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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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planetveensz · 4 months ago

Text

the feeling that remains — ellie williams

— part 1/7 you meet ellie during highschool, the catalyst of some of the best years of your life... until they aren't. three years after breaking up, you're trying to move on with your life. dina and jesse are getting married; and when dina asks you to be one of her bridesmaids, how could you refuse? but guess who just so happens to be jesse's best (wo)man? tw: second chance romance! exes to lovers! modern!au, fem!reader, slow burn, mult storylines, angst, fluff, first meetings, religious trauma, homophobia, gay slurs, drinking, smoking, mild violence, possibly some ooc vibes, eventual smuttt :p wk: 5.4k, spotify playlist! an: ellie my wife <3 i hope i do you justice in this fic <3 this is probably going to be a bit slower to update, once every two weeks maybe? a lot of this is based off my own personal experiences as a gay woman so it's very near and dear to me :) i am always open to suggestions, feedback, and ideas! so pls send them in! enjoy xx

series masterlist | part 2

IT RAINED THE NIGHT you first met Ellie.

You knew who she was; there were always rumors about her floating around school. People called her terrible names behind her back, said she was someone you shouldn’t hang around. You avoided her not because you believed them, but because you were intimidated by her.

Ellie was devastatingly pretty; had such kind green eyes and a sweet smile, she was also way cooler than you could ever dream of being. You were sure if you tried to speak to her you wouldn’t get one word out, she made you so nervous.

You watched her diligently from inside Dina’s living room, a paper party hat on your head. Dina invited you over to celebrate her 16th birthday, throwing a small party. Her parents were out of town and her big sister Talia had gotten her hands on some alcohol. You’d known Dina from a very young age; you went to the same preschool and became best friends in kindergarten. Dina was one of your only friends, aside from the girls in your church choir.

Now that you had entered the second half of your sophomore year, you felt as if Dina stayed friends with you out of pity. She was always dragging you along, taking it upon herself to invite you to things. You appreciated it but had an inkling no one else wanted you around like she did. Dina required that you made an appearance at all events she hosted; she was also sure to bring you to bonfires and house parties, claiming you as her “plus one”.

You sighed and passed a red solo cup from one hand to the other, wiping the condensation off on your jeans. You were tipsy, it was the second time you had ever had alcohol outside of church. When you first arrived, you eyed the cup Dina handed you suspiciously. “Don’t worry,” Dina said, “you won’t go to hell for getting a little drunk.”

You had taken the cup with a shy smile. “Happy birthday, Dina.” You handed her the gift you’d been holding in your other hand. She gasped, hands falling on your shoulders with the most gleeful smile on her face.

The wrapping was perfectly done, you had hunched over the thing until every line was parallel and taped down perfectly. You finished it with a charming blue ribbon, tied in a neat bow at the front. “Oh, it’s lovely!” Dina gushed and you preened under her kind words. She untied the bow and carefully ripped open the paper to reveal her present. She squealed, pulling out the special edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. “You shouldn’t have!”

Really, you shouldn’t have. You saved up every cent you earned from chores the last four months to afford the book, but you wanted to spoil Dina. She deserved it, for sticking with you all these years, for being such a good friend. Before you could reply, she snapped that stupid party hat on your head and gave you a big kiss on the cheek. “You’re precious,” Dina said earnestly, “I adore you.”

You flushed at her words, unable to take the compliment. You scratched the back of your neck, attempting to brush off the twisting feeling in your stomach. You laughed awkwardly, “thanks.” Dina snorted, patting the same cheek she’d smooched.

“Now drink up, church girl, the party just started!”

You’d lost sight of Dina a while ago, choosing to stand aside in the living room while people chattered around you. Some music was bumping from an old speaker Dina thrifted with you a few months ago. There weren’t that many guests, a handful of people you knew from school, some of Talia’s friends as well. Ellie was sitting on the back porch around the firepit with Jesse and a couple of buddies, smoking a joint and talking loudly with each other.

The fire flickered and illuminated the freckles on her cheeks. You smiled to yourself when you noticed her dimple became more prominent the more animatedly she spoke. That’s when the rain started, along with a boom of thunder in the sky. Your little bubble popped and everyone shuffled inside, opting to sit in the living room. You could feel the strained expression form on your face as it became more crowded.

Jesse noisily suggested playing truth or dare and you took that as your cue to leave. You snuck off into the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Your mouth had gone dry from your drink and your head was swimming a little from the effects of the alcohol. The water soothed your throat as you drank it.

“Not interested in playing games?” You choked on the mouthful you were about to swallow, whipping around to see Ellie leaning against the entranceway to the kitchen. Her eyebrows raised at your reaction and you could see that she was fighting off a smile.

You wiped your mouth with your hand. “N-no. Well, yes, I mean—” you paused. “Just needed some water.” You lifted the cup in your hand.

“I can see that.” Her smile was sly and precarious. You weren’t sure if she was teasing, flirting, or making fun of you.

You squinted your eyes at her, “are you not interested? In playing games, I mean.” Ellie took a few steps towards you. Her auburn hair was damp from the rain and you could smell it on her sweatshirt; an earthy, rich scent.

She plucked the cup from your hands, sipping on your water. She placed it on the counter, empty. “Not really, no. They’re lame.” She tilted her head at you, a hazy look in her eyes.

“Are you high?”

She laughed right in your face, “yes, you priss. That’s what happens when you smoke.”

A raging warmth bloomed on your face. This was maybe the second time you’d ever spoken to Ellie alone; the previous being a bunch of stuttered sentences while you both waited for Dina to join you after school. You didn’t remember her being this snarky. “Okay.” You stressed, “no need to be rude.” You crossed your arms defensively.

She huffed through her nose, a smile on her lips. She flicked the hat on your head. “Just messing with you.” She bit her bottom lip and your gut twisted in anticipation.

You ripped the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to the cup; suddenly feeling juvenile for wearing it. You plucked up all of the courage you had, from the alcohol and pure spite. “You sure you aren’t being a flirt? I’ve heard things about you, Williams,” you tilted your head playfully so she knew you were joking too.

She was full-on grinning, her eyes sparkled. That dimple below the left corner of her mouth appeared. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She leaned in slightly, looking at you with an expression that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You scrunched your nose at her, genuinely smiling for the first time that night since seeing Dina. “Y’know,” you turned your head away from her, looking up at the ceiling to avoid her piercing green eyes, “I’ve never smoked before.”

Her smirk was pure electricity, “well, that just won’t do.” The cutesy butterflies became a hoard of bats when she pulled a new joint out of her back pocket. Her hand grasped yours and you were taken aback at how soft her skin was. You stared at your conjoined hands as she began pulling you to the other side of the kitchen, towards the connecting hallway.

You laughed and allowed her to lead you upstairs to the last door on the right, Dina’s room. Ellie shut the door behind you both and plopped herself on Dina’s window seat. You watched, frozen, as she wrestled the creaky old window open and stuck the joint in her mouth. “C’mere,” she nodded to the space next to her, speaking around the joint, “I don’ bite.”

You sprung into action, stumbling over to her. You sat next to her, your knees knocking against hers. She lit the joint, sucking in air so that the end ignited. She grasped it between her pointer finger and thumb as she passed it to you. “Now, don’t inhale too much, you’re gonna cough a lot cuz this is your first time.” She facilitated, “just take small hits until your throat’s used to the burn.”

You nodded, letting her words sink in. You brought the joint to your mouth, curling your lips around the filter, and breathed in. The taste was pleasant, but the burn was not. You immediately let out a cough, a puff of smoke escaping your mouth, unable to help yourself. You passed the joint back to her.

She smiled at you knowingly, “I was really bad the first time I smoked,” she laughed slightly, “nobody told me to take it easy so I inhaled way too much.” She took a hit of her own. “Coughed so hard I threw up.”

You let out a surprised laugh, shocked to hear that someone with her reputation had a story like that under her belt. “When was this?” You asked curiously.

“Back in Boston, before I moved here.” Ellie explained, “I did it right in front of the girl I had a massive crush on. It was so embarrassing.”

You smiled at her affectionately; passing the joint back and forth, you allowed a light daze to settle over your mind. “The first time I ever drank, Dina and I snuck a whole glass of vodka from her mom’s stash during a sleepover. We got so drunk we had to lay on the floor, everything was spinning so bad.”

Ellie gave you a bemused smile, “damn, church girl has a bad side.”

“I didn’t really want to do it at first, but, y’know,” you shrugged, picking your fingernails.

“What?” Ellie urged.

“It’s Dina.” You stated.

Ellie nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Oh, so you have a crush on Dina?”

“What?” You exclaimed, “no! I mean, she’s my best friend—”

“Yeah.” Ellie interrupted, “your best friend. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” She shoved your shoulder, laughing at your mortified face. “All closeted girls fall in love with their best friend, it’s a right of passage.”

“Wha—?” Your face flamed with embarrassment, “Ellie, I am not gay. It’s a sin.”

Her eyebrows raised at you and she scoffed. “Right.” She said.

“I have nothing against gay people,” you held your hands up, attempting to explain yourself, “I just can’t—I can’t be gay.” She chewed the inside of her cheek as you accepted the joint from her hands, taking an especially large hit. You cough like crazy when you pass it back to her. “I have no problem with you, I’m sorry I said that.”

“‘s okay.” She said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and dropping her head to gaze at her shoes.

“No, it’s not.” You leaned forward so that you could look her in the eye. “I’m not like the other kids at school, I’m not some bigot.”

Ellie laughed at you again, “I got it, I got it.” Her eyes sparkled when the moonlight bounced off of them; you found yourself needing to catch your breath, chest tight. It was the smoke, just the smoke.

There was a knowing look on her face when she looked at you again, like she understood something you didn’t. “So, what exactly have you heard about me, then?” She asked you suddenly.

“That you’re a… raging lesbian that sells drugs and fights people for fun.” You crooked a smile at her when you said it. Ellie laughed out loud, cackling with her head thrown back. You couldn’t help but join in.

IT BEGAN TO RAIN when your flight took off for California.

You had the window seat and because of your anxiety, you held your pee for three hours instead of squeezing past your neighbors to get to the restroom. While rushing to the airport bathroom, you felt a string of buzzing in your pocket. You pulled your phone out and watched as nearly a hundred texts from Jesse pinged on your phone, stress-ridden and panicked; finally loading after you got cell service again.

You smiled wistfully, using the toilet before even attempting to respond let alone read his manic word vomit. You headed to the baggage carousel as you began to sift through the messages. Most were just mangled screaming, some half-literate, some fully realized thoughts. You rolled your eyes affectionately, a smile tugging on your lips.

Jesse was asking Dina to marry him today.

