okay, way to ruin it.” She sticks her tongue out at him and makes a grossed out sound just as the house comes into view.

“Yeah, that’s what I get for trying to talk about that shit.” He chuckles and winces at the way he has managed to mess that up. “I’m sure you know all about what you need to know.” You have been a great motherly figured and he feels like having Ellie to dote on has helped you too.

It’s a few minutes later that Ellie busts in the front door of the house and sheds her jacket and tool belt to immediately to run upstairs. “Everything okay?” You ask Joel when he ambles in after her. “Ellie didn’t say a word when she came in. I’m assuming either something went wrong or she’s nervous about seeing Dina?”

Joel grins, a mischievous glint to his gaze as he looks at you. “Embarrassed her.” He admits shamelessly. “Told her that just because there won’t be no babies, don’t mean there can’t be something caught.” He feels just like he did when he embarrassed Sarah years ago.

“Nothing says quality Dad time like horrifying your teenager.” The smile you have for him is soft and sweet, and you wait until he’s shucked his jacket and set down his tools to kiss him.

His arms come around you easily. His own pressing of his lips against yours soft and promising. “Yeah. It’s pretty great.” He jokes, squeezing you slightly.

This is what’s great, and you sigh softly to yourself without even realizing it as the two of you just stand in the living room holding each other. The sense of serenity in just this house alone is such an enormous comfort to you and it’s almost entirely due to this man. “She’s a good kid,” you murmur in agreement.

“She is. And she’s about to have her first real girlfriend.” He snorts. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” A small nod of your head comes as your eyes drop back to the floor, thinking of the son you buried who will never see these milestones. “They do…”

“I’m sorry, beautiful girl.” It was a thoughtless comment, even for him. Knowing your loss and his own loss, he should have never said anything.

“It’s okay.” Sniffling the feeling away as best you can, you set your face to rights again and offer him a smile. “It’s just…I had another dream about him last night. That’s all.” They’re less frequent than they were but they do still happen regularly. It’s a battle not to let them take over your whole mind.

“I wish you were still holdin’ him.” Joel murmurs softly, pulling you into his arms for a comforting hug. “That I could have protected you both.”

“Nothing could have saved him.” As much as it hurts, you’ve had to make your peace with losing your son. There just wasn’t any way to keep him alive — especially considering you barely kept yourself alive. What’s terrifying is, as you lean into Joel’s chest, you could swear that you can feel hope winging in your chest. “At least…if it ever happens again…I know we’ll be safe this time.”

He wants to immediately shoot that down, to pretend you had never mentioned it. Too painful to even imagine losing another child, losing you. “I swear you would be safe.” Is what he promises, his hold on you tightening even more. As if his hug could shelter you from all the unknowns.

“I’m not asking for another. I’m not even sure I want another.” That clarification feels vitally important as his arms squeeze you tight. “I’m just saying, if it happened…I wouldn’t have to be scared.”

“You never have to be scared as long as I’m here.” He promises instantly. “If it happened, you ain’t gotta worry about me. I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a hell of a conversation to have almost by accident, considering you haven’t even had ‘traditional’ sex yet, but it’s important. Because you will. With the way you love him and the way he loves you, it’s not too far away. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, beautiful girl.” By accident, Joel had learned that you love when he cups your cheek gently, so he does it now.

“When you two are done being mushy, I’m ready to go.” Neither of you had even heard Ellie come downstairs again, but here she is, grinning at you and teasing unrepentantly.

“Well, if you’re ready to go, what are we waiting for?” Joel huffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the teenager.

“For you to change your smelly ass shirt.” Ellie snorts.

Joel rolls his eyes, but he pulls away, knowing that he had been sweating plenty while working on the pen. “I’ll be two minutes.” He promises you.

Two minutes is enough for you to put away the last of your sewing, and Joel comes back down in a clean shirt with a smile on his face, ready to take his girls to a movie. It never matters what the movie is, you always go, always thinking back to that first date from months ago when things had started falling into place.

“Dina and Ellie are probably going to go sit by themselves, do you want to sit with Tommy and Maria, or find a cozy spot?” Joel asks as all of you walk out of the house.

“I’m feeling cozy,” you admit, taking his hand to hold when he offers it to you. “But we can be cozy next to your brother and Maria if you like. I can’t even remember what the movie is tonight. You might want to actually watch it.”

“Naaaaaahhhhh.” There’s been too many movies between that first one and now, but he’s still concentrating on you. Just the normalcy of being in this position with you.

“Gross.” Bemoans the teenager just a few feet away, but Ellie smirks more these days when she teases you than she used to. Since admitting she likes Dina, she seems to get it a little more.

“Whatever kid.” Joel slings his arm around your shoulder, having talked about the more casual touches and setting boundaries for everyday life after you moved in. You hadn’t wanted him to ask permission every time and he hadn’t wanted you to feel you had to feel bad for not wanting to be touch. So you had introduced a color system. If it was a hands off moment, you would tell ‘red’ and he wouldn’t touch you. If you told him ‘yellow’ it was an ask day. ‘Green’, like you had confirmed earlier before Tommy had arrived, meant he was free to touch you in a non-sexual way without any questions.

The walk is easy. Halfway there Dina appears from her own house to join Ellie, and a little bit further down the road you’re joined by the two women who have taken on being Jackson’s schoolteachers. Casual chatting is easy tonight. You don’t worry when Ellie and Dina slip ahead to find seats in their own back corner. You don’t worry because there hasn’t been reason to. Not in so very long.

Joel looks around the room, not because he’s measuring a threat or searching for an exit, just…seeing who is here. He sees Maria and Tommy chatting with a town council member and he wonders how the interview went. Not enough to move from your side as he guides you towards a pair of chairs, but he notices a stranger standing off to the side, dumbly watching the scene in front of him. “Huh.” He grunts.

“Want to sit in back?” Your eyes are on Joel and there is mischief in your smile when you look up at him. His arm is still around you and there’s something in the casual care of it that you’ve grown to love.

“Yeah.” He looks into your eyes and a slight smirk makes his face transform from hard to playful. “Take up the back so the kids can’t have it. We’ll make out.”

"They're not gonna kiss the first time at the movies." From talking with Ellie you know that she and Dina are either a long way off from that happening — or possibly a kiss will happen that will spark the conversation and other necessary things. But either way, the first one is definitely not going to happen in public. "We can definitely steal some back row seats from them."

“Never know.” Joel leans in to whisper in your ear. “Figure she might be smarter than the average kid.”

"Smart enough to treat her girl right." You can agree to that entirely. For now you tuck into his side, weaving your way through the seats to find your customary place in a dark corner.

When you turn into the seats with your fingers tangled through Joel's, though, you stop short. Sitting with another one of the town council members who is always hounding Joel to accept their invitation to join, is a tall man with rounded shoulders and an unkempt beard. His hair is shaggy and his eyes skirt around the room furtively, sussing out as many details and inspecting as many faces as they can until they fall on you. "Oh god..." Freezing in place at Joel's side, your fingers dig into his arm immediately, clawing at him instead of your usual gentle grip. "I—Joel—I think I'm having a flashback," you murmur quietly, not trusting your eyes even though the man sitting six feet away looks almost nothing like he did when you left Chicago over a year ago.

“What?” Joel frowns and he immediately reaches out to stroke your neck like you enjoy. “Still green?” He asks quietly, unsure of what has you rattled, but if something is bothering your peace, he wants to help.

“I need you to tell me if you see that man.” As shaky and as quiet as your voice is — barely a whisper — you don’t take your eyes off of the figure sitting by the windows for even a second. “With the brown hair and the thin beard?”

Joel frowns and quickly turns around. “The green plaid?” He asks as he looks away from the man back to you, noting how your breath is starting to rapidly increase, you’re about to have a panic attack. “Black jeans?”

“Oh god…” You had been hoping it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t real. That it was just your mind ruining your good mood with conjured images and fears that had so recently been put to bed. But now your vision is blurring and your knees are buckling, and the world is spinning around you so quickly that you feel like you’re going to be sick as your skin starts to crawl. “How?” You keep repeating, over and over again, muttering the word to yourself like a broken record. “How is he here? How?”

Something is seriously wrong and Joel is a man who going to fix what’s wrong. Turning back around, the man is gone and he quickly stands, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go, beautiful girl.” He rushes out, knowing you would not want to have whatever is going on made public.

“How?” It’s like your mind is stuck on the worst kind of repeated loop, bumping over that one word, and you feel so stiff and terrified that you can barely swallow despite nearly hyperventilating and the tears now streaming down your cheeks. “How did he get here? How did he find me?”

“Who, beautiful girl, who?” Joel pulls you outside the movie theatre that used to be the old electronics store and cups your cheeks. “Who is he?” He knows, he feels it in his gut, but he wants you to say it.

The light in your eyes, the one that has so carefully been fostered and nurtured over the months you’ve spent in Jackson and especially with Joel, has completely gone out as you hiccup over a sob. Even two syllables are too much to take when you had felt so safe. “Aidan.”

His jaw hardens, his eyes flattening and darkening at the mention of the man who had tortured you. Done unspeakable things to you and nearly broken you. The name he had hoped you wouldn’t say. “They had a stranger come in today.” Joel wishes he had gone now, interviewed this man. “He helped the scouting party and they brought him in to interview.” Joel rubs his hands up and down your arms. “I’ll talk to Tommy, get him kicked out. He won’t stay.”

“He saw me.” You had looked each other straight in the eyes. It’s how you knew, in the worst pit of your stomach, that you weren’t hallucinating him. “H-he’s never going to leave i-if he knows I’m—I’m here…”

“Look at me.” Joel’s voice hardens slightly, knowing you are about to break down and he wants to keep you clear-headed. “He. Won’t. Touch. You.” He promises slowly, clearly. “They aren’t gonna want that son of a bitch here. He must have lied to the council and that doesn’t go over with them.”

“How?” Is all you can manage, feeling months’ worth of happiness shred apart inside you. Joel has you leaning with your back to the side of the building, but with every passing second your legs are giving out beneath you and you’re starting to slide to the ground in a deluge of new tears. You’ll never be safe. It will never be over.

He knows that nothing he can say will make you feel better, nothing. “Let me take you home.” He insists. “Then I’ll talk to Tommy.”

“Please don’t leave?” Any chance you have at protection lies with him and him alone, and you’re now more certain than ever that if he leaves your side, you’re doomed.

