#kind of guy to say hes taking his break and hes gone for three hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

almostfoxglove · 4 months ago

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I'LL CARRY IT

written for my angst challenge

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Javier x f!Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

you can read on ao3 too, if you like!

SUMMARY: Your childhood best friend returns to Laredo a celebrated hero. When he shows up at your bar shackled by grief, you drag him home for the night. CW: Heavy alcohol consumption and brief reference to the death of a parent. A fair bit of yearning.

Takes place somewhere in S3E1 after the wedding but before Javier returns to Colombia.

part II | series masterlist | masterlist

12:00 A.M.

At first you mistake it for a good thing. Last shift before your weekend, two hours to go, and the long-gone local hero back in his hometown smoking a cigarette at your bar. Your break over, you slink from the backroom into the riotous din of The Last Man Standing—one of Laredo’s many dives—to reclaim your post behind the bar. Place is a hellhole as often as it is crowded and tonight’s no different, and yet you’re halfway to a smirk. Pleased to see an old friend.

He hasn’t looked up, hasn’t seen you yet, so you busy yourself with the guy who flags you down to order the second he spots you. Fine by you, the guy tips well the later it gets and it’s already after midnight, and regardless, you don’t mind having an excuse to observe The Javier Peña, DEA agent extraordinaire, at a distance. Top button undone, cigarette vanishing in his hand, eyes glued to the ring-stained bartop as smoke shivers out between his lips. Quite the celebrity now. Been home three weeks if the rumors are true but you’ve yet to see him. You figured he’d call, but he didn’t—not that you’re surprised.

Eight years feels like nothing now. Maybe he’s a hero to everyone else, but to you Javier looks exactly the same as he has his whole life—all that’s changed is the depth of his misery. How he doesn’t look up for anything or anyone, except to shrug off the occasional shoulder clap from some drunk stranger.

When you’ve served the guy his drink and collected your tip—30%, thank you sir—you shake the nerves loose from your shoulders and slide up, glass in hand.

“Well shit,” you say when you’re in front of him, and Javier slowly lifts his eyes. You smile, all rogue. No shake to your voice at all as you pour a whiskey blind. “This the part when I ask for an autograph?”

Javier’s dark brow dips in the middle and you might as well be twenty-eight again. Twenty-one. Eighteen. Eleven. All the ages you’ve been with him in all the years you’ve known him. Because this, right here—that little furrow that looks like a frown if you’re not looking close enough—is exactly how he’s always been. How he’s always looked at you after time spent away.

Sure, there’s never been this much away . This much radio silence. The kind of parting that comes with getting older, getting further—something you once would’ve sworn only happens to everyone else. You’ve made your peace with it. Wished him well from the wrong side of the hemisphere. You’ve had lives of your own.

Seems he can still cut a tiny hole in your chest when he withholds a smile.

Javier spears smoke from the corner of his mouth as you slip his empty glass behind the bar and replace it with the fresh pour, watching as he nods in a tired, humorless way. “Not signing shit for you,” he gruffs, and snubs his filter into the crystal ashtray beside his glass.

One-two-three-four-five others sit beside it, ashed in their grave.

So he feels about as bad as he looks.

“Awful snappy for a man hoggin’ a barstool,” you reply.

The corner of his mouth flinches but doesn’t pull. He picks up his glass, eyes sagging away from you. “Nice to see you too,” Javier concedes.

1:00 A.M.

Friday means it’s crazy, means the rest of your shift slingshots by, and most of the night someone else is working Javier’s side of the bar so you lose track of his drinks. The windows of the bar have fogged, giving the world beyond a kind of eerie glow.

You do your best to watch him, holding in your stomach a knot of newborn worry, but there’s always someone shouting for another drink. Now and then you catch some guy in a cap lumbering up to him to boast loudly of his pride, and though it’s microscopic—invisible maybe to everyone else—you see the way Javier shrinks in on himself. Folds.

The smoking, too, goes on. You sweep past him on your way to a booth in the corner, tray of shots balanced in hand, and accidentally inhale a sour cloud as he blows it out. You try to stifle your cough as you reach the table, doling out the silver glasses slick with tequila. On your way back to the bar, Javier catches your eye and snuffs the spent cigarette with an apologetic look. Pendant lights sway in his eyes like fireflies. You shake your head like he’s being silly, squeeze his shoulder briefly as you pass, and the roar of his body beneath your palm blazes like a campfire. The kind of heat that blackens everything to char.

