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wannaeatramyeon · 4 months ago

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Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 2

Please read Part 1 first! G/N. 4.6k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

As far as first impressions go, yours went terribly. Gun can count on no hands the amount of people that have spoken to him like you did and lived to tell the tale.

Make no mistake, the sum total of which is zero. Zero spoke to him like that and lived to tell the tale.

It's like you have no manners and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

But, he figures, he's finally doing his GED after the whole murderous stint and juvie and light dabbling in gang wars. Maiming a fellow classmate on the first day would leave an even worse first impression with the rest of the class than yours with him, therefore he should really try to behave himself.

Besides, he would never hear the end of it from Goo if he dropped out, or worse got kicked out, so he picked his battles and took your insults as best he could.

Somehow miraculously managed to hold back from reaching across the screen to give you a well deserved ass whooping when you asked him if he was on the verge of a mid-life crisis. He schooled his face and took a drag of his cigarette instead.

At least, if nothing else, you're entertaining.

You also reminded him that small talk was a thing when you asked what he liked to do for fun. He couldn't remember the last time anyone asked, if anyone even did, although you don't really make this sort of conversation in his line of work and it is hard for Gun to find time to make chit chat with someone as he's usually the one brutally assaulting them in a fight.

And he had such good intentions with enrolling in school again so why not tell you he likes gaming.

That's a perfectly Normal hobby, right?

Even as he says those words, they stick in his throat like he's confessing something shameful and it comes out strangled and strange.

He moves on to more familiar territory by reframing his bloodlust as training and martial arts, which also sounds very Normal to Gun's ears.

A few more things that he can barely remember are mentioned to present himself as a very Normal individual and he isn't embarrassed to admit to himself he's pleased with how this has gone.

After all, the majority of his working day is spent with Goo and Goo is, to put it politely, an unhinged dipshit, and their conversations usually also have that kind of vibe. Gun is aware enough to watch his tongue in this conversation with you, and the fact you haven't looked terrified or called the police can only work in his favour.

What piqued his curiosity most of all though, is your threat to kick his ass.

(On Tekken, but still.)

So much confidence in your own ability, so much faith in your skills.

(On Tekken, but still.)

Alas, that night he finds out it's misplaced and you have severely overestimated himself and/or underestimated him.

But still.

He remains curious about you.

You show absolutely no fear, no ulterior motive, no nothing, in the way you speak to him and seem to have latched on to him rather than anyone else in the class, and Gun is...

Charmed.

He finds you oddly endearing.

Then when he sees the back of your head as he makes his way into the classroom for the first time and decides to sit next to you, the way you blatantly check him out doesn't hurt either.

People ogling Gun isn't anything new, but what is new is how much he likes it from you.

He makes up his mind to keep his seat next to you. Even if your gaze does linger a moment too long on his hair and makes him wonder if he used enough gel on it when he styled it that morning.

And although you caught him doodling and insult his masterpieces repeatedly - you also balanced it out by helping him with Literature, which truth be told, he is extremely grateful for. He forgives your missteps and your teasing.

Over time, Gun finds that he likes your company. Traits that would be annoying as shit with other people he finds sweet with you, including your unrefined taste in coffee.

As a bonus, you also don't balk at the tidbits of his life he shares. In fact it should really be a little troubling how grey your morals are, how easily you take it in stride for someone that seems like a normal well-adjusted(ish) civilian.

All in all, this never happens. Ever.

Never has anyone held his attention like you do, and for him to test the waters like he has done.

Gun likes to think he has good judgement, takes very calculated risks. This, he decides, is worth pursuing. Exploring.

With not so much a leap of faith but maybe just a tiny hop, Gun opens up his home to you.

You think you're in love with Gun Park.

This realisation hits you at 5am, when you're lying in his bed and he has done the gentlemanly thing of taking the sofa. It hits you because only a few hours ago, he had pulled you into his lap, looked at you and held you so tenderly then didn't kiss you.

The fact that he hadn't kissed you, and you're in love with a very questionable person sends you into a mental crisis.

Fuck.

He's secretive enough, letting you in on various elements of his life and you manage to piece together that he can only be up to no good.

There's no shades of grey in his life, only copious amounts of crimson from bloodshed, and a twisted sense of morals and principles he lives by.

You know by now he hangs around far too much with someone called Goo, who sounds like the personification of a headache and annoys him to no end but also seems to be the only friend he has. Speaks too highly of a Charles that you know is shady despite never having met the guy. There's also an Eli that he mentions like he's the one that got away.

You can live with all of that and the questionable amount of hair product he uses.

What you are in fact struggling to get to grips with is:

This man lives in a junkyard. Like some kind of violent, sexy raccoon.

A voice in your head that sounds scarily like your mother, lectures you about prospects and picking a man with no future.

Well, for one - he's back in school.

See mom, you're wrong.

He also seems to do very well for himself despite literally living amongst trash (you handwave away his blood money and unscrupulous methods to earn said money) so that's another point for Gun.

And what sort of person, who lives between piles of scrap metal and discarded appliances, has such a luxurious bed.

You're sure the bedding thread count is in the thousands. Instead of researching the cure to cancer or how to travel faster than light, scientists have researched the comfiest mattress known to man and has created this that you're currently lying on.

So maybe this violent sexy raccoon is actually a prize.

Regardless.

You seem to have hitched yourself quite willingly to this wagon and now your biggest issue, that leaves you tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning, is still-

Why the fuck didn't he kiss you.

And how could he, after sharing such a sweet moment, push you off his lap and kick your ass on Tekken for 5 straight rounds.

What a bastard.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep and you awake to the smell of deliciousness.

Something is being fried and you melt thinking your raccoon king is cooking breakfast for you. Who knew he was this sweet and thoughtful.

What is even better though, somewhat masked by the sizzling, is if you listen hard enough, you think Gun might even be humming. Even the perfect bed can't keep you from pressing your ear up against the bedroom door when you connect the dots that he is humming a popular K-Pop song that you have listened to on loop 50 times the week prior.

You yank open the door with force, "A-ha!" and point in his direction, gleeful at catching him doing something so un-Gun like.

Gun, in the middle of plating 2 omelettes, whips his head to you and stills, looking like a deer caught in headlights or a raccoon caught in headlights, rather.

You ask him, with a shit eating grin, if he's a big fan of the K-Pop group but it drops at his lack of reaction when he just shrugs and responds simply with a yes.

Damnit.

Of course you know it's not really anything to be ashamed of but it's so unexpected from Gun, that would it kill him to blush a little or act a little abashed? You expected something at least a little entertaining from his initial surprise, but you suppose anyone would act like that if a deranged house guest accosted them first thing in the morning after they so kindly made breakfast too.

As a consolation, after the let-down, you double take when you realise Gun had been cooking topless and remains topless this entire time.

In all his muscled glory. Pecs and abs and everything. Delicious broad shoulders and an enticing light trail of hair from below his belly button and stretching down, down, down into his sweatpants.

You gulp, trying to calm yourself down. You know you are staring so so obviously but you can't find it in yourself to look away.

Gun clears his throat as if to say my eyes are up here, and hands you a plate.

While you still have self control and before you outstay your welcome, you say bye to Gun after breakfast mentioning you have some errands to run.

It's a poor excuse but you didn't taste a bite of that omelette, brain too fixated on the man seated opposite and wondering if what he's hiding in his trousers matches the energy he gives off.

He offers to take you home and you insist on walking by yourself. You reason to yourself the fresh air after such a heady night and all the over excitement from this morning would do you good.

You say your goodbyes at his door, him leaning against the doorway, still unbearably tantalisingly shirtless and enough to distract you from the junkyard setting, with his arms folded and a smirk on his face as you stand there-

Standing and waiting and expecting.

You're pretty sure Gun wants to kiss you. There's a challenge in his eyes and you know he is teasing you.

The fact that you stared at him before like a slack-jawed moron also indicates full well what you would like him to do.

A goodbye kiss isn't too much to ask for (not that you're going to ask) but he continues to also lean and wait and smirk shirtlessly and god, this is the most awful hair-pulling frustrating game of chicken you have played.

For a moment you consider yanking him down and kissing him, hard and desperate, and making your way back inside to the most comfortable bed that has ever existed. For an even briefer moment you consider biting his pec and leaving a ring of teeth marks.

In the end, you can only muster "bye then," and to your dismay, your voice comes out whiny.

There's no hiding your disappointment.

Gun’s smirk grows wider at your tone and he relents and gives a peace offering in the form of a kiss on your cheek.

He pulls you into his body, arm wrapped around your waist and he dips down, grazes his lips featherlight to your cheek.

It's chaste. Impossibly tender and surprisingly sweet.

Damn.

You forget how to breathe and you feel like you're on fire as he murmurs bye into your ear. Later, you'll chastise yourself for letting Gun affect you like this with something so innocent.

You untangle from him and feel your legs wobble when you step off the porch and make your way back home.

Gun chuckles but you don't hear it.

You don't form a coherent thought again until that evening, when Gun beats you on Tekken and in a fit of rage and frustration, you finally break your controller.

To make things fair, Gun’s dislike of Literature is offset by how knowledgeable he is with Biology.

The human body, to be precise, and alarmingly so. Maybe serial killer levels of knowledge, with how much he knows about organs and muscles and tissues and everything in between.

He explains that it's useful for training, as if that's any explanation at all for his extensive knowledge. However, you've seen his body and heard enough about his past and yes, including his actual training, to realise that it does make sense in a way and you let it go.

Well.

Maybe you would have fought it a bit harder if you yourself was any good with biology but you're not. If he's great at it because he's a serial killer, then fortune favours the bold and you might as well take advantage of it.

Gun is a very very good teacher, which you did not predict and in a way you didn't expect.

His jaw is tense and the grip on the textbook tightens after you get the answer wrong for the 15th time and when you think he's about to whack you with said textbook, he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When he opens them again, he tries another method with you. Then another. And another.

Truly, you did not think he had this sort of tolerance or patience.

He explains things simply and calmly (though you've noticed he has started to grit out his words). Unfortunately you still find all this theory hard to wrap your head around.

"Are you going to hit me?" You ask.

"Yes," Gun says though he doesn't. He looks more like he's going to ram his head through a wall. Neither happens and he continues to work through the textbook with you.

Hours later, it clicks.

You feel something of a genius even if Gun’s hair resembles a bird nest from the amount of time he has ran his fingers through in exasperation.

After finding out that you broke your controller, Gun buys you a new one immediately.

He's very generous and kind, you think, and it may be the first time in existence anyone has considered Gun as kind.

Until you realise he has other reasons for doing so.

That night, and for several nights after too, Gun is merciless when he KOs you. Each match is shorter than the previous.

You register this is payback for the biology stint. It's got to be.

Nevertheless, because you're the bigger person and you take the defeats on the chin, as thanks and in an almost mirror image of Gun repaying your Literature help, you suggest taking him out for a coffee.

Getting a coffee to-go and hand delivering it would be much easier, but you can't bring yourself to order an espresso for someone even if it is their drink of choice.

You take him to one of your favourite coffeehouses. Somewhere much less lavish than the one he frequents and much more agreeable to your meagre pockets although the coffee is just as good.

"Two espressos," Gun says at the counter.

"One," you cut in firmly, holding yourself back from gagging. If you have to pay for it, you won't be drinking that bitter sludge. You rattle off your usual: a monstrosity made with double-digit syrup pumps and whipped cream and Gun flinches in your periphery.

Despite your insistence, he beats you to the punch and pays for the order anyway. Not before adding a jab that your coffee, if you can even call it a coffee, is the worst thing he has ever had the misfortune to spend money on.

"Try it," you offer, when your drink is in your hand and Gun watches every sip with mounting horror.

"No," His mouth is pressed into a thin line and he looks like he has half a mind to knock the cup out of your hand. He refrains, clenches his knuckles and rests them on his knee.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You watch him, heartily enjoying your sugary drink and sucking noisily on the straw. He twitches and starts counting from one again. You feel a surge of affection.

Without any other plans, both of you amble together through the quiet streets. You window-shop as Gun smokes next to you and attempts to buy everything that you set your eye on.

You tell him thanks but no thanks and continue to look at pretty trinkets and funky decor. In the glass reflection, you notice Gun fondly looking at you.

"Hi," you smile, turning towards him. He looks more handsome than ever in the sunlight. You don't even mind the amount of gel in his hair.

"Hey," he says, low and hushed. He steps towards you, leaving only a hairbreadth of air in between and tips your chin up to face him with his fingers.

You notice his pupils are blown wide, flickering down to your lips. Gun dips down at the same time you press up onto your tiptoes, and you feel his chest against yours, his other arm winding around your waist, breath fanning over your skin-

This is it, you think, finally.