Instead of sending a supportive text, you decided giving Jesse a call would do a lot more good. He picked up after the first ring. “Jess,” you greeted carefully, “I got your messa—”

“Please help me!” He wailed on the other side of the phone. You attempted to disrupt the laugh that passed through your lips with a cough; he had never sounded this frazzled before.

“What’s wrong?” You urged, eyes flickering to the conveyor belt as it started spitting out suitcases.

“I’m not sure if I should wear the blue suit with a red tie or the black suit with the black tie or the gray suit—”

“Jesse, dude,” you said slowly, “please, calm down. You’re working yourself up for no reason.” You spotted your luggage and huffed as you lifted it off the carousel. “This proposal is super intimate and private, I don’t think you should wear a suit at all.”

“But Joel said—”

“Jess, I love and respect Joel so much, but don’t take advice from a man who’s never been married and hasn’t had to worry about what he’s wearing for a woman since Ellie graduated from college.” You said expressionlessly, all in one breath. There was a pause over the phone.

Jesse erupted into laughter. “Oh, man,” it sounded like he was wiping a tear, “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”

You couldn’t help the smile that twitched onto your lips. “You should wear dark bottoms with a light top or light bottoms with a dark top. Think dressed up casual, if you go too fancy it’ll clash with the location.” You had the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you fiddled with your purse, trying to grab your sunglasses. “I’ll find some inspiration for you on Pinterest.”

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver.” Jesse sounded much more relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Jess, call me if you need anything else, okay?” He made an affirmative sound before you said your goodbyes and hung up. You chuckled, shaking your head at your best friend.

Your next call was to Talia, who said she was parked in front of your terminal. The California heat embraced you when you stepped outside of the airport lobby; it felt like coming home. You loved the feeling of the dry, unforgiving air against your skin. It had been too long.

A melancholy feeling took hold of your heart, squeezing it gently within its bitter palm. So much had changed since you were last in Cali; everything had changed the day you left Cali.

Talia drove a swanky little Volkswagen Beetle, it was a bright yellow and she had the top down. The wind brushed your balmy skin as you drove along the Californian coast; it was like a dream realized. In two hours, your best friends would be engaged.

“The engagement party’s gonna have an open bar,” Talia grinned, one hand on the steering wheel, “you better know I’m gonna abuse that shit after all the trouble we’ve gone through.”

It was true; keeping this massive secret from Dina, being emotional support for Jesse, and helping to plan the proposal. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it.

“She’s going to love it so much, I don’t even care how stressed I’ve been.” You replied, imagining the look that was going to be on Dina’s face when she showed off her ring.

Most guests didn’t know what the party Jesse had planned was actually for, meaning it’d be a shock for nearly everyone there. Dina loved surprises and having a surprise engagement party after her proposal was going to be like icing on the cake for her.

Talia hesitated and you looked at her inquisitively, “...are you like—worried about Ellie being there?”

You laughed nervously in response, “now that is something I’m not thinking about.” And you really hadn’t. You had gotten so good at pushing Ellie and all of the emotional baggage that came with her out of your mind. You forced yourself not to think about her; to keep her intimate smiles and loving giggles from resonating in your head.

It had been three years; having thoughts about your ex after that long was kind of concerning.

Talia relented, allowing you to stop the conversation before it happened. You spoke about the dress you’d brought to wear to the party and sent Jesse some outfit ideas from your Dina + Jesse Wedding Inspiration board.

Dina’s face sparkled as bright as the darling ring on her left fourth finger. Just as you thought it would. You were over the moon for her; the choked gasp she let out when she saw you for the first time in the cramped bar nearly made you sink to your knees. Your sweet Dina was finally getting everything she’d dreamed of.

“You’re here!” She exclaimed into your hair as she hugged you tight against her.

You rubbed her back, “of course I am. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” When you pulled apart her eyes were wet with emotion.

“Ugh,” she dabbed at her lashes, “don’t make me cry, you fucker.”

She’d slipped away into the crowd not much longer after that, tending to the other guests who were congratulating her and Jesse. Before you could huddle back into a corner, Jesse squeezed you into his embrace and kissed the top of your head. The tears that burned the back of your eyes convinced you to grab another drink before disappearing.

You signaled to the bartender, who approached you with a smile. “Whiskey, neat,” you said, propping your arms onto the bartop. “Please.”

“I see some things never change.”

Your head whipped to your right at the sound of a familiar drawling voice.

Ellie Williams’ gorgeous green eyes met yours, a hundred-watt smile forming on her face that sent your heart into palpitations. She was wider, fuller, clearly stronger. All signs of youth had been erased from her face with age. She’d always been annoyingly attractive, but apparently, you couldn’t catch a break from that fact even if she was your ex-girlfriend.

Even if she was your biggest heartbreak.

“Ellie,” her name left your mouth like a whisper, or maybe a prayer. How long had you secretly begged to see her again?

“Hey,” she greeted; leaning coolly against the bar, propping her tattooed forearm on the edge. You swallowed thickly.

“When’d—” your voice cracks, “when’d you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”

Her gaze swept down the length of your body and it felt like she just casually set you on fire. “I snuck in a couple minutes ago. I missed the big entrance, don’t tell anyone.” She gave you a half-smile, that fucking dimple creasing the corner of her mouth.

You felt like you were totally fumbling this interaction. She had completely thrown you off your axis; tossed a wrench into your meticulous plans to avoid interacting with her. The bartender placed your drink in front of you and Ellie grabbed their attention to order her own.

You gulped down your whiskey in three large mouthfuls, eye twinging at the taste. Your sinuses cleared and the additional oxygen to your brain calmed you a bit. “Oh—and another whiskey for the lady, please,” Ellie said as you placed your empty glass on the bar top.

You chuckled embarrassedly when Ellie winked at you while she spoke, mortified with yourself. Oh, you were entirely falling apart.

“How’s your mom?” Ellie asked and you released a breath.

“Um—good,” you cupped the back of your neck with your hand, avoiding her face. “She moved up to Boston last year to be closer to me. She’s uh, remarried.”

Ellie’s voice raised in surprise, “oh, you’re on the East Coast now?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, sending the bartender a smile when they placed your new drink in front of you, “moved there for work.” When Ellie didn’t say anything you spared a glance at her.

She looked kind of shell-shocked, a tick in her mouth that made your gut turn. You knew why, but didn’t have the strength to say anything about it to her. “What’s Joel up to? We haven’t spoken for a while.”

Ellie forced a smile, “oh, you know. Being an old man.” She wrung her fingers together like she was building her courage. “So, were you ever gonna tell me that—”

Someone called out your name from behind you. Abby Anderson approached you with her arms open and you let out a gasp when you saw her. “Abs!” You gave her a big hug. “Jesse said you weren’t coming!”

“I wasn’t, but when I heard you’d be here—”

You smacked her shoulder playfully, “stop that.”

“I was able to use some PTO last minute.” Abby’s pouty lips pulled into a smile.

A warm hand brushed your lower back, sending a shiver up your spine. Ellie leaned down to speak softly in your ear, “I’m gonna go congratulate the happy couple, I’ll see you later?”

The musky, spicy scent of her cologne flooded your senses and everything became hazy. She smelled downright edible.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, eyes fixed on the slope of her nose and lips.

She squeezed your hip lightly as her hand moved away. “Anderson,” she greeted Abby.

“Hey, Ellie, nice to see you,” Abby replied. Ellie sent her a two-finger salute, then walked towards the hoard of people surrounding Dina and Jesse.

“Jesus fuck,” you complained, fanning a hand on your blistering cheeks.

Abby snorted, “how ya doin’?”

You sent her a withering look. “Shut up.”

DINA FORCED YOU to come to her house for a party again.

This time, you arrived before most guests; tupperware of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies clutched in your sweaty hands. You were nervous about the social interaction, dreading it, actually. Your hand trembled when you pushed open Dina’s front door.

Ellie trailed in after you, keys dangling off her index finger while she held the screen door open for you. She was your designated driver for the night. You insisted you didn’t need one, you weren’t going to have more than one drink, but she wouldn’t surrender.

A cookie Ellie had hand-picked as the best from the batch was hanging out of her mouth. You suspected that was the real reason she wanted to drive you, first pick out of the cookie selection. You rounded the corner and entered the kitchen; some of your anxiety was chased away when you laid eyes on Dina and Jesse.

Jesse squealed in excitement when he saw the treats you brought over. He did a little dance when you opened up the container for him. “You are an angel.” He said as he groaned into the cookie he’d snatched.

Dina smacked his shoulder when he grabbed a second one, telling him to fuck off and save some for the rest. You could see the hearts in her eyes when he turned to her with a sweet smile on his face then devoured the second cookie in one bite.

Time passed, more people were filtering in from the frigid air. You could tell most of them pregamed, eyes drooping and cheeks flushed with blood. One especially belligerent guy you’d seen in the halls at school screamed, “Merry Christmas, bitches!” when he entered the doorway. You cringed, and Ellie laughed at the disgusted look on your face. She pulled you to the couch, shoving a glass of whiskey into your hands.

You cast another look at the sweater she was wearing, a reindeer with the word “horny” underneath it, and dropped into the cushions. “That sweater is so stupid,” you told her for the third time that night, and she gave you a devious smile.

“So you’ve said.” She plopped down next to you, spreading her legs comfortably, “I think you’re secretly jealous. Your sweater looks straight out of a granny catalog.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “How dare you!” Glancing down at your cheerful sweater, you realized that maybe it kind of did look like it could be found in an old lady’s arts-and-craft magazine. There were three snowmen lined up across the front with sewn-in sequins, pom-poms, and other knick-knacks as decoration. You sighed defeatedly, “but you’re right.”

Ellie shoved you on the shoulder as she laughed. You loved seeing her this way, carefree and relaxed. Whether it was the false bravado or misconstrued rumors, your impression of Ellie before your friendship began was completely wrong.

In the months since Dina’s window, you’d learned how similar Ellie really was to you. She preferred the quiet; she liked to read, play video games, and have movie nights. You look back on how nervous you were around her and laugh, Ellie was a big dorky sweetheart at her core. Nothing like the sly playboy-like image you had in your head.

You pulled your legs up, turned to face her, and tucked your socked feet under her thigh as you sipped on your drink. The burn in your throat was pleasant. You leaned your side against the back of the couch as you asked her, “have you finished Jane Eyre yet?”

“No! Shit, I’m sorry!” She turned to you with wide, guilty eyes. You laughed against the back of your hand at her expression. “I’ve been meaning to finish it, but I’ve been playing that game I told you about,” her hands flailed as she spoke, “you wouldn’t believe what happened.”

You suddenly focused in on the way her mouth moved as she spoke. The way she pressed them together when she was thinking of a word to use, the way she licked her bottom lip between sentences. She was so enthusiastic when she talked about the things she was interested in, her eyes lighting up with delight.