You think he’s had four drinks, maybe five, but not for sure.

2:00 A.M.

Only the drunks remain to kick out into the bog of late-summer, all that humidity that ruins your hair. You like most of ‘em. Most swagger out with a slurred night, sweetheart as you usher them safely into their cabs. Then all that’s left is your childhood sweetheart slumped over at the bar. Dated for two weeks in sixth grade—broke up over god knows what, probably him stealing your favorite gel pens—and were inseparable ever after. The second that kid sloped into your classroom, all gangly limbs attached loose as rubber bands and dark curls drifting vagrantly into his eyes, you just knew. Didn’t know how, didn’t know why—but you knew that boy would be home, and he was for years.

Look at him now. Passed out drunk, lips parted, cheek squished flat beside his empty glass. His cigarette flares from his limp hand beside his face. You shoo off your coworker with a friendly gnight before slipping the cigarette from Javier’s fingers to crush in the crystal tray with its brothers.

You go about cleaning up around him. He doesn’t wake for anything—not even when you have to count all the coins in the till for the night—which also, is new. Javier’s always slept like shit, even when you were kids and there wasn’t much to sweat over. Woke up if someone in the other room dared to breathe too deeply.

Guess a bathtub’s worth of whiskey will take anybody out.

When it’s time to go, you slip your hand up his spine to rest between his shoulder blades. “Alright, cariño,” you say softly. “Time to go home.”

Javier stirs, but only barely. A grunt, a shallow breath, a flutter in his lashes. You pat his back firmly, not harshly, but enough that he sniffs and grunts again, awake.

“Blue’s still up there,” he mumbles with his eyes closed.

Grinning, you lift your face to the ceiling fan overhead—one of two dozen in this place, none of which run and all of which droop with a rainbow of bras tossed into the rafters. Above you now sways the strap of a pale blue bra mildewed with dust. Would’ve been your twenty-first when you shot that up there, and it’s never fallen.

“I’m a decent shot,” you say.

Now he grins, just half his lips, but a real one all the same. “I remember.”

“Course you do, I was better than you.”

At your teasing, the grin snaps clean off his face and his real frown replaces it. “No’anymorre,” he slurs.

Your heart plummets. You can see, now, the bruised darkness beneath his closed eyes as you rub a small circle in the middle of his back. If you were already home you’d pull him into your arms, but he can’t rot on this stool all night. In your silence, Javier cracks one eye at you. “Can’t drive,” he groans.

“No shit,” you say, forcing a soft grin, and he mumbles some gibberish that sounds like it’s supposed to be Spanish. “Come on, work with me here.”

His eye shuts again as he grimaces, face still smushed against the bartop. His hair’s a mess so you comb it back, but the fucker still won’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you lift his arm and drape it over your shoulders to help him off the stool, his body warm and pliant. More solid than you remember him being before. Layers of slender muscle built up like the rings of a tree.

When he rises, gravity lurches and you stagger under his weight, catching yourself against the bar.

“Careful now,” you warn him playfully.

Javier turns his face towards yours, close enough in this awkward position that his nose presses against your cheek. He reeks of smoke and shitty whiskey. A little of sweat. You’d mock him for it if he were anywhere within a hundred miles of sober, but he’s a lost cause for now. Your arm fits snug around his waist. To his credit, he makes an effort to stay on his feet. Turns his head down to watch his boots as you walk him outside like he’s focusing intently on putting one foot in front of the other. You pinch his side and he hmphs at you.

“Could’a just called, you know,” you say as you walk him to your car. The street is all empty parking spots and shuddered windows and packs of thirsty mosquitos, cicada song chirping densely in the air. Your car sleeps down the block alone, black as the sky and in need of a wash, green-strung beads hanging in a loop from the rearview mirror inside.

“Wanted t’ seeyou,” Javier says.

You nudge your head against his cheek gently. “I missed you too,” you say.

As you drive, streetlamps stripe past the windows. Brick buildings sit squat and lightless, bodegas shackled for the night, and a wilful trash bag balloons with a passing breeze, blowing across the road with a quiet, swimming grace. In the passenger seat, Javier slumps against the door, temple pressed to the half-open window. You think he’s asleep until he licks his bottom lip.

“Saw Lorraine,” he mumbles, those dark eyes closed away, like he can hardly keep himself awake.

You turn back to watch the empty road. Stop at the stop signs just for show. No one’s out here but you at this hour—Laredo is a ghost town.