This, sadly, is not it.

"GUN!" you hear a voice screeching. You both tear your attention from each other to the shrill noise.

A blonde guy in the loudest suit you have ever cast your eyes upon is waving manically in your direction.

"Do you know him?" you ask and Gun's lips are thinner than you have ever seen.

"No."

"GUN!" The blonde yells again and you raise an eyebrow at your companion.

His face looks pained as he tells you that is Goo Kim and when you ask if you both should go over and say hi, he snaps back absolutely not with a frown.

"Let's go," he says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction. Behind you, you hear cackling and Gun hastens his footsteps as if being chased by a deranged spirit.

You don't see the blonde again for the rest of the day although Gun’s phone seems to be going off every other minute.

The moment you had is never quite recaptured. You can't bring yourself to mind too much though, as Gun never lets go of your hand.

And everytime he catches you smiling at your hand in his, he gives you a light squeeze and returns the smile.

If you thought school would be all cutesy and you would take turns in helping each other with topics you're stuck on, you're wrong.

Turns out, both you and Gun are equally bad at math.

You watch, face blank, at your screen as the teacher explains algebra. At least, you think that’s what the jumble of numbers and letters are because your ears refuse to make sense of the words.

You search the monitor for Gun to see how well he is faring and find him staring dead-eyed.

Not very, then.

In class, you see Gun's textbook with some attempt at notes in the margin before devolving into his lewd stick men doodles that he still insists are fighting stances.

"You shouldn't cover your page in smut. No wonder you're bad at this." You tease.

He doesn't look at you, doesn't rise to the bait. Simply rebukes, "Your book is blank and you're still shit."

"Asshole," you hiss and his dead eyed stare is replaced with a smirk.

As it happens, Gun can be very convincing when he wants to be.

A fellow student trails behind Gun in the library, and offers to help you and him out with your lack of mathematical comprehension.

You ignore that the student seems absolutely terrified and keeps giving fearful glances to Gun as he peers at them menacingly.

So what if the convincing involves some light threats of bodily harm or whatever Gun has so charmingly offered if that means you will pass. Didn’t you already establish that you have questionable morals? You’re too set in your ways and there's no point fighting it now.

Neither of you get any further after a few hours, and it doesn't help that the student gets more and more nervous each time you and Gun get a question wrong.

Explanations devolve into stammering and barely strung together sentences as if their life depends on you both understanding basic algebra.

They let out a petrified squeak when Gun snaps his fifth pen in half, noticing he has no more pens and may very well come for their neck.

Maybe he will.

"Leave." Gun commands, pinching his nose bridge when he realises this is futile and the student scarpers off.

"I hate this," You say, dejected, and you watch Gun close his eyes and quietly count to ten.

As it happens, Gun can be very resourceful too when he wants to be.

The following week, the teacher trails behind Gun to the library and offers to help you both out.

He seems equally afraid, eyes flickering over to Gun, and you choose not to focus on that, instead smiling brightly at his kindness.

The teacher, gripping the textbook white knuckled, breathes a sigh of relief hours later when both you and Gun start to answer the questions correctly and with accurate workings too.

In your mind, you have both learnt something and he has avoided an ass kicking so you're all winners here.

Nevermind the fact that Gun would have been the one handing out the ass kicking. There's no need to focus on such details.

From this distance, you find a figure chain smoking again. You’re now so familiar with his body language, with his mannerisms, that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s Gun and clearly there’s also something playing on his mind.

He sucks a cigarette down to the filter and lights up another one immediately after.

You worry about the poor state of his lungs and if he looks like this when he’s only 20, then mid-life will actually hit him hard. His body must be running on fumes. He really should cut down on the cigarettes and the caffeine and get a better night's sleep instead of staying up all night gaming.

Not that you’re one to talk.

Perhaps it’s due to how he’s on alert for your presence like you are to him, his eyes snap to yours the moment you start to make your way over.

“You ok?” you ask and he gives you a funny look. It’s the same look whenever you express interest in his well being, or any general interest in him at all, and you think poor guy.

“Fine,” he responds, finishing off another cigarette and flicking it onto the floor.

And another thing, he really shouldn’t litter.

You don’t hesitate to tell him so, and as your tongue unravels, you start to also mention the smoking and his health and how you’re worried about him. Yes he clearly works out but all the cigarettes and lack of sleep will take a toll on him eventually.

Gun’s eyebrows climb into his hairline at your words. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that what was supposed to come across as caring is very much coming across as a lecture though you can’t seem to stop.

As you begin to mention the obscene amount of gel he wears in his hair, his expression turns from bemused to sour and he cuts you off.

“You can nag me at mine over Tekken.”

“I’m not nagging-” you start, and then you abruptly stop as your brain kicks into gear and it sinks in that he has invited you over to his again.

Oh right. His.

The junkyard.

At some point, you’ve forgotten that you’re in love with the King of Raccoons. That this guy willingly lives in a shack in the middle of, what you can only politely describe as, garbage, and you wonder how your life has come to this.

Gun is patient as he waits for your answer and his eyes are warm. It doesn’t sway you though. You want to counter with No. Why don’t you come to mine then you remember his beautiful bed. Yes you’re getting ahead of yourself but if there’s a chance you get to experience it again, sure. You will come to his raccoon den.

You agree and he gives you the softest smile you have ever seen.

“Shit,” you say, crestfallen and hanging limply.

“Shouldn’t you be used to losing by now?” comes Gun’s voice and you want to bounce the controller off his head.

“Shut up.”

“Your combinations are weak and poorly timed. You don’t understand how to use your characters or their advantages and you have no idea how to counter my moves.”

As the killing blow to your ego and pride, he adds, "You won that time because I let you."

A part of you already knew that yet you still stare at him agape at his audacity. Sitting, manspreading, on his armchair while he casually assassinates your skills.

“I’m not wrong.” He says with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you repeat, standing up.

“I can train you.”

“Shut up,” you stalk over to him.

“Or what?” He sits back to look up at you as you hover over him. Chin lifted defiantly and his eyes daring.

“This,” you snap, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you. You’re sick of losing and you’re sick of waiting.

You clash your lips together and feel Gun exhale sharply in surprise at your actions. He tenses, for a split second, before he tugs you into his lap and your legs straddle his thighs. His hand reaches under your top, sliding their way across your skin as you grind down.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling away, lips glossy and gazing at you half-lidded.

He leans back to look at you properly, removing his hand as you subconsciously chase his touch, then with gentle hands, he cups your face and grazes his thumb over your cheek.

The TV screen illuminates his features, light reflecting in his eyes and you find something you only saw an inkling of during that first night, but has grown strong and steady since.

Gun looks at you like he did then - soft, like you might break. Holds you the same way he had done - tender and precious.

Only this time, there’s a steeled resolve in his face as he presses your bodies together, capturing your lips against his once more and you melt into his embrace. He’s much more gentle than you were but there’s a hunger and quiet desperation as his tongue swipes over your lips and slips in your mouth.

Your fingers run through his hair, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it soft. All this time there wasn’t too much gel at all.

Gun wakes up the next morning with you drooling into his collar bone.

You wake up after the best night sleep of your life - wrapped in Gun’s arms and in the most comfortable bed known to man.

#you people have ground me down. i never intended a part 2. I WAS DONE #lookism #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun #wannaeatramyeon

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madridfangirl · 4 months ago

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I'm taking you home NOW!

(Jude Bellingham one-shot)

Summary: Jude sees his girlfriend at a club, tries to control himself as he watches her have the time of her life, but ultimately decides to take the matter in his own hands.

Inspired from an anon request.

Impromptu plans with the team was not a frequent occurrence for Jude. Their schedules just didn’t allow that.

So when the training was cancelled for the next morning and the team was wrapping up from Courtois’ documentary release event, a smaller (younger) group decided to extend the festivities of the night.

That’s how they ended up in the private section of a high-end club in Madrid. It had a separate entrance, separate kitchen and a whole separate floor for the more ‘esteemed’ guests. With a tinted glass wall separating them from the section below. The glass was see-through from their side - they could enjoy the atmosphere outside but still be hidden from outside view, keeping their privacy intact.

They had arrived late and the place was already buzzing. Music at high-decibels, along with the energy and vibe.

As they waited for their large table to be set up, Jude looked through the glass at the upbeat scenes on the dance floor. The place was fairly crowded, yet no one seemed to mind. The DJ was top-notch, pausing the music in the middle to get people to sing along. Rallying them into stadium-like Mexican-waves. Taking their requests. Getting them to dedicate songs to each other. The mood was lit AF.

Just when he was about to turn around to find a seat, his eyes landed on a red dress. A very familiar fitted red dress. On a very familiar body.

The girl had his back to him, leaning over the counter to get the attention of the fit bartender amidst all the noise and crowd.

Once he noticed her, the bartender leaned even closer, trying to make out the drink she was asking for. That went on for a good while, and he finally grinned at her, pulling out the tequila glasses.

Jude was frozen in his spot. He didn’t need her to turn around to know that it was his girlfriend that the bartender was entertaining. That back, those curves, that hair, that ass, those legs - he could pick her out of a line-up in his sleep. And that dress. He had bought that fucking body-hugging dress for her. Something he hadn’t seen her in yet. Until now.

He was too occupied to hear his teammates calling him from behind. Ultimately, Cama had to come over & smack his arm to get his attention. Before he could follow Jude’s line of sight, the boy recovered quickly, an impeccable smile donning his face. Most of the seats were already taken up. Jude had to find one with a clear view of the floor. So he had to manoeuvre (practically manhandle) Fran away from a corner seat, plopping next to Brahim. A confused looking Fran walking away to find another spot.

What the fuck was she still doing at the counter? How long does it take to pour a fucking tequila shot? How was this guy a professional?

Maybe he’s taking it slow on purpose.

The bastard.

He craned his neck to get a better view. The guy was holding out salt & lemon in front of her, as she downed her shot. Smiling widely when she appeared to thank him. Jude nearly puked at the sight.

He felt a smack on his arm again, turning around to see Brahim waving the drinks menu in his face.

‘Whatever you’re having.’

He quickly dismissed the interruption & turned around, but she was gone. And the bartender was gone.

Before his mind could run wild, he thankfully placed her making her way through the crowd to the rest of her group, falling happily into her roommate’s arms as she lost her balance. Roma steadied her, and the girls giggled along like maniacs.

Yeah, she was drunk. Pissed drunk. And Jude knew how silly & carefree she got when she was so out of it. But at least she was with Roma, and a couple of other girls Jude could recognise from her pics. Looked like a fun girls night.

They had missed quite a few because work had been super hectic. Even this morning she was certain it would be a long night in office. But looked like something opened up for them as well.

Good for her. She deserved to let her hair down once in a while. And paint the town red.

If only she could do that with him.

Once his profile shot through the roof since the world cup, and especially since the swashbuckling move to Madrid, Jude had been craving the everyday things he used to be able to do earlier. Like chilling at public places - clubs, cafes, amusement parks - without causing a stampede.

And since she had come into his life, the craving to go out & do regular couple stuff had intensified manifolds. But they had kept their relationship private, wanting to avoid the madness that would come from people getting to know. He couldn’t even take her out for a nice meal - some camera somewhere was always catching him. People constantly filming on their phones, even in the private sections sometimes.

Watching her live freely right now made his heart full - like he was living vicariously through her.

But it also made him ache - wanting to join her & be a normal 20 year old boy. To put his arms around her in a way that leaves no doubt that she was taken. If only he could have that once, just once.

The need to have her dance like that with him, swaying her hips against his body, was physically painful. Not that he was much of a dancer but he knew she’d make it work. Maybe he could throw a small party at his house, invite a few teammates who didn’t have a loose mouth and could keep a secret. And who had girlfriends / partners. Brahim & Fede could be good options. Yeah - he’d try to convince her. They could all dress up & have some fun together. Like regular young couples.

While his mind concocted all these wishful plans, he subconsciously downed every drink Brahim put in front of him. On to his fourth one now. In less than 15 mins.

‘You may wanna slow down, buddy.’

No response.

‘Jude.’

No response.

Jude had not turned his face fully, to not draw attention, but his eyes were still focused on her through his peripheral vision. He had been casually turning around and nodding in the middle to appear interested, but mentally he wasn’t present.

‘Boss might drop you in the next game. For Ceballos.’

Still no response.

Brahim laughed & elbowed him in the ribs.

‘Owww what the fuck?’

‘Who is she & where is she?’

‘What? I don’t understand.’

‘Yeah, cut the crap. Someone has clearly caught your attention. Now who’s the one?’