“Okay, okay beautiful girl.” Joel pulls you close. “I won’t leave. Let me take you home and Ellie can come home on her own.”

“O-okay.” As long as he doesn’t leave you, that’s what matters right now, and you cling to Joel like a lifeline when you hear the building doors open around the corner and the sound of heavy boots on the street.

“Joel?” It’s Tommy’s voice calling into the night. He must have seen you bolt for the door.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh, it’s Tommy.” Even though you know it’s his brother, your body tenses and you let out a whimper that breaks Joel’s heart as much as it makes him what to rip this Aidan apart. “I’m over here.”

“Everything okay?” When Tommy saunters around the side of the building it is immediately apparent that something is extremely wrong, and the younger Miller brother frowns in confusion.

“That fucker the council let in.” Joel growls, turning a fierce glare on the younger Miller, even though he had nothing to do with it. “What’s his name?”

“Um…Michael? Mike? Turner, I think it was. Mike Turner. Why?” He doesn’t like how pale you look, or how hard you have obviously been crying, and Tommy crosses his arms in discomfort. “Did he say or do something?”

“His fucking name is Aidan.” Joel hisses, looking back at you and hating how you flinch at the mere name.

“What the fuck?” Tommy’s eyes blow wide at that accusation, knowing exactly who ‘Aidan’ is and why you aren’t thrilled to hear the name ever. “That motherfucker is Aidan Stokes? You’re sure?”

“I’m taking her home.” He tells his brother. “Have Ellie sleep at your place?” He knows you will have a bad night and the best thing is to minimize the people witnessing it. Tommy nods and Joel pulls you away from the walk. “And get that fucker the hell out of here.” He calls over his shoulder, wishing he could take care of the problem himself.

“I’m on it.” Tommy promises, taking in the expression of pure terror and twisted grief on your features. In thirty seconds flat it’s as if you’ve gone back to being the same panicked little creature that you were when he had found you almost a year ago.

“Come one, beautiful girl.” Joel’s hands are gentle, trying to soothe as he coaxes you along. “We will get back to the house. Ellie will be at Tommy’s, all safe, and you will be with me. I won’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Even murmured under your breath, the apology sounds just like the shadow of yourself that you had been for so long before Joel walked into Jackson and into your life. Apologizing for taking up space. For infringing on anyone else’s existence. For having the audacity to exist yourself.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, beautiful girl.” If anything, he should apologize to you for not checking on that stranger. For exposing you to the terror of your past.

“Please don’t leave…” That thought is first and foremost in your head right now, barely even looking where you’re going through the sheet of shaky tears. You just can’t stomach the thought of losing Joel now, after so much. It would be like losing everything.

“Why would I leave?” He asks softly, aware that you are vulnerable and scared after seeing the specter of your nightmares. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of me, beautiful girl, I’m right here.”

There is a surge of it’s not fair slicing through the undercurrent of your thoughts, but more than not fair and more than scary, the situation is volatile. “He doesn’t know…” you remind Joel, clinging to his arm like the lifeline that it is. “Th—that—that I buried the baby.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Joel promises you quietly. “He’s not going to bother you, not gonna touch you.” He knows that Tommy will do what’s necessary to get the fucker gone from the community. Especially given what he knows was done to you.

“He’s going to try to.” Somewhere in the worst pit of your stomach, you know Aidan will try his hardest to get to the child he thinks you still have. Regardless of whose baby it biologically was, he had always viewed it as his. There had been weeks and months of taunting you over how that baby was going to be his control over you. So much so that you were actually a little grateful when he died. For his sake as much as your own.

“He’s leaving. We will make sure he’s gone.” Tommy will, because Joel isn’t going to leave your side. “You’re safe, sweet girl, I’m not going to let him even talk to you.” Fury floods his entire body, dark and brooding. Angry that this man has stolen the hard fought peace that you have started enjoying.

It doesn’t take long to get home with Joel hustling you along the street, even if you live outside of the main reaches of what could be considered downtown. You’re bundled into the house and stay next to Joel, watching him lock the doors and carefully walk through the house to assure you that you’re safe.

“We’re safe.” Joel promises you, stripping off the light jacket you had brought with you and rubbing your arms. He wants to kiss you, but is unsure if it might trigger some memories for you.

“I don’t know how he found me.” That’s the real question for you, and you’ve been rolling it over and over in your head since your head stopped spinning as badly.

“Don’t think he was expecting you to be here.” Joel didn’t miss the surprise and fury in the man’s face when he looked over at him. “Unhappy accident.”

“Fucking miserable accident,” you sigh, letting yourself slump forward into Joel’s arms for all the security and warmth that they provide.

“I know, beautiful girl.” Joel growls, shaking his head. “He’s stolen your smile, and I’m not going to allow that. He’s not going to interrupt your peace again.”

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight." It's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit, the way ten seconds has stolen away (in Joel's words) a whole year of progress. "But I don't want you to not sleep on my account."

“You think I’m gonna sleep if you’re awake?” Joel would roll his eyes, but he knows you will just shut down even more. “No, beautiful girl, we can stay up together. Make sure that you are safe. And then, when he’s out of this town and out of our lives for good, we’ll sleep.”

"I'm sorry." The murmured apology is less for something you've done directly and more for the fact that you know this is affecting his life in a very distinct way now. A way that he would not have to worry about at all if not for you.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” He cups your cheek. Tilting your head up from where it’s looking down at the floor. Holding your chin is a no for you, but you don’t fight him. “Nothin’.” He repeats. “You want a hot bath? Soak? I can sit on the toilet seat while you do.”

"I just want to get in bed." Something about the vulnerability of being naked is too much to deal with right now and you shake your head slightly, hoping he will understand. "Can't exactly turn on the tv and zone out to a bad movie anymore." You wish you could, but because of that bastard you had to leave movie night.

“You want to change into your softest pajamas and then we can curl up?” Joel offers. “I can go into the bathroom and get you a glass of water while you change.”

"Stay with me?" The pajamas and curling up part sounds perfect, but you swallow thickly at the idea of him going anywhere. It's clingy, sure, but right now that's pretty fucking understandable. I don't...I don't think I can be alone."

“Always, beautiful girl.” Joel nods and he pushes the bedroom door almost closed after he steps back from you. Starting to shrug out of his jacket. “We’ll just pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, hmm? Sound good to you?” He wishes he had some of the drugs he used to peddle in Boston, he would give you a few to calm you down if you wanted.

"Would you...mind talking to me?" The monologue in your head — all that noise that overtakes and overwhelms you with anxiety — quiets when Joel talks. Like your nerves are only willing to listen to him and him alone. "About anything. I just...it helps quiet all the angry thoughts."

“Sure, beautiful girl.” He’s dealt with this before, with Ellie after her run in with David, and he kicks off his shoes. “Thinkin’ I might take that council seat after all.” Tonight has been the deciding factor for him. “Have a say in who comes into this place. It’ll mean that some of the repairs will have to be done by Thompson, but he’s comin’ along. He’s not a complete idiot.”

"A town like this can't survive with just one good handyman." It's already better, just hearing him talk. The soothing cadence of Joel's voice sheds just a speck of anxiety everytime he opens his mouth and you remind yourself that you have to move. You're supposed to be changing your clothes to get ready for bed.

“Tommy’s better, but don’t tell him I said that.” His belt opens and he quickly unbuttons his jeans. “Man’s getting a little too cocky, strutting around here with that goofy grin of his.”

"He's happy." Tommy has a full life here. One that he reached out and took hold of with both hands and full determination. He has a wife and a baby and work that keeps him satisfied and busy. That's not the kind of thing he ever could have claimed about his life before Jackson. It's something to be proud of, and you're happy for your friend. Even if right now happy feels a million miles away.

“Yeah, he is.” It’s amazing to say, even more amazing to realize that his own feelings are pretty goddamn close to happy as well. At least until about twenty minutes ago. “What a loser.” He jokes, chuckling at his own lame joke. You have started undressing and he’s happy that you are focused on something else.

"Before tonight, I would have said we were happy, too." There is no lingering stroll across the room, or fully stripping down before completely redressing in your pajamas like usual. As soon as your regular shirt is off, the soft material of your sleep shirt replaces it. No sooner are jeans shed than warm sweatpants replace them. This is perfunctory, not an enjoyable and lazy night with your boyfriend.

“We are happy.” Joel soothes quietly. “Today is a bad day. Tomorrow might be too, but he’s not going to ruin our happiness, even if it takes a few steps back.” Joel sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as your fingers fumble with the edges of your shirt. “How do you want to cuddle, beautiful girl?” He asks. “You want me surrounding you? Or do you want to sprawl out on me?” He wants to give you as much control as possible right now, knowing how helpless you feel.

“I need you around me.” He really is your safe place. There is no doubt about that. But as you take a step toward him and the bed, the sounds of someone pounding on the front door downstairs ring through the brittle air.

Joel’s springing to his feet and frowning. Especially since you immediately look like you’re about to faint. “Go to the bathroom.” He tells you. “Lock the door.”

There are a lot of thing a in the world that you doubt — almost everything, really — but not Joel. Even though you feel frozen you manage to do what he tells you, grasping him in a tight hug before he closes the bathroom door for you beside your bedroom and you click the lock into place. Do you need him around you to feel safe and supported? Absolutely. But you’ve also learned to trust his instincts.

The hunting knife from the basement had been moved to his dresser and he grabs it before coming down the stairs. Listening to the pounding on the door as he crawls closer. On edge until he recognizes the silhouette of his brother.

The moment the door cracks open Joel sees the panic on Tommy’s face and his little brother smooths the hairs out of his face with one expressive hand. “Is she okay?” He asks immediately, your safety being top priority in this moment.

“She’s upset. But she’s fine.” Joel frowns, looking around. “Why are you here?”

The frown on Tommy’s lips is immediate, forehead creasing in apologetic embarrassment. “He’s—Stokes— he’s gone,” he admits quietly, just in case you’re nearby.

“He’s gone?” Joel frowns and steps outside. “What the fuck does that mean? You’ve already kicked him out?” It doesn’t seem like Tommy would be so upset by this fact so something’s not adding up.

“By the time I got back into the movie he had bolted,” Tommy explains, obviously pained to have to admit that he’s fucked up your safety. Or at least that he feels like it’s his fault. “Town council’s got people patrolling and staked out all over and the movie’s going ahead so nobody gets spooked.”