You realized that you had been tuning out her words as you stared, only catching the last half of her rant. “Is this about your fungus game?” You asked, playing dumb so that you could see the annoyed expression form on her face.

“I’ll have you know that fungus game is the most emotionally tormenting thing I have ever played in my entire life.” She stated, looking you dead in the eye.

“Oh, I believe you. Remember how you called me crying—”

“No.” Ellie cut in. You laughed into your whiskey as you took another sip.

“I wonder if I’d survive that apocalypse.” You mused out loud and Ellie snorted from beside you.

“Definitely not,” she said confidently, “you’re too sweet, you’d die after ten minutes outside.”

You gave her an offended look. “I am not that sweet, I’m just nice to you because you’re my friend.”

“Yeah, right.” Ellie teased, “you feel guilty after killing spiders.”

“They are an essential part of our ecosystem!” You defended yourself.

Ellie snickered like she’d won the argument; you opened your mouth to make another point when someone cleared their throat from beside you. That drunk boy you recognized from earlier stood in front of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi?” Ellie responded, the tone of her voice raising into a mocking question.

The boy didn’t deter, “I’m Axel.”

“Okay?” Ellie’s voice became more sarcastic.

He was looking at you when he asked, “do you want another drink?”

You glanced at your nearly-empty glass of whisky and shrugged, “honestly, I’m good, I wasn’t planning on having more than one. Thanks, though.”

“‘Cmon,” Axel smiled broadly at you, “it’s Christmas! Just have one more—”

“She said no, Axel,” Ellie said firmly, “why don’t you fuck off?”

Axel scoffed, his eyes still trained on you, “why do you even hangout with this faggot?”

Before Ellie could get up to put him in his place, before she could even react to his words, you were out of your seat. Ellie could only watch stunned as you punched Axel so hard in his face that he stumbled, dropped his drink, then fell to the floor. There was a lull in the crowd of people as they watched it all unfold, Jesse pushing through the kitchen to see the commotion.

If that wasn’t enough, you stomped towards a man already wounded, rearing your foot back threateningly. That’s when Ellie finally reacted, standing up quickly and grabbing you around the waist to pull you away as you screamed, “don’t you ever use that word you limp-dick, good-for-nothing—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jesse held his hands up, trying to calm you down. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get him outta here, Jesse!” You growled, fuming, “get him out or he’ll have two black eyes!”

Ellie hadn’t removed her arm from around you yet, watching as Jesse pulled the boy up and walked him to the front door. She released you when the door closed. Dina approached, grabbing your face between her hands. “You okay?” She asked, watching as you took quick, aggravated breaths.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said sternly, wiping at the angry tears forming in your eyes. “He called Ellie a—” you send a sidelong glance at Ellie, whose gaze hadn’t left your face during the entire altercation.

“We’re okay, Dee,” Ellie soothed, “he was just being an asshole.”

Dina nodded, looking between the two of you. You huffed, lurching towards the coat rack to grab your jacket and shoes. “Need some air.” You informed everyone before stepping out the back door.

The frigid winter air nipped at your nose as you huffed breaths into the night. Your fists were clenching and unclenching, the buzz of adrenaline still in your ears. Ellie stepped out not five minutes later, dressed in her boots and jacket.

“Hey…” she began cautiously. But you threw all caution to the wind.

“Aren’t you sick of it all?” You asked angrily, turning to look at the side of her face. Your implication goes unsaid. The rumors, the homophobia, the name calling.

“I mean, yeah, but what am I gonna do?” Ellie shrugged, unperturbed. “I can’t control anyone's actions, only my own. I choose to ignore it.” Then she smiled at you, tilting her head towards the grassy lawn, “‘cmere.” She grabbed your hand and a blanket off the back of a chair and pulled you away from the porch.

Ellie spread the blanket out in the middle of Dina’s yard, sitting on top of it and motioning for you to join her. You sighed, obliging. Your shoulders touched when you situated yourself next to her, laying down flat on your backs.

It was quiet for a few moments, then you saw it. A streak of white light flashed across the sky and you gasped; one hand jumping up and pointing to where the burning asteroid just was, the other grabbing her forearm. “A shooting star!”

When you turned your head to see if Ellie had caught it too, she was already looking at you. “Make a wish,” she said softly, her eyes just as tender as her voice.

You dropped your arm and the fingers on your other hand trailed down her forearm to lace her fingers within yours. You smiled, bad mood completely forgotten. “I wish I could see your face again when you realized I wasn’t as sweet as you thought I was.”

Ellie’s astonished expression made you giggle and squeeze her hand. “I can’t believe you.” She said earnestly, turning back to look at the stars.

“I know, I’m full of surprises.” You said cockily, proud that you threw her off so much that she hadn’t been able to come up with a single sarcastic comment. She laughed freely into the crisp night air, you watched her breaths condense and then evaporate.

An overwhelming feeling overcame you, something like endearment or adoration. “I’m so glad you’re here.” You whispered, just loud enough so she could hear you. You weren’t sure if “here” meant “here in this moment” or “here on planet Earth”, but Ellie didn’t seem to care.

She squeezed your hand back, “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

#my writing ⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x fem reader

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cyberels · 1 year ago

Text

later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★

˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her

daily click! palestine masterpost

☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass

☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol

☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)

☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆

u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add

my masterlist

ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.

today, ellie was running late.

mistake number one.

she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.

she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.

she opened her phone to turn on her music.

you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.

unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.

guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.

granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.

which she was not.

mistake number two.

you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.

if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.

you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.

she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.

“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.

you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.

“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.

she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.

you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.

“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.

you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.

just really pissed off.

ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”

you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.

“thanks.”

as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.

when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

ouch.

okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”

you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.

“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”

she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.

her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.

it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.

“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”

you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”

“…oh.”

well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.

you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.

mistake number three.

the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.

ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.

her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.

what the fuck just happened?

“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.

you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…

“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”

you sound more like you care this time, at least.

not that you do care, or anything,

just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.

that’s all.

“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”

“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”

you narrow your eyes at her.

no way this girl was reckless and stupid.

“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”

ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.

“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.

“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.

…and kinda wishing she’d come back.

just so you could get the last word.

when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.

you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.

“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”

“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”

“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”

“...well?”

“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.

this felt like a sick joke.

abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”

“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”

“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”

“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”

“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”

“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.

“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.

asshole.

“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”

“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.

“ha-ha. good one.”

“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”

“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”

“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”

she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.

he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.

“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”

“but—“

“drop it.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”

“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”

ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.

still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.

“don’t let it happen again.”

“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”

“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”

she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.

austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.

austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.

as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.

“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”

he has to be kidding.

she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?

amazing. just what she wanted!

“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”

she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.

the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.

she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.

terrible timing.

she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.

that wasn’t really a good option.

uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.

she was screwed.

nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.

she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.

oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.

her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.

does she care? no.

jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.

she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.

thank you jesse and jesse’s money.

when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.

ugh.

“you’re a wreck, williams—“

“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”

the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.

it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.

“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”

she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.

“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.

she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.

you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.

“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”

“i can wait here.“

“sit.”

“fine.”

she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.

she was hoping to never see you again.

maybe coming here was a mistake.

“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”

you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.

you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.

“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.

ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.

demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.

damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.

would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.

she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.

“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.

she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.

man, this sucked.

“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”

“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”

“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”

you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.

“i have a car.”

ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.

“okay? congratulations?”

“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”

“no.”

“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”

ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.

“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”

“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”

“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”

“what’s your name?”

“huh?”

“are you dumb?”

“…it’s ellie.”

“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”

“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.

“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”

“wait. i’m sorry.”

fuck.

maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.

she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”

“what’s the magic word?”

“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”

“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”

“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”

“yeah. that sounds good.”

this is such a bad idea.

#max writes ☆#btw #ladybugs symbolize positive change #and luck #will make a part 2 eventually maybe i’ll actually finish this series #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #wlw #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #sorry i know jesses ooc but i rewrote it like 10492 times i can’t get it to sound good

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hiiikiko · 6 months ago

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𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕨. 𝕩 𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕙!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

tlou masterlist

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

ellie williams x goth!reader headcanons

[a/n] : thought this would be cute :0

tw: uhhhhh frat boys??

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

♱ ellie was a little nervous to approach you at first, not because you looked ‘scary,’ but because you were just so cool

♱ one day you’re wearing a cure tshirt, ellie is so excited when she sees this because 1) it’s a band she knows and 2) this is an opportunity to talk to you!

♱ she stutters a lot but tries her best to play it cool, even though her hands are shaky and she messes up a couple words

♱ ellie’s internally kicking herself for being such a goof but then you laugh and she swears it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard

♱ from that day on, ellie sits by you everyday and tries her absolute best to make you laugh

♱ eventually she learns more about your style and the goth subculture as a whole, even going the extra mile to listen to a few of your favourite bands (and learn how to play their songs on her guitar)

♱ one day you make her a playlist of your favourite bands and she practically swoons at the gesture

♱ when you and ellie start dating, she constantly makes jokes about “my goth gf”

♱ she loves loves loves showing you off and she’s your personal photographer

♱ she comments under all of your posts

♱ when she notices people looking at you funny or pointing, she’ll defend your honour by throwing a few snarky comments their way or confronting them head on

♱ she loves when you offer to do her makeup because she feels like some hero from one of her comics

♱ when you do her eyeliner, you sit on her lap because it’s the best way to keep her from moving, ellie will rest her hands on your hips, her thumbs making little circles, as she talks about what she read earlier

♱ whenever you do your makeup, she’ll sit next to you and watch or talk about whatever video game, comic book, or show she recently got into, she’ll even help you with your hair or putting on corsets

♱ speaking of corsets, she absolutely ADORES you in them, almost going feral when she sees you in one (she also loves lacing them up because it’s just an excuse to have her hands on you)

♱ getting ready for dates takes a little bit longer because you want to look nice for your girlfriend even if she’s going to be wearing her favourite pair of blue jeans and canvas sneakers (i love the overdressed , underdressed dynamic sm lol) so you can take a few hours to be ready but ellie doesn’t mind at all because she knows how much you love your aesthetic and she’s okay with waiting! who cares if you miss your reservation? it’ll be worth it

♱ ellie hates when those frat guys who’s whole personality is “i want a goth gf” (even though she reposts the same memes) approach you, she gets all defensive and extra touchy, putting her hands around your waist, narrowing her eyes at them, and laying kisses on your neck

♱ ellie is always buying you things that she thinks would fit your whole goth aesthetic, little black cat or bat plushies, bringing over vinyl from goth bands you like, or just buying you a million packs of eyeliner

♱ when you first take ellie to a goth nightclub, she’s nervous and clinging to you the whole night but once you get a few drinks in her, she’ll be all over you and trying to get you back on the dance floor

♱ but the thing you love most about ellie is that she doesn’t fetishize you for your aesthetic, she treats you the same way even if you’re wearing sweatpants and one of her tshirts

♱ (bonus: she also loves when you wear platforms and are taller than her, she secretly wants to be dommed by you but would never admit it)

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

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snowy-vee · 1 year ago

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ALL MINE Pt.1 (E.W ff)

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: English is not my first language, any misspelling will be corrected later on, also, please feel free to leave a comment and rb!!