Brahim rose from his seat to try to look behind Jude’s frame but Jude caught him & pulled him down. Others looked at them curiously but Jude just laughed it off, saying he was drunk. They bought it; they were drunk too.

But not Brahim. He was a tanker.

‘Don’t.’

Jude gritted out slowly.

‘Oh boy - you know her from before don’t you?’

Who the fuck made him this smart in such matters? He wished one of the other boys were there instead - they would have laughed it off with ‘I bet she’s hot’ or something.

But not Brahim. He caught on. He observed as Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to make a decision. It was like watching a golden retriever attempting to do trigonometry.

Brahim laughed. Jude narrowed his eyes at him. The group called for another round of shots, still oblivious.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Your pathetic cover up.’

‘Oh shut up.’

Jude gulped his 5th drink - he wasn’t even sure which mix it was.

‘I…it’s complicated, mate.’

Brahim’s face softened.

‘Hey, it’s fine. Don’t need to say anything. Let’s talk when you are ready.’

Jude wanted to. Talking to someone on the team would really help. They were the only ones who would get it. Maybe he could get some useful advice on how to handle the public aspect of the relationship. Brahim was just the guy for it.

But, not now. His mind was too scattered with her thoughts now to have this deep conversation.

‘Thanks.’

Brahim smiled & nodded softly.

‘Must be a special lady.’

Jude smiled back.

‘But seriously, get a hold of yourself if you don’t want others to notice.’

The boys grinned at each other.

Jude turned to admire his special lady once more, who was waving to the music happily. A big smile on her face. Making her look all the more beautiful. The red looked gorgeous on her - the dress, the heels, the ruby lips.

He couldn’t wait for the night to be over so he could take her home.

With that thought, he let her be. And went back to his mates. For real this time.

Next 30 mins passed peacefully.

And then, the DJ decided to screw with Jude. By playing salsa tracks. A romantic dance. A partner dance.

The floor cleared quickly and only the couples remained, dancing to the fast tunes in a close embrace. And, just as his luck would have it, he saw his girlfriend emerge on the floor with Roma, both giggling uncontrollably.

The girls held each other close, and started dancing like the other couples, taking turns on leading their partner.

Jude could’t take his eyes off Ananya. His breath hitched when he saw her spinning & shimmying & dipping in that atrociously tight dress, which kept inching up her thighs with her highly paced moves. She didn’t even notice. But he did. And he knew other guys around her would notice too.

If only he could build a shield around her. A barrier which no one could see past.

If only he could hold her tight and be the person she was dancing so sensually with. Separating her from the crowd, their wandering eyes and sweaty bodies.

Unaware of how she was torturing her boyfriend, Ananya kept dancing like her life depended on it. Swaying in sync with the beats, drawing attention to her firm round butt.

Jude looked down at his pants, as if willing his body to behave. And counted back from 100 to 1 to not do something stupid. Like walking over to her right now.

She’d probably murder him, but at least this torture would end.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the music moved to lifts. The couples followed the beats, and the men lifted their partners off the ground in a variety of moves.

The girls obviously couldn’t do that. And Jude breathed a sigh of relief. But it was too soon.

An ugly, disgusting asshole approached Ananya, offering his sweaty, small hand to be her partner. She obviously refused, like Jude knew she would. But that split second was enough for Jude to lose his shit.

The longer that pig stayed around her, not getting the clear no, the harder Jude gripped his glass. Brahim covered for his friend, knowing he was out of it right now.

The girls smartly decided to move to their table. Where their bags were. And Jude took the opportunity to dial her immediately.

He saw her pull out her phone and smile adorably when she saw it was him calling. Both moved away from their tables, making excuses, finding a corner in their respective sections. His eyes still firmly following her.

‘Heyy babyy.’

She slurred on the line, while blowing kisses through the phone. Jude was unmoved.

‘A bra would have been nice with this dress.’

It hit her like a bucket of cold water.

‘Erm….what?’

She looked around rapidly, the movement making her head spin.

‘Especially if you intended to dance like that.’

She didn’t know if this was real or if she was hallucinating.

‘How did…where are you?’

‘Look up - straight ahead.’

She did. It looked like plain glass but she could make out enough lights beyond it to figure that it was a section divider.

Ofcourse.

How long was he watching her? What was that tone?

And why was it making her nervous? She was just minding her own business. Having fun. What’s wrong with that?

‘Meet me outside in 2 minutes. Ask for the back door.’

‘What?’

‘We are going home right now, Ananya.’

She was crazy about him. But that boy could be so pigheaded at times.

‘No.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. Not calling it a night yet.’

‘Oh yes you are.’

She loved his domineering attitude in bed, but not so much in day to day life.

‘Jude - I barely get time with my friends.’

‘You work with them. You are with them all day. But your nights are mine.’

Despite being mad, that sent a shiver down her spine. Darn that bastard.

But no - she’ll hold her ground here. She won’t give in. He needed to learn that he can’t always get his way. And he most certainly can’t boss her around.

‘Look - I’m gonna need 2 hours, yeah? How about I come to yours after?’

‘How about I come down, throw you over my shoulder & take you with me?’

She should be mad. She should be raving mad. But her skin started to heat at his words. Her treacherous body refusing to comply with the commands of her brain.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

She whispered, hating how small her voice sounded.

‘Try me.’

His was cocky and confident, as always. That made her recover quickly.

‘Do that - and you can forget about taking me home. Not tonight. Not any night.’

Heavy breathing at both ends. Jude changed tact, not one to accept defeat.

‘I sat here watching you, wanting you, waiting for you. Paid no heed to my friends. And you’re picking yours OVER ME?’

He made it sound like the worst tragedy in the world. Like she had wronged him in a thousand different ways. She saw right through the attempted manipulative wordplay. It may have worked with his other admirers, not with her.

‘Gosh I’m not picking anyone over you. Just wanna chill here some more with my friends.’

Jude being Jude pushed further, like he always did when he wanted something badly. Giving up was not in his dictionary.

‘Yeah? Chill with that bartender maybe? Have some more shots?.’

Ananya stilled. She did flirt a teeny bit with that guy to get her drink faster, and she could tell the guy reciprocated disproportionately. Giving her extra shots on the house. But she quickly left after, nipping it in the bud. It was all quite harmless, really.

Then why was guilt washing over her in waves? Why couldn’t she come up with any half decent response?

Also, how the fuck did Jude catch that from a distance?

Jude could see he had hit the nail on the head. This was his window to double down.

‘Outside. NOW.’

‘1 hour.’

‘Nope.’

’Ok 50 mins. Take it or leave it.’

’15 mins - and I get a strip tease when we get home.’

‘Please Jude.’

‘Save that for when I pound you into the mattress tonight.’

She had to sit down, unable to handle his onslaught in her drunken state. Feeling hot all over with just his words.

’30 mins. Final.’

She needed some consolation win.

He stayed quiet for a few moments.

’30 mins. And strip tease.’

She evaluated silently, realising that’s the longest window she’d get. Before he actually does something stupid to draw attention to them.

‘Fine. But I’m going for brunch tmrw with my friends.’

They usually spent Saturdays cooped up in his bedroom since he had late training. Not tomorrow though - she’d take pride over pleasure. And she really wanted to take him down a peg.

‘Sure - if you can walk.’

‘Oh you…….you little……..I HATE YOU.’

‘Then why are you getting wet right now?’

She nearly dropped her phone. At his audacity, and the fact that he was fucking right.

Tonight was going to be a long night, and he’d make her make it up to him. Make her be a ‘good girl’ for him.

Somehow, despite crumbling on her will to resist him, it didn’t feel like much of a loss. Because she knew he’d make it worth her while too. Like he always did.

...............................................................................................

I could not stop thinking about this scenario & wrote this in the little time I got this weekend 🥹

Thank you dear anon - this was too good to not be written :)

For those who don't know, the characters are from Star Crossed Lovers.

Parts of Part 2 of this one-shot covered in Ch 12.

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham smut #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude bellingham angst #jude fic

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starkidmunson · 1 year ago

Text

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

#steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Dustin Henderson #popstar!steve #rockstar!eddie #I don’t know what this is #I think it might be inspired by some of the early eras tour matty and Taylor chaos #but idk lmao #hopefully this finds an audience who enjoys it #starkidmunson writes

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months ago

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I think the Hisoillu dynamic is straight up one of the funniest dynamics ever actually

Two guys nobody likes because they’re murderous freaks and both have something deeply wrong with them, who almost always work alone. You’d expect them to have a kind of extremely fucked up rival villain/passive aggressive/regular murder threats vibe but instead, when they’re not terrorizing people, they’re usually just chilling.

Illumi is insistent that they are not friends, merely working together, but yet whenever there’s some downtime he goes and finds Hisoka and they just sit and chat about work. Have a drink. You know. And Hisoka calls on Illumi for favours and messes with him for shits and giggles and Illumi… doesn’t seem to care? It clearly irritates him but he doesn’t do anything about it. Hisoka propositions Illumi to murder him and Illumi describes this agreement in terms of an engagement. Up until this point they had what was described as a give and take relationship. This is clearly a form of fucked-up commitment and an understandable next step for them. Hisoka knows he’s messed up and even he is stunned by Illumi’s complete inability to read the fucking room concerning Killua and thinks there’s something deeply wrong with him. Illumi thinks his behaviour is perfectly normal and responds to Hisoka’s particular brand of freak with mild judgement but also a shrug and a whatever because he knows him well enough that it doesn’t really surprise him at this point.

Oh, and they knew each other before the story started, well enough that there is a definite familiarity there. This has yet to be elaborated on, and it might not ever be.

They actually very rarely interact directly in the story (mostly Hunter Exam and Election arcs).

At least they got off-panel murder-engaged (?) though?

10/10 dynamic. This is hilarious.

#storyrambles #hxh #hisoillu #hisoka morow #illumi zoldyck #random thoughts

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 3 months ago

Text

Closer Than You Think

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Warning: fluff, Simon being very observant (kinda giving silent but deadly stalker vibes)

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, this is inspired by @machveil Off-Putting! Simon Fic Link here: https://www.tumblr.com/machveil/765073373377249280/off-puttingsimon-riley-with-a-reader-that-matches (definitely check them out💜)

Word Count: 1.3 K

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the familiar scent of spices and simmering food as you moved around, focused on your makeshift lunch. Simon was supposed to be cleaning dishes, his usual routine after meals, but he’d been washing the same plate for over two minutes now. From the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, his intense gaze following each step as you sliced vegetables and spread condiments with the quiet concentration of someone completely unaware—except you were more than aware.

The faucet ran uselessly, water spilling over his hands as he held the plate. His stare was unblinking, a quiet, focused intensity as if he were afraid you might disappear if he looked away. Finally, you turned to him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You can keep looking, Simon,” you said softly. “Just turn off the faucet.”

He blinked, almost as if snapping back to reality, and then, with that familiar smirk of his, he shut off the water, letting the dish slip into the rack. His gaze remained on you as he stepped closer, his presence heavy, grounding. You felt the warmth of his hand hovering at your back, close but not touching, like he wanted to reach out but held back, that fierce intensity tempered by the quiet tenderness he saved just for you.

---

Simon’s need to be close extended far beyond quiet mornings and kitchen counters. He was your shadow throughout the day, moving with you from room to room, an ever-present figure who seemed to appear whenever you least expected it. You’d be folding laundry in the bedroom when you’d catch sight of him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you with that same unwavering focus.

Once, while reading in the living room, you looked up to see him seated nearby, his eyes never leaving you as you lost yourself in the pages. He held his coffee mug in one hand, watching with an intensity that felt both comforting and slightly unnerving. It was as if he was memorizing you, studying every detail, absorbing your presence in a way that made you feel as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

He just gave a slight shake of his head, that rare, almost shy smile softening his features. “Nothing. Just like looking at you.”

There was a weight in his words, a depth that went beyond simple affection. Simon’s love was a fierce, consuming thing, one that he conveyed not with grand gestures or pretty words, but with his quiet, undivided attention. And in those moments, you could feel it as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

---

At night, his need for closeness became even more palpable. Simon would slip into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist with a firm grip that sometimes bordered on possessive. He’d hold you tightly, his hand splayed across your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a roughness that left faint red marks in the morning. It was as if he needed that physical connection, a tangible reminder that you were his and right there with him.

There were nights you’d wake up to find him watching you in the dark, his gaze soft but intense, a quiet kind of reverence in his eyes. He’d reach out, brushing a hand gently down your arm, his fingers lingering as if reassuring himself of your presence. And when he thought you were asleep, he’d press a kiss to your shoulder, the tenderness in his touch a stark contrast to the hard lines of his usual demeanor.

“You’re really watching me all night?” you murmured one evening, breaking the silence.

