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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕

Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin.

You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that.

Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight.

Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving.

Live.

Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason.

Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…

That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel.

You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.

You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush.

Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.

Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity.

Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore.

You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope.

And that something is Joel.

You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words.

Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try.

The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad.

They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop.

But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…

You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent.

You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been.

You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you.

It’s too fucking much.

Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before.

Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle.

Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight.

Holy shit.

Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace.

This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind.

You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything.

You could get lost in here.

Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”

When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm.

He’s warm.

“These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book.

“All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now.

“This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days.

He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost.

“You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into.

“I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable.

A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”

“Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.

“Really,” he nods with a smile.

“Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

“Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.”

You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.

Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window.

“Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.

“Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.

“You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room.

“I used to. A long time ago.”

You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.

He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.

“Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind.

“‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind.

He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories.

“Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up.

His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest.

He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”

When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar.

There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what.

Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop.

This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask.

Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.

When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.

Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day.

Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.”

You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”

He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets.

Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”

“Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you.

You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”

You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you.

Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”

“Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.”

“Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.

“Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips.

And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store.

You can do this. Fight the fear.

Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”

Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself.

You can do this.

Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second.

The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine.

“Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.

“Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.

“That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public.

“You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song.

“Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.

The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater.

“Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.

You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”

The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

“I’ll take you back.”

Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

“What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face.

He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

“Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.

He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.

“Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine.

He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”

“Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.

“What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”

You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”

“‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”

And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”

He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”

You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters?

“There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met.

He thinks you’re important.

“Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart.

He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.

It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.

You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.”

“What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose?

“They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”

His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”

You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it.

You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”

“Is he still…”

“He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”

The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave.

He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.

“That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”

You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this…

Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”

It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white.

His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”

You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day.

You don’t have to be alone anymore.

The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you.

He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…

After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot.

The parking lot…

It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…

“Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone.

You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.

“N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death.

You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go.

Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot.

Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”

“Joel… I…”

“Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing.

“That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you.

“I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish.

You’re pathetic.

“S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are.

But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…

You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat.

Warm. He’s so warm.

After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”

He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”

He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”

He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.

You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.

As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”

“Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”

Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind.

As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”

You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace.

Warm. He’s so warm.

You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom.

So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.

“Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.

He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”

“Mhm,” you hum back.

A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now.

“Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel.

“Joel…” you reply back leery.

“You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.

You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”

He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.

When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”

You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.

You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.

“Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time.

You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home.

“There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears.

Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”

It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.

“You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

“Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down.

“See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return.

When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember.

“I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”

You’re so brave. He called you brave.

The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems.

You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him.

“Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.

Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”

“Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”

“You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.

“Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.

“Okay,” you whisper.

You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.

When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.

Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”

You can do this.

Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.

“Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.

“Always.”

You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist.

Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still.

“You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him.

“Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes.

“Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

“Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again.

He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

“No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.

“Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.

“Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.

“Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”

Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”

You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue.

I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know.

Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds.

He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.

The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are.

At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries.

He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first.

He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.

You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one.

Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.

Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.

With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth.

Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving.

Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”

You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you.

Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get.

What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay.

Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want.

When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind.

A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that.

Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh.

“Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”

You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”

“No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”

Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?”

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”

He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”

He’s proud of you.

“I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”

He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”

“Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body.

It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”

Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows.

“Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.

“Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.

“Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment.

It looks better on you.

You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body.

He gave you his flannel.

Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?”

“Ice cream?”

“Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.

“Whatever for?” you giggle.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.

“Well, yes. But…”

“I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”

You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”

“The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is.

You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man?

“What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does.

No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.

“You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”

“And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”

He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”

Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.

He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.

“I’d love some ice cream.”

“Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window.

“Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“I think you’d like it,” you chirp.

He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”

As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #healing fic

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damiansgoodgirll · 4 months ago

Note

Hey boo I love your stories so much and so while we wait for Don’t break my heart part 6 I was wondering if you could write something similar but with reader picking Finn side at first because she gets easily manipulated and so she believed him that he would have helped her but then she realised how sad and lonely she feels and Rhea and Damian bring her back with them and help her heal as they were both worried about her, and of course they weren’t mad she chose finn at first! Make it a little angst if you can❤️ I absolutely love your angst

love this request!

the judgment day x reader (platonic) / terror twins x reader (platonic)

likes, comments are reblogs are always welcomed!

‼️angst, finn being a manipulator, sadness, mention of anxiety and depression‼️

dolly’s choice

you still remember the day when finn, rhea and damian asked you to join them in the group. you didn’t exactly know why. you had nothing that could bring something to team, at least, that was your opinion.

you were a face, you were kind and sweet, a little bit naive, so why did the judgment day pick you?

they said they needed someone like you to get more fans and you believed them. but as you bonded with the group, they all took a liking in you. rhea said that she liked your personality, she saw you as a little sister. damian and finn both took you under their protective wings, the taught you new moves, showed you how to improve on the ring.

and in years, you felt like you had real friends again.

you were a solitaire. never had many friends, and when you started wrestling, it felt like you didn’t have much time to spend with the two friends you had left.

you told them about your past, about yourself. how you suffered from depression once you joined the company, how alone you felt and how you struggle with panic and anxiety attacks.

never once they judged you, they always helped you when you felt low and always made you feel like you were really part of their family too.

so you couldn’t understand why dom and finn turned on the group at summerslam.

dom said that it was because he couldn’t handle being controlled by rhea anymore and finn had the same reasons, just with damian. so the group you once knew as a big family, broke up.

and you were left in the middle.

you didn’t want to pick a side because you cared both for rhea and damian as much as you cared for finn and dom.

so you took the week right after summerslam off. you needed time to think. you didn’t want to choose between the only friends and family you ever had.

rhea and damian understood what you were feeling and never once they pressure you to join them. they care about you and they knew that the group was really important for you too. on the contrary, finn and dom kept calling you, asking you if you were alright, if you needed anything.

when you returned to raw, finn caught you before rhea and damian had the chance to speak with you.

“hey doll” his nickname for you always made you blush. referring to the doll he won for you at the fair one year ago, that became your nickname amongst the group, but it had more meaning only if finn used it.

“hi…” your voice a little softer. you hadn’t spoken with the team since summerslam happened, so, today it was your first time seeing them all after the events.

“do you have a couple of minutes before getting ready for your match? i would like to have a chat with you…” he smiled softly, knowing you and knowing exactly what tone to use with you.

you were hesitant at first, but you couldn’t say no to him “uhm…sure” so you took him into your changing room as you both sat down on the black leather couch, waiting for him to speak.

“first of all, i want to say how sorry i am for everything that happened a couple of weeks ago. but the group wasn’t working anymore and i know you may have not noticed this because we all care about you and we don’t have anything against you but…it wasn’t working anymore between me and damian and it wasn’t wasn’t working between dom and rhea…” he apologised first, knowing that you loved sincere people “the worst thing is that we didn’t think what this could lead to you… because i know you suffered from this…i saw it in your eyes when you left the stadium after summerslam” he took a deep breath “and i’ll never forgive myself for hurting you doll…that was never my intention”

“i appreciate your honesty” you smiled at him “but you wanted to ask me something if i’m not wrong?”

he took everything in himself to not lie to you, because he really cared about you, but right now all that was on his mind was revenge, and his idea of using you to get revenge on damian and rhea sounded more appealing to him “you’re right doll… there’s something that i wanted to ask you”

“go on”

“this new group is missing an important piece and that piece is you. me, dom, liv, jd and carlito…it feels like the group isn’t compete yet” he took your hands into his bigger ones “i know you’ve always struggled with making friends and i assure you that we would be so happy if you joined us… you already know the rest of the group and you know how much we love you…you and liv would be good friends, she’s such a sweetheart, she’s always kind and caring and she would be such an amazing tag team partner for you…and in all honesty, i miss you…i can’t stand to see you hate on me, i would hate myself too…you’re too important for me doll” and you believed him.

the way his voice sounded, full of emotion and honesty. the way he let a few tears fall. and the way he played the “friends card” so well, hitting you in your weakest spot.

it was enough for him to convince you to join them.

you will never forget the faces of damian and rhea when they first saw you with the group. they weren’t mad. they could never be mad at you. they were worried and a little disappointed. they wondered what finn had might said to you to convince you. what kind of sick mind tricks he had to use on you.

“that was amazing” dom laughed, kissing liv’s head, referring to the show that just aired. they completely destroyed rhea and dom, making you feel uncomfortable and guilty as you didn’t want to cause them any harm.

“yup” finn laughed “and i’ll never forget the faces they had when they saw y/n with us, right doll?” his arm took you closer to him, as if he wanted to hug you.

you faked a laugh, feeling uncomfortable and helpless.

“you’re the last piece we needed for our revenge on them” liv added, making the group agreeing with her.

wait - revenge?

finn never said anything about revenge. what was this coming from?

“next week it’s gonna be and you against rhea” liv said, making the group smirk.

“what?” you were confused knowing that you didn’t have any booking for next week.

“i’m gonna go against rhea next week and you’ll come out to help me” she laughed.

“she’s gonna be so heartbroken when she’ll see you with liv” dominik smirked, kissing liv one more time before moving somewhere else quieter with her.

“finn what are they talking about?” you asked him, not understanding what was going on.