Pt.2 Here

Inform yourself about what's happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.

“Bye, girls!” you waved to the cheer team before getting into Ellie’s car, greeting her with a small ‘hi’ and a kiss on her cheek. “Why weren’t you at cheer practice? I missed you looking at me from the bleachers like a little stalker,” you giggle, grabbing her phone to put music to your liking.

“I don’t look like a stalker... Do I? I don't,” she said quietly, and you laughed again. “Anyway, I was doing a project, and I didn’t notice how late it was until you called me to pick you up.”

She started the car and began to drive home. You were both roommates in an off-campus flat, and since Ellie was the only one with a licence, it was common for her to drive you everywhere and pick you up.

You kept looking for a good playlist while ‘Too Fast’ by Sonder was playing when a notification came in. You blinked twice, thinking you might have seen something wrong, but the message from Dina saying she had a good time was still there.

“Dina was your partner for the project?”

“Yes, why? She is very nice; I wonder why I’ve never spoken to her; she’s got a good vibe.”

“Yeah, but isn’t she kind of a loser? I mean, the only interesting thing about her is that she dated Jesse.” You scoffed. The ugly look she gave you after that was enough to make you stop laughing. “I don’t mean it in a bad way! Just saying that you might not want to hang out with her that much.”

“I am a loser too; shouldn’t I be hanging out with my kind of people?”

“You’re not a loser! You just have different interests than the rest of our friends—"

“Your friends"

"My friends, whatever, you hang out with me; that gives you some status and makes you not a total loser but a partial one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes as she parked the car, grabbed her backpack from the back seat, and got out without opening your door, as she usually does. You opened your mouth a little offended and got out too.

“Els! Come on, don’t get angry. I’ll cook dinner, yeah?” You tried to apologise, but she had already locked herself in her room. You snorted, throwing your bag on your bed and then throwing yourself off too.

You and Ellie had been best friends since middle school. You came in as the new girl and soon caught the attention of many, but Ellie was the only one who made you feel comfortable in every way. You were always together and inseparable until high school, when you decided to become a cheerleader, and that’s when the distinction between you and Ellie began.

Although you tried to make time for her or integrate her into the “Populars” group, it didn’t work out, and it was obvious that it made both parties uncomfortable, so the only times you shared space together were at parties or break time. Ellie had friends, not counting the online ones, but for her, they were more like classmates, so she barely spent time with them.

It doesn’t matter; you were going to sleep and apologise in the morning—that is, until, coming out of the bathroom after taking a good shower and changing into your pyjamas, you heard giggles and voices from Ellie’s room.

Was she laughing with Dina? How was it possible that they were already at the level of making video calls? Was there something else she wasn’t telling you? No, you were best friends; you told each other everything.

“Els, I’m going to make instant ramen; do you want the chicken one or?” You opened the door without knocking first to confirm your suspicions, and yes, it was Dina on the other side of the phone. You could see her face and how her smile slowly faded. “Oh, hi, Dina.”

"Hi,” she said softly. “Well, I’m going to have dinner too; talk to you later, Ellie.”

“Yeah, okay, bye, Dina." Ellie smiled, hanging up. She woke up from her bed and nodded in your direction. “I want chicken ramen; I’ll go shower real quick.”

She was still annoyed with you; you could feel it, so that meant you had to apologise tonight.

Your cooking skills were not the best; it was strange that you touched the stove burners, mostly because Ellie did. Talking about the Queen of Rome, there she was standing in her black pyjama pants and sports bra. She was drying her short hair as she watched you cook.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, but you refused. You were almost done; you just needed to put the food on the plates. You left the dishes on the table in the living room. "Actually, I was planning to eat in my room today."

"Ellie, please... I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk like that about your friends." You started apologising by grabbing her hand and leading her to the couch. "Forgive me, yes? I hate that we're upset about something so small."

"Ugh, I hate that I can't be mad at you for too long." You squealed with excitement, and before you knew it, you both had finished eating and were now sharing a blanket on the couch while watching a movie. Your head was resting on her shoulder, and although it was a comfortable position, it got on your nerves that Ellie was on her phone, sending messages and giggling from time to time. It was driving you crazy.

You cleared your throat as you got off the couch. "I'm going to sleep; tomorrow will be a busy day," you said.

"But the movie isn't over yet," Ellie protested, looking at you with those beautiful eyes of hers. For a moment, you were about to stay, but Ding! Another notification caused her to divert your attention to her phone again.

"No, I don't want dark circles under my eyes."

"Wait, one thing..."

"What?"

"Tomorrow, where was that party?" you frowned at her question, confused that she's asking about a party.

"Uh... at the same frat house where we went for the Halloween party, why?"

"Yes, but can you send me the address?"

"Yes, but why? You said you didn't want to come, remember?"

"I know, but you're going to drag me anyway, and Dina said she wanted to come, so I won't be alone."

"You're never alone; I'm with you," you replied. Ellie raised an eyebrow as she looked at you. "Most of the time, I'm with you, Ellie!"

"I know! I appreciate it, but... I think I want to get to know Dina more, if you know what I mean." Her cheeks began to redden, and she had a shy smile as she looked at her phone. That made your stomach churn.

You nodded and couldn't help but let out an incredulous chuckle that went unnoticed by her. "I'll send you the location tomorrow, Els."

"Great, you're the best; I love you."

"Me too, get a good night's rest," you said, walking down the hallway to your room. You looked once more at Ellie before entering, still hooked on her phone. You definitely had to get rid of Dina.

You didn't have a problem with sharing other things, but Ellie? No way; she was yours, all yours.

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whenthegoldrays · 11 months ago

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The male leads in recent k-dramas have really been delivering on the I will live for you and also I would literally die for you, repeatedly if necessary

#like okay!! I can’t put Francesca by hozier in EVERY playlist #(but I have anyway)#lovely runner #marry my husband #the matchmakers #live up to your name #(ik that’s an older drama but it fits the bill and it will always be famous to ME)#elly's posts #also most of these involve time travel which helps with the whole die-for-you but still get a happy ending thing #edit: also adding #twinkling watermelon #for that father and son relationship #“you saved my life many times in our past life” still floors me and wrecks me every time I remember it #(which is often)

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 11 days ago

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See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker... and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: FIX IT FIC ALERT, pov switching (joel is in bold), soft jackson joel, pining, yearning, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson (no hospital, no revenge, no bad things happen), early 2000’s indie rock, reader has a backstory Words: 6,565

A/N: Well folks, I did it... another Elks rewrite, as mentioned in this lengthy post. Today marks a year since I posted my first fic. There's a lot of cliche "wow, what a year it's been" feelings, but just know how grateful I am to you for reading my words. I wouldn't be here without @forspringcleaning, I'm forever grateful for her and our shared delulu🪿. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, @secretelephanttattoo, and @devineconjuring for being my writing and grammar hand holders. I can't imagine my life now without the five of you, so y'all are stuck with me. (Also, an extra shout out to Mothy for calling Joel a slut in my Google Docs.)

Elks Masterlist Masterlist Playlist Chapter Song: “Myth" by Beach House

Next Chapter

The world ended the day after you bought your first homecoming dress. You had begged your mom for it—a beautiful deep forest green sequined gown with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly framed your prized gold daisy pendant. You twirled in the mirror of the dressing room, feeling like a princess, sparkling under the fluorescent lights of the department store. Life seemed perfect.

On the morning of September 26, 2003, your alarm blared you awake, pulling you from the dream of dancing under glittering chandeliers with a handsome prince. The only concern floating around your teenage brain was the grade you’d receive for your AP English essay.

You survived yet another monotonous day at high school. On your way home, your essay with a bold red A+ was safely stored in your messenger bag. With your guitar strapped to your back and headphones on, you listened to what would be the last lyrics before everything changed:

Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now-comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

—-

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity, continuing to create despite the pain of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth. You create for yourself, using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties. You create for the Settlement of Jackson, to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years. Most importantly, you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival.

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs. Joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the imposing iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school; there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided. It's funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived, thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you’d ever called home.

Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is filled with art, music, and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make, and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students, who have actual well-rounded futures, no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom.

It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you.

Joel Miller.

He’s so intimidating. Handsome and caged off, like he’s your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous, not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages. Soft, full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always appearing in thought underneath furrowed brows. Dark, wavy hair that matches his eye color, with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel-lined jacket. His hands are large, matching the rest of his features, with thick fingers that seem capable and dexterous; you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. He’s tall and big–so big. Somebody who has always been a protector. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside you.

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up in Jackson. Your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years, upended by his presence.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused on the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy sat with two strangers.

A small teenage girl with a tight ponytail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, and you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her, bent over a plate of food and clutching a fork in an untamed way, was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face, his eyes staring straight forward, void of kindness. You wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him was.

You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items, and as you turned around to head to the exit, you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as yours widened at his attention before you made your hasty retreat out of the room.

That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods, now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

—-

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger shows up in your class the following week. Ellie quickly becomes your favorite student thanks to her love of art and smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training.

She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger. Joel. You’re able to parse together a few facts you hold close to your heart: he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother, Texas born-and-raised, grumpier than everyone else, and loves coffee. Everything she tells you makes you think about him more.

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, but a quick tuck of your head or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him at the Tipsy Bison, drinking whiskey with Tommy in the corner. Your eyes staring unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling; you quickly created an excuse, telling your friends why you needed to head home, too overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of tables down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

—-

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie had decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” She looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too. Wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart races at the mention of his name. You feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.”

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.”

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs.

“Sorry, kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping at the Bison tonight.”

“Fiiiiiine,” she sighs as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye, Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than you were when the outbreak happened. You vow to be there for her in any way you can.

—-

The world thaws as winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer in the Wyoming sky each day. With clear roads and longer days, patrollers are able to venture farther from the gates, giving them a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests.

Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most: a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple of days ago, making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you; your just-as-ancient guitar now lies silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broken from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt.

That’s how life goes now, you’ve learned to live with much less before, and you’ll learn to do it again.