“Heard Danny was gettin’ married,” you reply.

Javier exhales profoundly: slow, labored, loud. He’s always been a pouty drunk, but this is something else. “You weren’t there,” he says.

“Had to work.”

“Liar.”

You roll your eyes even though he isn’t looking at you to see. He’ll feel it. Always does. Drumming your fingertips against the steering wheel, you fight back a smirk. “Fucked one of the groomsmen last year,” you admit. “Didn’t feel like havin’ a reunion.”

When you glance at him again, Javier has opened his eyes a sliver to smirk at you, the corner of his mouth pulled into his dimpled cheek. “Julien?”

You frown at the road. “Mateo.”

“Shit,” mumbles Javier, still smirking.

“Somethin’ like that,” you agree.

At the next red light his eyes are closed again and despite the fact that he’s, what, thirty six now? Javier looks like a child to you. Spine hunched, torso sunken. Shoulders broader than ever but curled in on themselves, like if he only had the room he’d be small as a seed. Fetal and miserable. A thousand years older on the inside than anyone should ever have to be.

“Starin’ a’me,” he scolds, his words slumping into each other.

You huff quietly, caught. “Shut up,” you say. “Just remindin’ myself what you look like. Think you got uglier.”

He growls darkly, unamused.

As you turn at the next light, the green-beaded rosary sways from the rearview mirror. If he had his eyes open Javier would recognize it. His mother’s—passed to you before she died. You aren’t one for praying but you’ll die with it in your hands, you think. That’s the kind of person she was to you. Eternal.

Beside you, Javier mutters something unintelligible, his breath fogging the window.

“Hm?”

“Seein’ anyone yet?” he repeats, and shifts to loll his head back against the seatrest.

You gasp softly, feigning offense. “Yet? Ouch, baby,” you tease.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles.

“I know,” you say, as you turn into the suburbs. Quiet starter homes lurk in the dark, kids’ bicycles lying like skeletons in their yellowing lawns. “I’m being mean.”

“I like y’mean,” Javier replies, and finally opens his eyes as if he can sense you’re getting close to home, even though he’s never seen this place. He stares through the windshield glazed and distant, and you try not to stare like you’re concerned. He looks destroyed, you think. Obliterated. Sure, you’ve kept up with the news. Devoured everything you could about the quest to tackle Escobar, terrified Javier’s name would appear in the black ink that stained your fingers, reporting he was dead. That he’d be another casualty, and you’d not have said goodbye.

You know you’ve got no clue what really happened down there. That you never will. But you can see it choking him, hanging from his neck like a noose that’s just biding its time before it pulls.

“Nah, it’s just me,” you say, dragging your eyes off him again. “Think the two weeks we dated was about the closest I ever came to love.”

You’re joking, all foxish grin, but Javier doesn’t laugh. He just stares into the middle distance looking like a ghost. “Sixteen,” he mumbles.

“What?” you say.

He sighs. “Was sixteen days,” he annunciates, and your heart sputters.

Then his face folds in on itself suddenly; he pales, then greens. “Gonna b’sick,” he says.

3:00 A.M.

“Christ, you got heavy,” you groan, hobbling slanted up your porch steps. Though more alert, Javier is no less useless in walking, and though he mumbles shame-riddled sorrys he can’t much help you here. You hold him tightly to you, fingers pinching into his hip as he leans, hot as a furnace against your side in the worst of summer. You don’t care.

It doesn’t matter that it’s been eight years. It could be forty, and if Javier showed up on your doorstep ready to fall, your response would only ever be give it to me. I’ll carry it.

He grunts as you prop him against the side of your house to fish out your keys. “All muscle,” he teases, voice deep and coarse.

“Glad you haven’t shed your ego,” you snark.

You give the door a shove as the lock turns. Javier tips his face up to look at the sliver of moon left out to wink from the sky as if he’s saying a prayer. He reeks of sick—his shirt stained in one spot on his chest where he failed to aim away from himself—and while he stares up at the dark rash of night you work open the buttons of his shirt to take it off. Despite puking in your car, he’s still too lost to the world to notice your hands until you’re halfway down. Maybe in another life you’d be staring at his chest as you uncover it. The broad slopes of muscle, his stomach, the dark path of hair trailing towards his jeans. But in this life, you aren’t that to each other. You don’t get to be.

“Cariño,” Javier says, and one of his hands covers yours as you pinch the last button. Looking down at you now, concerned through hazy eyes. Summer hangs wetly in the air; his curls lay damp against his skin, licking his temples, the nape of his neck.