Joel reaches out and grabs the edges of Tommy’s jean jacket. “I’m going to kill him.” He growls to his brother. “When he’s caught, I’m going to ‘escort’ him out of town. Won’t do it here, but she’s nearly catatonic with panic.”

“If I find him first, I’m getting a few hits in for what he did to her,” his brother promises him. Tommy’s felt like an overprotective brother since the day he brought you into town. These days? He takes the job pretty literally.

“Shit.” Joel lets go of Tommy’s jacket and steps back into the opened door. “I need to— don’t tell her.” He warns him. “If he’s not caught right away. I can’t— we aren’t leavin’ this house.”

“It’ll only make her more scared to know he’s running around.” Tommy can absolutely agree to that, though he knows you might be upset with them later for not keeping you completely informed. The less fear and panic you feel, the better.

“I’m not gonna tell her, but I’m not gonna let her leave until I know that fucker is in ropes, ready to be lead to slaughter.” Joel frowns.

“Fair enough.” Considering Tommy has a knife in one pocket and a gun on his other hip, it’s fair to bet that he feels the same way. “I’m sorry, Joel. If I’d have been faster we coulda taken care of this easily. But we’ll get it sorted.” He’s ready to go — ready to join the patrol that is currently stalking the streets of Jackson — when he hears a sound in the basement.

Joel freezes, eyes narrowing as he listens. The second step from the bottom of the basement stairs creaks and it just made a sound. “He fucking— that bastard.” Joel hisses, spinning around and rushing towards the basement door.

The door makes a sickening crack when Joel throws it open, but Tommy is on his heels. The motherfucker followed them. He took a look at a happy and healthy and thriving woman and decided to ruin her again. He just didn’t bet on the fucking Miller brothers to be in his way.

Joel goes barreling down the stairs, lowering his shoulder at the figure that is about halfway up. Grunting when he connects with the body, Joel pushes off the stairs and launches both him and the motherfucker into the air.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” When he hits the ground he’s sure he hears something crack in his shoulder. The figure that flew at him is a blur and there’s more footsteps on the stairs that he can’t see the owner of through the fist headed straight for his face.

The first crack of a fist hitting bone is sharp, pain blooming in his fist and radiating up his arm, but Joel barely registers it. Fury numbing him to the pain and adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Fucker.”

“What—fuck—what the fuck?!” Putting up his arms to cover his face and thinking fast, he tries to pull away and keep from getting his face ruined.

"Break into my house." Joel growls furiously, pulling his fist back again and letting it fly. "Looking for her."

“Looking for my baby!” It’s the sympathy vote. Banking on shame and embarrassment and not being willing to tell the entire story to worm his way through the details. The sob story is his best chance of not getting his face beat in.

Joel knows what the man is doing. He had heard the same sad excuses used by others once upon a time when he was less than scrupulous. Not that he's an upstanding citizen now, but this is personal. "Didn't knock." Joel points out as he grabs the man's jacket and hauls him up so that the single light from a bare bulb illuminates your tormentor's face and gives his own a dark, foreboding, shadow as he glares down at him. "Big mistake." He grunts right before punching him again.

“Wait—wait!” Kicking his legs and barely managing to throw the next blow, the descent of another assailant at the bottom of the stairs and another fist comes out of nowhere along with a pained scream.

“Why are you here?” Joel roars, gripping the man with both hands and shaking him like a rag doll, furious that he would dare break in to harm you.

“For my baby!” He tries again, mind not really working hard on a new excuse when he’s trying to fend off now two grown men apparently intent on beating the shit out of him.

“There is no baby.” From the top of the stairs, your voice cuts through the din — shaky but loud enough to be heard.

Joel’s head twists around and he stares at the black figure at the top of the stairs. “We have him.” He pants, keeping the iron grip on the man who had tortured you and makes him hiss in pain when he grabs his hair and yanks his head back for you to see his already battered face. He knows it pains you to admit your son is gone, but he’s concentrating on your safety.

“I can see that.” The click of metal comes before you step down the stairs, Joel’s gun held out in front of you with a surprisingly steady hand. “I could hear it from upstairs.”

“You don’t have to be around him.” Joel promises you, keeping an eye on you as you descend the stairs with the gun in your hand. He knows you won’t shoot him, but you could drop the revolver.

From catatonic with fear to oddly quiet and resolute, your entire mood has changed in the mere minutes that Joel has been gone. It was the idea that he could hurt Joel that changed everything. That the happiness that you’ve fought so hard for here in Jackson could be taken by the same man who stole your entire sense of self for so long. That isn’t going to happen. “He’s in our house,” you remind Joel flatly. As if to say that makes him both our problem.

“Our house?” The man on the ground has the audacity to sneer the question. Making Joel hiss. “Managed to get your hooks into this one already? Knew you were a slut.”

Joel growls, turning around and slamming the man into the concrete so his head bounces few good times before yanking him up again. “Shut the fuck up before I rip your goddamn tongue out.” He warns darkly.

“Why are you here, Aidan?” Making no mistake about the action, you very deliberately aim the revolver at his chest and put your thumb on the hammer.

“I’m— they brought me here!” He cries, eyes widening and darting back to look at the two men who are towering over him. He hadn’t thought you would be protected like this when he broke in. “Not for you! Why would I want a whore like you?” He shakes his head, addressing Tommy and Joel. “She’s—don’t know how many men she’s fucked here, but she was in Chicago with us—my group. She spread her legs for anyone.” He lies desperately.

Carefully cocking the revolver is the sound that cuts through Aidan’s bullshit, and Tommy is staring at you in completely silent wonder as he and Joel hold tight to your attacker. “I know why you’re in Jackson, asshole. I’m asking why you’re in my basement.”

“I don’t—I didn’t—you bit—” the comment is cut off by a howl of anguish, his body jerking.

Joel has just driven his hunting knife into the meaty flesh of his thigh above his knee. “Fucking lie to her and I’ll pop your kneecap off like a pimple.”

It turns out that under the layers of fear and the layers of trauma, it’s protecting your family that is what brings out the deadliest tendencies in you. Thinking about what could have happened if Ellie or the baby were here? It snapped you out of all that terror faster than blinking. “One more time. Why are you here?”

Sobbing, Aidan isn’t nearly as powerful as he had been in Chicago. He had assumed this little town was his ticket to safety, to shelter. Until he had seen you and immediately decided that he would use you to solidify his position here in this place. He had been warned by the council that if it didn’t work out he would be taken out into the wilderness and left. “For you. You’re mine.” He tells you, looking at you with a pitiful, pleading expression. “I love you, baby. And you swore you would always love me.”

“He told you not to lie to me.” Surprising to everyone including yourself, you step forward and finally come off the bottom step to stand on the basement floor. “I don’t belong to you and I don’t love you and everybody in this room knows what you and your cronies did to me so don’t fucking lie about it.”

“I can’t go back out there.” Aidan confesses, grimacing in pain and trying not to move too much because of the knife embedded in his thigh. “I won’t— I can’t be out there. You can make it to where I can stay.”

At the idea that you would help him in any way, you actually laugh out loud. “You’re not going back out there,” you promise him with dark surety. “But that’s mostly because you’re not leaving this basement. If I don’t kill you?” You nod to Joel, knowing full well that you’re being honest. “He will.”

“You were a dead man the moment I found out who you were.” Joel growls honestly. Even if the town council had let him go, Joel would have tracked him down. Wanting to make sure that there was no way he could ever show back up in your life.

“So the only thing you get to decide is how fast you die.” With the revolver still in your hand, you raise your arm to point it at his head instead of at his chest where there is too much chance of hitting something that will only wound but not kill him. “I can do this quickly. Or I can let him tear you apart.” The nod to Joel is understood, but for some reason you can’t stomach the idea of Aidan Stokes knowing anything about your happy life. Not even Joel’s name.

Joel watches you for a moment and then lets Aidan go, straightening up and stepping back. He wont stop you if this is what you want to. It’s your right, your fucking right to end this piece of shit if you want.

“Fast or slow, Aidan?” Not that you were given a choice in how you were tortured. Or your son was given a choice in how long he lived. Not that Joel was given a choice in keeping Sarah. Not that Aidan will truly get to choose, either. You’ve already made up your mind what will happen to him.

“Babe...please.” Aidan shakes his head. “You don’t— this isn’t you. You love me.” He protests.

“It’s the person you made me.” You tell him flatly, before carefully holding the gun out to Joel. “However you want to do it,” you tell him flatly, before turning and taking Tommy’s arm to leave the basement. The truth is that you aren’t sure you could pull the trigger, even after everything you’ve been through. But you sure as hell never want him touching another living being ever again.

Joel smirks, a dark look in his eyes and Tommy swallows. He knows what Joel is capable of when he wants to be vicious. “Do you want to watch, beautiful girl?” His voice is soft. Deceptively so.

“No.” In the back of your mind you know that Joel will hold back if you are here, and that is a mercy that Aidan doesn’t deserve. “We’re going to sit upstairs. Come up when you’re done.” There will be more work to do at that point. There will be cleaning and disposal of a body you intend to spit on once it’s in the ground.

“Baby, wait.” Aidan’s panicked voice is laughing nervously. “You don’t mean that. It’s not funny, tell him you’re joking.” He begs. “Tell him you’re joking!”

You stop on the second step, the one that squeaks and now you don’t think you ever want Joel to repair it. With a drawn face and nothing but hardness in your eyes, you turn and shake your head at the man who has tortured you in so many different ways for years. “Rot in hell, Aidan.”

“Baby…baby…” his voices rises in panic and his eyes widen, scrambling to his feet and groaning at the wound in his leg. “Baby, don’t go! Don’t do this!” Joel lifts his foot and plants it in the middle of Aidan’s chest to kick him back down.

The last sounds he gets from you is the definite thumping of your heels on the ground floor and the slamming shut of the basement door followed by the click of the lock that holds it in place. Of course there is a mechanism on the other side so it can be opened by anyone downstairs as well, but it's the principle of the thing. That his fate has been sealed, and by you.

“You should leave now.” Joel tells Tommy seriously. What he’s about to do might get him in serious trouble with the town council and he doesn’t want to fuck things up for his younger brother. He’s got Maria and the baby to think about. If Joel gets kick out of Jackson, you can come with him.