—-

When Joel Miller arrived in Jackson, he doubted he would ever feel at home. But now, as he approaches the white house with the mailbox labeled MILLER, he feels that feeling he hasn’t felt in almost two decades… a sense of peace.

Hell, he and Ellie have called Jackson home for six months now. He has a job, he’s met a couple people he can stand to be around, and he has a warm bed to sleep in every night. He has a home, even though he still feels like he’s a lost man.

His back aches when he bends over to remove his mud-caked boots by the door, a testament to the hard day’s work he put in helping Tommy haul bricks to repair one of the buildings on the main street. He welcomes the discomfort, it’s just like old times, the Miller brothers working together again.

He’s already thinking about the scalding hot shower he’ll take to soothe his muscles when he opens the front door.

His backpack almost slips out of his hand when he sees you in his living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He quietly closes the door, trying to stay as silent as he can. It’s you… Ellie’s teacher—the one she won’t shut up about. The pretty girl he saw at the Tipsy Bison all those months ago, the same pretty girl he sometimes watches when he thinks nobody is looking, the same pretty girl who he catches darting away each time he thinks their paths might just cross.

You're bent over a large sketchpad, pencil in hand, with Ellie beside you.

Both of you are so focused on whatever you're creating, the music coming from the stereo is loud enough that neither of you notice his entrance. He stands frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight of you in his home.

"The perspective is all wrong," Ellie groans. "I can't get it right."

"Here," you say, angling the paper. "Try looking at the paper like this, and imagine you're standing, looking at the tree."

“Ohhhh, shit,” Ellie happily exclaims.

“Language,” Joel reprimands, surprising himself. “And I thought I told you not to touch my stereo, kid.”

—-

The deep timbre of a Texas-accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest, goosebumps spreading along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic.

Joel is home.

Of course he’s home. This is HIS home, and you’re in it breaking HIS rules by listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system, which is much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT, who’s half your age, convince you this was a good idea?

He gives you a half smile when you turn to him, mouth slightly agape at the sight of him. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you.

“I know, relax!” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm as she turns the stereo off. “This is the teacher I told you about. Her stereo broke and I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing. “I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,”

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller.

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello.

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing at Ellie. “I can look past this if it means you’re getting out of that damn garage.”

“She has way better music taste than you. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to,” Ellie replies, rolling her eyes. You wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie defying it.

“I-I need to go, I promised Helen I’d help at the Tipsy Bison tonight.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being around Joel Miller for any longer.

“Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It’s almost too much… and then Joel looks at you with warmth in his eyes.

“Of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering.

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook.”

Joel opens the door for you and steps aside, as you pass him, your shoulder brushes his chest. You pray he doesn’t hear the way your breath hitches.

You hope the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your jacket will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

—-

Joel knows you’ll never be able to tell how many times he’s listened to your CD, and yet every time he plays it a pang of guilt sits within him. Funny that this is what he feels guilty about after all of his years.

The truth is, he doesn’t recognize any of the songs, and about half of the CD doesn’t appeal that much to him, but damn, he would love to hear you explain why you chose each song.

He hasn’t even taken your CD out of the player, too afraid to hurt a relic of yours. He really likes track 8. There’s a haunting guitar, a slightly whiny voice telling him to “cheer up honey, I hope you can.” He can feel the lyrics in his soul, he likes the way the static sounds, the strumming of the guitar, the hopelessness in the singer’s voice.

He often plays it on repeat, imagining you listening and humming along with your sweet voice.

He wonders how old you were when everything happened, where you’re from, how you got here… why he’s so drawn to you.

The song begins again, he closes his eyes and thinks of you.

—-

Weeks pass. Spring arrives, the ground softens, trees adorned with bright green leaves sway in the gentle breeze rolling off the mountains, and the flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables. Everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. A sense of hope and rejuvenation fills the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather.

Your favorite mixed CD has fallen victim to your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Strangely, it brings a sense of nostalgia to you, kind of like when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break. It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house still sits silent, your stereo and guitar still sit broken and unusable.

Though, during the early days of spring, you’re hardly ever home. You've been filling your time with extra work: assisting with spring planting in the community gardens, organizing the supply room at the schoolhouse, and taking more shifts at the Bison. Jackson is your home and you love making it better.

Today’s a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear, blue Wyoming sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden.

Your quick footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always starts to beat faster when it comes into view.

This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back.

Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun.

Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.”

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, you can’t help but stare at the constellation of freckles on his neck that you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool.

"I'm alright—I-I'm sorry... I'm alright," you manage to say between breaths. A whimper of as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much.

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel says, his eyes scanning you, worry etching his furrowed brows.

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay.”

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house. Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you here hurt ‘n alone,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm. “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains.

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand firmly splayed against your hip. Your head rests against him, close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt on your cheek.

You’re back in Joel Miller’s house, the realization isn’t lost on you that you’ve felt like an idiot both times you've been here. What is your luck?

Joel gently helps you settle on his couch, placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern.

You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood.

“Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

Your solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room. The last time you were in his house you were far too anxious to focus on anything. But now you can look around, and realize that despite his reputation for being gruff and irritable, his home is quite warm and inviting.

Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse.

Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles you when he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you.

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it. He was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.”

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses.

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

He clears his throat as he begins to prepare the supplies. "Let me clean up those knees," he lowly says.

You nod, grateful, but still embarrassed.

Joel delicately lifts your leg and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity.

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years. He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?”

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns.

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are.

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest.

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch. “Tell me if it feels too tight.” His hand tightens around your knee while he slowly winds the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?”

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg.

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down.

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice breaking with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her and her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn… and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes looking into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee.

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

“Well, I should get going,” you say cutting the tension before scooting forward on the couch.

Joel rises, reaching out his hand to help you. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver across your body as you stand, trying to hide the wince of pain when you put weight on your scraped knees.

"You sure you're alright to walk home?"

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time. Thank you for everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he says, placing a hand on your back as you walk towards the door. "I'd feel better walking you home… just to make sure."

“Oh, um—” you stammer, caught off guard by his offer. “I’ll be okay, I don’t live far at all. Plus, it’ll be good for me to get used to walking with the bandages on.”

“If you insist, at least take it slow.”

He helps you down the few steps, you spy his tools laying abandoned on the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you.

“Thanks Joel, you too.”

You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun.

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. You sit at your kitchen table and paint a picture of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes.

—-

His heart beats with an unfamiliar feeling as he watches you hobble down the road, too proud to glance back, obviously too embarrassed for your own good. If only you knew how often he thinks about you, how closely he listens to Ellie when she talks about you, how many times he’s replayed that old mixed CD of yours with your name and the pretty faded flowers drawn on it… maybe then you’d look back at him.

You fell in front of his home like an angel falling from the sky. He picked you up and bandaged your wounds.

Today, you gave him a purpose, he loves having a purpose. Some days he feels that purpose dwindling behind the protective gates of Jackson. Ellie’s comfortable here, she doesn’t need him as much, what with all of her friends and teenage responsibilities. She’s thriving here, and he’s left feeling adrift. He’d never admit it, not even to Tommy. At least there’s always patrol and the freedom that provides him.

Maybe he just needs more of a purpose, more of a reason here, maybe then he’d be satisfied.

He steps back into his home, glancing at the couch you were just sitting on, before retreating to his studio. He unwraps his tools and picks up the perfect block of wood. Running his fingers over the smooth surface, he envisions the intricate lines he’ll carve for the fur, he feels a whisper of intimidation at the thought of shaping the delicate antlers.

Woodworking has been a new discovery for him, he’s always been better at settling his thoughts when his hands are occupied. He thinks of the first time he saw you all those months ago when he makes his first deliberate cut.

—-

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat breakfast at the hall like everyone else does on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books that patrol brought you from their runs.

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.”

“Oh, hi,” you say as you pause in your tracks. You’re a little flustered to see him, completely thrown off when he stops in front of you, reaching out and taking the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.”

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home.

The thought of Joel seeing your second home, filled with your’s and your student’s art makes you nervous. The walls are covered with colorful drawings and paintings, shelves lined with worn books, and various art supplies organized in labeled containers.

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance.

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee.

He places the box on your desk, before his eyes shift to the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a few weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.”

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the lines of your painted indigo petals, it feels almost forbidden to see such soft tenderness from hands that are usually so tough and strong. He had touched you with the same gentleness when he bandaged your scraped knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world.

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower painted next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything happened—just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, as you stand up, picking up your library supplies from the desk. A smile tugs at your lips as you move around the desk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Good one.”

You start placting down your hand-painted placards on the tables, each card illustrated with a different genre.

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “These are real nice,” Joel says picking up one labeled ‘Science Fiction’ with a painting of stars, and a rocket. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.”

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually. I’ll sometimes have help, but I think everyone here works so hard during the week that they like their slow Saturdays. I wouldn’t want to ask them to give up sleeping in.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellowed pages and a burgundy cover. On the cover, a muscular, orange-toned man with flowing blonde hair cradles a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke, let alone wink.

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh.

—-

The library is set up in record time, a half hour before opening, thanks to Joel’s help.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees. “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help with my knees and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?”

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. His brows furrow as his eyes move over the painted wall. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a deep breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?”

You’re stunned by his request, his words taking a moment to register. Paint for Joel Miller? In his home? “You… want me to paint for you?”

“If you’d be willing,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I already told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Alright, Monday it is. Should probably get going ‘n start my day,” he says, raising a book in his hand. “Taking this as payment for my work today.”

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.”

“So Texas,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s a good book. Enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.”

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door.

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

—-

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand. --- Next Chapter

Divider courtesy of @/saradika-graphics

perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

Tagging some mutuals and those who requested. (As always, let me know if you'd like to be put on or taken off.) @secretelephanttattoo, @sawymredfox, @moonlitbirdie, @arcanefox207, @almostfoxglove, @pascalssbabyy, @toomanytookas

@jolapeno, @goodwithcheese, @msjarvis, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills, @maggiemayhemnj

@ace-turned-confused, @lorettafudge, @jennaispunk, @lotusbxtch

@sunnytuliptime, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @cheekychaos28, @ashleyfilm

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arolesbianism · 1 year ago

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We have an au song that isn't for Jackie and Olivia on the playlist boys 🎉

#rat rambles #oni posting #nothing too exciting just a rabbit au nails (plural) song but yknow its smth #what I rly need is a rabbit au jean clone song they are so silly #and by that I mean theyre actively helping olivia with her downward spiral because they have a fucked up one sided idolization crush on her #also the nails clones getting a colective song means that Ive now sort of slipped ocs into my oni playlist a big win for the oc x canoners #anyways this was a failed mission to find an ellie song so not all is good in this world alas #like cmon nikola and joshua already have songs lemme find an ellie one I dont wanna be a misogynist #hell joshua has two and theyre actually lyrically relevant to my hcs abt him instead of just being the animation meme I have in my head #now to be clear theyre still stretches but shhhh my joshua hcs are correct and factual trust me bro (dont)#oh also the nails clone song is real basic bitch shit so this playlist is not beating the basic allegations quite yet #and by that I mostly mean basic by animation community standards but like also there is a lemon demon song on there so Im losing this fight

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shellshocklove · 1 month ago

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red moon risin' | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: in the aftermath of the raiders, you and joel struggle your way to jackson.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, canon-typical violence, guns, panic attacks, angst, blood, wounds, suicidal thoughts, smut, unprotected sex, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the third part to this. i know it's taken me 100 years to post this and i'm sorry about that. i've somewhat settled into my new job, but i have much less time to write now than i used to have. this story will be finished tho!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist / fic updates

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under him, Joel felt the way the mare's muscles moved as he rocked back and forth in the saddle. She was a good horse, young, but trusting; always letting Joel take the lead. It made the job easy, the patrolling, knowing his horse could read him just as well as he read her. Softened thuds left horseshoe prints behind as they rode down the tired path for the fourth time this month.