“Only sometimes,” he whispered back, a hint of a smile in his voice. But his hand tightened around you, pulling you close in a way that made it clear he’d stay there forever if he could.

---

Grocery shopping was another arena for his quiet protectiveness. Simon followed you through each aisle, staying a few steps behind, his tall frame casting a watchful shadow as you moved through the store. He’d let you wander ahead, giving you space to browse, but he was never far. Sometimes you’d look up to find him at the end of the aisle, his eyes tracking your every movement.

One day, while you were comparing brands, a well-meaning stranger approached, glancing between you and Simon. “Excuse me, but… are you aware that there’s a man following you?”

You laughed softly, casting a glance at Simon’s intense, unflinching stare. “Oh—thank you. He’s my husband.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in surprise before he mumbled an awkward apology and hurried away. Simon stepped up beside you, his hand finding its way to your lower back, a grounding presence. You felt his thumb press against your spine, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature as he leaned in, murmuring in your ear, “I like when they know you’re taken.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, nudging him lightly as he smirked, his hand lingering just a moment too long.

---

Sometimes he’d follow you outside too, finding excuses to be close even on the quietest strolls. You might be out in the yard, admiring the blooming flowers, and he’d appear beside you, silent and watchful, his eyes tracing over you with that same intense focus. If you wandered too close to the edge of the property, his hand would come to rest on your shoulder, guiding you back with a gentle but firm pressure.

Once, you caught him outside in the early morning, his eyes on the kitchen window as he watched you from a distance. You’d only been making coffee, the simplest of tasks, but he observed you with the kind of attention others might reserve for something far more significant. You stepped out onto the porch, calling his name, and he came inside without a word, his gaze never leaving you as he slipped into the kitchen and pulled you into a loose embrace.

---

In social settings, Simon’s need for closeness only intensified. He’d stand close behind you at gatherings, his presence a protective wall against the crowd, his hand occasionally brushing your arm or settling at your waist as if anchoring you to his side. His gaze stayed fixed on you, making it clear to anyone nearby that you were his, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

One night at a friend’s party, someone reached out to give you a friendly hug, and you felt Simon’s body tense beside you, his hand sliding to your shoulder with a possessive grip. He didn’t say a word, but his stare was unmistakable, a silent declaration that made the friend take a step back, nodding in understanding. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, reaching up to rest a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Relax,” you whispered, amused by the quiet fierceness in his gaze. He just shrugged, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but he didn’t let go, his hand remaining on your shoulder in a gentle yet firm grip that conveyed exactly how he felt.

---

Even in the smallest moments, his intensity was ever-present. When you’d return from running errands, he’d meet you at the door, his eyes scanning over you as if reassuring himself that you were safe and whole. He’d take the bags from your hands, his fingers brushing over yours, lingering just a moment too long. And at night, he’d hold you close as you drifted off, his arms wrapped around you with a gentle possessiveness that left faint marks in the morning.

Simon’s love was a quiet, intense thing, a devotion that showed in the way he watched you, touched you, held you. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, his constant presence a silent declaration that he was yours, and you were his. And as you lay beside him each night, feeling the weight of his hand on your waist, the warmth of his breath against your neck, you knew that this was a love unlike any other—fierce, consuming, and wholly, irrevocably yours.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reblogging! -Midnight💜

#x reader #141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #tf141 x you #tf 141 x you #task force 141 fanfic #mw2 141 #cod 141

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visionsofyouandme · 2 months ago

Text

it's golden (like daylight)

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Winter is coming, bringing loneliness and shorter days. But Joel still finds he values the daylight (and you) through it all.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Afab!reader w she/her pronouns (but no physical descriptions), fluff, slow burn, pining!Joel, Jackson!Joel, post-outbreak, soft!joel, swearing, some physical violence (not against reader), age gap or no age gap- you decide!, POV switching, alcohol consumption, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), praise kink, Joel talks you through it, p in v sex, apocalypse BC method (pulling out), aftercare. Happy ending! (Moodboard for vibes and vibes only)

𝙰/𝙽: Well, here it is! The full-on, real deal. If you think this is familiar, it's because I originally posted parts 1 & 2 on my other blog, @queeneamidala but this is my new, improved, and SOLELY writing blog. I'm so excited to share the full thing with you guys. This is my first full length, finished fic in so so long. I would love any and all feedback- comments, likes, reblogs, you name it! Anyway, can't wait to share this lil journey with ya'll. Hope you enjoy <3

Read here on AO3 !

Joel was eating idly in the cafeteria when he heard Ellie’s voice. He glanced back, and noticed her talking to a woman he had seen around the town of Jackson. She was a friend of Tommy and Maria’s, he knew that much. Hell, a friend to everyone in town but him, it seemed. Granted, he hadn’t spoken a word to her, or opened the door to conversation in the first place. Some would say it was out of shyness or fear, but really, he just felt unworthy of her attention.

She was beautiful, but that was just a general observation.

You were beautiful, and he had come to this conclusion several times while passing you by in town. He had noticed you speaking to nearly every person in town. You had a very easy-going air about you, friendly. Open.

So, he steered clear. Forming personal connections outside of immediate family was not something he was keen on. He has had a life fraught with grief, seen and done unspeakable things. He wasn’t meant to be loved, not after everything he’s done.

But the way you talked to Tommy, and now Ellie more and more often had Joel at an uncomfortably close proximity to you. Your presence was drawing near, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He sort of didn’t want to stop it.

But, just when he thought you were going to approach the table to sit, you broke away from Ellie and walked to a different table. He felt something drop in his chest. Was that really, really disappointment that he felt?

“Makin’ friends?” Joel questioned as Ellie sat down, and she snorted.

“Why? Jealous?” She said with a smirk, and Joel cocked up an eyebrow.

“You could use a friend.” Ellie added, and Joel shifted a bit uncomfortably.

“I don’t need anyone.” He said into his food, and Ellie made a face, rolling her eyes.

“Everybody needs at least someone.”

Joel’s eyes shifted to you sitting at the table just across from them. Your smile was radiant, and he felt something twist in his chest.

He wasn’t meant to be loved.

~*~*~

Winter was coming, and the people in town were preparing. You were busy but still managed to make time for people. For everyone, really. Joel was almost envious about how easy you talked to people. He didn’t have the same talent, but he was fine with that.

So, one day, when he was called upon a house to help with some faulty wiring, he was taken aback when it was your house he was called to.

You didn’t need help. Not really. You were fairly self sufficient, and made your own way through town. Joel knew this, and it made him nervous when you called upon him specifically to make sure you were prepared for the wintertime.

But, he took his toolkit and went to your place. The door was open, but…

You weren’t home.

He felt disappointment in his chest again. He shook it off though and walked to the side of the house outside. He opened the box and began to work diligently, his mind wandering to other things. But he tried to fight off the thoughts of you and how disappointed he felt when he found out you weren’t home. However, they just kept coming around again, and again, and again.

“You look so serious.” A voice said, and Joel jerked back like he had been electrocuted. His head swiveled to the side and he saw you standing there, leaning against the side of the house with your arms crossed. You looked so effortless and cool, and-

How long had you been standing there?

“Job’s gotta get done.” Joel said, gesturing to the box, “as you requested.”

You nodded, and a smile creeped into your face that he hadn’t seen before. He had seen you smile plenty of times- laughing and talking with the people in town, with Maria, with Ellie. But this felt different. Or was he just imagining it?

“Yeah, you came highly recommended.” You said, and Joel scoffed, turning back to the box and tried to get back to work. But, he was horrible at multitasking, especially when it came down to you distracting him by your presence alone.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Ellie was insistent that you were the best the town had.” You said, and Joel lost his concentration and nearly dropped the screwdriver he held.

Christ, I’m gonna kill that girl.

He furrowed his brow like nothing happened and kept working. He was definitely going to talk to Ellie later. The last thing he needed was the whole town to be depending on him for maintenance.

But for you…? Well, it wasn’t so bad.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Work held me up.” You said, gesturing behind you. Joel finally flicked a switch and the box buzzed to life. He felt himself deflate a bit. Guess it was time for him to go.

“No worries.” He said, putting his tools back in the toolbox and stood straight. He held the box in hand, and regarded you with soft brown eyes. You pushed off the corner of the house, and smiled that bright smile of yours.

“You… let me know if there’s- if there’s anythin’ else.” Joel said, trying to keep it drawn out but it sounded rushed to his ears. He nodded minutely and you stepped out of the way.

“Thank you. It means more to me than you know.” You said, and shifted, your shoulders brushing by accident. Joel simply nodded, and made his way home.

He rubbed his arm after a few minutes of walking, trying to savor the warmth blooming under his skin.

~*~*~

Tommy and Joel were sitting at The Tipsy Bison, talking over a few drinks.

You had requested Joel’s help two more times now. Both small and trivial, but Joel was more than happy to help. You weren’t there the second time he came, but when he was there the third time, you offered him coffee. He was an idiot, and turned you down. But, that smile never wavered.

“Next time.” You said.

Next time, Joel thought. There was going to be a next time? He hoped so.

“I see you’re helping some people out. Good for you to get some socializing in.” Tommy noted after taking a sip of his drink. Joel shrugged,

“It’s fine, I guess. Just doin’ my part.” He said. Tommy nodded, and regarded his brother with a peculiar expression. Joel felt like he was plotting something, but didn’t have time to really think about it before a voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Well, you two look like you’re having fun. Mind if we cut in?” Maria questioned, and Joel barely looked up, until it registered in his mind.

We?

You settled into the seat beside Joel while Maria took the one by Tommy, boxing the boys in. Joel instinctively stiffened, and hoped you didn’t notice. If you did, you didn’t show it.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” You questioned, and Joel glanced at you. He cleared his throat, looking down, and held up his glass slightly.

“Whatever they’re trying to pass off as whsikey.” He said, and you looked at him. He felt like a deer in the headlights, watching you look at him. It felt like time was suspended, and he gulped. But, you smiled like it was nothing and turned to the bartender.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You said, jutting your thumb at Joel. The bartender slid the glass into your hand with ease. Joel thought everything you did was effortless. You certainly made it seem so.

It dawned on him that Tommy and Maria were knee-deep in their own conversation, promptly blocking off you two. It felt intentional, causing Joel to be put on the spot, under your eye.

“Thanks for all your help by the way.” You said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. Joel nodded, his brown eyes casting down to his glass.

“Anytime.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel was slowly becoming a bigger part of the community. He wasn’t just keeping to himself, but helping others with house repairs or such. You hadn't seen him offer such services until you had reached out to him.

But, he didn’t do it for them. He knew that deep down inside.

He did it for you.

“I gotta say, Mr. Miller, you’re an enigma.” You said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, and felt his stomach lurched at you saying his name, even if it was his last name. “You know; a mystery, something hard to explain.”

“I ain’t no mystery.” He said, shaking his head. You grinned, and tilted your head to the side. Joel felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of his drink to quell it.

“Okay, okay.” You said, shrugging and turned your gaze across the bar. He felt your elbows becoming achingly close. If he just shifted just slightly, he could feel you against him.

“Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” You said so abruptly that it threw his thoughts off.

“Sorry?”

“I got Ellie a new book. Something about space and aliens and shit. Something I think she’d like.” You said. Joel felt a twinge of appreciation there. So, somebody was looking after Ellie besides him. He liked that. It warmed his hardened heart.

“Sure. You can drop it off.” He said, and he stole a glance your way. You were grinning, but trying to hide it. You took a sip of your beer to try to mask it, but he could see the way the corners of your lips quirked up.

“I’ll be there then.”

~*~*~

Joel had waited for you for a day or two. He found reasons to stay home, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, that he was sick. So, when you finally knocked on his door towards the end of the second day, he was surprised to find you holding a dish in your hand as well as the book.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Made you a little something.” You said so casually. But, Joel was floored. You heard about him, and went out of your way to do something for him?

He felt bad for faking his illness. But, the fact you did this? It flooded his chest with gratitude, and an ache that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Thank you.” He said, and went to take it but then paused. You laughed,

“I don’t care about getting sick. Here.” You said, and handed him the dish, barely crossing over the threshold. He took it gingerly, and looked down at it. Whatever it was, it looked damn good.

“Do you… would ya want to come in?” He offered. You suddenly beamed, and god, if that wasn’t a sight to see. Joel thought there wouldn’t be anything better in the world.

“Sure.” You responded, and Joel moved to let you inside. As you passed, he could smell your soap, or personal scent- whatever it was, he felt lightheaded in the best way. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen, you following him along.

“I also have the book. Hope Ellie’s not too mad it took me so long.” You laughed and set the book on the kitchen table. Joel walked to the other side, setting down the dish.