“doll…” he sighed “you are a part of this group now and as a group we act together…”

“yeah, not against rhea and damian…you never said anything about going against them…you never mentioned me going against rhea” you didn’t want to cry in front of him, you were trying your best to keep your feelings inside.

he realised he hurt you, he knew he played with your feelings just because having you on his side was going to benefit him “you know that liv can’t win against rhea all by herself…she needs a little push”

you left them room before he could finish his speech.

tears were rolling down your cheeks. you wanted to leave the arena and find some quiet place to cry.

rhea and damian saw you in the distance. they couldn’t see your face really well but they saw you walking fast, trying to figure where to hide.

you found a good spot to hide. you sat on the emergency stairs and let all of those sobs you tried to keep down, out. you couldn’t believe you were so stupid to believe that finn really cared about you. you should have realised it sooner that the only reason he wanted you in the group was because he wanted to use you to get revenge on the pairs and not because he really wanted you in the group.

your cries broke rhea and damian’s heart.

they followed you, wanting to make sure you were okay and when they saw that you were not, they couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened to make you react like that.

you heard someone sitting next to you on the stairs but your eyes were still closed and your hands were still covering your face.

rhea’s arm moved to circle you, making you lay your head on her shoulder “sweetheart…what’s going on?”

when you heard rhea’s voice your eyes immediately opened up. you were met with the terror twins worried expressions.

“i’m so fucking stupid…” you whispered.

“hey, none of that…” damian’s hard voice said “absolutely not”

“but it’s the truth damian…i was so stupid to believe finn’s words and i’m so sorry for everything that happened tonight, i know you guys hate me now and”

“we don’t hate you y/n” rhea’s voice confessed “we could never hate you…we care about you too much…we were so worried when we saw you crying”

“finn said that i was the missing piece, he said that the team wasn’t complete without me and i believed him…he said how liv and i would be great friends, how he cared for me…only for him to say how happy he was when he saw you being disappointed that i picked him instead of you…”

“finn manipulated you y/n” damian said “he played mind games with you and none of what happened tonight was your fault, believe me…”

“but”

“no buts…damian is right…i was so worried when i saw you with them…i would have preferred you choosing by yourself, i would have preferred you going against us because it was your own choice and not someone else’s decision…doll” that nickname in rhea’s tone sounded kinder and more genuine now “it’s your life and it’s your choice to make…”

“i…i don’t want them…i, i can’t go against you next week rhea…they wanted me to distract you so liv could win against you but i can’t…” you cared too much for the duo to turn your back on them.

“then don’t do it…you don’t have to side with us…you could just be neutral…and we will always care about you, no matter what” damian gently wiped your tears away.

“i want to team with you if you still want me…”

rhea and damian both smiled, saying yes.

“we can’t be twins though…we are three now” you said, a little disappointed, knowing that you might have ruined it for them ad the fans.

“nope, not twins, family” rhea smirked, her eyes meeting damian’s “the terror family”

“la familia del terror” damian whispered in spanish “i like how it sounds” making you chuckle.

that night they took you back to the hotel, both planning how to get their revenge on liv and especially finn for even thinking of messing with you.

in the end, you were happy you got to make your own choice.

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malakaie · 2 months ago

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had some feelings to write out – for/about @tommyend, no pressure at all to respond

I started watching wrestling – specifically, AEW – in late October 2023. It’s been just over a year since I started watching, and I didn’t expect it to consume as much of my brain-space as it has. When I started watching, I didn’t really know who anyone was. I had heard a few names – Randy Orton, CM Punk, Jade Cargill, Roman Reigns – but had no real concept of the landscape I was entering or what it would mean to get invested.

Truthfully, it was a little overwhelming, and there was more I didn’t understand than I did. In those first few weeks, I received one very helpful piece of advice: don’t try to understand everything. Find a wrestler or two whose vibe you like and stick with them – the rest will click into place eventually, or it won’t, and either way is fine.

And so I did. I think it was around the lead-up to Full Gear 2023 that I started really paying attention. There was something about what House of Black was doing that was different from anything else I was seeing. I could understand just enough to recognise talented athletes when I saw them, but I wasn’t quite plugged in enough to the overall wrestling “ecosystem” that that was enough on its own to get my attention. Now that I understand more of what I’m looking at, it’s easier to understand what I’m meant to be impressed by – it’s easier now to have that moment of, holy shit, how did they do that?

But I didn’t understand yet. I’d been watching wrestling for about a month and was still finding my footing. What I saw, and latched onto, in House of Black was a group of four impressive performers that I could tell were in love with the art of what they were doing. Everything was done with intent – the way they entered the ring, the different but cohesive styles with which each member of the House wrestled, the gear they wore, the ever-evolving paint on Malakai’s face, the evolution and growth of Julia’s character.

It was both the moment that I finally, properly understood that professional wrestling was also theatre—and, I think, the moment that I was magnetised. It felt like a faction that was made for me: a band of storytellers who wanted to take my hand and show me what wrestling could be and was and is, and had the creativity and cohesiveness and physical talent to pull it off.

I could breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t lost anymore, desperately trying to catch up to understanding something that everyone around me already seemed to know. I had a guide of some sort, and one that resonated: I’ve been reading since I was 3, writing stories since I was 11, have always been a little “strange,” drawn to creative types and niche hobbies and other people that don’t have many friends. And here was someone who not only felt like me, sounded like me, but was wanted and loved and succeeding. A stranger to me, in the way that performers and public figures always are, but I felt like it was going to be okay. If Malakai could make it—though I didn’t and don’t know him personally, I had no way of knowing if he was ever afraid, or if he doubted himself—then maybe I could, too.

The more I watched and the more I learned, the more true that became. I’ve been depressed and anxious most of my adult life. I have scoliosis that is likely to get worse as I get older, and causes me pain multiple times a week, if not every day. Hearing someone whose work I admired be open about his mental health—especially when sports industries have typically not been kind to people, perhaps especially men, who are vulnerable in that way—and be honest when he’s in pain shook something loose in me that I hadn’t quite realised was stuck and frozen in shame. It’s okay that I’m afraid. It’s okay that I have days where my brain is trying to consume itself. It’s okay that I’m in pain. Did I get out of bed today? Have I been outside? Have I eaten? Have I done something to be kind to myself—or, failing that, kind to someone else? Have I done something creative today?

I started my “gender journey,” for lack of a better phrase, in 2018. There was a lot, a lot, of messing around with pronouns, labels. I didn’t know what I was, only that “just a girl” didn’t feel quite right anymore. And then I felt like I was lying, because, well—I was fine being a girl when I was ten, and thirteen, and sixteen, so why was it suddenly different at 25? Sometimes I still feel like I’m lying. The generation above me often still holds an image of trans people that requires them to have always been miserable, always been “pretending.” A few months ago my mother suggested it was fine if my idea of being feminine had expanded, but she didn’t really believe I was trans, because I’d never been unhappy as a girl child, and besides that I looked like a “clone” of the small handful of other transmasc and nonbinary people she’s met. I must be a pod person. (Newsflash, mom: This is just what queer people look like, a lot of the time. I cut and dyed my hair and got one singular tattoo. How terrible.)

She didn’t ask me how I feel when people call me she, or her—it makes me feel horribly small and unreal, by now—and in fairness to her, I didn’t quite defend myself either. I cringed and shrunk and asked for time to think about it, when what I wanted to say is yes, I know I haven’t had the history you expect to see from me, but this is who I am, and I’m not telling you that I was never a girl. I’m telling you that girl isn’t the place where I stop.

But I was scared, and I felt cornered, and I didn’t say any of that.

What I did have, though, was an artist and a performer and a storyteller who did things with his expression, his clothing, how he presented himself to the world that was like a lightbulb going on. The confidence of a man who told stories with the way that he looked, and who used feminine symbols to do it. He wasn’t any less masculine—but it was an embracing of both that cemented who he was, and I thought: holy shit. I can do that. Our identities are not the same, and I’m not too keen on speculating about the identities of public figures that I don’t know in any event—but it’s reassuring, motivating even, to be able to regularly see someone comfortably expressing his gender (because, yes, cis presentation is gender expression too) in a way that makes sense to him and incorporates the feminine and resonates through his art without doubt or reservation or compromise. This is who we are. Take it or leave it.

I don’t know what’s coming next for any of us. AEW looks like such a different place—in a good way—from when I started watching, and the world is looking pretty scary these days, but I’m still here. The art that got me interested in wrestling in the first place is still here, and I have my theories—unsubstantiated, so far—about where Malakai and House of Black are taking their story, but regardless of theories I’ve been so fortunate to watch them continue to grow and evolve over the past year. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I know the love for the story and the art is real.

I don’t know you personally, Malakai, and I don’t want to claim to, no matter how many scraps I’ve gathered together from interviews and how much of the backlog of matches I’ve done my best to watch so I can understand where you’ve come from and where you’re going next. But your work and your love for your craft has moved me, and I’m glad I stayed alive when it was hard so I could be around to see it when it mattered.

#malakai black #house of black #<3

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nextstopwonderland · 4 months ago

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“One thing Bryan told me one time, one reason he loves professional wrestling, is because whenever he’s in the ring he feels like he’s just meant to be there and he can just put everything else on pause. I’m gonna try to channel that tonight.”

Fun (sob) fact:

1) that’s totally a shoot, Bryan’s said that multiple times & especially in relation to his depression, something Yuta suffers from as well.