Tommy doesn't say anything, but only nods and hustles up the stairs after you. He unlocks the door to let himself out into the kitchen then locks it again behind him, unsure of the state he'll find you in.

All the emotion you have is basically tied up in exhaustion, which has you leaning against the kitchen counter when Tommy appears. Whatever Joel is going to do downstairs is up to him. But whatever it is, you sincerely hope it causes the man who hurt you as much pain as absolutely possible on his way out of this life.

The sounds start almost immediately. The dull thwack of something hitting something soft, followed by a muffled cry. Repeated in a symphony of motion that could almost have a rhythm until it pauses. Followed by a low murmur and a vicious howl of agony.

“Self defense,” you murmur a few seconds later, looking up at Tommy. “He broke into our house. Joel had to act in self-defense.” The council will ask questions. You know that. But you aren’t about to let anything happen to Joel as a result of what just happened downstairs. If need be, you will stand in front of the town’s leadership and tell them exactly what he did to you in excruciating detail. They won’t argue after that.

“I’ll tell ‘em the same thing.” Tommy immediately agrees. “After all, he did break in.” He steps closer to you, a frown on his face pulling his mustache down. “How are you holdin’ up? I know— honey, I’m so goddamn sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have. It’s not like I showed you his picture or anything.” You’re definitely not doing well, but you’re doing better than you thought you would be with all things considered.

“I should have asked more questions.” Tommy shakes his head and is still going to blame himself. A high pitched squeal comes from the basement door and he looks over at it knowingly.

“That assumes that he would have given honest answers.” You shake your head and pour two short glasses of water, offering one to Tommy and sipping the other for yourself. The antique clock nearby reads almost one in the morning and you frown at it, shaking your head. “It’s over now. Joel is finishing the job and I can start to sleep a little bit deeper at night.”

The low moan of pain is almost animalistic, long and drawn out, is almost cut off with a wet gurgle. Tommy shifts, almost visualizing what Joel is doing to cause that sound.

“He deserves it,” you remind Tommy, who fidgets at the sounds coming from the basement. “I’m just glad Ellie is at your house. She shouldn’t have to hear any of this.”

“I know he deserves it.” Tommy nods. “I just know what Joel is doing based on the sounds.” He admits. “There was a time that we…weren’t the best people.”

“I know.” Joel has told you some of his own past. Nothing too graphic, but enough that you had a very solid idea of what he is capable of. “That’s why I know he’ll finish the job when I don’t think I could.”

“I think you would have.” Tommy argues. “You looked like you would have pulled the trigger right then when you came down those stairs.”

You nod, thinking perhaps you might really have done it right there in the beginning. But you’ll never know. “There’s no guarantee that my aim would have been good enough to kill him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Tommy snorts. “It’s amazing what can happen when the people you love are threatened.” As if agreeing, another sound comes from the basement.

The clock draws your eye again, and you glance out the window up at the moon before looking back at Tommy. “It’s his birthday,” you tell him quietly. “The baby’s. He should be one today.”

Tommy bites his lip and nods, understanding that this is a bittersweet day for you. “Then it’s just that it’s today that bastard draws his last breath.”

"They always say babies look like their father, but he didn't. He looked like me." At least you could be grateful for that, if nothing else. "It's a small mercy."

“He was beautiful then.” Tommy tells you quietly, patting your shoulder and wondering if you wanted a hug. “Inside and out.”

“Thank you.” It’s enough that Tommy is kind. That you have come to know and to trust him as a brother over the last year. It’s enough that he’s here and he’s supportive. Even if being supportive just means standing with you in silence while Joel finishes what needs to be finished downstairs.

Slowly, footsteps sound on the stairs. Not a thudding, heavy trod, but weary. Stopping at the top and there’s a small knock, just one rap of a knuckle against the wood.

You make it to the door before Tommy does, flipping the lock and pulling it open to reveal Joel on the top step with more than a little blood on him.

The vicious fire is gone, extinguished from his eyes and replaced with a weary sense of peace. He doesn’t reach for you, aware that you could be repulsed by the sight of him. “It’s done.” He sighs out. “He’ll never fuckin’ bother you again.”

There is no blood on his face somehow, no remnant there of the work he’s done besides the sweat on his forehead, and you kiss him softly before stepping back. “Go wash up, love. Tommy and I will take care of things from here, and then I’ll come to bed. Is that okay?”

Joel’s eyes slide over to Tommy and he silently communicates with him. “That’s fine, beautiful girl.”

******

It’s hours later when you fulfill that promise, dragging yourself up into your bedroom in the black of night to find Joel sitting up in bed staring at the wall. “I’ll wash,” you tell him wearily, the adrenaline of fear and finality having dissipated into the night. Now you’re just bone tired.

Joel nods. “I’ll run you a bath.” He moves slowly, groaning as he gets up from the bed and shuffles towards the bathroom. His hand is broken, fractured in several places and it will be a bitch to work for the next several weeks, but he doesn’t care. As long as you are safe, he will shoulder any pain.

“I—” In the doorway of the bathroom you pause, sunken shoulders and drawn face returning you to the sad, guilty version of yourself that you so often are when thoughts or even conversation turns to the topic of your past. It hangs in the air tonight like a heavy fog. “I’m sorry. For asking you to do that. But when I got downstairs I realized that I couldn’t pull the trigger, I just…I knew that you could.”

Joel frowns when he turns from the edge of the tub, reaching for the faucet to turn it on. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He grunts quietly, shaking his head. “Come here, beautiful girl.”

“Asking you to kill for me seems like it warrants an apology,” you point out, though you willingly let him draw you into his chest without hesitation. The whole night was meant to be relaxed and rejuvenating and it had turned into hell.

“I would kill for you a hundred more times.” Joel huffs quietly. “I was afraid.” He admits. “Afraid that you would be afraid of me after seeing the aftermath.”

“Afraid of my knight returning from battle?” You shake your head against his chest and inhale the comforting scent of clean Joel. “I owe you everything. Hell…I wanted to give you everything anyway.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing.” Joel huffs, relaxing against you and slipping his arms around your back. You seem crave the shelter of him right now, so he won’t even ask if you are comfortable. “I love you. I—you are perfect.”

“No I’m not.” It’s not even self deprecating, but you look up at him with a serious expression, arms tight around his waist. “But as long as we’re the right kind of imperfect for each other, I’m okay with that.”

“Let me take care of you, beautiful girl.” He murmurs softly. “I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

******

The next summer is sunny and hot, giving you an excuse to wear all of the cute dresses that you had made for yourself from scraps and hand-me-downs over your time in Jackson. Today is definitely not the day for scraps, though. Today you have possibly the nicest dress you have ever made for yourself. The soft yellow fabric is embroidered with flowers that match the crown of wildflowers that Dina helped you weave for your hair, and even though your belly is now big enough to be in the way more often than not, you feel like you’ve finally earned the name that Joel has been calling you since the very first night you went to the movies together more than a year ago. Tommy is with Joel and Ellie over at your house this morning while you’re getting ready for the day with Maria and cooing over the toddler that she and Tommy have devoted all of their time and love to. It’s a very big day. One that is both a long time coming and feels like it came at you faster that lightning.

“Too goddamn old for this.” Joel grumbles, running his hand over his surprisingly smooth cheek. The barber had offered a shave to go with the haircut this morning and he had decided to just leave a mustache. Tommy snickers and his older brother stops his pacing long enough to glower at him. “I’m fucking fifty-eight years old, about to get married and have a baby.” He’s not upset, he’s nervous, afraid of fucking it up. Wanting the hard fought for happiness that seems to be everyday life now.

“Nobody told you to propose, old man,” Tommy teases, getting a fist bump from Ellie for his effort.

Joel huffs and shakes his head. “What kinda man would I be if I didn’t?” He asks. “It’s my baby.”

“That’s Dad that I hear in there.” Still, Tommy can’t judge too much — and he isn’t, not really — since he did the same thing. “We’re damn lucky to have these women and we know it. We gotta keep them close.”

“Still can’t believe it.” Once the dragon of your nightmares had been slayed in real life, you had blossomed. It was like you had still been living with the subconscious fear that Aidan would find you. Now that he had been unceremoniously burned, his ashes buried, that weight had fallen off of you and very naturally, you had eased into a physical intimacy with Joel. It happened the first time. One time inside you and he had gotten you pregnant.

"You act like you didn't know where babies come from. Or forgot." Ellie is kicked back in the living room of the house in a full suit and tie with her boots all cleaned and shined for the occasion. Since Tommy is going to be the one to actually marry you on behalf of the Town Council, she's standing up as Joel's Best Person. "Do we need to draw you a diagram, old man?"

“Listen, brat—” Joel points his finger at the teenager. “Just because you can’t get pregnant with Dina, doesn’t mean you can get cocky.” He raises a brow. “Or should I make it a rule you gotta keep your door open when she’s over?”

"You wouldn't?!" That has her drawing back immediately, wide eyed and extremely displeased with the idea of not having privacy with her girlfriend.

“Mmmmhmmm.” He chuckles and straightens back up, pleased to have made his point, even if he was only teasing. “Now I just get to worry about everything all over again.”

"You've got help this time." While he's not proud of it, Tommy knows he wasn't a hugely helpful part of raising Sarah. He'd done what he could back then but he just had no idea how to be anything besides a playmate. Now, with a young child of his own, he's prepared to be a fully functioning extra pair of hands should you and Joel need the help.

"Uncle Tommy and Big Sister Ellie." The teen plants her fists on her hips and grins. "What could possibly go wrong?"

“God help us all.” Joel huffs, even though he’s extremely pleased with the sentiment. “You think she’s ready yet?” He asks, glancing at the clock impatiently. “Damn woman wanted to wait to get married, and she’s about to pop.”

"Just as long as she doesn't go into labor at the reception," Tommy jokes, shaking his head. That had happened one of his old Army buddies way back when.

“Oh fuck.” Joel’s eyes widen at the possibility.

“Christ, Tommy,” Ellie groans, throwing a pillow at the younger Miller. “Don’t get him all freaked out.”

“Doc Sanchez is gonna be there, right?” He asks Tommy, ignoring the eye rolling. Most of the damn town is going to be at the second ever Jackson wedding, both of them ironically Millers, but he has to be sure.