“‘M sure she won’t mind.” He said, and his eyes shifted to you. You and all your beauty, your kindness, the way your eyes smiled even while you were sharing a passive look.

“Do you want some coffee?” He questioned, and there he went, sounding rushed again. He just wanted you to stay, to share you sunlight with him just a bit longer. You had a knowing smile, and nodded gently.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” When you agreed to it, he got busy. He nearly knocked off the mugs off the counter trying to prepare everything. You sat at the table, and glanced down at the book. Joel looked back to see your attention on something else other than him, and felt a little more at ease.

“I got a patrol coming up.” You said, and Joel poured the dark liquid into one of the faded mugs. He turned and carried it to you at the table, sitting across from you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. They switched up my partner, though. Hannah isn’t feeling well, so they put me with someone else.” You said, and he could see for the first time something else in your expression- anxiety. Fear.

He didn’t like it, to see you facing such emotions. He wished he could wrap them all up and throw them away. Whatever it took to see your smile again.

“Who’ya going with?”

“Jim Harris.” You replied with a nod, and Joel sat up a bit straighter. He didn’t like Jim, he always came off as loud and imposing. He didn’t have the best reputation when it came to women, either. He was rude and disrespectful, and there had been some complaints about harassment made against him.

“I see.” He said. Why did anyone assign you with Jim Harris, of all people? They knew of his ways and his complaints. The last thing they needed was to put him with you, all while alone.

No, he wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’ll get ‘em to switch things around. I’ll go with you.” He said, and nodded with finality. You looked at him, a bit surprised if not shocked.

“Oh. You really don’t have to-“ But he waved you off.

“I can get some strings pulled so you won’t have to deal with him. Besides, I just… I can’t stand someone like him being near y-” but he paused, and tried to recover before he could say something stupid. “ It ain’t right.” He settled, his fingers gripping the coffee mug a bit tighter at the thought of Jim laying even a finger on you. You looked at Joel, the shock really settling in now. Joel was unaware of the gravity of his words in the moment, something he would regret later. Not that he said them, but that he hadn’t said more.

“… Thank you.” You said quietly. Joel looked at you, and felt his chest bloom with warmth. Your words, though short and few, were filled with gratitude and relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Anything you need, darlin’.” He said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop himself. You smiled, and Joel would have given you the moon right then and there if you asked.

He cleared his throat as if it would clear the air, and he visibly relaxed. Knowing you would be under his care and away from Jim Harris’ whole being made him feel better. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong need to be by your side when the time for patrol comes. It just felt right that he would be there to protect you.

“A true southern gentleman.” You mused as you took a sip of your coffee. Joel’s face flushed, and he averted his gaze, and began to speak but you cut him off.

“I like it.”

Joel felt the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he glanced at you, shrugging.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He said, and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his hair curling under his fingertips as he did so. He needed a haircut, and sorely.

But, the town was lacking a barber, so he figured he would do it himself one of these days.

“A good habit to have.” You said, and he chuckled.

“Whatever you say, da-“ but he quickly cut himself off and hurriedly spoke your name instead. You smiled, regardless of what he called you. He found he liked saying your name. It felt personal, more grounded to reality. He was having a hard time grappling with reality ever since you crossed the threshold of his home. He couldn’t believe you were here, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. He wanted this moment to last as long as time would allow- he would commit it to memory. Every word, every glance, every piece.

He found he did that often with you- just taking in any bit of you you had to offer, when he was feeling brave enough.

“I gotta get back.” You said, and stood up, rubbing your hands together to conserve the warmth of the coffee mug. Joel stood up, and nodded hurriedly, though he already felt the air grow cold in the absence of your presence.

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll walk you out.” He said, and stood up as well. He walked with you to the door at a snail’s pace, and you talked about your work for the rest of the day. The walk was all too short, and Joel’s hand rested on the doorknob. He looked at you, his brown eyes taking you in before he released you back to the world.

“Take it easy. I’ll see you on patrol. Okay?” He said, and you gave him that gut wrenching smile. Could have brought him to his knees if you so desired.

“Sounds good, Joel.” You said, and he opened the door, the chill coming in as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. You smiled and gave him the lightest wave, and headed out into the cold Wyoming winter.

He watched you go, and his name still hung in the air. Despite the door being open, the cold sweeping in, he felt warm.

Oh, he was such a goner.

~*~*~

Joel trudged to the outer part of town, gun slung over his shoulder. He promised he would meet you at the edge, where they traded out patrols. He had been busy with other things that day, and felt horrible that he couldn’t walk with you. But, he knew that a few hours alone with you would make up for that.

At least, that’s what he hoped.

He came up and saw Tommy standing with a few others, talking indistinctly. When Joel approached, Tommy and the others turned. As they did, the group opened up and he could see you standing on the far side. Your face quite literally beamed up when you saw him.

“Ready for another shift?” Tommy chuckled as Joel came up closer. “You’ll have to show the new girl all the ropes.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was still evident on your face. Joel nodded, and he couldn’t help it as his lips quirked up on the ends when he met your eyes. This wasn’t lost on you, or Tommy for that matter. No one had seen Joel so much as literally turn his frown upside down, not even in the slightest. So, this was an interesting event for all involved.

“Well, no time like the present.” Joel said, and nodded forward. You bid goodbye to the others and walked with Joel across the town lines into the woods. He could sense your unease, and he glanced down to see a pistol on your hip.

“You know how to use that?” He questioned. You looked over at Joel and followed his gaze to the gun at your side, and then looked forward quickly.

“Unfortunately, yes.” You said. Joel frowned, but said nothing.

As you two reached the outpost where you’d be staying, Joel let you climb up the ladder first. He followed shortly after, his head swiveling around for any signs of life that weren’t supposed to be there. When he was safely inside, he closed the makeshift door and sat down next to you.

It was cold inside. Almost bitterly so. Joel was fine, having his heavy jacket and several layers. He had done this before, so he came prepared, especially in the colder months.

You, on the other hand, were miserable. Not expecting it to be *this* cold, you were wholly unprepared for the coldness that seeped into the wooden outpost about 12 feet off the ground. You sat on the chair and crossed your legs to conserve warmth, shoving your hands between your thighs to keep them from freezing.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long shift.

Joel, ever vigilant, noticed that you were shifting uneasily. But, his thoughts ran elsewhere besides the cold. Were you afraid of him? Was this awkward? Did he make a mistake taking over Jim’s shift with you? Was this overstepping some invisible boundary?

But then, you spoke,

“Can’t believe it’s this fucking cold.”

Your voice trembled a bit, and he watched you closely. His eyes softened a bit, and he took in your form. Yeah, you weren’t nearly as bulked up with layers as him. He set his gun down on the floor, leaning it against the window sill. You looked over at him, and it dawned on you very quickly about what he was about to do.

“Joel, don’t-“

“Can’t have you freezin’ on me, sweetheart. Won’t do much good if you’re an icicle.” He said, and shed his large jacket. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood and draped it over your shoulders. You sat still as he did so, and the warmth flooded you almost immediately. He sat back down, and your face was flushed with red. You cleared your throat, looking down at your hands.

“Thanks.” You said quietly. Joel nodded, like it was something he’d done a million times. He shifted his gaze back to the landscape that sprawled out in front of you.

You sat in a comfortable silence, and you eventually threaded your arms through Joel’s jacket. It smelled of cedar and musk, and you had always wondered what he smelled like. It felt as though he were enveloping you in a warm hug. You wondered if he ever did that sort of thing.

“When did you come here?” Joel questioned after a few minutes. You were surprised at his initiation of the conversation, but certainly not mad about it.

“About 8 months ago. Came from a QZ in Georgia after it fell apart.” You replied. Joel looked over at you, and you continued to look out of the outpost.

“Escaped with a group of good people. We tried to find someplace else, someplace safe. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. Lead them to safety, after my husband died.” You explained, and Joel’s chest twisted. He had never noticed a ring on your finger, but he could see a faded outline of where one used to be.

“But, keeping everyone together was hard. Death followed us everywhere- Clickers, disease, bad food, water. The world seemed to pick us off one by one.” Joel shifted his gaze to outside. He could tell you hadn’t spoken about this often, and he could sense a tremor in your voice.

“Eventually it was just me, wandering the woods. I felt hopeless, without purpose. I began to go kind of… well, insane. I don’t know how long I was out there til Tommy found me. Took me straight to the infirmary where they had to basically take care of me until I was able to be on my own two feet.” You said, and looked down, your hands clasped tightly together so much your knuckles turned white. Joel was stoic, unmoving, but his presence felt comforting. You didn’t know why you felt so comfortable with him, so you didn’t stop from going on.

“I’ve done some… terrible things. I’ve- seen so much… death. Coming here, it was a saving grace. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself much longer had they not found me.” You said. Joel’s heart dropped at this revelation, his eyes were soft with empathy. He knew all about hopelessness, about wanting to give up. About not having anything or anyone to live for. His finger traced the scar on his temple lightly before quickly dropping his hand in his lap.

Had Ellie not come into his life, he would have taken the easy route out, and not missed that time. But, he just hated that you felt like you had to do the same. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to feel like that, not with how caring and kind you were. Not with how you literally made people’s days light up at the sound of your laugh or your smile.

It just wasn’t fair, this world you both lived in.

“I feel like I try to do good things to make up for all the bad I’ve done.” You added, though your voice was so small and quiet. Joel knew that feeling all too well.

“I’m sorry.” Joel could only say, and you looked at him to already see his eyes on you. You smile, but this one was sad, weak. You shrugged, and sighed deeply,

“It’s life, isn’t it? It’s never easy. But, the small things make it better. Good people, especially.” Joel noticed how your smile deepened a bit, and he could see that glint in your eyes. He nodded, and couldn’t imagine you would rope him into the “good people” category. But, he also saw your face, and how you looked at him, that maybe you did.

And it made him feel… nice.

“Yeah, the good ones. Few and far between. But, they exist.” He said, his eyes looking between your own.

“I think there’s good people here.” You said, nodding forward. “You’re good people.”

And Joel, without knowing it, smiled. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t teeth-showing, but it was a smile. One that betrayed him immensely, but he couldn’t stop it now. Even though he disagreed, he couldn’t voice it. Not to you. He couldn’t go against anything you said, it would feel like a personal crime.

“So are you. I hope you know that.” He said, and reached out to take your icy hand within his own. You looked at him, studying his face as you gripped his hand back.

And to Joel, the world just got a little bit brighter.

~*~*~

“Where are you going?” Joel said as he sat on the couch in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table. Ellie stalked past him to the door, and looked over her shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Out.” She said, and stormed through the door. Joel sighed. Teenagers.

He sat, listening to the crackly turntable in the corner. It played an old jazz record he borrowed from the library. Not his true cup of tea, but it was better than nothing. He needed to trade some other old ones in for new ones, but he had listened to the whole library by now.

He felt at ease for once. He played the time spent with you on patrol over and over. After your conversation, you spoke of happier, better things. Old baseball legends, old music, basically a throwback of pop culture before the world went to shit. You told him a funny story about your job that actually drew a true chuckle from him. He just felt… better around you. Your easy going demeanor and openness was enough to make him want to share with you. Share smiles, laughter, time together.

And god, he loved all three when it came to you.

The record clicked to signal its ending, and he stood up, walking over to turn it over. Just as he put the needle down, there was a knock at the door.

He walked to the door and opened it, seeing you standing there before him, looking chilled to the bone. He gestured for you to come inside quickly, and you shuffled in, huffing into your hands.

“What the hell ya doin’ out there in the cold for?” He said sternly, more concerned than upset, eyebrows furrowing. You shrugged, crossing your arms.

“Wanted to see you.” You said, and his jaw clamped shut.

Well. Okay.

He stood, like an idiot, in silence for a moment, before nodding minutely.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll make coffee.” He said, and hurried to the kitchen. Even though it was nearly 7 in the evening, he needed time to process what you said, and that you were here to see him.

You felt more warmth in Joel’s house than your own, and shed your boots and jacket, hung up the latter and walked to the couch. Sitting down, you tucked your feet under you to make them warm again. You looked around, trying to find the source of the music that was playing. You saw the record player in the corner, and smiled fondly. Of course Joel was a music guy, it just made sense.

He walked back to the living room with two cups of steaming coffee, and walked to the couch. He sat down on the far side, giving you space, but leaned over to hand you the mug.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” He questioned as he took a sip. You took a hefty gulp and felt the warmth move down your throat and into your stomach. You were beginning to feel again, from your head to your toes. You felt less like an ice cube and more like a human, now.