#wheeler yuta #aew #all elite wrestling #bryan danielson #bryanwheeler #video clips

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justice4gyeongsu · 4 months ago

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━━━ 'CHAPTER TEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ a rooftops panoramic view should be a beautiful sight, key word, should.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, near death experience, choking, violence, alot of angst, mentions of bullying, depression, some fluff, mentions of puking, reoccuring ptsd, exclusion, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT | PREVIOUS

from his perch atop the air conditioner unit, joonyeong's voice rings out once more, "the 'o' is too narrow, y/n-ah!" his words hang in the air like a challenge, marking the 13th time he's sent you back to the drawing board to tweak the s.o.s sign. you bite back a sigh, your patience wearing thin. wujin, sensing your frustration, lets out a low chuckle. you shoot him a sidelong glance, shaking your head in exasperation. "if he tells me to fix this one more time," you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eye, "i'm stealing his glasses and hiding them." the comment sets wujin and daesu off into fits of laughter, their heads thrown back in amusement.

as the laughter dies down, the group refocuses on the task at hand, their movements a testament to their determination. you grab a rusty old pipe, hoping to use it as a makeshift straightedge, while wujin rummages through a nearby pile of discarded boxes, searching for something, anything, to use. daesu, meanwhile, is attempting to macgyver a makeshift paintbrush from a bundle of frayed wires and a mangled feather duster.

joonyeong, still perched atop the air conditioner, oversees the operation with a keen eye, offering words of encouragement and criticism in equal measure. "no, no, no! the ‘o’ needs to be more circular! and what's with the gap between the ‘s’s? we need to make it better!" as the group works, the rooftop around them begins to resemble a junkyard, with scraps of metal, broken appliances, and shattered glass scattered about. but amidst the chaos, a sense of camaraderie prevails, their shared goal of creating the perfect s.o.s sign binding them together in their quest for survival.

as you crouch beside a pile of rusty scraps, trying to fashion a makeshift stencil, a sudden discomfort strikes your lower abdomen. your bladder, long neglected, protests with a dull ache. you wince, realizing it's been over 24 hours since you last used the restroom. feeling a mix of embarrassment and urgency, you glance around at your companions, hoping to find a sympathetic ear.

you catch wujin's eye, trying to convey your distress without alerting joonyeong, who's still barking instructions from his perch. wujin raises an eyebrow, sensing something amiss, and you subtly nod past the rooftop door, hoping he'll take the hint. to your relief, he nods almost imperceptibly and mouths, "me too." daesu, oblivious to your predicament, continues to tinker with his makeshift paintbrush, but wujin excuses himself, saying, "hey, joonyeong, we need to... uh... scout for more materials. yeah, that's it." joonyeong barely acknowledges the comment, too engrossed in the s.o.s sign's imperfections.

with wujin leading the way, you make a discreet exit, trying to ignore the growing pressure in your bladder as you head towards the other side of the roof that a bunch of obstacles to cover you both, hoping to find a safe place or, at the very least, a secluded spot to relieve yourselves.

wujin, already in his chosen hiding spot, a narrow alleyway between two large ventilation units, calls out in a hushed tone, "hey, you okay over there? find a good spot?" his voice is muffled, but laced with amusement, clearly entertained by the absurdity of your situation. you grit your teeth, wrestling with the recalcitrant zipper, your hand trembling with urgency. "yeah, yeah, just... just give me a minute," you reply, trying to keep your voice down, but frustration seeping into your tone.

"fuck, please not now," you mutter under your breath, tugging at the zipper with increasing desperation. it's as if the universe has conspired against you, denying you even this small measure of relief. just as you're about to give up, the zipper finally yields, sliding down with a soft rasp.

as the warm stream finally begins to flow, you breathe a sigh of deep relief, feeling the tension melt away from your body. the sensation is almost euphoric, and you can't help but moan softly, the sound barely audible over the gentle patter of your urine hitting the rooftop. “fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes, savoring the moment. the discomfort and urgency of the past hour seem to wash away, replaced by a sense of blissful release.

wujin's muffled laughter carries over from the other side of the ventilation unit, and you can't help but join in, a soft, relieved chuckle escaping your lips. "shut up," you warn, "you're enjoying this way too much." the sound of wujin's amusement continues, a gentle accompaniment to the symphony of sounds on the rooftop – the hum of the air conditioner, the distant rumble of the city, and the sweet, sweet sound of relief.

you hear the unmistakable sound of wujin's belt buckle clicking back into place, signaling he's finished and already moving on. you quicken your pace, hurrying to finish up and tuck yourself back into your pants. but, as fate would have it, your zipper decides to malfunction once again.

"you've gotta be joking" you whisper, frustration creeping into your voice as the zipper gets stuck, refusing to budge. you try to wiggle it, coax it, and even bribe it, but it remains stubbornly stuck. wujin's gaze meets yours, his expression softening slightly as he asks, "are you finished?" his tone is gentle, but you sense a hint of teasing still lurking beneath the surface.

you hesitate, unsure of how to respond. a part of you wants to ask for his help, to let him assist you in freeing yourself from the clutches of the stuck zipper. but another part, a part that remembers the pain of past betrayals, warns you to be cautious. memories long buried begin to resurface, like a floodgate opened in your mind. you recall the days when wujin and you were inseparable, sharing secrets and laughter, until the whispers started. people began to call you gay, and wujin, once your closest friend, started to distance himself. the pain of his rejection still lingers, a scar that never fully healed.

you look away, trying to shake off the memories, but they linger, casting a shadow over the present moment. "i... i think i've got it," you stammer, trying to sound convincing, but your voice betrays your uncertainty. wujin's expression changes, his eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the sudden tension. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his tone softer now, but you're unsure if you're ready to confront the ghosts of your past. your mind races with panic as you imagine wujin thinking you're trying to make a move on him. the thought alone makes your heart sink, and you desperately want to reassure him that's not the case. but words fail you, and you remain silent, your face burning with anxiety.

with a surge of adrenaline, you try to force the zipper down, then up again, wincing as it digs into your skin. your injured hand throbs in protest, but you grit your teeth, determined to avoid any further awkwardness. "just... just give me a minute," you mutter, trying to sound calm, but your voice cracks under the strain.

wujin's expression turns concerned, but he doesn't move closer, seemingly unsure of how to react. "hey, do you need some help?" he asks again, his tone gentle, but you sense a hint of wariness. you shake your head vigorously, trying to convey that you're fine, even though you're far from it. the zipper creaks ominously, threatening to break at any moment, but you keep tugging, your hands shaking with frustration and fear. the silent plea echoes in your mind as you struggle with the zipper, your face burning with embarrassment.

wujin's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you struggling with the zipper, your face red with effort and embarrassment. for a moment, he looks away, his expression awkward, as if unsure of how to react. but then, his face sets in a determined expression, and he strides towards you with a confident air. "lemme do it, it'll be faster," he says, his voice firm, but with a hint of gentle coaxing.

you feel a surge of relief mixed with anxiety as he approaches, his hands reaching out to take control of the zipper. your mind races with thoughts of what this could mean, but you push them aside, focusing on the practicality of the situation. "th-thanks," you stutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrays your nervousness. wujin's fingers brush against yours as he takes hold of the zipper, sending a spark of anxiety through your body. you try to ignore it, telling yourself you dont want to send the wrong idea.

with a few quick, deft movements, wujin frees the zipper from its tangled prison, his hands moving with a precision that makes your heart skip a beat. "there," he says, stepping back, a hint of a smile on his face. "all fixed."

just as you're about to express your gratitude, suhyeok's voice rings out, "yah, y/n-ah! where’d you..?" he turns the corner, his eyes suddenly scanning the scene before him. your heart sinks as suhyeok's gaze lingers on wujin's hands, still resting on your zipper, and your face, still flushed from the struggle. an irritated and hurt glint sparks in suhyeok's eye, and a mournful look spreads across his face. suhyeok's expression in alarm, his eyes darting between you and wujin as if trying to process what he's seeing. the air is thick with tension as he stands there, frozen. you clear your throat, trying to break the silence, and scratch the back of your head, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. wujin, still trying to defend himself, takes a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"it's not... i mean... i wasn't..." wujin stammers, his eyes flicking between you and suhyeok before trailing off. he forces a laugh, awkward and unconvincing, and takes another step back, creating distance between you.

suhyeok's glare intensifies, his eyes narrowing at wujin as if daring him to continue. the silence stretches out, uncomfortable and heavy, before suhyeok speaks, "looks like i interrupted something," suhyeok says, his voice dripping with insecurity. finally turns and stalks off, leaving you and wujin alone once more. you look down, embarrassment burning your face, and mutter a quiet, "great." wujin's eyes meet yours, a mix of apology and discomfort in their depths, before he turns and follows suhyeok, leaving you to wonder what just happened.

you take a deep breath and focus on composing yourself. you smooth out your clothes, tucking in any wrinkles or creases, and run a hand through your hair to tidy it up. with a final check to make sure you look presentable, you set off at a jog to catch up to wujin and suhyeok.

as you run, you can't help but replay the awkward encounter in your head. you cringe at the memory of suhyeok's irritation and wujin's flustered reaction. but you push the thoughts aside and focus on catching up to your friends. suhyeok storms off, his annoyance high, while wujin hurries after him, trying to explain. "suhyeok, wait! it's not what you think! he just needed help with his zipper, that's all!" you watch them for a moment before stopping in your tracks. "yah!" you call out, your voice firm but calm. suhyeok freezes, his back still to you, while wujin turns around, knowing you're not addressing him.

you begin walking towards suhyeok, your eyes locked on his towering form. "don't let your imagination run wild before you have the facts," you say, your voice even and measured. as you pass by suhyeok, you turn to face him, still walking backwards. "sorry, wujin-ah. i only see you as a friend," you clarify, but not to him, your gaze flicking to suhyeok for a brief moment before returning to wujin. with that, you turn and continue walking away, leaving the two of them to process your words. suhyeok's anger seems to deflate, replaced by a mixture of confusion and curiosity. wujin looks relieved, but also a bit amusement. he gives a thumbs up with a panted, “thank god.”

you approach the group, realizing you only explained the situation to suhyeok because you didnt want him to think wujin was gay. last thing you needed was more rumors for someone, now giggling to yourself about the earlier misunderstanding. as you reach daesu and onjo, you notice they're in the middle of a heated discussion. "that makes no sense," daesu scoffs, leaning down to mess with the pieces of wood leftover from their earlier project. onjo pouts, her face scrunched up in a frown. "yah, if you wouldn't believe me, why did you even ask?" she shoots back, her voice rising. daesu's expression turns defensive, and he matches onjo's volume. "cause you don't know!" he insists, his words overlapping with hers.

you watch the exchange, amused by their dynamic. they remind you of siblings, always bickering and teasing each other. you can't help but smile at their familiarity. "what's going on?" you ask, inserting yourself into their conversation. daesu and onjo pause, turning to face you. they both look expectant, as if waiting for you to referee their argument.