“The whole ass town is going to be there.” Tommy hoists himself out of his seat to try to soothe his brother. Joel wants this, he’s just nervous as all hell. “But yes, Doc Sanchez will be there.”

“Good.” Joel blows out a breath and grins, a halfcocked thing that lights up his face and makes him look younger, softer. “Fuck, I’m getting married.”

“How you found two different women willing to put up with your shit forever, I’ll never know.” He pats his brother on the shoulder, but Tommy is grinning too. He knows how much you and Joel love each other, and how you’ve eased the stings and bruises of each other’s pasts.

“Don’t know, but I’m lucky.” Joel admits easily. You know about his past with Tess and don’t feel jealous of it, which he is grateful for.

“It’s almost time.” Ellie points at the clock on the mantle and hops to her feet, ready to snap the straps on her suspenders if she was wearing any.

The wedding is supposed to be simple, but it doesn’t feel that way. His heart is in his throat and he remembers another wedding, a lifetime ago, and he knows it will be better than that one. He never regretted being with his ex-wife, because he had Sarah, but he knows he will be a better partner, husband, and hopefully father this time around. He’s getting a second chance at life and he’s not going to take it for granted. “Let’s go get me married.”

******

The wedding was supposed to be simple, but it didn’t end up feeling that way. The flowers cut by neighbors and friends from their gardens, the food cooked and delivered from kitchens all around town, and the few musically inclined folks coming together to make a band all mean that this morning at town hall felt like the most exquisite frontier wedding you could ever ask for, and now that the reception is in full swing it’s probably the biggest party that Jackson’s seen since well before the world ended. Mr. and Mrs. Miller pronounces the hand drawn sign on the little table where you and Joel are sitting, eating your lunch and watching people move to and fro filling their plates and saying their hellos. In time you’ll start the dancing, but for now the first one to get their boogie on is the peanut you’ve been carrying around for the last eight months.

You grimace slightly and Joel is immediately turning towards you. The wedding band on his finger feels foreign but he ignores the way it catches the light as he reaches out to touch your stomach. Feeling the baby has been unlimited for him, although your days of not wanting to be touched are becoming few and far between. “Are you okay, beautiful girl?” He asks quietly, trying to alarm anyone, including himself.

“The baby’s dancing on every organ he can find,” you joke, having been certain for months now that you’re having another boy. You don’t really know how you know. You’re just completely certain.

He manages to crack a grin, something frequent that happens when he’s feeling the baby pound against his palm through your uterus. “Wants to dance, feelin’ a little left out in there.” He murmurs softly, looking up into your eyes.

“You’ve still got a little baking left to do in that oven, buddy,” you murmur, smoothing your hand over your belly and laughing when that only seems to illicit more activity. “Just let us have today, sweet boy. That’s all we ask.”

He hopes that this baby brings you the joy you had missed with your last child. He has worked tirelessly to make sure that your every need has been taken care of and you can have the least stressful pregnancy at the end of the world as possible.

“Are you happy we did this, love?” You ask, covering his hand with yours over your belly. Technically it was Joel’s idea to get married, telling you that he’s just old fashioned enough that if you were going to make a family together that he wanted you to be a family in that traditional way. You’d even gone through the trouble of making a set of formal adoption papers to say that Ellie was officially your daughter.

“Of course I am.” Even with all the nerves and worries that he holds on his shoulders, he doesn’t regret this. He knows you are safe and if something ever happens to him, Tommy and Ellie and all the citizens of Jackson will help you and protect you. “How about you, beautiful girl? You happy to be the second Mrs. Miller in town?”

“If we’re going by Victorian rules, I’m the Mrs. Miller and Maria is considered second. Perks of marrying the older brother.” It’s dumb, though, and you know it just comes from too many period dramas back in your teens. “Of course I’m happy, love. This is…honestly? It’s not the way my dreams happened when I was younger but all the boxes are perfectly checked. And you’re even better than any of the guys I imagined way back then.”

He huffs out a small laugh and wonders what kind of man you had originally thought about. “Well, I hope that it continues to be what you want. If it’s not, you give me hell and I’ll change what needs changing.”

“Same for you.” You acknowledge seriously, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Nothing is really ever perfect, so if something needs fixing, we fix it. Together.”

“Together.” Joel nods, smiling down at the bump and then up at you. Ellie’s laughter catches his attention and he watches as the girl who had brought him to Jackson dances with Dina, beaming at her girlfriend as she holds her close. The journey to this moment had been full of anger, heartbreak, tears and loss, but right now the future for Joel and his little family looks bright.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

N2N: @missladym1981, @orcasoul

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook

Question Jiao-jie, understand Jiao-jie, become Jiao-jie, surpass Jiao-jie.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together             to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. -- "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out" By Richard Siken

[dandymaximilian]

I'm absolutely in love with the character designs from The Amazing Digital Circus. Just looking at them helps me understand their fundamental personalities.

Ragatha is human-like, which represents being "grounded in reality." She remembers what it was like to be a human, so she enjoys routine.

She's a doll; a companion for Pomni and newcomers. She is kind-hearted, humble, yet level-headed. But she's barely hanging on by a thread; she is literally stitched together. Her button eye takes away her sight; she is not all there.

Similarly, Pomni is mostly human because she's the most attached to her past life. She is new, after all.

Her skin is ghostly white, which showcases her frightened state of mind. Her pupils are wheels, which showcases her spiraling anixety. The blackness around her eyes reveals her stress.

She's in a jester suit because she is doomed to perform in servitude for the "show." The color blue of the costume represents her cowardace, and red represents her passion.

Gangle is a persona more than a person. Like some of the others, she has lost track of her humanity.

She is a comedy/tragedy mask, showcasing her two moods. The comedy mask represents her immersion in the false happy environment and being a genuine part of the happy "show."

Her tragedy mask represents her despair; her reminder of the horror of their existence. Her broken mask represents her complete break in the immersion, which Pomni and Jax literally crack. Her tears showcase her sadness and empathy for others.

Gangle's body is ribbons because she is "easy to unravel."

Jax is mischief personified. His yellow teeth and eyes make him look sleazy. He is lanky because he is a slacker. He perpetually smirks to play up his persona. The only time it flinches is when he remembers his or the other's humanity.

He wears overalls because he's laid-back and casual. And the gloves because he literally has become a walking cartoon character.

Zooble can not be defined. They are literally abstract. They are inherently rebellious: they change their parts at will, swear, and refuse to participate in the activities. They lost track of their humanity, but they appear to accept it.

They are not all there, shown by their spiraling eye. Yet they are also perpetually uninterested, shown by their half-lidded eye. They have the potential to fight, shown by their claw. But they also have the potential to comfort, shown by their human-like hand.

Kinger is a mystery. His human-like veiny eyeballs bulge, like he is all-watching and stessed and tired as hell for it. He can be very observant despite appearing to be out of it. Also, I like how it looks like he has a mouth:

O-o

But why is he a king chess piece? Just how important is he to the group that everyone will be lost without him? Is he responsible for the game? This remains to be seen, I suppose.

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #12: Uryu (Bleach)

You honestly irritate and drain him at first

That being said, he is probably one of the most capable people when it comes dealing with your bullshit.

Remember Orihime during the soul society arc?

Yeah, he's got the patience of a god

Perfectly equipped for handling your chaos, albeit begrudgingly

"Whaddya mean I can't fight that guy?" You complained.

"You dimwit, he's at least double your size with double the spiritual pressure!!!" Uryu retorted while gesturing to a particularly large arrancar.

"Booo, you're no fun. I like Ichigo better."

His pride won't allow a blow like that, so he tries to show off to prove that Ichigo is in fact not better.

When the enemy is finally defeated, he's met with you clapping and cheering like one of those soccer moms.

Admittedly, it does get him a little flustered. But it's a major ego booster, especially from you.

The first time he met you he had no idea you were completely brain dead

It was during his first showdown with Ichigo.

The hollows wouldn't stop coming, and what's worse, a Menos was starting to crossover from Heuco Mundo.

It was just too much and too overwhelming at the same time.

And then a spike of spiritual pressure came from next to him and Ichigo.

The surrounding hollows being defeated before you made your presence known.

Giving a look between the soul reaper and the Quincy before scowling.

"This isn't a dick swinging contest! Actual people could be hurt, so get your shit together and get rid of that thing!" You lectured before shooting a little ray of reishi towards another group of hollows, decimating them completely.

It felt like you were almost as strong as a Lieutenant from the Soul Society.

Which was admittedly shocking, but gave them enough time to knock the Menos back from where it came from.

"Thank you, for holding the other hallows off." Uryu figured it was the least he could do after you stalled for so long.

"Huh? Oof-!"

You just tripped.

Over nothing.

And then shot right back up.

"OH NO I LEFT THE SHOP UNATTENDED!!! TESAI'S GONNA KILL ME!!!"

You were odd. But that could've been a coincidence, right???

It was not a coincidence and now he's wondering how you manage not to get yourself killed everyday.

"Do NOT slice the box cutter towards yourself!"

And then he shows you how to do it properly so you don't stab yourself.

Will always complain about you ripping your clothes during a fight, and then proceed to stitch up all the holes.

"Wait, I can have little dandelions on that part of my sleeve?"

"Shut up, you should be glad I'm fixing it for you at all."

Makes sure he has the right thread to embroider them on 💀💀💀

You're bleeding profusely?

"Why don't you want Orihime to heal you? She's a pro at this." Uryu complains as he's cleaning up your wounds.

"Because I like you better. And you're good with stitching."

He's extremely embarrassed but appreciates the compliment.

Also, he probably has to take you to the hospital because you definitely need a blood transfusion.

You 🤝Pesche = Uryu's sleep paralysis demons

The two of you together make him want to pull his hair out.

One makes his life hell on purpose and the other (you) on accident.

But you get a pass. You're actually useful in combat.

Kisuke's adopted child™ so you're extra strong 💪💪💪

Doesn't realize he likes you until the bounts show up and he gets abducted by Yoshino.

You kept up with her surprisingly well, despite being injured by Udagawa.

Giving a relentless pursuit to get him back

But you could only push yourself so much with the gash on your side that eventually, Yoshino's doll managed to land a direct hit on you.

The next time Uryu sees you is when he wakes up in his father's hospital.

Everyone bursting in to come and see if he was okay.

Then there was you who made your way in on crutches with Kisuke supporting you.