“Just… wanted to see how you were doing. Been busy these last couple of days, I feel like I’ve neglected my friends.” She said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows shot straight up, and he smiled small. Joel didn’t have friends. He had family. But, he would make an exception for you.

Maybe one day, you’d be family, too.

He liked the idea of that.

“Ellie tells me you’ve been working like crazy, too. People are starting to like you. You better watch out, cause the ladies already fawn over you as is.” You laughed, and Joel regarded you with an unconvinced expression. He didn’t think anyone noticed him, let alone “fawn” over him. He just did his work, day in and day out. He was unaware of the “extra attention” he was drawing from the female crowd.

He didn’t see them, because he only saw you.

“Never noticed them. Didn’t think anybody noticed me.” He said simply, taking a sip of coffee. You shook your head, and smiled into your coffee.

“I noticed you. Always have.” You said, and Joel’s eyes shifted to you as you sat across from him on the couch. He found himself getting closer and closer to you. Not physically, but emotionally. The comfort level was at a steady pace. He wanted to be sitting closer to you, to feel your body heat and drink in your comforting presence.

“Well, it’s hard not to notice you, darlin’.” He said. You blushed, and hid your face in your mug as you took a sip.

Joel was a man of few words. He was never good at them, never entirely graceful or eloquent. But now, he wished he was. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how much he cared, how much he really liked you.

But, he just didn’t know how.

And he hated himself for that.

“What are you listening to?” You teased after a few minutes of silence, a saxophone filling the air. Joel wracked his brain to figure out who the artist was.

“Louis Armstrong, I think. Jazz is the last genre I haven’t listened to at the library.” He said. You raised her eyebrows, then knitting together. And then, you laughed.

“Never would have pegged you for a jazzy guy.” You said, and began to laugh. “Country, maybe. But- but smooth jazz? God.” You covered your face to keep the laughing tears from escaping you as your body shook with giggles.

Normally, Joel would frown upon someone laughing at him. But, it was you. He was making you happy, making you laugh-

Now that. That was true music.

“Yeah, well,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, yes you are, Joel Miller.” You said, lowering your hand and looking over at him. He looked down at his mug, his pinky finger tapping against the edge lightly.

He wanted to find a reason for you to say his name again. And maybe again. He just wanted to hear you speak about anything under the sun, that would be enough for him.

“Tell you what, Joel,” you said, and shifted on the couch to face him, leaning your elbow along the back of the couch. He shifted as well, turning his body a little towards yours. “You tell me a story, and I’ll tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah, fictional or true. I don’t care- I just…” you said, and silence followed. Joel waited patiently for you to finish. His heart was hammering in his chest, but on the outside he was calm and collected.

You shrugged, and looked at him with a light smile. You didn’t have to say it. Joel knew. You knew. You just liked each other’s company, you liked the sound of each other’s voices. And it was becoming more and more apparent to the both of you.

“Alright.” Joel agreed, and your soft smile turned into a grin. He took a sip of coffee, and thought for a moment.

“I got one for ya. Not real, but a good story. Ever heard of the movie Smokey and the Bandit?”

“No.” You laughed.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna tell ya all about it.”

~*~*~

The minutes turned to hours that night. You left sometime around midnight. And then you were back two days later, and the conversation struck up again. It turned into you two alternating between each other’s houses. Patrols got more frequent for you, and Joel was insistent that he go with you, not anyone else.

Joel continued helping around the town, fixing broken things but keeping to himself when he wasn’t with you, Ellie, or Tommy. Ellie was making friends, and would visit them often, leaving him alone most evenings.

But there was you, there to fill his time and capture his attention.

You were sitting in Joel’s living room one evening, the fire crackling in the fireplace to offer more warmth. You sat next to Joel, closer than ever before, your coffees already consumed and empty mugs sitting on the coffee table.

Joel’s arm was slung across the back of the sofa instinctively, and you enjoyed the close proximity. Your knee brushed his every so often, leaving you both wanting more. But, things like this take time, and Joel was a gentleman. He wouldn’t press anything, too afraid to mess up whatever relationship was forming between you.

“Jim Harris approached me the other day.” You said, and Joel’s hand clenched at his side. Ever since he took over patrols with you, it seemed Jim was trying to find ways to confront you, but not Joel. Joel wondered why, as he was the one to change things up when it came to patrols. He guessed Jim thought you were an easier target.

“He wanted to talk. I was in the middle of running food to Mrs. March’s house, she’s got a sick kid. I waved him off, but it still felt… weird.” You said and sighed, rubbing your forehead in thought.

“Other people have been acting weird lately, too. They ask about you a lot.” You added, and Joel looked towards the fireplace. While no one outwardly approached him, he could sense some of the womenfolk asking him to come around more often. Simple, almost dumb fixes. Some of them looked like self sabotage, and he was beginning to get his suspicions. He may be old, and sometimes oblivious, but it was getting more apparent that he was being eyed by several of the single (and sometimes even married) women in town.

Joel had seen the occasional man talk to you. They often leaned in to you as they did, or leaned against a wall or building post, trying to come off as cool or suave. You always smiled and talked cordially, not wanting to make any enemies. Some of them made you laugh, and that definitely didn’t make Joel feel jealous.

“Do I need to give a good talkin’ to to anyone?” Joel questioned, and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think that would make things worse than better. But, I appreciate it all the same.” You said, your hand patting his knee. He glanced down, and your hand lingered for just a second longer than he anticipated, before you drew it away and back into your lap.

“You know I’d do anything for ya. I’m not above roughing up somebody, so long as they leave you alone after.” He said, looking down to his lap, and you smiled lightly. You looked at him, and your faces were close. Closer than they had ever been before. Joel could feel the softness of your breath against his skin, and he felt his heart thrumming in his chest.

He could feel the tension in the air, and could feel your gaze on him. He wondered what you were thinking, and raised his eyes to meet yours.

You had never seen brown eyes so dark, so beautiful, so…

The door was then wrestled open, and Ellie walked inside. She made a face at seeing you and Joel so close, but closed the door behind her. You wanted to move, but you felt Joel’s hand touch your shoulder lightly, subtly inviting you to stay.

“Tommy’s asking around for you.” Ellie said, kicking off her shoes and it made Joel flinch. He sighed, and his arm swung from your shoulders. He stood up, his knees cracking slightly, and silently cursed his older age for catching up with him.

“What’d I tell you about the shoes?” Joel said firmly to Ellie, who rolled her eyes and picked them up, setting them by the door and made an ‘okay?’ gesture. Joel looked over at you, who stood up and grabbed the coffee mugs.

“Duty calls.” You said, and smiled lightly as you carried the mugs to the kitchen. Joel sighed, and walked to the front door, pulling on his jacket and boots. You came out quickly after, and Ellie plopped down on the couch where you two had been sitting, picking up her book from the far side table. You looked as you passed, and tilted your head to the side.

“City of Ember? What’s that?” You questioned, and Ellie sat up, her eyes lighting up, and she grinned.

“One of the coolest books ever. It’s about a civilization underground, and…” she began rambling about it, and opened the book to show you the chapter she was on. You smiled, and looked at Joel.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You said, and Joel couldn’t help but soften at the event unfolding before him. You walked over to the couch and sat next to Ellie, and she eagerly told you about the book. Joel held the doorknob, and just watched for a moment.

It was at times like these that he felt like the future was a little bit brighter for him.

~*~*~

“You’re going soft, old man.” Tommy joked at the bar one night. The snow had come and blanketed the town with white, and there was talk of Christmas celebrations. The town was much more merry than Joel had ever seen it. Or maybe, Joel was just feeling… well, maybe he was feeling a little bit of everything. Everything seemed brighter and warmer, even despite the cold weather.

Joel said nothing to Tommy’s remark. He kept quiet, his eyes always finding their way back to the doors of the bar. He was waiting, hoping, wanting.

And when you walked in, he felt his chest loosen for the first time that day. Tommy followed Joel’s gaze, and then back to his brother.

Suddenly, all the talk around town made sense. Tommy had his questions, but he knew his brother wouldn’t give them willingly. Joel never confided in anyone. Except, it seemed, you.

The talk of the town was that you guys were screwing. Only because you two were alone quite a lot. And at night, for that matter. People talk, it’s a small town, and people get jealous. Rumors swirl, and things are said. Joel had been picking up the pieces, but tried to be the bigger person. It wasn’t anybody’s business as to what you two were behind closed doors.

But, instead of making your way to the bar where Joel sat, a form stepped in your way.

“Jim.” You greeted, and could smell the alcohol on his breath, as he was that close to you.

“Been trying to catch you at a good time.” Jim said, and you feigned a disgusted look. You, like much of the other women in town, did not like Jim.

“Well, now’s still not-“

“Come on, just give me a second. If you can make time for that ancient asshole over there, then you can make time for me.” He said with a cocky air to him, and you tried to step around him, but he stepped with you.

Joel’s fist tightened at his side, and he pushed his beer to the side, beginning to rise. He felt a protective air come over him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching. Tommy clapped a hand on Joel’s arm,

“He’s just drunk, Joel. She can handle hers-“ but Joel ripped his arm away and began to weave his way through the patrons to where you and Jim stood, and Tommy shook his head.

“Christ.” Tommy muttered, and dragged a hand down his face. He knew better than to sway Joel after he set his mind on something.

And he certainly couldn’t stop him when it came to protecting you.

“… he can share. I’d like to have a round with you, show you how a real man can treat you-“ Jim said, but Joel rounded on him quickly.

“What did you say?” Joel hissed, staring daggers into Jim’s back. Jim swiveled to face Joel, and Joel could see him sway a bit. Drunk or not, he had no right to speak to you that way.

“Fuck off, Miller. You can have her back when I’m through-“

At that, Joel had enough. He swung wide, his fist collided with Jim’s face with a sickening crunch. The crowd reacted with scattered gasps and flinches. Jim was down with one blow, and fell to the floor, his nose beginning to bleed.

“Jesus Christ, Miller! You…” He cried, and held his nose with a shaky hand. Joel bent down, and grabbed him by the collar.

“You keep your mouth shut around her, you understand? Or I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your fuckin’ dog.” He said, and raised his hand to give him another blow but a hand grabbed his arm. He was about to jerk away, thinking it was Tommy, but-

“Joel. Stop.”

Your commanding voice hung in the air, and Joel froze. He let go of Jim after a few tense seconds, and Jim fell back onto the floor. Standing straight, your hand eased up on his arm and he felt his breathing begin to even out. You still held onto him, and pulled at his sleeve to get him to walk away. He followed dutifully, and exited the bar with you while others watched apprehensively.

“Why did you do that?”

“I-“

“Joel. That’s not-“

“He was just so, so disgusting, and I couldn’t-“

You and Joel stood outside of the bar, the conversation tense following the events from inside. Joel’s hand continued to shake at his side, both from adrenaline and a dull throbbing pain, his ears still slightly ringing.

“He said… awful things. I couldn’t let him get away with that.” Joel said, and your eyes softened. You picked up his hand that he had knocked Jim with, and you could already see the redness forming there. Joel sucked in a breath quickly, and your eyes met his for a moment, thinking he was in pain. But, he was feeling something far from pain. Far, far from it.

“People have been talking.” You said, and Joel frowned.

“They’ve been saying, er… that we have a rather intimate relationship.” You explained, and Joel gulped. While he would want that more than anything, laying accusations of that nature about you was enough to infuriate him. You held his hand within your own, and shook your head.

“But, It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they say. I say, screw it, let them think what they want.” You said flippantly, waving a hand to the side. “It’s not their business, anyway-“

You shook your head vehemently. You were upset that people would talk about Joel like that, after all he’s done for them. You knew it was all out of jealousy, and that it was all talk. It still stung, though.

Joel looked so serious, and normally you would have laughed and pointed it out. But you were so upset that you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Besides, they… Their talk is warranted. I see how it looks, but it has nothing to do with them. Only us. Just us.” You said. Joel then took your hand in his with a much more firm grip, even if his knuckles were sore. You watched him for what felt like minutes. Well, there was no going back now.

“I just… I care about you, Joel. A lot. More than- more than I can say. I like hanging out with you, I like seeing you smile, I like hearing your, rather rare, laugh. I want to hear what you have to say, I want to sit with you in silence and drink copious amounts of coffee. I-“ you rambled, and finally shut yourself up for a moment, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

“I just, I want more. I want to be with you. Okay?” You said, forcing the words out, and you looked up at him. He was watching you with those intense brown eyes in silence. You thought he was going to reject it, passing it by, as his grip loosened on your hand. But, his grip became soft, and he lifted your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly, and his honeyed brown eyes watched you with… adoration.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much you mean to me.” He said, his lips against your skin. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and sweet like a warm glass of whiskey. He raised a hand to bring his thumb against your cheek.