"daesu doesn't think," onjo says, her tone still slightly petulant. "but she's not making any sense!" daesu protests, throwing up his hands. you chuckle, shaking your head. "what is it?" you ask, trying to mediate their disagreement. onjo begins saying she tried to explain to daesu that s.o.s means nothing but daesu refuses to believe her. even though he had asked for her opinion in the first place. you begin to think, scratching your head before speaking, “i thought it meant ‘save our souls’.” your words laced with confusion.

onjo's eyes widen in frustration. "no, no! that's not it at all! it's just a nonsense phrase, a myth. it doesn't mean anything!" daesu snorts. "you're just not smart enough to understand it, onjo."

onjo takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "i looked it up, okay? and it's just a myth. it doesn't have any real meaning." daesu scoffs. "you and your 'research'... i don't believe it." you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. cheongsan then enters the conversation, “shes 100% right. it doesn't mean anything, why don't you believe her?” he asks daesu. you raise your brows as cheongsan quickly stands up for her, to which onjo nods proudly.

daesu's gaze shifts between the two, his curiosity getting the better of him. he rises from his place and ambles over to namra, a hint of a smile on his face. "hey, prez," he says, seeking her expertise. onjo's eyes flash with annoyance as she springs to her feet. "that jerk," she mutters under her breath, her reaction so endearing that you can't help but smile. you've never noticed how much she embodies the role of a little sister, and it's almost charming.

you make your way over to jimin and hroryeong, who stand together, a united front. "you guys okay?" you ask softly, concern etched on your face. jimin looks up at you, a hint of exasperation in her eyes. "really?" she asks, her tone laced with annoyance, as she continues to soothe hroryeong. you hold up your uninjured hand in a calming gesture before turning to walk away, not wanting to spark any more unnecessary arguments. you'd rather not be the catalyst for further conflict.

as you suddenly watch, onjo's tiny frame darts out, her foot connecting with cheongsan's leg in a swift kick. he yelps in surprise, his momentum halted as he falls to the ground. the group gasps, shocked by her sudden move. onjo gestures to the others, her expression nonchalant. "come on, let's start a fire. it's gonna be dark soon." you stroll over to cheongsan, a grin still plastered on your face. he looks up at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "for a small girl, she's pretty strong, huh?" you chuckle.

cheongsan's hurt gaze lingers on your face, his expression puzzled. he's never seen you like this before - relaxed, carefree, and almost... happy. his memories of you are etched with a gloomy, solemn demeanor, a stark contrast to the person standing before him now. even in the face of adversity, you seem to have found a glimmer of joy.

"what?" cheongsan asks, confusion etched on his face as you continue to stare at the group with an enigmatic smile. "nothing, it's just funny," you reply, your eyes still fixed on the others as you giggle to yourself once more. cheongsan smirks, his expression laced with disbelief. "i think you're delirious," he teases, his laughter mingling with yours as you both walk away from the group. the absurdity of onjo's kick and the group's dynamics has somehow lifted the gloom, and for a moment, you're able to find humor in the midst of adversity.

the group toils away for nearly 20 minutes, gathering twigs, leaves, and other flammable materials, attempting to create a spark through sheer friction. just as frustration begins to set in, namra casually reaches into her pocket and produces a sleek lighter. "wait, you had that the whole time?" daesu asks, incredulous, as namra nonchalantly lights the fire. the group stares at her, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. onjo's eyes widen, "namra, you smoke?" namra shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "occasionally." the group's perception of their perfect class president begins to shift. she's not as squeaky clean as they thought. a hint of rebellion lurks beneath her polished exterior. jimin raises an eyebrow, "i didn't know you were a smoker, namra.

namra's smile grows, "there's a lot you don't know about me, jimin." the fire crackles to life, casting a warm glow over the group as they settle in for the night.

the group sits in a circle around the fire, the warm flames casting a golden glow on their faces. you find yourself nestled between cheongsan and jimin, the three of you forming a cozy line. the silence is unique, punctuated only by the occasional gust of wind that rustles through the trees. the group's eyes gaze into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames. as the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforms into a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and purples. the colors deepen, and the darkness gradually engulfs the group, like a soft blanket.

the fire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. the group's faces are illuminated only by the warm glow of the flames, making them appear like silhouettes. cheongsan shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. jimin's eyes remain fixed on the fire, her expression contemplative. the quiet is comfortable, a sense of camaraderie settling over the group. they're united in their struggle, bound together by the shared experience of survival. as the darkness deepens, the stars begin to twinkle above, like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. the group's breathing slows, their eyes growing heavy, lulled by the warmth and comfort of the fire.

your eyelids grow heavier, the warmth of the fire and the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. the flickering flames seem to blur, and the quiet murmurs of the group fade into the background. you try to fight it, but your head nods forward, your chin dipping towards your chest. cheongsan's shoulder provides a comfortable resting place, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body.

jimin's voice is a distant whisper, "he never really told us where he was, when he left the group. hes probably exhausted." your eyes droop further, the darkness closing in around you. the fire's warmth and the group's presence lull you into a sense of security, and you let yourself drift off, surrounded by the quiet companionship of your fellow survivors. as you succumb to sleep, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional crackle of the fire are the last things you hear, a soothing lullaby that carries you away into the darkness.

cheongsan's face contorts in a mixture of surprise and fluster as you lean into him, his eyes darting to onjo, who's watching the scene with amusement. onjo's giggles escape her lips, and she covers her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter. just as cheongsan's face is about to turn bright red, the sound of singing wafts through the air, captivating everyone's attention. daesu's melodious voice rises and falls in a hauntingly beautiful tune, his words indistinguishable but the emotion palpable.

your eyes flutter open, drawn to daesu's figure, silhouetted against the darkness. the fire's warm glow casts a golden light on his face, his eyes closed, lost in the music. the group's mesmerized, their faces tilted upwards, drinking in the beauty of daesu's voice. even onjo's giggles have ceased, replaced by a soft, wonder-filled expression. cheongsan's fluster forgotten, he too is entranced, his gaze fixed on daesu. you feel his shoulder relax beneath your head.

you gently lift your head off cheongsan's shoulder, whispering a soft apology, "sorry about that.” cheongsan smiles, his eyes still closed, and whispers back, "it's okay, sleep if you need to." but sleep is the last thing on your mind as daesu's song weaves a spell around the group. somehow, without words, everyone knows the melody, and their voices begin to blend in harmony. onjo's sweet soprano soars above the others, while jimin's rich alto adds depth to the sound. namra's gentle hum provides a soothing background, and even cheongsan's rougher tone blends in perfectly. the music swells, a beautiful, wordless chant that fills the night air. daesu's voice rises above the others, guiding the melody, as the group's voices merge into a stunning harmony. you join in, your voice blending with the others, creating a magical sound that seems to lift your spirits and connect you all in a way that transcends words.

the music builds, a crescendo of hope and resilience, a testament to the power of unity and the human spirit. as the last notes fade away, the group falls silent, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire.

the song's final notes linger in the air, leaving behind a comfortable silence. the group sits in stillness, basking in the warmth of the moment. then, hroryeong breaks the silence, her voice gentle, "that was such a nice song." daesu turns to her, a hint of mischief in his eyes, "didn't you say it sucked?" you stifle a laugh, anticipating hroryeong's response. hroryeong's face remains calm, a small smile playing on her lips, "well, now that i actually listened to it, i think it's kind of nice."

the group erupts into laughter, daesu's teasing grin met with hroryeong's playful shrug. the tension is broken, and the atmosphere remains light, filled with the warmth of friendship and shared moments. onjo chuckles, "hroryeong, you're such a critic." hroryeong's smile widens, "hey, someone's got to keep daesu's ego in check." daesu mock-offended, "my ego's just fine, thanks for asking." the banter continues, a gentle, easygoing exchange that fills the night with laughter and camaraderie.

you lean back, using your good arm to support yourself, and gaze up at the sky. the smoke from the fire wafts upwards, disappearing into the vast expanse of stars. the celestial canvas stretches above, a twinkling tapestry of light and shadow.

the beauty of the night sky hits you like a gentle breeze, soothing your soul. it's surreal to think that such tranquility can exist after the chaos and tragedy that unfolded just days prior. as you lie there, you realize that you've never taken the time to truly appreciate nature's splendor. life got in the way, and you were always too caught up in the hustle and bustle to stop and smell the roses. but now, in this moment, you make a silent promise to yourself to change that. you want to experience more of this beauty, to find solace in the simple things, and to never take the world's wonders for granted again. the stars seem to twinkle in agreement, their gentle sparkle a reminder of the magic that surrounds you. you feel a sense of peace settle over you, a sense of connection to something greater than yourself. as you gaze up at the stars, you know that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your life – one where you'll cherish the beauty in the world and find joy in the everyday moments.

onjo's question hangs in the air, drawing everyone's attention to namra. "how long have you been smoking for?" she asks, curiosity etched on her face. the group's gaze shifts to namra, awaiting her response. for a moment, she just stares, her eyes fixed on some distant point. then, her voice barely above a whisper, she reveals, "since eighth grade." the group sits in silence, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. namra's eyes drop, her gaze falling to the ground.