You shrug his hand off yours, offering a small grin. “Gotta get this in the wash, Javi,” you tell him. “Not allowed to get in my bed smelling like puke.”

Cicadas sing from their trees. Your house, small as it may be, is a welcoming place. All red bricks and white shutters. The swing on the porch sways behind Javier, giving the occasional squeak. You shuck his button-up off his shoulders and ball it in your hands before catching his eye. “Can I trust you to stay upright while I put this in the wash?” you ask, one eyebrow arched.

He scowls, all pouty bottom lip—trying to make you laugh, even now. You huff as if exhausted, sarcastic and a little pleased. He’s in there, the person you’ve loved. Somewhere buried.

When the laundry is running you find him on your porch swing, horizontal. One bare arm dangling off the seat, his eyes closed again. Skin that’s usually golden washed silver by moonlight. In this heat there’s no reason for you to cover him but still you feel the nagging urge. Even with you here with him, you hate the thought of anyone coming out onto their porches or lawns to see him like this—out of control. You rouse him just enough to lift his head so you can sit at the end of the swing, then lay his head in your lap. He hums. A low, gravelly sound of pleasure. Glad to feel you beneath him in this small way.

“M’sorry, baby,” Javier murmurs groggily, nuzzling his cheek against your leg as you stroke the hair away from his face again. He’s flushed, damp and sweaty, and even with the shirt gone could use a shower but you’d never say so. At this point, you’ve seen him in every state—sunny and terrible and everything in between—and don’t fear any of them. Don’t hate any of them. Never could, because all of them are him, so how could you.

“Cleaned up your puke before,” you reply. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen.”

He sighs, and with no small effort rolls himself onto his back with a grunt—the swing sways with the movement, rocking you both. Then once more, this time to his other side to face you. You chuckle softly as he settles, one of his arms reaching behind you to wrap around your hips, and for a while you drift back and forth with the porch light off and the moon’s claw cutting through the dark.

It’d be something close to heaven if it weren’t for his pain.

“Wanted to call you,” Javier sighs, after a long while of cricketing quiet. “After—”

Nothing.

You wait.

The rest of whatever he was going to say dissolves, never follows. Never becomes something for you to hold, to know, to carry. He keeps all the weight.

“Could’ve,” you say, hand in his hair again, how he always used to like. Even when you were kids he always wanted to be touched. His head in your lap, your hand in his hair to scare off his bad dreams. You could never tell a soul without destroying him—and you never wanted to. The way you were for each other was just that: for each other. Everyone knew you were close, inseparable at school. But the depth of that bond was a secret no one had to know. How his body needed to be close to yours to settle, to breathe, sometimes to sleep.

Javier’s nose scrunches as he fights off some stabbing thought. You stroke your thumb across his temple, trying to get him to look at you, but he won’t.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

Two words you never say. A question you never ask. He’s so far past drunk he’s practically a child—maybe it’s wrong to ask him like this—but you’d do anything to relieve even one ounce of this suffering.

Eventually, he exhales deeply, breath warm against your hip. Behind you, you feel his hand stroke your back, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “Thought you’d hate me,” he mumbles.

Your heart splinters. Every cell in your body wants to pull him against you, pull him into you, swallow the ache. “Should know better than that by now,” you say.

The shoulder he isn’t laying on bobs with what must be a shrug. “Been a while.”

“Been a long time,” you agree. Not angry, not bitter, not blaming—it’s been a long time. It’s nothing to you now but a fact. Seeing him again has erased the nag of your neglected longing.

With a gruff, Javier’s arm tightens around your back and he pulls himself closer, his forehead nuzzling your hip bone. “Feels like a’undred years,” he says, his voice hoarse and broken.

There isn’t anything you can do but card your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with featherlight nails. You let your head fall back against the brick of your house. Exhausted, but you won’t sleep. You’ll stay awake with him all night if he needs it, if he asks you. Even if he doesn’t.

4:00 A.M.

“No more water,” he begs. “Please.”

In your kitchen, just the stove light on, he’s sobering. Not sober —but he can stand up on his own. Leaning back against your counter, both hands outstretched to rest upon the laminate. Cool light splits his face in half—one bright and weary, one lost to shadow. You roll your eyes and hold one hand out to accept his water glass which he passes you with a grateful sigh.

You listen to the harsh rush of water draining into the kitchen sink—a stark disruption to the eerie quiet of the middle of the night in which it feels like you and Javier are the only people left on earth.