A quiet day.

The snow had given way to the sun a few weeks ago, and when the last patch of rotten snow had finally dried up, the world had flowered with spring. Birds chirped, the days had gotten longer, and a hint of what some people would call hope was in the air.

But Joel wasn't 'some people'.

Under his padded leather jacket sweat dripped down his back as the sun warmed him from behind. All day it had bothered him – it was just too bright, and all the squinting had a headache brewing behind his eyes.

Behind him, Joel could hear the hoofs of Tommy's horse and his voice muffling praise to the stallion. His little brother. The one he'd spent his whole life protecting and worrying about, had now settled down with a wife and a child. Joel was happy for him, he truly was, but it also reminded him of all he'd lost.

Joel squinted up at the empty sky, and found himself wondering what would happen if he managed to shoot a hole in the sun. Would it fizzle out like a balloon draining of air? Maybe the hole would crash in on itself and explode in a supernova like he remembered reading in one of Sarah's old science books a lifetime ago.

The death of a star, and the birth of a black hole.

It seemed fitting. A black hole. That's what he was. A monster. Your words. A killer. Someone who destroyed everything in his path; destroyed every single thing that was good in his life. The reminder of your words, of that night all those months ago had an invisible hand wrap its fingers around his heart. His breath quickened and that familiar pressure started to build in his chest – the pressure that seemed to push him down more and more.

Fuck.

His hand moved on its own, loosening the reins before it tightened into a fist over his heart, pushing against the pressure. He tried to remember to breathe but it was like his throat had tightened into a pinhole.

C'mon now, Joel told himself, just breathe you stupid old man.

When the world started to blur at the edges something black and brightly orange fluttered before him. Joel had to use all of his energy to focus his eyes where it landed on his fist over his heart.

Slowly retracting and widening its wings, the butterfly rested over his fist. Watching it with widened eyes the pressure in his chest fizzled away, and suddenly with a shaky breath Joel could breathe again.

It's okay dad, he heard in the wind, it was her voice, his babygirl's, a voice he was so afraid of forgetting, you're on the right path.

Joel studied the wings, the bright orange against the intricate black lines, and he was reminded of the butterfly he'd seen in the woods with Arthur when he'd first arrived at the farm. How it had rested on his knee, calm and unafraid of the winter to come– a winter that had taken everything from him.

He wasn't on some right path, he'd steered off it the day she'd died and he'd never found his way back. Every waking hour for the last twenty years he'd lost another part of himself to violence, to the sound of a neck snapping, a gunshot echoing, or flesh breaking open underneath his fist.

Why pretend he could ever find his way back?

Joel figured he could live with all the blood on his hands, and all the nightmares reminding him of all the lives he's taken. They had all blurred together by now, all the red, like how you could get lost staring at a Rothko painting.

Shifting his weight in the saddle, the strap of his shotgun dug into his shoulder and rubbed at where he ached. The wound had healed up now, finally, but he'd wished it had taken him. Infection might've been the cruelest way to go, but didn't he deserve it after everything he'd done? To die painfully?

The only solace he could find in surviving was that you were finally safe. He didn't care that he was alone or that you hated him, you were safe– that's what he'd told you.

Down the barrel of Joel's gun your body shook, visibly, with widened eyes full of fright and your hands above your head. They were shaking too, your hands. To your left, inches from you, the man's lifeless body spilled red, feeling nothing as the life of him pooled in a steady stream at your knees where it stained your jeans. The wood drank greedily, feeding the foundation of the hunting cabin, turning fat and gluttonous from Joel's generous offering.

The way your eyes met his, terrified and disturbed, pulled him from the trance that had clouded his mind with fire smoke. Dropping his gun, he moved with haste, falling to his knees to take your head in his palms. Joel didn't realize how cold his hands were until they met your warm cheeks, but the way you flinched at his touch yanked at his heart.

"Shh," he cooed, "You're safe now, angel, you're safe," he told you, almost desperate.

"H-he's d-dead," you stuttered, "J-Jonah's d-dead."

He tried to soothe you, rubbing his fingers over your skin, but still you trembled under his touch. Worse, you didn't meet his gaze, instead your eyes stared a hole in his shoulder. Or maybe it was the bullet from the man bleeding out beside you?

"Y-you're b-bleeding," you muttered.

When Joel's own eyes found his shoulder he realized his mistake. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving his body, or the way your terrified eyes looked at him, but the ache in his shoulder intensified into an excruciating pain.

Gritting his teeth, Joel had to pull himself together before answering, "I'm okay, angel, I'm okay." He emphasized every word with a rub of his thumb over your cheek, but what he'd meant to be a soothing action, instead, smeared blood in thumb sized streaks over your skin.

Fat wet tears mixed with the blood, and lines of salty rivers cut through the iron stains. The look on your face hurt more than the open wound and awakened the beast inside of Joel who screamed at him to protect, protect, protect.

"It's okay," he told you again, "you're safe."

Like repeating himself would do the trick, like if only he said it enough times it would come true, like hearing it again would convince him that the world wasn't broken.

More tears streamed down your cheeks, the drops wetting his fingers where they pooled over the ridges of his skin. You were shaking as you watched the blood pour out of his wound, or maybe this time it was him that was shaking? Joel couldn't tell – Joel didn't want to know – he just needed to feel you close, and know that you were real.

His nose pressed harshly into yours as he caught your lips in a rushed kiss, and he melted against you as all borrowed adrenaline-fueled energy seeped out of him and into your kiss. In his hands your body finally relaxed, the shocked stiffness of your muscles fading you away into a puddle of a woman – the water of you soon to run through his fingers.

The winter wind howled like a clown, laughing at Joel's attempt at orientating through the endless dark wilderness. The knee-deep snow clung to his jeans with every step, and made them stiff like they had been starched. If he'd been of clear mind, and with a gallon more of blood running through his veins, they'd stayed at the cabin until you'd gotten the bleeding under control. But his mind wasn't clear, and with each step Joel took he felt the life drain out of him.

You'd patched him up with shaky hands– twirled strip by strip of a torn cotton t-shirt around his shoulder, but the wound gushed blood with every movement Joel made. He didn't know where they were going, only clearing a path in the snow for you in the opposite direction he'd come from after he'd finally found you.

There was a town, a commune, something, somewhere– he remembered you'd told him one sparkling day when the sun had shone. A place where Tommy might be, where you'd been supposed to take him come spring. But Joel's dream of spring was as fruitful as a thirsty man's dream of water in the midst of a hot desert.

When night came, the branches seemed to rustle like living things as the wind picked up its pace whipping flakes of snow in your faces. Joel dragged his feet after him, and the weight of the gun tipped him to the side. Behind him, you'd been quiet all day– the only reason he knew you were still with him was the sound of your feet through the snow and the rhythm of your shaky breath.

Joel didn't know when you'd stumbled on the river, but the wind blew harsher here, biting through his body. The snow grew thicker and wilder, and soon the only thing Joel could see was a sea of white. He knew you couldn't continue like this– you needed a place to camp and ride out the storm.

When you happened upon the cliffside along the river bank, the wind hid behind the mountain wall, and the snow didn't feel like a thousand icy daggers no more. It was a relief, but without shelter Joel knew the night would be long.

"Joel."

Your voice was quiet, but firm nevertheless. “We need to stop.”

“It’s not much further,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking hard in an attempt to dispel the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“To where? You’ve been saying that for three days now– but not once have you told me where we’re going,” you told him desperately, “I'm freezing, starving and I'm tired– you can barely stand straight... we need to stop and find shelter.”

A sharp gust of wind blew your voice away, and Joel felt the earth crumble underneath him before a pair of arms locked around his middle.

“T-Tommy?” Joel managed to stutter out.

“Joel,” you sighed again, but there was something hurtful hiding in the lilt of your voice.

In your arms Joel swallowed hard as he felt a wave of nausea sweep over him while the beat of his heart thumped through his poorly bandaged wound. In the darkened winter he searched for your face, but the moon had abandoned him behind the clouds that spat wild and icy snowflakes.

“I think I saw some caves on the cliffside when we were walking earlier... not perfect, but–” he thought he heard you say as you locked your arms tighter around him before you started moving.

Joel's feet somehow moved on their own as you dragged him along. He tried his best not to lean too heavily on you, never wanting you to carry the burden of him on your back – but once again he had failed.

This wasn't supposed to have happened.

The gun shot should've never had happened.

It had been so easy. He'd found their tracks quickly, fresh in the snow, like breadcrumbs to follow, and once he'd found the scout, a darkness had taken over Joel's body. Every pull of the trigger was just a means to an end, just a body standing in the way of the only light in Joel's world. But when he'd kicked down the last door he'd been blinded by you, and just for a second the time had stood still while a wave of relief had washed over him.

You were alive.

The man’s finger on the trigger brought Joel back to the moment in the blink of a gunshot, and the world that had moved in slow motion sped up. Joel's own finger on the trigger was quick, methodical, sending a bullet right between the man's eyes.

You were safe.

When you reached the inside of the cave, Joel stumbled out of your hands before he felt himself sink through his knees. Catching his breath he rested his head against the cold stone wall for a moment before he closed his eyes as exhaustion finally took over his body, the pain somehow intensifying as he struggled to keep his stomach from turning.

A rustling sound pierced through the pain and had him opening his eyes. He could barely see you where you moved about the hard stone floor of the cave, crouching down and searching around the ground with your fingers.

“No,” he croaked, shaking his head feebly, “No fire.”

“We’ll freeze to death,” you told him matter of factly, continuing to search for twigs and placing them on a growing pile.