"i had no friends and a lot of stress back then," she continues, her voice laced with vulnerability. "it was my way of coping, i guess." the group's expression softens, their faces filled with empathy. they see namra in a new light, beyond the perfect class president facade. they see a person who's struggled, who's found solace in a habit she can't shake.

onjo's question hangs in the air, piercing the silence. "did you ever need a friend, though?" namra's gaze drifts off, her eyes clouding over as she searches for an answer. the seconds tick by, and just when you think she won't respond, she whispers, "i'm not sure. i can't really tell."

her words strike a chord within you. you can't help but think back to those countless days when you and namra sat beside each other in class, both of you lost in your own worlds. you both needed a friend, yet never reached out to each other. the irony isn't lost on you. you were so close, yet so far apart. you wonder what would have happened if you had spoken up, if you had taken the first step towards friendship. the fire crackles, breaking the silence. namra's eyes refocus, her gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. you sense a flicker of understanding, a shared acknowledgment of what could have been.

the moment passes, but the memory lingers, a bittersweet reminder of the connections we miss, and the friendships we never forge. onjo's words cut through the silence, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and accusation. "you always put up a wall. you'd wear earphones all day and you never said anything." you feel a twinge of discomfort, your gaze drifting away from namra's intense stare. onjo's words strike a chord, and you can't help but think about your own behavior back then.

"wasn't it because you hated us?" onjo finishes, her question hanging in the air like a challenge. namra's expression remains enigmatic, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the fire. the silence stretches out, heavy with unspoken emotions. you can't help but wonder if namra will open up, if she'll reveal the truth behind her aloofness. the anticipation high, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for her response.

the fire crackles, the only sound in the tense silence. namra's gaze finally shifts, her eyes locking onto onjo's, and you sense a hint of vulnerability lurking beneath the surface.

onjo's straightforward question hangs in the air, and everyone's eyes avert the two girls, sensing the intensity of the moment. but namra doesn't waver, her gaze steady as she turns to face onjo. "i never hated you guys," she says, her voice clear and firm. "i just..." she pauses, her eyes drifting to yours, and you sense a flicker of vulnerability. you offer a small, reassuring smile, encouraging her to continue. "never had any friends," namra finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

the group's collective gaze returns, their faces filled with a mix of surprise and understanding. the silence that follows is no longer tense, but rather, compassionate. you feel a sense of connection to namra, knowing that you both shared a similar experience. you realize that sometimes, people put up walls not because they hate others, but because they're afraid of being hurt or rejected. namra's gaze lingers on yours, and you sense a hint of gratitude, a silent thank you for understanding. the moment hangs in the air, a fragile bond forming between you and namra, one that could potentially blossom into something more.

hroryeong's words spill out, a mix of confession and vulnerability. "well, i never really liked you," she says, her eyes fixed on namra. "i thought you didn't talk to us because we were beneath you." namra's expression remains neutral, but her eyes betray a hint of hurt. she waits for hroryeong to continue, her silence inviting more truth.

joonyeong's sudden admission shocks the group, his words laced with a raw honesty. "i kind of hated you," he says, his gaze avoiding namra's. "there were times that i wished you would just disappear."

the group's attention snaps to joonyeong, surprise etched on their faces. you can't help but wonder why he would harbor such feelings towards namra, especially since they never spoke. ulterior motives surface as jimin asks, "aren't you close? you're the top two students?" her confusion is palpable. joonyeong's response is swift, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. "that's why i hated her. no matter how hard i worked, i was always second."

you can't help but feel a pang of regret. your grades were never something to brag about, and you wish you could say you worked hard but struggled. but the truth is, you didn't have the energy to try in school. it's a regret that still lingers. namra's expression remains calm, but her eyes flicker with a hint of understanding. she knows the weight of expectations, the pressure to perform. the group's silence is heavy with unspoken thoughts, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and contemplation. the dynamics between joonyeong and namra have shifted, the air thick with a newfound understanding. onjo breaks the silence, her voice gentle. "i never knew, joonyeong. i'm sorry." joonyeong's gaze drops, his shoulders sagging slightly. "it's not your fault, onjo. it's just...namra was always the standard i couldn't reach."

joonyeong's words are laced with a newfound acceptance. "but it's okay now. i think i was able to come in second, because of namra." he nods confidently, a small smile on his face. you can't help but smile at his last thought, the tension in the group dissipating. daesu chimes in, his voice filled with a mock seriousness. "hey, seconds good too." everyone nods in agreement, a chorus of assent. daesu turns to suhyeok, his expression solemn. "i can't even be 20th, right?" suhyeok nods in solidarity, and they share a fist bump, their faces comically sad.

hroryeong tries to uplift joonyeong, but her words come out awkwardly, "hey, don't compare yourself to joonyeong." joonyeong's face falls, and he pouts, "what? i was just saying. why do you always get on my case whenever i say something?"

hroryeong rolls her eyes, exasperated, but daesu seizes the moment, a mischievous glint in his eye. "wait a second, do you like me?" he asks, his tone playful. hroryeong's response is immediate, a slap on daesu's arm. "shut up, you moron!" the group chuckles, amused by the exchange. undeterred, daesu continues, "i'm going to put it out there, so you don't get hurt. i like somebody else. so don't like me."

hroryeong punches his arm again, her face flushed. "i don't like you! i also have a crush, and it's not you!" the group's laughter grows louder, their eyes fixed on the banter between daesu and hroryeong. jimin's curiosity gets the better of her, "hm? you never told me you had a crush?" she asks hroryeong, her voice tinged with surprise. hroryeong's fingers fidget, her eyes cast downward before she sheepishly looks up, trying to meet yours. "it's newly developed," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

you realize, with a start, that you were the only one oblivious to hroryeong's crush, too busy adding wood to the fire to notice the subtle cues. suhyeok stifles a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the realization. joonyeong's curiosity is piqued, "yah, daesu, who do you like, then?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement. daesu's grin is mischievous, wujin suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with amusement. "he's crazy," he said, pointing to daesu. "he has a crush on my sister."

jimin's eyes widened in surprise. "hari-unnie from the archery team?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. daesu's face turned bright red as he confessed, "i get a little crazy when i'm in love. she's like my own personal cupid." you couldn't help but cringe at his words, but you quickly covered it up with a laugh. however, daesu caught the laugh and misinterpreted it. "hey, don't make fun of my love," he scolded, his tone playful but slightly defensive. you held up your hands in a calming gesture, still smiling. "love whoever you want, i don't care," you said, returning to feeding the fire.

daesu's eyes lock onto joonyeongs, a curious glint sparkling in their depths. he then looks towards wujin, who shakes his head in a silent plea to stop. but joonyeong, seemingly oblivious to the tension, nods his head encouragingly towards you. daesu's eyes dart back and forth, his gaze finally settling on you. he takes a deep breath before speaking in a robotic tone, "speaking of love... how's your love life, y/n?"

wujin lets out a sigh, his eyes rolling heavenward in exasperation. you, on the other hand, feel a nervous gulp rise up in your throat as everyone's attention focuses on you. the group's collective gaze is like a weight on your skin, making your heart race with anticipation. you can't help but wonder what daesu's motives are, and why he's suddenly so interested in your love life. the silence stretches out, heavy with expectation, as you struggle to form a response.

"um.." you start, looking around the fire at the expectant faces. "i would say nonexistent." you try to add a small laugh to ease the blow, but it still creates an odd atmosphere. wujin curses under his breath at daesu for putting everyone in this situation. daesu, however, seems oblivious to the tension he's caused. just as it feels like the silence is going to stretch on forever, jimin breaks the tension. "y/n-ah.." she says, her voice soft and gentle. you turn towards her, and she looks at you with a curious expression, blinking for a second as if gathering her courage. you know what she wants to ask, so you wait for it calmly. "are you really... gay?" she whispers the word, afraid someone might hear.

the question hangs in the air, and you can feel the weight of everyone's attention on you. you take a deep breath, preparing to respond. wujin speaks up, his voice firm, "yah, that's none of our business-" but you cut him off, not wanting him to get worked up on your behalf. "it's okay, i got it," you say with a small smile, appreciative of wujin's defense. daesu, sensing wujin's tension, rubs his back in a calming gesture. you turn back to jimin, a sheepish nod accompanying your words, "i am."

jimin's response is simple, a soft "oh.." with a nod of her own. the lack of judgment or surprise in her voice puts you at ease. the group falls silent once more, but this time it's not awkward. it's as if they're all processing this new information, trying to understand. daesu breaks the silence, his voice gentle, "we're cool with it, y/n. you're still the same person." the others nod in agreement, their faces filled with acceptance and support. you feel a sense of relief wash over you, grateful for their understanding.

you return to feeding the fire, trying to focus on the crackling flames. jimin looks back at you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. she wants to ask another question, one that everyone else seems eager to know the answer to. however, her gaze aligns with onjo, who subtly shakes her head, warning jimin not to ask. jimin hesitates, but her curiosity gets the better of her. "who was it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

your head snaps towards her, "what?" you ask, trying to play dumb. jimin sighs, knowing she's pushing her luck. "who was the person you confessed to?" she asks slowly, her eyes locked onto yours. you look away, the fire that once warmed you now feels suffocating. the heat rises to your face as you grow quiet, unsure of how to respond. "i mean, you can tell us, y/n-ah," daesu says, trying to reassure you. "it's not like they can hear us."

daesu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "yeah, we're okay that you're gay, so don't feel pressured," joonyeong adds, his voice gentle as he fixes his glasses. your gaze meets joonyeong's, and your heart skips a beat. his words touch a deep part of your soul, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you thank him with teary eyes, never having heard such acceptance before. you refuse to let your tears fall, but it's clear that joonyeong's words have struck a chord.

hroryeong's facepalms, finally realizing the implications of the conversation. daesu tries to comfort her, but his attention is quickly diverted as the group waits with bated breath for your answer. you hesitate, fumbling with your vest-sling before speaking. the silence is almost deafening, until three people speak at the same time.