And before he could ask if you were okay, you practically collapsed on top of him.

Giving him a bone crushing hug before finally speaking.

"I'm just so happy you're okay."

And it was the way you said it that had him smitten.

Like you really were worried about him.

Like he was actually important despite not having his powers anymore.

Yeah okay, maybe he didn't have anything to prove.

At least not to you.

Another one of the unfortunate few who tries to court you normally.

Except it's way more awkward.

This man has absolutely no idea how to approach you now that he has these feelings for you.

"I got you flowers."

"Oh... I'm allergic, but they're still pretty though 😃"

A little embarrassed but not deterred because it wasn't a 'no.'

Tries to make you food.

Key word: tries because he forgot about the fact that you and Orihime always share

Uryu, you fool! How could you be so blind?!?

☝️his actual thoughts as his attempts to court you keep failing.

But his last and final attempt finally works.

He was once again trying to show off to you while fighting a hollow.

He was doing fine up until he fell flat on his ass dodging an attack.

You'd been so quick to divert the enemy's oncoming attack before helping him up.

"Hey I got you, okay?"

And he just blurts it out.

"I'm in love with you."

And your bright smile makes him relax.

"I know... Ichigo told me."

"HE WHAT!?!?"

100% babies you.

You keep forgetting to pack your lunch?

Don't worry it's already on the counter with a little sticky note inside.

You scrapped yourself on who knows what?

You're in good hands, he's been around a hospital enough of his life to know what he's doing.

He'll even give you a kiss over the bandaid if you want to 👉👈

Speaking of hospitals 👀👀👀

Ryuken absolutely hates you

Like with a fiery passion

"Really? Them?" He gestures angrily over at you.

And it's you making silly faces at a nervous kid going in for surgery to make them laugh.

Uryu's so smitten. 😊😊😊

"Yeah. That's the one."

Does get a little insecure but not exactly jealous

He doesn't understand what you see in him.

He's not exactly the strongest or the most good looking.

The only thing he's confident in is his mind

And even then it has the tendency to fail him.

But you don't seem to see that

For whatever reason, you like him

Flaws and all, you chose him.

Will only call you sweet nicknames in private.

Among them are: love, sweetheart, baby, dear, hun, and his personal favorite - sunshine.

Prefers to fight for you than have you join in and get hurt.

Even if he's more at risk of being injured than you are

His Quincy pride just won't allow it.

NEXT UP: Gaara (Naruto)

MASTERLIST

An: A long boi because I'm currently watching bleach right now. Honesty all the men in bleach are so fine and I'm probably gonna add grimmjow for my bonus headcannons

[someonexsomeone]

The Mask... Take it off

Title: The Mask... Take it off

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Ghost is finally home, and you want. to help him demask.

Authors Note: Did I come back after an unexpected 2-year hiatus just to post something about a man I only know from fanfiction? Yes, yes I did. Crazy bc I actually simp for Soap way harder and if he could only dick me down rq i would sure appreciate it thanks-

His mask was always on.

You knew better than anyone it was a physical reminder of his guarded heart, the years of trauma and suffering he endured, the hope for himself to take whatever broken parts of himself he could and piece together someone who could help the world. Only getting thicker with each year, the mask was his reminder to protect those who needed it. Including himself.

Hard to know what a person is thinking without seeing their face, right? Simon Riley was an enigma.

But there was something in the way his eyes moved, the way they would follow as you walked around the room, carefully putting away his gear into a neat pile as he disrobed. Sitting at the end of your shared bed, he was a hulking specimen of a man. You couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion, flickering to them for a moment before returning to your task.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, not yet. That didn’t stop you from being able to feel them burning into you though.

After years of practice, he didn’t need to look to be able to know what button to press in what order, what hook to pull, what buckle to unsnap to free himself of his gear. He was meticulous, as with everything else he did, but his eyes were the only thing to betray his stoic personality. He watched you with a deep gaze as you silently took care of him like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t making his hands tremble the slightest bit. How long has he been gone? How many nights apart from you? And how long was he allowed to stay before his phone crackled to life and he was whisked away on another endless journey? You didn’t want to know.

Neither did he, to be honest.

His eyes were trying to catch every little detail into his memory so he could pretend your time apart didn’t feel as long as it did. Your hair was different, he noted, and your nails were painted a different color. He didn’t recognize the pajamas you were wearing, nor the new pair of shoes that were by the door. Changes, changes, changes. He couldn’t help but notice them. He faintly recalls a story he read long ago, about a painting that changed every day despite it being impossible. You were just as beautiful as he remembers, just…different.

Your mannerisms, however, were completely the same. You skillfully tucked straps away, folded his padded vest just so, and even carefully untied the laces on his boots so they could slide off with little effort. You were kneeling in front of him now, pushing the boots to the side, making sure to wind the laces together and place them inside so they wouldn’t go everywhere on the floor. Simon couldn’t take his eyes off of you, not for a second. How he had missed you. He felt like a schoolboy again, tilting his head softly to and fro in order to catch your eyes. To get you to look at him for a single second, to feel relieved that you were here and you were safe.

Your eyes trailed up from his feet to his knees and thighs, no doubt looking for any new or reopened injuries. Your fingers carefully skimmed behind them. Wary. His skin erupted in goosebumps wherever you touched. You moved up higher, gently moving over his stomach towards his side where his latest injury was. Without even looking at his face, you could see the flinch in his body as you grazed the stitches over his shirt, only recently been patched up. You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his side, a silent apology (for what, he didn’t know). He almost smiled to himself. No doubt you were looking for anything he might have “forgotten” to tell the medic. Wouldn’t be the first time he hurried his own examination along to get the nurses to his teammates faster. After all, why waste their time on tiny cuts and bruises when he could simply come home to you and be showered in love and care he spent every waking moment craving. His hands were clenching against the blankets.

You continued on. Your fingers gently ran along his knuckles, gentle kisses of your fingers against hands that were trained to kill. That has killed. You didn’t even flinch, moving both your hands to his arms, gracefully sliding them up and up and your kisses continued on their trail from his injury. To his ticklish side, his rib cage, a cheeky one to his peck, and up and up until they reached the edge of his mask. His breath hitched. Years, he’s known you, and for years he’s trusted you. You know this. Know that this man trusts you with his life, a testament to the fact that you were one of the rare people to see his face (and more than once at that). But you still feel a little hurt when he flinches at your cold fingers sliding underneath it to press on either side of his neck.

Afraid. Closed off.

You gently nose your way up, running it along his face until your finally, finally, eye to eye. He’s hunched over so your neck isn’t cramping as much as you continue to kneel on the floor, and despite his large stature and the sheer predatory aura he emits without thinking, you can see his vulnerable eyes as they bleed into yours. You can see his struggle, the silent argument he’s having in his head to fight the instinct he’s carried with him for years and let you strip him bare. You press a gentle kiss to his cloth-covered lips, a silent acceptance. You love him, and will love him, no matter what. His lips chase yours as you pull away, his eyes flickering desperately for a second before he registers your resolve.

Ah. You want to help him.

Slowly, you lean down again, pressing your lips to the space at the end of his mask. Between his shirt and the mask is a sliver of skin that you greedily nibble at. He sighs, a smile sneakily tugging at the corner of his mouth. Little by little your kisses and nibbles push the cloth up, revealing more and more for your gentle kisses to attack. They’re light and delicious and Simon can’t seem to get enough, moving his hands to grasp at anything he can reach in order to pull you toward him in a desperate attempt for you to do more. More kisses, more affection, more love. More, more, more.

Your nose tickles his jawline, and he tickles you in return with his unshaven shadow. His breath hitches as the mask slips past his lips. He nearly doesn’t realize your lips attached themselves to his to replace the scratchy material that had just pushed past them. You kiss like you’re in a rush, a gasp of heavenly air after being trapped underwater for a second longer than comfortable. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that, should he have been a lesser man, he would have blushed at. He tries to desperately pull you closer, despite your body already being pressed against his chest, his arms nearly encircling your like a snake around its prey.

Once again you pull away too soon for his liking, leaving him breathless and wanting more. Your lips continue upwards, kissing his nose and the rosy apples of his cheeks as they are revealed. The room feels sweltering, but he can’t let you go. Not now, not after remembering what it’s like to have you in his arms. He has to close his eyes as the mask pushes over them. Your lips kiss each one before he’s able to open them again. You continue even into his hairline, pressing affectionate kisses there until the mask has been pushed completely away. It falls onto the bed behind him. For something that controls his day to day life, Simon easily forgets it in lue of bringing you back to his lips once more. You giggle quietly against his mouth as he attacks you.

Kissing you is like a fantasy he never believed was possible, and desperately, desperately, he wants to memorize each and every detail. He nearly eats you whole, and you’re nearly tempted to let him. He doesn’t attempt to stop the soft sounds that escape him as you once again pull away from him. Your smile is an easy Simon forgiveness pass. He can’t find it in himself to stay upset, especially not as you press one more kiss to his lips before standing, tugging on his hand in order to get him to follow you to the bath.

With his mask completely gone, you finally get to appreciate the small smile that morphs across his face, his adoring eyes saying everything you needed to hear. I missed you. I love you. Your Simon.

masterlist  l  mw masterlist

[icancdramahanfu]

Maomao's skirt

Since I have decided to torture myself and do a cosplay in just over a month, I figured I would start with the easier part - the skirt.

In my intro post, I mentioned that her skirt isn't Ming accurate being vaguely mamian-like but not really. For this I played with two main ideas, using one of my other skirt patterns that has pleats and would be mamian-like or go for the circle skirt.

The fabric I selected was around 2 1/3 yards - less than I'd like but it was the entire remaining bolt and the color was perfect - don't trust my indoor lighting here. With the limited amount of fabric I had to do a little tetris to decide what pattern pieces to use. I washed and dried the fabric before ironing it.

My first and preferred pattern was this one:

Simplicity #2710 - 1949

I have already made this skirt, it has thick pleats and falls nicely. I figured it might be a good selection and I'd get that extra Ming style with lazy pleating.

Circle skirt

Less complicated since all I had to do was determine my waist, put it as the circumference and make a 1/4 circle pattern with my pre-marked cutting board. The bolt was 46" from selvage to selvage meaning if I kept one strip I had more than enough for a waistband. I am currently assuming a 4" wide waistband and went with 42" for the skirt length.