“If anyone finds us, we’re gonna to wish we did,” he managed, but Joel’s eyes were starting to get heavy despite all of his efforts, and his body sank to the floor. He opened his mouth to rebut you, but instead felt his consciousness start to slip away before he could say a word, staying alert only a moment longer to hear your voice speak quietly.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Joel dreamt of darkness and a cold that made his hackles rise. It penetrated through him, through muscle and fat and deep into his bones. Nothing burned like the cold, and nothing was as blinding as the darkness.

When Joel regained consciousness, it was because of the pain.

Blinking his eyes open an angel leaned over him. The flickering flames of the fire contorted your face – casting strange shadows. Joel felt your hands on him, saw how they shook as you fiddled with the poorly bandaged wound, and then he felt it, spikes of hot red pain scouring through his body. There was nothing to hear except his own cry echoing against the cave walls.

"Shh," you hushed, your eyes glued to his wound.

"Angel," Joel muttered, breathlessly, while his hand searched for you, for something to hold on to. Under his fingertips you tensed, your whole body twisting away from his loose grip to get a better look at his wound.

In his chest, Joel's heart cracked – a pain stronger than the hole in his shoulder. His hand fell to the cold rock, and Joel couldn't look at you. He'd been so strong for so long now, but the blood loss and tiredness had drained the last remaining drops of strength from his body.

Instead, his head fell back and his gaze fell on the cave ceiling – to how the shadows seemed to dance on the walls. They contorted against the ridges of the stone walls, flicking flashes like splatters of blood. When the shadows shifted into faces, haunting him with hallowed expressions and dead eyes Joel wished to forget, he shut his eyes tightly.

He let you fuss over him, tie the makeshift bandage across his chest again, and sucked the melting snow from your fingers. It didn't take long before his body shook from the cold, but inside he felt like burning up.

You didn't say much, but he felt your eyes on him where you'd laid him down close to the fire. Joel tried to stay awake, he didn't know why, he knew it didn't look good for him. It seemed like the night was forever, and Joel couldn't stop shaking. You sat watching the fire, lost in your own thoughts.

Joel tried to focus on you, on memorizing every inch of your face, how the lines of you curved, how your hair looked, and he knew he wanted you to be the last thing he saw before he died. He'd been ready for so long, ready to die, but now he couldn't let go. So, he forced his eyes open and watched you as you fed the small fire.

His angel.

When it seemed you'd had enough, you crept closer and laid down before him. Reaching out your hand, you hesitated only for a second before he felt your arm around him and all the tension in his body fell away.

"You should get some rest, Joel," he heard you whisper, but to Joel no rest would come easy knowing it might be the last time he'd ever hold you.

The day blinded him and the harsh white of the snow burned his eyes as Joel struggled to keep them open. Every step he took felt heavier than the last– even with your arm around him helping him with each step. From the sky a thousand butterflies flickered like blinking stars, and Joel felt his mouth stretch into a smile at the sight…

"Please," he heard a voice say, but it sounded so far away it couldn't possibly be important, "Help me, please, Joel."

Shimmering wings landed on Joel's arm and the glint of them caught in the deepest depths of him. Another set of wings landed on his arm, and another, and another, and soon he felt heavy with the weight of a child on his back. Small fingers dug into his jacket, and he felt the ghost of a kiss to his cheek.

Joel laughed.

"Joel," he heard the voice again, cutting through the warmth of his memories, "Please," it cried, but Joel just laughed.

The beat of drumming thunder surrounded him, circled him, and the weight slid off his back in a stream of red. It coated his fingers and his clothes, stained him in crimson. When he looked down at his hands his vision tunneled slowly, and for a small moment Joel frowned.

"No," he muttered, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

Joel felt himself fall to his knees as a darkness enveloped him, the intensity of the blackness making his head spin…

Dad?

Joel perked up at the word, one he hadn't heard in a long time. Stumbling to his feet, Joel could move mountains with the strength it took to walk into the pitch black. There was something there– something bright and peaceful at the end.

Deeper and deeper he walked while muffled voices he couldn’t interpret hammered at the walls surrounding him. They didn’t matter, he felt safe in here– like he was finally where he belonged.

The closer he got, the clearer everything became. A smile crept over his features when he spotted the wooden door, and he didn't hesitate as he pushed it open. In the blink of an eye the darkness vanished, and Joel was stood by her bed.

Sitting down at the edge as quietly as he could, Joel let his hand rest over the back of his sleeping little girl. Her body rose and fell in a calming rhythm and his palm warmed at her touch as he brushed it gently over the fabric of her sleep shirt.

Then, a shout, a garbled voice he barely recognized.

Shaking his head at the noise, Joel laid down next to his daughter. She was so small – curled up into a little ball with her legs tucked up under her. Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel remembered when she'd just been born; how small she'd been as she'd slept so peacefully on his chest.

Another shout, this time clearer. His name.

Joel’s head moved to look, his eyes squinting down the darkness of the tunnel, seeing nothing. Then, a strangled wince startled him, and he looked back, only to watch as Sarah started gasping for air.

No, no, no, no.

The ground underneath him dug into his knees as he turned to sit up. Beneath him, his babygirl panted for breath.

Okay… Joel acted on autopilot. You're okay. Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

“Joel,” the voice floated through his head, an echo like the grating of rocks against each other, his temples splitting with pain as he tried to focus on Sarah, “Stay with me, Joel.”

I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts. Stay with me, Sarah.

Her blood gushed beneath his fingers, and the sound of her labored panting had a coldness run down Joel's back. He had to do something. The sound of her pained yelps chipped away at his heart as he gathered her up in his lap.

Come on, baby. You're okay, you're okay. You're gonna be okay. All right… baby, baby, baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I got to get you up. All right? You come on.

Joel could feel her clammy arms dig into his shoulder as he moved her. Burning tears pushed at the back of his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding.

No, no, no, I know, I know, I know, I know.

"No," he muttered, his mouth forming around the words sluggishly, his frown deepening, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

"Joel."

There it was again, that same voice. It hooked itself at his neck and pulled Joel away, further and further from Sarah as she laid, dying, in his arms.

“No,” he muttered, before something surged through him, a strength he didn’t know he had, “No! Sarah!”

He was shouting now, he was sure of it, the force of his voice reverberating through his throat as he felt the vague imprint of hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the darkness.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he felt hot tears push behind his eyes, “Please... Sarah.”

Through the welling of his tears a face swam into his vision, a face he hadn’t seen for a long time, a face he had longed to see.

Tommy?

A surprising wave of relief washed over him, picked him apart and put him together again. Joel wanted to speak, but the words felt too heavy, and he found himself somehow unable to form the words with his lips.

"I'm here– I’m here, brother."

Brother. Brother. Brother.

The word bounced around in Joel's brain as his vision tunneled again, this time darkness creeping around the edges, growing and growing until eventually, Joel felt himself slip, falling backwards into the abyss, mouth open in a silent scream as his mind went completely dark.

In the silence of the blackened darkness Joel moved deeper and deeper into the blinding emptiness. He didn't know what he was searching for, and he couldn't feel his feet move, but he knew something was wrong with him.

Something was very wrong with him.

Still, even if he knew what was wrong it wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing had been right in a long time.

Lies.

The voice echoed against the walls of his brain, like the voice came from within and not from the depths of the darkness. It didn't frighten him, it felt familiar in a way he couldn't put his finger on, a voice he'd heard thousands of times before. Joel kept moving.

Lies, lies, lies.

Her face bled through then, and Joel felt a smile pull at his face. A rift opened in front of him, and in the blink of an eye he was back in their apartment, in their bed with her arms wrapping around him.

"Hey," he rumbled, his voice stained with sleep. Her arms tightened around his torso, and his own hand found hers. It was warm and bony, and Joel felt himself relax into her.

"Hey," Tess whispered back, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," he answered back, "impossible to get a second of shut-eye when FEDRA's blastin' that alarm every half hour."

"Yeah, fucking Robert," she cursed, and Joel could feel her breath against the back of his neck.

Then a curious feeling of deja vu flickered in the back of his mind, and he knew he'd had this exact conversation before. In a second Tess would tell him that she'd spoken to Bill and that they'd have to delay their planned delivery drop for the month. It was too risky after yesterday when one of Robert's guys got busted by FEDRA and most likely had ratted out their current routes.

Joel didn't want to admit how jittery the thought of going a month without the pills made him. At least he had his whiskey, but he couldn't sleep without the pills– he needed them to dull his dreams.

And Tess knew. She always knew.

Slipping her hand from his grip she sat up and pushed him onto his back. Joel let her do it, they both needed it just as much as the other. Pushing the blanket away she fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, and when he felt her hand wrap around him, Joel couldn't help but let out a breathless sigh.

She pumped him a few times before she sat up to pull at her own jeans. Joel watched her undress for him while he pumped his cock, spitting in the palm of his calloused hand to make the glide easier. When she moved to remove her shirt, Joel reached out to stop her.

"Joel," she only said, wisps of her hair falling in front of her face like a curtain fall, "let's not kid ourselves."

Tess held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, a conversation passing between them he wasn't sure he understood. It wasn't love, they both felt it, but it wasn't not love, either. Instead, it was a need. A need for companionship; a need for someone to understand who he was and not flinch away.

She helped him out of his clothes, and when she straddled him naked as the day she was born, Joel's only thought rolling around in his brain was of how beautiful she looked above him.

With one hand resting her weight on his chest, and the other guiding the head of his cock to her entrance, Joel let her use him like she wanted. A deep grunt escaped him when he felt the walls of her wet cunt pulse around him, and his hands slid up the thick of her thigh to grip dents into the skin around her hips. When she started to move her hips, Joel held her down, eyes closed for a moment longer just to feel the warmth of her this close.

His back ached when he sat up, bringing her with him as he leaned back against the headboard. Her lips tasted like whiskey, but her soft moans sweetened the taste. Tess rode his cock like the world was ending, and it had, so many years ago. She kept a steady pace; let Joel touch her how he wanted as she chased her own pleasure as well as his own. It was animalistic, both of them caught in their own worlds and thoughts.

Joel watched her face, how her mouth hung open, and the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she shut her eyes tightly as Joel met her hips with his own thrusts. He loved to watch her like that– a side of her she'd only show to him. It turned him on, to watch her take what she wanted from him– to know he gave her pleasure. When her legs started to shake and he felt her cunt tighten around him, Joel felt his own orgasm quickly approaching. Wrapping his arm around Tess' waist he flipped them around. Taking his cock in his hand Joel hovered over her as he pumped his cock, coaxing forth his own orgasm.

"Come, Joel– come for me," Tess ordered, her eyes locking with his. With a deep grunt and a tug of his cock Joel came hard, painting her stomach and tits in ropes of hot cum.