"i-it was..." you start, but are cut off by onjo’s attempt to intervene, "guys maybe we should..." but the loudest voice is suhyeok's, "me." your eyes widen in shock, knowing who the voice belongs to but refusing to make eye contact. everyone turns towards suhyeok, who looks up with a mixture of shame and guilt. "what?" wujin asks in surprise, his voice echoing the group's confusion.

the atmosphere is electric, with all eyes on suhyeok. it's clear that he's the one you confessed to, and the group is struggling to process this new information. daesu's eyes dart between you and suhyeok, his expression a mix of shock and curiosity. hroryeong looks like she's been punched in the gut, her face pale. joonyeong's eyes are fixed on suhyeok, his expression unreadable. the silence stretches out, heavy with tension, as the group waits for someone to break the silence.

jimin's eyes widen in shock as she points between you and suhyeok, "you? you and you?" she asks, her voice trembling with disbelief. onjo looks like she's been punched in the gut, her eyes fixed on you with a mix of shock and confusion. she had no idea you had feelings for suhyeok, let alone be the one you confessed to. suhyeok nods, his eyes cast downward, "i... i was stupid back then." he mutters, excusing himself from the conversation.

joonyeong's hands are outstretched, as if ready to physically receive the answer, "why did you do it?" he asks, his voice laced with frustration. "what? do what?" suhyeok asks, confusion etched on his face.

jimin's voice rises, her tone threatening, "you know what he's asking you, why did you set him up?" cheongsan tries to intervene, telling her to calm down, but she ignores him. suhyeok's face reddens with anger, "i didn't set him up!" he shouts, his voice echoing through the forest. "they just showed up that day, i didn't know they found the note. i just wanted..." he trails off, his frustration noticeable. you try to intervene, your voice barely above a whisper, "i'd rather not talk about it anymore, guys..." but it's drowned out by the tension between suhyeok and jimin. the group's dynamics have shifted, alliances are being tested, and secrets are spilling out.

jimin's arms are crossed, her expression stern, "if i were y/n, i would never speak to you again." she says, offended on your behalf once more. suhyeok's eyes plead for your forgiveness, but you refuse to meet his gaze. "i tried to go see him," he says, his voice softer now. "but he would dodge me every chance he got. it was all a big misunderstanding. i've been trying to make it up to him these past few days-"

hroryeong cuts him off, her voice firm, "yah! we don't forgive you that easily!" she says, her arms crossed, mirroring jimin's stance. wujin and daesu exchange confused glances, "y/n isn't a girl..." wujin says, trying to correct hroryeong. hroryeong huffs, "yeah, but he likes... boys, so he probably thinks the same way. it's frustrating with you guys," she says, her expression exasperated. daesu and wujin look at each other, offended by hroryeong's assumption.

joonyeong's sudden apology catches you off guard, "i'm sorry for never speaking to you." he says, his eyes sincere. you shake your head, trying to brush it off, "it's in the past." but joonyeong insists, "no, i think... i think we all owe you an apology." he gestures to the group, and one by one, they offer their soft apologies. you nod awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, as you continue to feed the fire. wujin's apology is the most heartfelt, "i should be the most sorry." he says, as he plays with his shoelace. "i'm sorry, y/n-ah, i left you when you needed me the most." his voice cracks as he sniffles, trying to hold back his emotions.

"i didn't realize until now how much of a bad friend i was." he admits, his eyes red-rimmed. "but, i can promise you now i will forever be your good friend, if you'll have me." the sincerity in wujin's words makes your heart ache, and you look up to the sky, trying to hold back your tears. the weight of their apologies and the pain of the past few days is almost too much to bear.

why is it that today's words are cutting deeper than any other? you wonder, as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. you nod, a small smile on your face, "i forgive you." the three words are simple, yet they hold so much weight. wujin's face lights up with a warm smile, and he nods back, relief washing over him. but amidst this heartwarming moment, suhyeok's eyes gleam with a mix of emotions - regret, longing, and determination. he knows that he's been longing to hear those exact words, but you've given them to wujin, your childhood friend.

suhyeok's gaze falls, and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched. he knows now that he has to make up for what he did, to earn back your trust and forgiveness. the journey ahead won't be easy, but he's determined to try. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of closure, new beginnings, and unspoken promises. the night air is filled with the crackling of the fire, and the weight of words left unspoken.

onjo gently intervenes, "how about someone else goes?" she suggests, expertly steering the conversation in a new direction. you're grateful for the change in subject. "i'll go," jimin says, her voice carrying through the night air. you turn to her, intrigued, as she begins to share her story. "my mom and dad prepped everything for my transfer. they said to just go to seoul." she explains, her voice laced with a mix of emotions.

"but i really didn't wanna go there. i wouldn't have any friends, and i was afraid of the seoul kids," she admits, her vulnerability palpable. you nod, actively listening, as she continues. "onjo gave me a great idea, to miss school for five days so the principal couldn't write me a recommendation letter. it's all thanks to onjo that i didn't transfer." she says, her eyes flicking to onjo, who smiles warmly.

"but... i should've just went to seoul," jimin adds, her voice tinged with regret. "then none of this would've happened." onjo's smile falters, and she looks down, her eyes welling up with tears. you speak up, trying to offer comfort, "you can't focus on the past, i think you were meant to be here, with us." jimin's eyes water at your words, and she slowly nods, looking away, trying to compose herself. the group falls silent, each lost in their own thoughts, as the night air is filled with the sound of crackling flames and the weight of shared secrets.

wujin's voice breaks the silence, "people have always said... my sister was an archery prodigy ever since she was little." a hint of sadness creeps into his tone. you look up, memories flooding your mind. you remember playing in wujin's room, his older sister watching over you both with a warm smile.

"so our parents only cared about trying to get my sister onto the national team," wujin continues, his eyes drifting away, lost in thought. his voice is laced with a mix of sadness and longing. you sense a deep-seated pain in wujin's words, a feeling of being overlooked and underappreciated. his parents' focus on his sister's archery career seems to have come at the cost of his own emotional well-being. the group listens intently, offering silent support as wujin shares his story. the night air is filled with the weight of unspoken emotions, and the crackling of the fire seems to echo the turmoil in wujin's heart.

wujin shakes his head, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "they've never paid attention to me at all." he admits, his eyes cast downward. daesu, ever the charmer, tries to lighten the mood, placing a hand on wujin's back, "i'll give you all my attention, brother-in-law." his words are met with a chuckle from you. wujin playfully pushes daesu backwards, his smile returning, "don't be sad. you have me," daesu says, his words cut off by wujin's teasing.

wujin's laughter fills the air, "thank god i have daesu now," he says, his eyes shining with gratitude. "and thank god i had y/n then," he adds, his gaze meeting yours. you look up, a warm smile spreading across your face, feeling happy to have been a source of comfort and support for wujin in the past. the atmosphere around the campfire is filled with a sense of camaraderie and friendship, the earlier tensions forgotten in the face of shared laughter and stories.

cheongsan's voice is low and gentle, "me and... onjo..." he begins, his words trailing off as he collects his thoughts. you sit still, your gaze fixed forward, giving him your full attention. the others seem to sense the importance of this moment, and a hush falls over the group. cheongsan takes a deep breath before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper, "we've been friends since we were kids... but i think i wanted more." he pauses, his eyes darting to onjo, who looks down, her face hidden behind her hair. the air is thick with anticipation, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for cheongsan to reveal more. you remain still, your heart pounding in your chest, as cheongsan's words hang in the balance.

onjo tries to brush it off with a laugh, "stop, guys, he's just joking." but her attempt at humor falls flat, as everyone's serious faces remain fixed on her. cheongsan's expression turns sincere, "i'm serious. i've always liked you, onjo-ah." he says, his voice filled with vulnerability. but onjo's reaction is not what he hoped for. she stares at him, her eyes wide with shock, before quickly standing up and walking away from the group.

the atmosphere is heavy with tension, and you can feel the pain in cheongsan's chest as he looks down at his lap, his eyes welling up with tears. you try to offer some comfort, whispering to him, "she just needs a second to process." but the words feel hollow, as the weight of cheongsan's confession hangs in the air. the group sits in silence, unsure of how to react, as onjo disappears into the darkness, leaving cheongsan's heart exposed and vulnerable.

cheongsan's gaze follows onjo's figure into the darkness, his eyes fixed on her as she walks away from the group. he looks out towards the city, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty. suhyeok notices his gaze and gestures for him to go after her. cheongsan takes a deep breath, then looks over at you, "guess the seconds over." he says with a hint of sadness, before getting up and walking towards onjo. the rest of the group is left in an awkward silence, unsure of how to react. daesu breaks the silence, whispering to hroryeong, "i had no idea. did you know?" his comedic timing is impeccable, and you can't help but laugh to yourself.

hroryeong playfully scolds him, "you're the only one who didn't know." wujin chimes in, "i didn't either." his confession makes you giggle even harder, and you place your hand over your mouth to hold back a fit of laughter. the tension is momentarily lifted, and the group shares a moment of levity, but the weight of cheongsan's confession still lingers in the air.

joonyeong tries to lighten the mood, "hey, remember that time in school when the mascot brought out flowers for the boys on white day?" he chuckles, and the others start to chime in with their own memories. "oh man, i forgot about that!" wujin exclaims, laughing. "yeah, and the boys were so embarrassed!" hroryeong adds, giggling. but daesu shakes his head, "i don't remember that." hroryeong teases him, "of course you don't, you were probably too busy sleeping in class!"

daesu defends himself, "i was not! i just... uh... had a lot on my mind." the playful banter between daesu and hroryeong starts to escalate into a full-blown quarrel, but you tune it out, noticing something else. suhyeok gets up from his spot beside wujin and daesu, and walks over to take cheongsan's empty spot next to you. he sits down quietly, his eyes fixed on the ground, but you can sense his presence beside you. the group's laughter and chatter continue, but you feel a sense of awkwardness now, sitting next to suhyeok, who had just moments before been trying to make amends with you.