Unfortunately for my original plan, the vintage Simplicity pattern was too wide with the pleating. I'd need 3 1/2 yards of fabric and my current pattern pieces were set for a length of around 36" as well to the hem.

Circle it is!

Made my pattern pieces, two so that I could see how to fit them. The fabric has a decent thickness and I didn't want to fold it over and cut, opting to instead chalk out each piece individually on the fabric.

And yes, that is wrapping paper as usual with the square grids on the backside. I love this type of wrapping paper so handy! I cut out my fabric and took it to the sewing machine.

Next, I went ahead and did a zigzag stitch along all the edges except for the selvage. This fabric was showing how it would fray immediately. I washed it in the machine and this is what the edges looked like after drying.

Somehow, I messed up on the waist portion of the skirt panels and I had to take them down by 2". Not sure how I messed that up since I had the radius calculated. I tested this by holding them up to my body and realizing it was off.

Recall, that I have a very limited amount of this fabric, fearing something odd, I went ahead and sewed the front pieces together selvage to selvage and then the back ones. When I held them up to my waist they were still slightly off. I put in the right side seam and made sure all my seams were pressed. Something about my top of the panel pattern is off by a smidge and I need to put in about 3" of a spacer. I decided to put it down for the day and I'll figure out how to put that piece in, since the hips are okay?

It will also allow for me to decide if I want to be lazy and put in a side zipper. I'll go back and put a pocket in the right seam for sure. The next day - I went ahead and made a triangle to wedge into the gap area before putting in the zipper. I held the skirt up to my waist and measured it with my measuring tape. I zigzag stitched it and put it in the spot.

I also pressed the seam well. Then I decided to put in an invisible zipper in the spot for a side zip. I had to unpick the seam a bit to fit the zipper in further and get it up around my hips. Whoops.

Due to adding in the wedge the zipper is at a bit of an angle as shown here. I estimated the zipper coming up higher on the waistband so, I but in a hook and eye on the top to pull it together.

It turned out fine, I'm so limited by the fabric I have to work with. I still have enough to put in pockets on the right side. However, with the skirt cranked out in less than 24 hours, I have it now hanging to even out the hem. It hangs the right way so I'll take it.

Always remember to let your garment hang before hemming. I'm likely going to put some bias tape on the bottom, since this fabric is very prone to fray and then fold that up as opposed to a double folded hem. It is in place and will hang out in the closet for a day or two!

That's all for now! I'll start working on the aoqun this week as a modified pattern from my previous ones.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Part 15

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you infinitely darling, your support has allowed me to do something I could’ve previously only dreamed about, I appreciate it so very much ❤️

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

The mission is tonight

He doesn't know how long he has to leave for, which means he doesn't know how long he'll be away from you, which means he's absolutely not looking forward to it

He debates whether or not he should tell you, whether or not that would make it too obvious he’s into you beyond the fuck buddy arrangement you have

But it’s still relatively early in the afternoon when that familiar homesickness settles in the pit of his chest, and he thinks, does it really matter, either way?

There’s no way you don’t know he’s hopelessly in love with you, and sure, there’s still a chance he might scare you off by being too clingy, but he just can’t help it

He’s itching to see you

The only thing he needs to take care of, before he can allow himself the unbridled pleasure of seeing you, is none other than dealing with Jeff

Smiley knows what happened, and he knows the kind of medical attention Jeff will be needing over the next few days, but Jack promised he’d look over him one last time before leaving

Even though he’s just about the last person he wants to see right now

But alas, always a man of his word, Jack makes his way down to the infirmary, encouraged solely by the idea of seeing you afterward

Like you’re his special little treat

The human in question is awake when he checks up on him, which almost surprises Jack

Despite everything, he can't deny how tenacious the guy is

Neither of them speak, but Jeff knows to move from the bed to the table when Jack walks in

He’s so used to being stitched up that the whole thing is basically routine, by this point

Jack checks him over, makes a mental note of what needs to be fixed up, and then he wordlessly gets to work

The silence between them stays unbroken, even as Jack finishes changing the bandages and starts reworking some of the stitches

Jack’s work is by no means sloppy, but Jeff somehow always has a way of always tearing through stitches like it’s nothing

It’s that damn thick skin of his

In and out, he sews Jeff’s open wounds closed

He wonders if the raven-haired killer remembers the brief conversation they had the night BEN brought him in, but despite his curiosity, he doesn't ask

It’s only when the needle digs a tad deeper than it’s meant to that Jeff hisses, finally interrupting the silence

“Watch it,” he growls, and it’s obvious he’s trying to sound tough, but he's very much so weak

Jack sighs

As much as he absolutely despises the bastard sometimes, he knows it’s never a great idea to let grudges fester

Whatever’s going on, they’d probably both benefit by sorting things out

And so, even if he doesn’t want to, he forces himself to speak

“So, what’s the deal,” he starts, his focus never once faltering from his task, “you don’t get the girl you want, so you go out and try to get yourself killed?”

Jeff rasps bitterly

His voice is raw and gravelly, and Jack reminds himself to let Smiley know about Jeff’s fluid intake

“As if...” Jeff coughs, “as if you wouldn’t do the same if you could"

When Jack doesn't answer, knowing he has a fair point, Jeff continues

“I bet you think you’re fucking invincible… just because she chose you… don't you?" he grunts, "Well, you’re not"

Knowing he’s just trying to get a rise out of him, Jack doesn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction

But that only aggravates him further

"I know what (y/n) wants," he claims, "and it’s certainly not what you’re thinking”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” Jack’s answer is immediate, his voice low and composed as he sews flesh back together

“Oh, but I fucking do,” Jeff laughs—or, at least, he tries to, but it ends up in another racking cough

Maybe he should administer more sedatives

“You want some bullshit happily-ever-after with her," he continues, ignoring the way Jack’s stabbing the needle deeper into his skin than it should be going, "That’s not fucking happening, she’s not interested”

Jack takes a deep breath, trying to cool down the burning swell of anger in his chest

“You know, all she wants is to get fucked”

It's the last straw

Jack snaps

Without thinking, he grabs Jeff, pulls him up, and slams him back down against the table

The demon savours the dazed pain registering on Jeff’s face

“Listen,” Jack growls as he yanks him back up, not even bothering to conceal the demonic lilt to his voice, and he adores the flash of fear in Jeff’s eyes at the sound of it, “you’re going to stay the fuck away from (y/n). You’re not going to hang out with her unless there are other people around, you’re not going to talk about her—you’re not even going to think about her—you understand?”

Jeff can be—and often is—an asshole; there’s no denying that

Knowing this, Jack knows not to expect too much from him

He knows that some of the things he says, some of the things he does, are just meant to piss people off—just to get a rise out of them

And Jack usually knows to ignore it; letting it get to him just encourages Jeff

But he refuses to ignore it when it comes to you

There’s no way he can let him get away with saying that kind of shit about you—his perfect little (y/n)

When Jack releases his hold on him, letting him drop back down onto the cold, hard metal of the table, he hopes that it registers in Jeff’s stubborn little head not to fuck around when it comes to you

No one can mess with you

And, judging by the way Jeff is quiet for the rest of the time he’s working on him, he can only assume he’s gotten the hint

Sooner rather than later, Jack’s finally done and out of there

He immediately makes a beeline for your room, not even pausing to consider how early it is and the fact that you’re, very likely, probably still sleeping

Guilt twinges in his chest when you answer the door, looking not quite completely awake, but the way you smile at him, all cute and sleepy, almost makes him happy he came so early

“Hey,” he says

“Hey,” you answer

Your voice isn’t warmed up yet, and you sound so peaceful and relaxed

“I just came by to let you know I’m leaving”

You blink, like his words don’t register at first, and he realizes how strange this whole thing must be all of a sudden

He wants to kick himself

Why is he always so weird in front of you like this?

“Leaving?” you repeat, your brows stitching together, “What? Where? Why??”

“I have a mission,” he awkwardly clarifies, “I, uh, I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I guess I just—I guess I just wanted to, like, say goodbye before going”

He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, because god damn, the room somehow feels ten times warmer all of a sudden and he’s about to start sweating

“Oh,” you answer, “Alright… How long are you leaving for?”

“I’m, uh, I’m not sure,” he pauses for a second to think, then adds, “I guess I also just wanted to say, like, if any of the guys give you trouble—like Hoodie or Jeff—you can let me know, yeah? I’ll make sure to sort things out”

What he says makes you crack a smile, and he genuinely can’t believe how perfect that smile is

“Don’t worry about me. It’s fine, I’ll be alright. I’ll survive,” you laugh

Oh God, he wants to kiss you so badly again

Just one parting farewell kiss—surely, that’s not too much to ask for, is it?

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, he leans in, and even though he’s still wearing his mask, he’s desperate to feel your lips above his

He gets so, so incredibly close to you, to the point where he can hear the hitch in your breath as you realize what‘s happening

And then, all too quickly, you stiffen, thank him for coming to say goodbye, and next thing he knows, he’s facing the door you just abruptly shut on him

It takes a second to process what just happened

And as soon as the realization hits, he’s filled with shame, humiliation and regret

He wants to dig himself a hole six feet deep and never crawl out

He almost wants to knock again, apologize for overstepping your boundaries, but he just doesn’t have it in him to confront you, and he doesn’t wanna bother you even further

He turns away, like a dog with its tail between its legs, and retreats feeling like one of the most pathetic excuses of a person ever

Maybe it’s a good thing he’s leaving, he thinks

Maybe he’s too comfortable with you, and he needs some distance so that he stops confusing how close the two of you really are

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants to curl up and whither away

Because not only did he really just do that, but then he also acted like a moron for mentioning Jeff and Hoodie—as if he’s a knight in shining armor and you’re a damsel, which you by far aren’t—and he’s leaving you with a bad impression, which is just basically begging for trouble with the other creeps

Jeff and Hoodie might as well just swoop in and take you now that you’re available and turned off from him by now

God, he’s such a fucking idiot

The day can’t pass by soon enough

He hides out in his room, counting down the hours until he can finally leave, until he can finally stop worrying about running into you and humiliating himself again

Eventually, the day does pass, and he ends up in the woods with Toby, the two of them walking on the dirt trail that leads into the city

He doesn’t know what’s going on with the other proxies, but as far as he can tell, it seems like it’ll just be him and Toby to kick things off

They were given very vague instructions about meeting with a driver in a black van, who’s meant to drop them off at a hotel, and once there, they’re meant to do some sort of stakeout until a new set of instructions come in

Jack’s always disliked the whole secrecy surrounding Slender’s plans, but he supposes there must be a reason for it

All par for the course considering The Operator’s reputation

There’s already a car waiting for them as soon as they step out of the forest’s entrance, and as they both climb in, Jack can smell the driver’s fear

There’s a divider between them, and Jack can see who’s at the wheel, but judging by the way their eyes nervously flicker in the mirror without landing on either of them, he can only assume it’s a one-way blacked-out divider

They can see the driver, but the driver can’t see them

“So, where to?” they ask nervously

“Just drive,” Toby answers

The ride is deathly silent the whole way there

Jack looks out the tinted window as the various neighbourhoods pass them by

It helps keep his mind busy, until he inevitably can’t avoid thinking about you, as per usual

He’s an idiot

He almost still can’t believe that happened

You didn’t want to kiss him

When is it going to sink into his thick, stubborn head that you’re not into him like that?