In the aftermath Joel wiped her clean, wet cloth in soft hands, as Tess looked at him in the way only she could– like she knew all his secrets. Crawling back into bed, Joel felt Tess' arm wrap around him again– like they'd held him so many times before.

"Try and get some sleep, Joel…" she said, words unsaid lingering between them, words about his dreams, about remembrance, and about remedy.

Closing his eyes, the room faded out into black, and when the rift opened again it was morning. The sun through the yellow curtains stained the room in sepia, and in his arms an angel slept. Joel thought nothing of it as he dipped his head to breathe in the intoxicating scent of you.

Something inside him missed you, something inside him always missed you; he missed you even when he held you in his arms, it was never enough.

You stirred, heavy eyes smiling at him as you took him in in the morning light. Then the smile spread to your lips and you hovered above him, pressing light kisses to his eyelids. Whatever was wrong with him didn't exist anymore when he was with you, or it was like the thing that was wrong with him was also wrong with you, like when two puzzle pieces from two different puzzles fit together.

"Joel?" The voice was like a rock tossed in a still lake, making ripples in Joel's heaven.

No… no, no, no.

Blinking open his eyes, Joel glimpsed a figure to his right. Everything was clouded in fog, and when Joel tried to move a sharp pain shot from his shoulder and ran through his body making him wince.

"Joel!" The figure suddenly moved closer, and through the fog Joel could make out the face of his little brother.

"Where…" Joel tried, his throat dry like sandpaper and his voice not above a whisper.

"What are you sayin', brother?" Tommy squeezed his hand.

Looking around, Joel could make out what looked like a faded hospital room. The walls had yellowed over time, and in places he could see where the paint had started to peel.

"Where… is… she?" Joel tried again.

Tommy shifted in his chair and leaned forward in his seat like he couldn't find a comfortable position. His brother wouldn't meet his eyes, they looked past him, flickering to the wall behind him before he got up to push the chair even closer to Joel's bed. Squeezing his hand tighter, Tommy's front teeth caught on his bottom lip as he ignored his question, "How're you feelin'? The bullet caused you a pretty bad infection and you ain't out of the woods yet–"

Shaking his head Joel couldn't listen to any more of this, it wasn't important, "Where is she?"

Squeezing his lips together, Tommy finally looked at him. There wasn't a time when Joel couldn't read his brother, how he bit his bottom lip when he was nervous, the glint in his eye when he was teasing, or the barely there smile of gratitude he'd gotten so many times when they were kids and Joel had taken the blame for something Tommy had done.

"Tommy," Joel begged in only the way a man on his deathbed could.

"She's… she's alright brother… she's safe– she's sleepin'," Tommy told him with a friendly squeeze of his hand.

She's safe.

The words had a soothing relief spread through Joel's body and he sunk back into the bed. Knowing you were safe was like a switch had been turned off and Joel could finally relax.

He'd found his brother and you were safe. Joel could rest now.

His eyelids felt heavy then, and for the first time Joel noticed how awful he felt. The wound ached with every breath he took, and he felt somehow both like he was burning up and shaking cold at the same time.

"What happened man?" he heard Tommy ask, "You show up here– half dead and both of ya covered in blood. She won't say a thing, not to me, not to Maria… What am I s'posed to to think here, brother? That poor girl's traumatized."

Traumatized? No, Tommy said she was safe.

The word was like a trigger, taunting that thing inside of him that needed you, that thing that barked and howled to keep you safe, to protect you from everything cruel in the world.

"I need to see her," Joel said, moving to sit up. Unknowingly, he leaned his weight on his injured shoulder, sending a blinding shocking pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, Joel yelped in pain.

Tommy's chair screamed against the floor, and it hurt Joel's ears as he fell back against the pillows. Through his heavy eyes Joel watched his brother's face multiply and slowly fade away into black.

Traumatized…

No… happy.

You were happy.

Sitting across from him at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in your hand, you looked happy. Maybe a little tired, but tired in that drowsy Sunday morning way where the hours pass on their own.

Joel flipped the page of the newspaper in his hand, and in the corner of his eye he felt your gaze roll over him. The letters danced before his eyes like they'd been tossed randomly across the page. Squinting his eyes he tried his best to put them back together again.

"Forgot your glasses, old man?"

Joel could hear the laughter in your voice, and when he looked up at you you’d raised your eyebrow playfully at him. Behind you the early morning Austin sun streamed in through the kitchen window and stuck to every surface.

"Who you callin' old man, huh?" Joel teased and folded the newspaper, "Ain't what I remember you callin' me last night, angel."

Letting out something between a snort and a laugh you hid behind your coffee cup for a beat before you placed it gently down on the table. "Careful now, honey," you leaned forward on your elbows, "You don't want your daughter hearing you talk like that, right?" you whispered as you nodded towards the ceiling.

"She's sixteen– Ain't no way she's awake before noon on a Sunday, baby," Joel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

He'd done it on purpose, and couldn't fight the smirk spreading on his lips as he noticed the way your eyes trailed over his biceps. When he cleared his throat playfully with a raise of his eyebrow, your eyes found his. Something like pride bubbled up inside him then, pride at having caught you checking him out.

When you realized you'd been made, you rolled your eyes at him and stood to your feet. With slow steps you rounded the table, stalking towards him with a curious glint in your eyes.

"So we've got what? 2 hours of alone time to kill?" You stepped between his spread legs, and Joel couldn't fight his hands from finding your waist.

"Somethin' like that," he smirked, looking up at you with moony eyes as your hands threaded through his hair. A wave of emotion washed over you suddenly, like a needle had popped the balloon of your happiness and your lips started to quiver.

"Don't leave me," you begged him, "Please don't leave me, Joel."

Outside, rain started pouring down heavily, drumming harshly against the windows. A panic started to bubble up in Joel's chest and he quickly stood to his feet to pull you into his embrace.

"What’re you talkin' 'bout, angel– I ain't leavin' you," he tried to wipe away the tears starting to stain your cheeks.

"It's too bright," you started to babble, "The light is too bright– don't go," you cried.

Joel tightened his arms around you, but the closer he hugged you the more it seemed like everything fell apart. The walls of his home crumbled around him, brick by brick tumbling down as they fell away into darkness. His hands clung to you tightly, but in his fists you sifted through his fingers like sand.

Traumatized…

The room was darker when he woke again, only lit by a small candle close to burning out. Turning his head slowly he watched how the wax had spilled out onto the weathered wood of the bed side table while the flames flickered shadows across the walls. It triggered a memory in the back of Joel's mind of a cave wall and your arms around him.

A crack in the door invited a line of light to cut through his bed. It was harsher than the candle, and it blinded the drowsy sleep from his eyes. Sitting up in his bed his head felt clearer now and Joel started to remember.

He remembered the cabin, and what he'd done. He remembered how the snow had blinded him, and the people he'd killed to save you– what he'd done to keep you safe. It all came back to him in flashes. He remembered how you'd taken care of him in the cave, and the face of his brother.

"… there are clearly things you don't know about Joel…"

Down the hall Joel heard echoing voices, and he could've sworn he heard your voice answer. Swinging his feet out of bed, the floor was cold underneath him. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a small ache, but it wasn't important anymore, only you were– he needed to see you.

"… so then you understand my concern?""

Pushing the door open, Joel felt a smile tug at his lips when he spotted you down the hall talking to a woman with a baby in her arms. Joel tried to be quiet, to not disturb your conversation, but the woman with the baby noticed him quickly out of the corner of her eye. Following the woman, you turned your head towards Joel and when you finally locked eyes, a smile spread over his face.

"Joel?" you said, almost stunned, and stepped a little closer, "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Joel couldn't care less if he shouldn't be out of bed, especially not when you were finally walking towards him, the real you this time, not some twisted dream version of you that would fade away.

The woman with the baby called out your name, and with a quick look over your shoulder you stopped dead in your tracks. "We'll wait outside for you– ten minutes is enough time, right?"

Ten minutes? What was this lady talking about?

"Okay, Maria," you said with a nod, and finally closed the space between you. Joel watched as Maria vanished around the corner, finally giving you some privacy.

"Hi," he said, reaching his hand out to touch you, his voice deep and gravely from no use.

"Um, hi," you said, your eyes not meeting his as you ignored his hand, instead your hand found his back, pushing at him to go back inside the room.

"You need to get back into bed, Joel. You were really sick– you lost a lot of blood and the bullet caused an infection. We didn't think you were gonna make it," you told him, but your voice seemed far away like they'd been rehearsed.

"I'm okay, angel," he told you, sitting back on the bed, "I'm alright–"

"No, you're not, Joel," you cut him off with a strain to your voice.

It sent a jolt through Joel's body, it perked up his senses and he could finally see you clearly. The way your shoulders seemed to hike up over your ears as you crossed your arms around yourself. It should've been his arms around you– his arms to sooth you.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Joel forced himself to say.

"Nothing… I– I've been staying with Tommy and Maria– that's his wife," you informed him as you started to pace back and forth, "you'll get your own house when you're better–"

The way you moved about the room had his head hurting, he wanted you to sit down and look him in the eye the way you always did– he wanted you to look at him like he was a good man.

"You mean we are?" Joel asked, eyebrows pinched together as he tried to process all this new information. He figured they'd finally made it to Jackson, that you'd been rescued somehow out in the cold– his brother had been there, he remembered.

"No."

"Why?" Joel's voice was quiet and hollow, and finally you stopped your pacing.

With your back turned to him, Joel watched you take a deep breath, and the seconds that passed before you finally spoke felt like hours.

"Because…" you turned around and Joel could see tears push at your waterline, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Joel." A tear broke loose and ran down your cheek, "I didn't want to believe the things they told me about you, but they're all true…"

Joel's eyebrows met in a furrow as he stumbled to his feet, "Who're 'they', angel? What things?"

"Please," you sighed and stumbled backwards, "please don't call me that– don't call me that anymore."

Joel froze to the ground. You'd stepped away from him and he felt like a bad dog who's leash had been yanked. There was no reason for this, no reason for you to be afraid of him.

"I don't…" Joel trailed off as he sat back down on the bed.

"I know what you did Joel–" The way your face twisted with hurt, he knew exactly what you were talking about. All the blood on his hands, what he'd done to survive all those years ago when the world wasn't worth living in. "–I know it's true, a-and the worst part is that it could've been me and you know that– it could've been me and my family."

"I know, ang–" Joel stopped himself before the pet name slipped from his lips, "but you gotta understand I did what I had to do to survive… I ain't that man no more."

"But you are," you almost shouted, "I-I saw it with my own eyes– you k-killed all those people and you didn't even blink… like some kind of–"

"Monster."

Joel finished for you, and the poisonous word stained his mouth.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

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