you try to focus on the conversation, but your awareness of suhyeok's presence beside you makes it difficult. you can't help but wonder why he moved to sit next to you, and what he's thinking. hroryeong and daesu's quarrel continues, with joonyeong and wujin trying to intervene. "hey, hey, let's not fight about this," joonyeong says, laughing. but daesu and hroryeong are too caught up in their argument to listen. "i'm telling you, i was not sleeping in class!" daesu insists.

suhyeok clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. he's watching the argument with a mixture of amusement and concern. "hey, let's just drop it, okay?" he suggests, his voice calm and soothing. the group slowly starts to settle down, with hroryeong and daesu still exchanging playful jabs. but the tension has dissipated, and the mood is once again light and playful. you turn back to suhyeok, and catch him looking at you. he quickly looks away, but you sense a hint of a smile on his face. you can't help but wonder what's going through his mind.

suhyeok's gaze drifts back to the ground, but you can sense a subtle shift in his demeanor. he seems more relaxed, more at ease, now that the argument has passed. the group's conversation flows easily, with laughter and jokes filling the air. you find yourself smiling, feeling a sense of belonging among these friends. as the night wears on, the fire crackles and spits, casting a warm glow over the group. suhyeok shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours. it's a fleeting touch, but it sends a warm feeling through your gut.

cheongsan's sudden yell pierces the night air, "onjo!" he screams, his voice laced with panic. you all turn to see what's wrong, and your heart skips a beat as you take in the scene before you. gwinam, his face twisted into an evil grin, is holding onjo in a tight grip. his eyes seem to gleam with a hungry intensity, making your blood run cold.

you stand up, fear coursing through your veins like ice. gwinam's face flashes in your mind, alongside myungwhan's, and you're transported back to that dark, traumatic moment. their laughter echoes in your mind, their cruel words still etched in your memory: "you're worthless." your breath catches in your throat as you take a step forward, your eyes fixed on gwinam. cheongsan charges towards gwinam, but the latter is too strong. with a swift motion, gwinam grabs cheongsan and slams him to the ground, his back hitting the earth with a sickening thud.

"cheongsan!" suhyeok exclaims, his hand instinctively going to your waist as he prepares to rush past you. but before he can take a step, onjo darts forward, her small frame bravely intervening. she grabs gwinam's arm, trying to pull him off cheongsan. however, gwinam's power is too much for her. with a cruel elbow strike, he sends onjo flying backward. she crashes to the ground, her body crumpling from the impact. hroryeong and jimin rush to her side, helping her up. onjo's face is etched with pain, but she's determined to stand her ground.

suhyeok takes advantage of the distraction to sprint towards gwinam, his eyes blazing with anger. suhyeok's kick connects with gwinam's stomach, sending him flying off cheongsan. daesu and wujin rush to cheongsan's side, helping him up and checking for injuries. meanwhile, suhyeok faces off against gwinam, dodging and parrying his wild punches with ease. he looks like a total boss, his movements fluid and confident. you can't help but feel a surge of admiration for him, but gwinam refuses to back down. as suhyeok attempts to tackle him, gwinam stands firm, his fists clenched together. with a powerful slam, he sends suhyeok crashing to the ground, his back throbbing in pain. suhyeok struggles to get up, but gwinam is relentless. with a swift kick, he sends suhyeok flying into a stack of chairs, which crumble beneath him. suhyeok lies there, dazed and groaning in agony.

the group gasps in shock, horrified by gwinam's brutality. cheongsan takes a step forward, his eyes blazing with anger, but daesu and wujin hold him back. onjo, still shaken from her earlier fall, looks on with tears in her eyes. hroryeong and jimin try to comfort her, but their faces are etched with worry. gwinam stands tall, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. he's unstoppable, and it's clear he won't hesitate to hurt anyone who gets in his way.

gwinam's sinister grin and chilling words send a shiver down your spine. you quickly scan the area, your eyes locking onto the hammer you had found earlier by the rooftop entrance. without hesitation, you sprint towards it and grab the hammer, its weight feeling reassuring in your hands. as you turn back to face gwinam, you see him laughing maniacally, his eyes glinting with a sadistic gleam. "everyone but cheongsan can go. unless you wanna die with him," he sneers, his voice dripping in pure evil.

you notice something odd - it looks like he's chewing on something, his jaw moving slightly as he speaks. it's a small, disturbing detail that only adds to the sense of unease. the group exchanges fearful glances, unsure of what to do next. suhyeok, still recovering from his injuries, looks like he's about to charge at gwinam again. cheongsan, however, stands tall, his eyes fixed defiantly on gwinam. onjo takes a step forward, her voice shaking but resolute. "we're not leaving cheongsan behind." hroryeong and jimin nod in agreement, standing shoulder to shoulder with onjo.

the situation is escalating, and it's clear that things are about to take a dark and dangerous turn. gwinam's face twists in rage as he spits out his words, "then you can all rot in hell with him."

#all of us are dead #allofusaredeadfanfic #angst #enemies to allies #lee su hyeok #male reader #suhyeok x male reader #suhyeok x reader #all of us are dead x reader #bxb #gay #all of us are dead x male reader #male writers #lgbt

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

Text

feel like a fool

&&. na jaemin hates strawberries, but maybe he'll deal with them for the sake of a cute guy.

pairing: na jaemin x m!reader

genre: fluffffffff

warnings: na jaemin vs strawberries

word count: 0.8k

notes: hiiiii.. i didnt mean to not update in a while its just the summer depression is HITTING and now im sort of kind of becoming a workaholic.. also im finalizing moving out… and getting ready for classes starting in a few weeks, life is in shambles, illuminati is confirmed 😭😭 anyway, this was for an idea for an smau, but i'm never making another one of those until im in a good mental headspace for it!! so take… jaemin 😇

na jaemin's eye couldn't have twitched enough in these past few minutes.

someone is baking.

and usually that wouldn't be a problem, jaemin doesn't care about what his neighbors do. he usually doesn't mind if people bake, or party, or blast loud music in the wee hours of the night.

but he's pissed right now.

because wafting through the walls is the smell of artificial strawberry flavoring. strawberries. good fucking lord. the smell wouldn't be that irritating if jaemin wasn't already pissed enough because of donghyuck's natural sense of.. well, being annoying.

he tried to keep himself calm, spend time playing with the babies and cleaning things which don't need cleaning before plopping onto his bed to stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

oh fuck this cheap apartment for having thin walls, because not only does jaemin have to lay here and take the flavoring of strawberries assaulting his ears, no! he also has to listen to the inhabitants of the other apartment get it on. lord they seem to do that a lot, are they never tired?

maybe the strawberries are the least of his problems tonight, but they still are a problem.

"who even bakes with strawberries at.." he feels around his bedside table for his phone, listening to the silent meows of his babies as he tries to figure out the time. "three in the morning?"

a frown tugs at his lips, it's so early and he can't sleep. lucy is the only one of the babies that is asleep, luna and luke are attempting to wrestle each other.

he chuckles at the display before almost startling when his doorbell rings, falling backward. oh he really needs to work on that.

jaemin rises from his place on his bed to shuffle over to his door, still irritated by the smell of artificial strawberries. he's ready to give the person who rang his doorbell a piece of his mind, mustering up a scolding for the inevitable culprit, the smell of strawberries simply getting stronger as he nears his door.

he swings open the door with a rough vigor he definitely plans to use when giving the person a piece of his mind; "do you usually ring people's doorbells at three am—"

but then he pauses when he sees whose at his door.

it's his neighbor. jaemin doesn't know your name, but that doesn't really matter in the current situation. jaemin can't help but think you're adorable, there's an insanely cute guy at his doorstep, he's pretty much won the lottery.

except then he grimaces.

the smell of strawberries fill the air, you're holding a container with strawberry shortcake in it. "oh, hi.. you".

you clear your throat, glancing down at the cake you baked. "hi i um— i baked all of this but i made too much so now i'm going around to see if anyone wants it but the last guy opened the door with a gun soooooo i didn't want take my chances with him.."

jaemin blinks, then laughs at the amusing display. you stare for a moment, still waiting for an answer to your question. "the guy in 164 pulled a gun out on you?"

"i'm pretty sure he was asleep".

you frown, and jaemin laughs again, not at your misery, but simply the delivery. who knew you could look so sad while presenting such humor?

"do you want some strawberry shortcake?" you mutter, extending the container forward, and jaemin steps backward, grimacing.

he glances at you, and you patiently wait for his response, smile stuck to your face. there's no reason for you to look so cute while doing literally nothing!

but jaemin guesses that sometimes things just happen in that way.

"if you don't want any it's okay i can just go ask the old couple down the hall—"

"it's okay".

"oh really?"

"yeah yeah it's fine" jaemin takes the container from you, noise again scrunching at the smell of strawberries in the air. "you always bake early in the morning?"

"i never sleep, but it always tires me out enough so it became a little routine of mine.."

jaemin lets a small 'ah' escape his lips. "well thank you for the strawberry shortcake.. uh.."

"y/n".

so that's your name. "y/n, thank you".

"no problem, please don't tell me if it's awful though because i'll cry".

you laugh at your own choice of words, which amuses jaemin again, because he has to stifle his own laughter. "i'll only leave good reviews, swear".

"you better" you raise an eyebrow as a way to appear threatening. "sorry for interrupting your night, also your cat is super cute".

jaemin looks to where your pointing, catching sight of luna hiding behind his legs. "oh.. thank you, good night".

you coo at the sight of the cat, but not for long, you also bid your own good night and go back to your unit.

now jaemin doesn't exactly know why he decided to agree to taking the cake in the first place. he went an hour long mental tirade on why he couldn't stand the irritating smell of strawberries in the apartment.

well.. maybe they're not so much of an issue now. the baker is cute, he can let the strawberries stick around.