“I can’t give… I can’t give you much. I ain’t too good at grand, romantic gestures. I just have myself, it’s all I have to offer. You’re too good for me, and you deserve someone who can give you everything you could ask for, give you the world-“

“Joel,” You said, your eyes looking between his own. You your head,

“I don’t want the world. I want you.”

You leaned into his touch, and he let go of your hand to put a hand on your waist and closed the distance between you.

And he kissed you. He kissed you the way he’s always wanted to- gently, cautiously, but full of hope and heart.

You closed your eyes immediately on impact, and returned the kiss with a gentle push. You raised your hand to press against his bearded cheek, his hair tickling your fingertips. He smelled of wood and leather, and a strong smell that you knew was just Joel. He was everything you wanted, and more.

You weren’t sure who pulled away first, but you both needed air. Joel leaned his forehead against yours, and his thumb still gently caressed your cheek. You were too good for him, and he knew that. He didn’t deserve anyone by the likes of you.

And yet, here you were, wrapped up in his arms and returning his kiss. It was something he had only ever dreamed of, only ever thought about late at night.

But now, it was reality.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee. ‘S Fuckin’ cold out here.” Joel laughed, and you grinned, taking his hand and holding it tightly. You lead the way, through the snow and cold air, but you both felt warm from head to toe.

~*~*~

“Why not?”

“I said no.” Joel said firmly.

“Well, you look like a sad, old, shaggy dog.” Ellie said, and eyed the scissors that sat on the bathroom counter next to Joel. Joel looked at her with a raised eyebrow,

“That’s why I’m going to cut it.” he replied. He was feeling a bit self conscious about his hair lately. It was long, overgrown, and curling at the ends. You didn’t say anything about it, but he felt… scraggly.

He kept his beard in good shape. That was easy. But, his hair was a different story. He ran a hand through it, and sighed. He was in a battle with himself. He needed to at least cut the back, but he had no way to look at it or judge how much he should cut.

The door opened and you stepped into the Miller household, calling out your presence. You had been asked to come by after work for some kind of soup Joel attempted. You were practically living in Joel’s house at this point, though you still slept in your own house. It was all about taking it easy, you both agreed. It had only been a few weeks since your kiss, and you and Joel were still learning how to dance around a significant other again. But, it was falling into a rhythm, one that comforted you both.

Ellie’s eyes shifted and stuck her head out the doorway,

“In here!” she called, and you stepped into the way of the downstairs bathroom, assessing the scene. Joel glanced at you before frowning at the scissors.

“‘Sup.” Ellie greeted, and you grinned.

“‘Sup, yourself. What’s going on?” You questioned, a bit of snow still in your hair, and you rubbed your arms to bring warmth to them again. When neither spoke, you cocked up an eyebrow and met Ellie’s gaze.

Ellie grew a mischievous glint in her eyes, and she leaned back on her heels, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Why don’t you get your girlfriend to do it?” Ellie questioned, and Joel’s eyes shot to her, red flaring up his face. You two hadn’t discussed the intricacies of your relationship, much less as to what label you would have. Joel cleared his throat and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms to try to play it off. Ellie’s grin was apparent, and you stood at the bathroom threshold next to Ellie.

Your eyes cast down to the scissors, and it dawned on you.

“Somebody needs a haircut?” You offered, and Joel looked over at you, his eyes softening. He half shrugged, dragging a hand down his beard.

“Was just thinkin’ about it.” He said, and Ellie looked over at you with an exasperated look.

“He was just about to start until I came in. I offered, but-“

“You ain’t comin’ near me with any sharp objects, kid.” He said, his eyes narrowing at her. Ellie put her hands up in defense, and looked at you.

“See what I mean?”

“I’ll take it from here.” You said, and walked into the batroom and rolled up your sleeves. Joel leaned away slightly,

“You done this before?” He questioned, knowing better than to doubt you. But, this was his head you were talking about, and he didn’t want to look like a fool.

“Yeah. Used to cut hair all the time. I’m not a high end stylist but I get the job done. Now, ge over theret.” You said, picking up the scissors and gesturing for Joel to walk further into the bathroom. He sighed and did as he was told (because who was he to deny you?) and sat on the edge of the tub as you instructed. Ellie watched, that grin still plastered on her face, as she leaned against the doorway.

“Take off your flannel, I don’t wanna get hair everywhere.” You said. Joel was wearing a t- shirt under his flannel, but it still felt… intimate.

But, he undid the buttons and handed it off to you. You folded it and set it on the bathroom sink, and picked up the comb that lay not too far away. You turned to Joel and angled his head to the side and began to snip away slowly. Ellie shifted behind you, and shook her head.

“God, this is stressing me out. Don’t cut off his ears, okay?” Ellie said, and waved before leaving towards the living room. You grinned as you worked at Joel’s hair, using the comb as a line to cut around.

“I think that shows she cares. In her own way.” You laughed, and Joel rolled her eyes.

“She’s still a pain in my ass. And nosy as hell, apparently-” He said, and you heard Ellie shout from the living room,

“I am literally right here!”

You shook your head and continued to cut. Joel sat still as stone, and your eyebrows began to furrow in concentration as you moved all around him. Joel felt more and more relaxed, with your presence so near and the sound of snip snip snip softly in his ear. You moved to the front side, and he held out a hand to place on your waist as if to keep you anchored in the spot. You smiled lightly, reveling in the touch as you continued to cut.

Joel’s hand was warm and steady on your hip, and he began to rub light circles into your side over your shirt. You tilted your head to the side; and he glanced up at you.

“You look so serious.” He said, and you glanced at him with an amused smirk.

“Hey. That’s my line.” You laughed.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m just trying my damndest to not mess it up, baby.” You said, and moved to chop at the back. You definitely didn’t want your man to have a mullet, knowing the look didn’t really look good on anyone.

“I appreciate that.” Joel said, and meant it. He moved his head this way and that as you adjusted him, and then you finally stood straight. His hand stayed at your side, and he looked up at you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He said, and you smile, running the comb and then your hand through the top of his head.

“Anytime.” You said, your hand trailing down his hair to his neck, then to his cheek. He leaned into your touch instinctively, and your thumb brushed against his beard. You liked the way it felt under your fingertips, and how much he just looked and felt like a man. Your man.

It felt new to think that, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Not yet.

“You guys better not be getting weird in there!” Ellie called after a few beats of silence, breaking you from the intimate moment. Joel rolled his eyes and stood up, and you set the scissors to the side. He brought you close to his side for a moment and pressed a kiss to your temple. You smiled, leaning into him.

Yes. Your man.

~*~*~

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Joel questioned as you both trudged through the snow after a shift on patrol. You turned your head to him, eyes narrowing.

“So that’s why you’ve been so quiet today.” you said, nodding in realization. Joel breathed out a huff of a chuckle, and shook his head. You could see red creeping on the tip of his ears, and knew it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Ellie’s got a birthday party to go to, said it’s gonna run late. They say it’s gonna get below freezing tonight, and I don’t want you to have to walk home in that-”

“Okay.”

He cleared his throat, and nodded, his gaze moved down to the snow to make sure he didn’t step on anything that would give him trouble. You grinned, and shook your head at his bashfulness. He really was the perfect gentleman- never overstepping or forcing himself, respecting boundaries and even coming up with some of his own. He really was exercising the “taking it slow” rule, too.

Maybe tonight could change that.

When you parted ways, more work waited for you both. With a squeeze of hands and looks of longing, you both made a silent promise to meet up that night.

Joel had managed to get to the house earlier, and began preparing. He had gotten some more soup from the cafeteria to heat up and for you to share. He had coffee at the ready, and his house was as clean as he could make it. After putting Ellie to work before she could escape, she later remarked that “the house had never been so clean,” and “she must be pretty important for you to dust the cabinets.”

She may not have said it outright, but she knew Joel cared for you. Despite their sometimes strained relationship, she was happy he wasn’t completely alone anymore. She could see this heaviness on his shoulders lift from time to time, that line between his eyebrows disappear when he saw you. Ellie couldn’t even tease him about it for much longer, as she had her own budding relationship that Joel would eventually find out about. Then the tables would turn and she would get the incessant teasing.

“Hey,” she said, turning before she left to see Joel sweeping the kitchen one last time. He looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t fuck this up.” she said, giving him a grin. The door shut behind her, and he shook his head.

But, he agreed with her.

~*~*~

The sun had set all too soon, and he waited anxiously for your arrival. He couldn’t sit still, and fiddled with the wood trinkets he had whittled, and looked through his sad excuse of a record collection. He could feel nervousness creeping under his skin, around his heart. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he was moving too fast. What were you thinking? Did you think that he was just looking to get some when he asked you to stay? He knew that wasn’t the case on his part, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. If anything, he could always take the couch-

A knock on the door sounded, and he nearly gave himself whiplash turning around and heading to the door. When he opened it, you stood with a mason jar in hand, your familiar green jacket pulled around you. Snow flurries dotted the background of where you stood, and Joel couldn’t help but smile.

What was he worried about again?

You stepped in, and when the door shut, you leaned up and gave him a light kiss. He leaned into it, about to raise his hand to touch your face when you pressed something into it instead. He looked down at it, and then to you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Moonshine?”

“Correct. Just a little. Keith said that’s all it takes.” you laughed, and Joel shook his head with a smile. He helped you out of your jacket, and you bent down to remove your boots as Joel walked to the kitchen. He had a small pot to heat up the soup over the fire, and carried that carefully after putting the moonshine down. You walked to the couch as Joel set the pot over the fire, and felt the warmth of Joel’s house seep into your bones. You tugged at the sleeves of your blouse, and Joel noted he hadn’t seen it before as he sat down next to you. It was nice- a little form fitting, beige with some kind of subtle floral pattern.

“Somebody dressed up.” Joel chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. You nudged his shoulder lightly as you settled into the couch, Joel’s arm moving instinctively around the back of the couch to welcome you into his side.

“Figured i’d try at least a little.” you said, and Joel pressed a kiss to your temple gently.

“I like it.” he said quietly, and you leaned your head onto his shoulder, the crackling of the fire and the wind outside being the only music you two listened to.

“Joel?” you questioned, and Joel hummed in response, leaning his head against yours. If he could be stuck in a snowglobe, trapped in time, it would be this moment. “Tell me a story.”

He smiled, and sighed, lifting his head and looking around, eyes narrowed.

“Alright, I got one. It’s dumb, but it was funny.” he said, trying to recall the details of the movie in question. It had been years, though. “I’ve seen it god knows how many times. It was Sarah’s favorite-” he said, but abruptly stopped. You stilled for a moment, and pondered what to say next. Joel had mentioned his daughter a few times in passing. Never for too long, but you had pieced this much together- she was young, died on outbreak day, and Joel couldn’t save her.

You could relate- you had lost your parents in quick succession after the outbreak, leaving you with strangers to survive. Losing your husband a year ago, the last of the familiarity you knew. You had never known true stability… Until now.

“She… she was a good kid-” Joel said, and you lifted your head and could see a misty look in his eyes. You pressed a hand to his cheek, grounding him back to reality.

“With you raising her, she must have been lovely. They learn the best from you, you know.” you said, and smiled gently. Joel’s eyes moved downwards, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek gently. You didn’t want to press it, knowing it was a sensitive subject for him. But, with a shaky breath, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, like he was looking for something. A reason, a comfort, something.

But, his eyes moved back to you. Though weak, he smiled. You were both a reason and a comfort. Two things he needed to finally break the ice on his first daughter.

“She loved reading. Made me read her all sorts of stuff. She knew how to read before other kids her age. I… I’m proud of her. What she did, when she was still here.” he said, swallowing. You nodded, your hand never straying far from him as it sunk from his face to take his free hand.

“She’s still here, Joel. You carry her wherever you go. Memories are good for that- keeping people alive, even when they’re not here next to us.” You said quietly, and Joel’s smile strengthened a little bit more. He nodded, exhaling deeply and shifted on the couch to get a little more comfortable.

“I remember I took her to the library every week, ever since she was little. She loved to walk around the aisles, didn’t care much for the play area. She would come with a stack of books this high,” Joel said, and raised his hand over his knee, and you giggled. “Insisted she would read every single one. And she did.”

~*~*~

When dinner was all said and done, you both nursed your second glass of moonshine, the conversation a bit more light. You recounted some funny stories from working around the commune, and Joel would laugh in amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You loved that sight, and couldn’t help but grin every time.

“No, really! She said she was going to march straight to his house and give him a piece of mind. I mean, I'd do the same thing- you can’t let that shit slide.” You said, and Joel just continued laughing. You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your toe. The moonshine was definitely getting to you two. You had a fleeting thought to either thank Keith later or wallop him over the head. This shit was strong.