Every time he gets close to you, he fucks something up, driving you away, and it’s a repeating cycle of trying to win your favour back

When is he going to learn?

He’s distracted the whole drive to the hotel, which he supposes is both a blessing and a curse, because the ride feels like it’s at least two hours long

Slender could’ve at least given them a warning

When they finally get to their destination, him and Toby step out into the darkness of the night, and the driver rolls away behind them

They’re left in front of a shabby-looking building on a street that’s basically abandoned

There’s no one at the front desk when they walk in, but there’s a single key with a room number on it waiting for them

Toby grabs it, cracking his neck as he does

“O-one fucking room? You—you shitting me? H-how—how fucking, how fucking long are we gonna have to—have to room together? What is this—this crap?”

Jack doesn’t say anything

He lets Toby lead the way down the dingy halls, which are completely devoid of any human presence

The wallpapers are yellowed and peeling, and every step they take releases a musty odour into the stale air

There are only two floors, and their room is on the second one, with a single dusty window looking out into the desolate street below

The two drop their bags onto the beds, which there are, thankfully, two of

“J-jesus FUCK—thank god!” Toby exclaims, clothes spilling from his bag as he throws it over, “I got-got worried we’d have to share a bed or something”

He jumps onto the bed he’s claimed as his, the mattress squeaking in protest, looking entirely uncomfortable—but the way he lies down and rests his hands behind his head, you’d think it was the most comfortable thing ever

“N-no offence, dude, I’m just—I’m just not into you like that,” he adds, and there’s a wide grin on his face as he ticks his head to the side

“…None taken,” Jack answers dryly

He finishes unpacking his basic necessities, then walks up to the window to look outside at the night sky

He wonders if you’re back at the mansion, also looking at the same stars, and he feels that sad numbness blossom in his chest once more

It’s going to be one long mission, he thinks

[grapenamjams]

Captain Price with a recovering reader

Part two of: scenarios with a fatally injured reader

Warnings: Medical environment, mention of injury

A/n: I need more captain price in my life fr

…

“No internal injury’s, no infection and your vitals look good considering the amount of blood you lost.” The doctor who John rushed to get to check you the second you woke up, says while looking at their computer before looking back at you with a pleasant smile

“All you need to focus on is to not pull your stitches out. Other than that you are on your way to a quick recovery and leave here soon.” They finish, as they write something on their clipboard

“Thanks doctor” Johns gruff voice sound from his spot beside your bed, arms crossed over his chest. his voice and posture adding to his guarded serious expression that makes the medical profesional shift nervously

“O-of course” their eyes shift between you two and you offer a smile “yes, thank you for everything”

they smile slightly “well I’ll let you two alone for now… call me if you need me” they say quickly as you node watching them leave

“I don’t know if you are happy or angry to see me, with that expression John.” Your gaze falls back on the seeming brooding man beside you

“try both” he grunts out. his eyes run over your face “I’m relieved you woke up. I haven’t been able to do anything else but to…” he lets out a frustrated breath uncrossing his arms

“But what the bloody hell were you thinking taking a dagger for me huh?” His voice was authoritative and gruff but you could hear the worry in it with the slight quiver

“I…I could have lost you, you know that? You’d be gone. And for what? Just so that I could live?”

“If it had come to that yes. John I would have wanted to you to live, thats why I did it” you state matching his tone

“Without you?” His voice rings in the room. His eyes staring at you, kind truthful eyes that were welling up with tears you know he wouldn’t shed in-front of you

“That wouldn’t be living darling…” he breathes out shaking his head looking down at his hands, having that nightmarish sight still ingrained in his mind.

“I’ve lost many people around me. But you” his gaze locks with yours “if I lost you I’d…I’d be lost [name]. That would be it” he grabs your hand in both of his hands bringing it to his lips

“I’m the one that should protect you, not the other way around, alright?”

You place your other hand on top of his “John, I don’t want to lose you either. It’s not all up to you. When we say we are together that means we are together. Taking care and protecting each other. So don’t ask me not too because I won’t listen, even if you’re a captain” you give him a smile

His eyes widen a bit seeing a retort forming in his mind but instead he relinquishes with a node and slight smile breaking the seriousness on his face “alright, you’re right. could never bargain with you could I?”

Shaking you’re head you open your arms to him “come here”

He wraps you in his large arms cradling the back of your head pressing you against him finally feeling whole again with your warmth against him

Having to remember to lessen his hold on you “careful, your stitches”

You hold him tighter “I don’t care they can stich me up again”

He chuckles against you “such a stubborn women you are”

“And yet You still love me” you mumble against him breathing him in

John pulls back to cup your chin between his fingers “that I do” he says before guiding your lips to his

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 2

Pairing: Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: nudity, vague medicine

Missed Chapter 1?

Red Menace

It took the better part of an hour to drag your new friend to the spring and another good chunk of time to tug him out of his clothes. Wet clothes were a pain in the ass to deal with in the first place, but this guy seemed to be wearing everything in a size too small, which made it worse. The clothes were now laid out in the sun, post-rinse in the spring. After exerting yourself, you felt your stomach cramp. Well... I can't do anything on an empty stomach. Fishing around in your pile of goodies, you felt the strap of the goggles you had found. Shrugging, you threw them over your head. They thumped against your chest, too big to stay on top of your head. Fishing around some more, you found one of the jars. Cracking it open, you gave Blondie a brief once-over to triage the situation. You gave the jar's contents a cautionary sniff. Oh! Spiced peaches. What a treat! Slurping back a few slices straight from the jar, you put your hand on your hip and contemplated the next step. You wiped your mouth on your shoulder before kneeling down.

Luckily, most of Blondie's injuries seemed shallow, but there was a gash in his thigh and he definitely had a head laceration. Idly, you hoped that he didn't have a skull fracture under that lac. The guy had barely twitched or made any indication he was alive. A quick look at his pupils and a cursory cranial groping gave you some relief that it was just a flesh wound. Pressing your knuckles against his sternum and rubbing earned you a grimace and a groan from him. "Hey... there you are, pal. That's great." You patted his chest. There was a sound of tearing fabric as you sacrificed a piece of your shirt to make a rag. Being in saltwater for however long definitely helped keep the wounds clean but the sand from the beach and the dirt that you may or may not have dragged him through were not exactly infection prevention. It didn't take long to clean away the dried blood and grime. Actually, it seemed like he was in better shape than you initially thought, just the two main injuries and a series of random scrapes and bruises. He probably did lose a good bit of blood though, hence his current state. 

You hummed to yourself, pleased with the progress. It was strange. This feeling of giddiness. Certainly, it was because of this shake-up in your miserable island life, but it was an unfamiliar feeling nonetheless. Honestly, you didn't remember the last time you felt even a sliver of hope. How sad. It was a bit preemptive to get excited about anything. What if no one was coming for him? What if they were but they didn't want to help you? What if he died? What if he lived and murdered her? He can fucking try. That made you laugh a little. But you supposed that was really what hope was about in the first place, the potential that something good could happen. At the very least, you could be stuck here together. Maybe he was friendly. He's sure not bad to look at.

With your good eye, you appraised your work. Unfortunately, you didn't have any supplies to properly stitch Blondie up and the rag tied around his wound would have to work until you could make a trip to snag your kit. "Fantastic news, Mini. My memory has been refreshed in the dicknballs department," you mumbled, draping a leaf over him to protect his dignity. "Can you watch him for a minute while I get my things?" You looked expectantly towards a mound of brush. "Come on. Stop ignoring me. I know you're there." Sighing, "Look, I will share my peaches with you. I'm sorry I ate your melon." You stood up to leave. Mini was fairly reliable, except when you made her mad. She would probably still do what you asked this time since she was most likely just as curious about the island's newest inhabitant. His clothes will probably be dry once I get him patched up too. 

It took a little too long for you to notice that the birds had gotten quiet. You were already at a disadvantage, having only one eye, and you could never use observation haki, not to mention you had been fairly pre-occupied. There was a pressure against your throat that dragged you backwards. Your hands reflexively tried to pry the...the goggles? away from your neck. What the fuck? 

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? KILLER."

The words deafened you. At the same time, the wind was knocked out of you and your feet were no longer touching the ground. Wood scratched the back of your legs. The tightness around your neck increased. Your vision probably would have been doubled for a second if it was physically possible. A few seconds went by before you realized your situation. An ogre held you by the neck against a tree. 

"ARE YOU DEAF? I ASKED A QUESTION."

"If I was deaf, how would I hear you a second time?" You rasped. You may not be used to being happy or giddy, but fighting and being a total asshole was second nature. "I'm- not- a killer." It was the truth in this instance only. It was a mistake to only have one hand on you. He probably didn't expect it. The balls were everyone's disarming go-to. You kicked him as hard as you could straight in the throat. He held you high enough that it was an easy target. Instantly, you hit the floor and assumed a fighting position, removing the goggles around your neck so he couldn't get you however he got you in the first place. 

He was on his hands and knees coughing. Not an ogre, but a sopping wet beast. He must have washed up in a separate place and moved before I got around to it. For the first time, you took in the man before you. You'd seen hundreds of wanted posters. "Oh, what the fuck? You're Eustass 'Captain' Kid." Which means... "Killer"... Blondie is Massacre Soldier Killer.