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct x male reader #nct dream x male reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #jaemin x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 2 years ago

Text

The Lady’s Man~Becky Lynch x fem! reader

Pairing: Becky Lynch x reader

Genre: Romance, fluff

Summary: After spending close time with Becky during your time as tag team duos, she starts to dress differently, something not only the fans pick up on but you along with Becky’s competition for the Smackdown Women’s championship too.

Writer’s Note: First and foremost, I’m sorry about not updating a certain fic yet (The Astrid, Crazy Rich Asians one. I’m still working on it!) or just writing a lot on here in general. Depression has its hooks sunk deep and work has been draining me more than usual but here I am. One of the things that has helped me lots is wrestling, haven’t watched it since I was a young teen and wow, it’s like interacting with an old friend again. One thing that I’ve also noticed is how much the women on the roster are hot and why I liked them so much. The gay awakening was real. Anyway, hope you enjoy my first wrestling fic!

Word Count: 1, 978

You were classy. If you were to partake in feuds or clap-backs, you kept it high-brow and let your skills in the ring do most of the talking. That was part of your character: Lady Y/N, here to bring back beauty and class to the WWE, an exhausting effort to get through with your in ring abilities instead of full on trash talking. That being said, you did have your moments where you popped off on the mic, especially when Damage Ctrl was involved.

You came face to face with Bayley, Dakota Kai and Iyo Sky tonight; the people of the crowd roaring and chanting, “My Lady” once your music hit and you came strutting toward the ring.

“Aw, here she comes!” Bayley yelled. She pointed off around the crowd and continued to mouth off“Shut up! We’re the top ladies here you heathens.”

“Bayley, all this crying isn’t gonna get you anywhere,” you said. You entered the ring, smiling at the audience, waved and aimed a few kisses at the people, swooning them in the process. “Didn’t Becky and I beat Iyo and Dakota last week and didn’t you lose your championship to Charlotte at the Rumble last week?”

Bayley nodded eagerly, smile plastered on her face.

“Yeah! Lady yeah! I did y/n! But who’s been a champion at all? Me! Not you! Some lady you are!” Bayley exclaimed while laughing and nodding to her Damage Ctrl sidekicks. “Maybe, if you’re nice to us tonight, I can bring you in the spotlight on my Ding Dong Hello show next week. Well, just you and not your man.”

You cocked up an eyebrow at the mention of “your man”, right when the WWE universe all “oooooed” all at once. It was some sort of joke you weren’t in on, yet you caught yourself with a sly grin and went back in on Bayley.

“My man? You making up delusions now, huh, Ms. Role-model?” you said.

Bayley scoffed then let out a snort while turning to Dakota and Iyo. The crowd seemed to react as well, chanting “The Man” over and over.

Oh. Becky, that was who Bayley was referring to. She called herself the man, didn’t mean she was your “man.” Right? And Bayley is totally wrong, the WWE Universe did have their bright moments but they didn’t dictate who did or didn’t belong to you. Especially Becky Lynch. She was your friend and tag team partner. Period. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Please, you might be able to fool these idiots!” Bayley yelled. She gestured to the audience before continuing. “But you can’t fool me and the heart eyes she gives you! Have you even seen her new merch?”

Now you knew Bayley made up insults and material on the fly but you really had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could wrap your head around it or throw your own comment back at her, Becky’s music hit, sending the arena along with Damage Ctrl into a frenzy.

“Aww, now look who you’ve spawned!” Bayley groaned. “How dare you idiots speak of The Man!”

The combination of the loud music, the crowd and Bayley’s irritating yells swirled into a cacophony of noise that left you frozen while you watched your fiery headed partner (tag of course) rush out, all smiles and cockiness under her black shades. It’s like what Bayley alluded too, her outfit and merch was different: instead of wearing her flashy, “Bex” shirt underneath her leather jacket, Becky sported a new shirt with blocky letters reading “The Lady’s Man.”

Your heart skipped a bit at the display; being around Becky was already complex, she just made it twenty times harder. She trotted down to you on your frozen spot in front of the ring, eyes obscured by her shades until she lifted them.

“You called?” Becky asked. She aimed her words at Bayley and the entire WWE Universe, but it felt as if she was just talking to you.

Becky stepped closer toward you, rearranged your hair a little before placing the shades on your head.

“This Ok?” she asked. “Don’t want to mess up your hair, but I just couldn’t resist.”

Her Irish accent always had an effect on you but how low it was when she whispered, with her gesture of the shades left you flabbergasted longer.

“Hey! Flirt on your own time!” Bayley said. She pointed at Becky, who chuckled. “This is between me and your Lady!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You know Y/N and I are a team, like you and your Ctrl clique,” Becky explained. She brought an arm around your shoulder, patting the spot in an attempt to bring you back from your stump. “The Man always defends her lady. Dare I say, she’s got a better chance at Charlotte for the Smackdown women’s championship than you!”

Becky’s words got your chest to flare; you nodded along however, smiling a bit too big as words of your own bubbled up from your throat.

“The Man’s got a valid point though, what do you say, Role-model?” you said.

Bayley guffawed.

“Sure! Yeah right, like she would--” Bayley said. She was cut off by the crowd chanting your name over and over, angering her yet again. “Shut up! You idiots don’t know anything! Y/N can’t even compete with Dakota or Iyo, let alone me!”

Becky cocked her head back, as if her fellow horsewoman’s words struck her face on. She turned toward you, mouthing a “can you believe this?” You just rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“Bayley, keep spouting this nonsense and maybe I’ll have to kick your ass again,” Becky said. She brought you closer, close enough to hook her arm around your waist. “Or! We could take care of Kai and Iyo and they can defend those tag titles for once! Jeez! Those things have been collecting dust!”

You found yourself smiling more as the heat built up your chest. Becky and you only teamed up due to being a great match against Fire and Desire, along with other amazing women in the division but to suggest you both challenge Damage Ctrl? It was a commitment to what you two could do together, although, it wasn’t as grand as Becky proclaiming herself “your man”, was it the direction Triple H wanted or was it something more?

“No way!” Bayley growled. “I mean, they’re the greatest bunch of the womens division they don’t need to prove a thing!”

Iyo Sky and Dakota nodded, a little too swiftly with conflicting emotions pouring through; you picked up on them immediately.

“You sure Bayley? They seem scared. Let’s ask them, folks! Iyo? Dakota? Are you afraid to take on Becks and I? Maybe to even put the titles on the line too?”

The WWE Universe erupted in another fit of chants: you made it out to be them calling Damage Ctrl cowards over and over again. Becky chuckled and pulled you close while Iyo and Dakota went over what was going on with Bayley off mic. It looked as if Iyo and Dakota were trying to talk their leader out of it, you felt quite terrible for them and how the crowd began to drown them out with the noise.

“All right! Quiet you idiots!” Bayley shouted. She gestured for the WWE universe to calm down more, leaving mummers among the crowd and stands. “They’ll accept the challenge, next week!”

You didn’t expect them to accept so quick, believing them to think it over throughout the week or maybe go back and forth with Becky on Twitter(usually ending up with you mediating).

“Yes!” Becky cheered. “We got this, lass.”

You could only nod, lost in the feeling of opportunity: white noise of the crowd and a tingling feeling that warped down your chest toward your belly. A title shot for the first time in your career, with Becky. Becky freaking Lynch.

The thought kept up its constant ringing in your head, even after you escaped the effervescent noise the WWE universe were known to cause. You managed to reach your personal locker room before a hand grabbed your wrist--the action forced you to tense up, thinking it was Bayley or Damage Ctrl.

“Whoa, lass, you all right?” Becky said. Concern clean on her face. “Is it OK if we talk?”

You nodded. Becky shut the door behind you, then proceeded to pace the space, back and forth like a blur of orange flame that flicked from one end of a candle to the next.

“It wasn’t your idea, was it?” you said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Becky froze, attention immediately on you.

“What?”

You let out a humorless laugh and motioned to her new T-shirt.

“The Lady’s Man? It was just a new way of introducing our tag team? Making it official, yeah? Or is it a new storyline that I’m not caught up with yet?” you asked. You pressed your fingers together and fidgeting them while continuing. “I-I just want to understand what all that was.”

“Lass--”

“Rebecca, please be honest with me,” you said. The emotion in your voice was sharp and firm.

Becky rushed over to you, taking your face in your hands.

“Breathe, y/n, I’ll explain, let me just sit you down, OK?” she said.

She led you to the folded chair you had set up by your cubby, helping you sit prior to her kneeling in front of you.

“It was my idea, and yeah Triple H and the people wanted to market it, thought it’d be a great thing to lead up to something amazing to do with the Tag titles,” Becky explained. She took your hand as she spoke, rubbing the knuckles and the underside of a few veins. “But under all of the bravado and what The Man means to me, there’s some truth to it. I really want to try and be your lady too. I-I like you, Y/N, I really do.”

The way Becky looked up at you almost made the emotions break from you, tears flooded your eyes, some spilling over to your dismay.

“Y/N, no, hun, don’t cry I--”

You cut Becky off with a kiss, meeting her halfway as your arms wrapped around her neck. Becky returned the kiss instantly, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you flush against her. A mini makeout session just about occurred. You pulled back (a little self conscious that you both were still in the arena aka work) but Becky lifted your chin up tenderly, planting a short yet passionate kiss to your lips once again.

“I love that desire, lass,” Becky whispered. “Does this mean we’re to be more than tag team champions in the future?”

You nodded. “That and we’ll have a lot more moments outside of Wrestlemania.”

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #becky lynch #becky lynch x reader #wwe bayley #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wwe damage ctrl #iyo sky #dakota kai #bayley #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #wwe becky lynch #damage ctrl

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