“Please, darlin’, have mercy on me.” he said, his cheeks rosy with the effects of the alcohol, a hand pressed against his aching stomach from laughing so much. You grinned, happy to see him like this. So free, so comfortable, able to laugh and actually mean it. You leaned forward and took the nearly empty glass from him. He made a noise of protest but didn’t move to stop you as you set your empty glasses on the coffee table in front of you. You nearly fell over and Joel caught you before you could tumble to the floor, both of you giggling for no damn reason. Joel pulled you up, and you were nearly nose to nose, sitting up on your knees next to him.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you suddenly felt hot. You couldn’t tell if it was actually sweat collecting down your back or if it was just a feeling. Your hand rested on Joel’s chest, and your laughter subsided, your gazes on each other turning heavy. Your hand rested on his chest, and Joel’s brown eyes kept moving back and forth to your own. You raised a hand to press against his cheek and before you even had the notion to lean in, he crashed his lips onto yours. The force knocked you back a bit, but you recovered and kissed back, eyes falling shut. Joel hummed against your lips, and your eyebrows knit together in want. In a fit of passion, you swung your leg over his thighs and rested on his lap. This drew a real, true groan from Joel, his hands settling on your hips and gripping them like a vice. You tilted your head down, capturing his lips in a deep kiss that was enough to make your head spin.

Joel began to move your hips in his grasp, and you could feel a tightening of his jeans beneath you. You chased the feeling, beginning to grind against him. You pulled back to only dive into his neck, kissing the column and then to the side, moving to the spot under his ear. A low grumble came from his chest, tilting his head back to revel in your kisses. You began to suck on the spot, your hand moving from his chest to palm at his jeans. Joel’s hand abruptly moved from your hip to your shoulder, pushing you back just a bit before you came up voluntarily.

Looking at Joel with wide, lust-blown eyes, you suddenly felt a wave of doubt cross you. Did you overstep? Was this too much?

“Darlin’,” he began, his chest rising and falling, his dark brown eyes nearly black from what you’ve done to him. He cupped your cheek gently, “If we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right. Somewhere more comfortable for the both of us.”

Your doubts were dashed away like a bolt of lightning, a smile rising to your face and you kissed him deeply. Shuffling off of him clumsily and standing up, you extended your hand to pull him off the couch. He began to lead you to the bedroom up the stairs, a giddy feeling in his chest. When the door swung open, he didn’t give much time to linger on the contents of his room, turning to you and pulling you to his chest and pressed a hot kiss to your lips.

You didn’t know Joel could be so passionate, but you were not complaining. You sighed against his lips, and Joel began to back up until the back of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him and he slowly sat down, breaking away from the kiss to look up at you as you stood over him. His hand reached out and settled on your waist, and you just had to take a second and admire him. Mouth swollen and pink from the kisses, eyes filled with a healthy mixture of lust and adoration, his chest rising and falling to show his anticipation. You could only wonder what you looked like at that moment. Probably a wild and lustful thing, dripping with anticipation.

You began to sink to your knees, but Joel was quick to pull you up with a gentleness and pecked you on the lips.

“Next time.” he mumbled and you began to giggle, feeling the corners of his lips quirk up. You pulled away, shoulders still shaking from your giggles, butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“Oh yeah? Next time?”

“Of course.” Joel said, as if it was clear as day. You grinned and moved to kiss him but he took you by the waist and turned you to lay on the bed with you on your back. You bounced on the old springs, and grinned up at Joel, hand moving to his shoulder as he leaned down and kissed you with fervor. Your other hand moved to his flannel, struggling to undo the buttons one-handed and had to have your other hand join in. Joel’s hand decided to busy themselves with the button of your jeans, sliding the zipper down. Just as you were about to undo the final button, he pulled away and undid it himself, pulling the flannel off and discarding it somewhere behind him. You pouted at the sight of the undershirt, and he laughed at your expression, pulling it off and threw it back to join his flannel. Suddenly his self-consciousness about being shirtless was left at the door, along with all of your doubts and worries.

You sucked in a breath, and had dreamed of this sight. You knew he was solid, broad, but this was a sight to behold. He was all smooth, freckled, tanned skin, his stomach a little pudgy but meaning it was well loved. It was all you had imagined, and a little more.

“... darlin’? Did you hear me? Lift your hips for me.” he said, bringing you back to reality, and you obeyed as quickly as you could to catch up with him. He pulled your jeans down, and you felt the cool air settle on your skin and realized he took your underwear down too. You whined in anticipation and he paused just as your jeans hit the ground. He looked up at you, a silent question in his eyes and you gave him a strained smile and a subtle nod. He settled on the floor, a hand tracing down your torso to your stomach, then pelvis. He kissed your knees, then your thighs and eased them open gently.

“Jesus,” he murmured as he looked down at your glistening cunt, and you lifted yourself up onto your elbows in a sudden movement to capture his reaction. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With little preamble, he leaned his head down and you lost the support of your arms as you fell back when you felt his tongue give a firm swipe up your folds. Your hands gripped the sheets out of pure bliss. If this is what you felt like now, what was in store for you next?

Joel’s lips pressed to your clit which was already throbbing with need, and your eyebrows knit together as he began to suck on it gently. Your hand itched to thread through his hair, and he did another swipe up and down your cunt before sliding his tongue inside. You both let out a chorus of groans and gasps, your back arching off the bed and his hand moved to press against your lower stomach to keep you in place. He repeated a cycle of licks, kisses, and sucking of your clit that made you see stars. Your hand eventually found the back of his head, and you really didn’t have to do anything as he pressed himself more into your cunt, his nose swiping over your clit as his mouth worked in and out of you.

“Joel-” you whined, feeling the sensation of a tightening in your stomach, your lower back alight with heat. He must feel you were close, as you gasped when two fingers entered you, joining Joel’s mouth as he worked you. “Fuck,” you sighed, trying to turn your head to look down at him. But, it had been so long since you had had a proper orgasm not by your own hand that all you could do was lay back and take it.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby.” he murmured, the words of praise making you exhale sharply before sucking in another breath at a strong suck to your clit. His fingers worked in and out, the sounds of squelching from your wet cunt filling the room. Your body began to wind up, your stomach flexing under his hand that still rested there.

“That’s it. Come for me, darlin’.” he said, not sure if he was actually talking to you or your body to coax you into an orgasm. He then curled his fingers inside you and you tightened around them, body trembling and you let out a whine that turned into a moan, your hand holding onto his hair as the other gripped the sheets for dear life. Your body flooded with endorphins, and you felt a flooding sensation down south as well. Joel pulled out his fingers, lapping up your release with obscene noises. With a few swipes of his tongue and a few swirls around your clit, you had come down gently, eyes closed as black and white danced behind your eyelids.

Feeling him shift, you opened your eyes and he coaxed you into pulling off your shirt and unclasping your bra. Your body felt weightless but heavy all at the same time, but you found the strength to move back on the bed with trembling limbs from your orgasm. Joel undid his jeans and pushed them down before climbing on top of you. You looked down and… god. He was impressive.

He kissed you deeply, bringing you out of your thoughts abruptly once more, tasting yourself on his tongue. He rested a hand on your waist, his hips instinctively grinding against your own and you shivered at the touch, winding a hand through his hair to keep him close. Your hand found his cock and you gave it a few encouraging pumps, finding he was rock solid.

“Shit, sweetheart, if you do that- I’m not gonna last-” he groaned, and you smirked against his lips and pressed him against your folds. Even feeling the head of his cock was enough to send you spiraling and your grip on him loosened. But, he was quick to take it and align himself, mouth moving in tandem with yours. He gave a few swipes of his tip and just when you were about to beg, he slid himself inside, bit by agonizing bit. You sucked in a breath as Joel exhaled with a soft moan, your mouths open and hovering between each other. Your hand moved from his hair to his cheek, and he pressed his forehead against yours as he began to rock his hips.

You were in bliss. It was such an intimate, soft moment as he took his time moving in and out of you. A hand loosening on your waist, his hand explored the expanse of your side, up and down as the other supported his weight next to your head.

“Joel…” you whispered, your other arm abandoning the sheets and curled around his back to keep him close. He rocked back and forth and hit your cervix, once, twice, three times until it became a habit. Your body began to tense again, and he groaned into your neck, your name escaping him with a hiss. He kissed your neck, his hips moving a bit faster, hitting that spot with more force. Your toes began to curl as your legs wrapped around his waist, and he began to stiffen, but didn’t let up his pace.

“Come on, give me another one.” he murmured against your skin, and your cunt twitched at the encouragement, causing him to moan again. You didn’t think he would be this vocal during sex, but god you were loving every bit of it.

“Please, Joel- I wanna-” you whined, and he reached down between you two and began to rub circles on your clit to further encourage you. Your lips parted, eyebrows scrunching up. That’s all it took for you to come undone the second time that night, tightening around him and encouraging his own release. His hips stuttered, giving about three more languid thrusts. He then quickly moved, sitting up slightly as he pulled out and pumped his cock, his sticky release painting your pelvis and stomach with white.

“Fuck.” you whispered, and grinned, Joel panting as he watched his work, and then moved his eyes to you. You couldn’t want to taste that coming down your throat. But, next time.

He leaned down, uncaring that he smeared his release between you as he kissed you deeply. You couldn’t find the strength to meet him halfway, but raised a hand to press against his face to keep him there for a moment.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and mumbled a “be right back,” moving to go down the hall to the bathroom and he came back with a damp washcloth, wiping himself and you down. He set it to the side, and joined you on the bed. His arm moved over your torso, and he propped himself up to look at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“So… you’ll still stay?” he questioned, his voice soft, questioning. But, you already knew your answer, and gave him a smile, and a gentle nod.

~*~*~

Somewhere in the night, you had to borrow some of Joel’s clothes. The cold draft in the room was a bit more tolerable with a t-shirt and sleep pants on. Luckily Joel had enough for the both of you.

The sunlight peeked through the faded curtains, signaling morning had come. You lay on your side, Joel’s body pressed against your back, an arm around your waist. Your eyes opened slightly, still thick with sleep, but taking in your surroundings. Joel’s room was simple, but cozy. The sunlight filtering in was warming up the area, and you held onto the pillow just a bit tighter, pressing back against Joel to savor his warmth.

When you did, Joel let out a hum, and you felt a kiss on your shoulder, then another. And another.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.” Joel chuckled, and gave your hip a squeeze. You grinned, turning in his arms and laid on your back, looking over at him.

“Well, having three rounds was enough to knock me the hell out.” you laughed. You really didn’t know how Joel could keep up with the age he was at. But, he was insatiable, like a horny frat boy at a sorority party. And you weren’t complaining.

“Mm. You sound so upset.” he chuckled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then sitting up a bit to kiss your lips. Now that this particular moment in your relationship had happened, Joel seemed a bit less nervous and a bit more giving. You could only wonder what the future had in store.

“Did Ellie come home?” you suddenly questioned, and Joel nodded, his hand running up and down your side, pulling you close.

“She did. Don’t worry.” he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted to laugh at that- Joel Miller telling you not to worry? That was yet another first.

You sat in silence, the sun growing more and more bright as it rose in the sky. It gave the room a very warm, inviting, and comforting tone. You sighed as Joel leaned his head into your neck, his scent enveloping you. Turning your head to press your nose to his forehead, he gave her shoulder another kiss, then your neck.

“So, does this mean I can hold your hand around town now?” Joel mumbled, and you couldn’t help but grin like a kid on Christmas.

“Only if I can tell people about my absolute hunk of a man.” you teased, and Joel lifted his head at that, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m a what?” he asked, though it was in disbelief and not confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed, and raised a hand to card through his unruly brown and silver locks. He gazed down at you, his brown eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered now. You felt that familiar twist in your lower stomach, and smiled. “You’re my man, that’s all that matters.”

Joel nodded, and kissed your lips again,

“And you’re my girl?” he questioned genuinely against your lips. The sentiment and hopeful tone eased any tension that was left in your body. Your hand tightened in his hair just enough to apply pressure and deepen the kiss, your body shifting and calling for his own. And just as sure as the sun rises, his body met yours halfway, answering that call.

“I am. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.” you murmured, and you could feel Joel’s smile on your lips, humming in delight. Feeling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a world that had gone to hell, you stayed in each other’s embrace as the sun rose high in the sky.

Daylight has never looked so beautiful.

THE END.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x ofc #jackson!joel #tlou hbo #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #visionsfics

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fratttymatty · 3 months ago

Text

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,” and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

#male tf #male tf story #nerd to jock #gay to straight #smart to dumb #gym bro tf

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