Behind you, Javier groans, watching the glass fill again.

“It’s for the nightstand, baby,” you assure him as you pass it back.

He pouts at it, arms drooping at his sides. Trying again. Digging for your laugh. With expectant eyes you pick up his hand and cup it around the glass, and when you let go and he doesn’t drop it you let a smile creep slowly across your face. Satisfied, he straightens a little, swaying slightly, and nods. He looks down at the floor, his bare feet, and his face blues. Darkens like he’s remembering.

You lay the palm of your hand over the center of his chest and beneath it Javier’s heart throbs steadily. His lungs expand. His blood moves. Alive—whether he feels it or not—and a comfort to you.

Though you’ve lived in this house only three years and Javier’s never once seen or stepped foot in it, he trails through the narrow halls to your bedroom like he knows it well. Sloppy footsteps, yes, and always with you behind him braced to catch any sudden fall, but he makes it in the end. Water sloshes over the lip of his glass as he sets it down. Then—still in his jeans, which hug his thighs so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t try to peel them off—he crawls into your bed, on top of the duvet. In the doorway you pause to watch him and get a vision of another life in which he does this every night, at ease in your home because it’s his home too.

It is a terrible thought, weak and troubling. It’ll burrow if you let it, so you kick it away. While you strip free of your work clothes, you watch him in the small mirror above your dresser; his head flops into your pillows, cheek smushed, eyes sliding closed. Those dark lashes, those parted lips. Always exactly the same. He doesn’t even glance in your direction—he doesn’t need to peek at your body. He’s seen you before. You him.

“Was Mateo worse than me,” he asks from the bed, like he’s read your mind. No surprise. For years, you would’ve sworn he could.

You blush, though he’s not looking. “Javi,” you say softly.

“Sorry,” he sighs.

In a t-shirt, you pad around the other side of the bed to crawl over the covers and curl onto your side to face him, one hand beneath your cheek. “Sex in college is supposed to be bad,” you tell him, grinning.

His brows pinch together, bracketing his forehead. “Shouldn’t've been with you,” he mumbles.

Yes, he’s how you remember. Ever chasing some rabbit hole to plummet down to avoid the cavern to which he’ll give no name. He’s got one hand buried under his pillow—how easy it is to think of your things as his—and the other lies between you, limp. You take it in your own, pull it to your lips, and press them to his knuckles. “We were kids,” you say, sure to smile against the back of his hand so he’ll feel it.

He huffs. “Drunk.”

“That too.”

“Better now, I swear.”

You laugh. Can’t help it. Silver light from the moon puddles over you, illuminating half his face, the curve of his shoulder, the slope of his arm. Even miserable, probably in a blackout, one foot hanging sadly off the edge of the mattress, Javier is someone who draws laughter out of you with ease, same as when you were kids. You kiss the back of his hand again, still grinning, and watch the frown dissolve from his face. He’s always been beautiful in a way that never seemed fair, but you think it might be getting worse with age. No one should look so good in this state, but there he is.

“Sure hope so, baby,” you tease.

Now he cracks one dark eye to squint at you, the corner of his mouth loosening, curling into his cheek. Then there’s that dimple. Your heart patters. You’ve missed him. “Could show you,” Javier smirks.

You roll your eyes. “You aren’t showin’ me shit right now.”

His bottom pink pops again, pouting as he broods, yanking another chuckle from you while he murmurs something you miss. Something that ends with good though.

“Hm?” you say.

“You smell good though,” Javier murmurs, and though soft you hear it this time. That almost whine.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, and like magic, he laughs. Smile lines crinkle beside his eyes, nose scrunching. Beautiful. It is, you think, the best of him—how he looks when he actually laughs. It takes over his face.

As you both settle, he scooches closer on the bed, squeaking the mattress. You feel the warm plume of his breath whisper over your face as he sighs. He has, it seems, only a match of levity at a time. It sparkles, flares, and smokes out too quickly.

It isn’t a frown that replaces it, but despair. “Gonna feel like shit tomorrow,” he mutters, no louder than a whisper. No need to speak any louder when you’re lying this close. Your lips press to his knuckles again and this time he squeezes your hand, the muscles in his forearm briefly tensing. Freckles dot his bicep like stars.

“You feel like shit right now,” you whisper in reply.

Javier nods, face folding like he wants to cry. But he almost never does, not even in front of you.

5:00 A.M.

You drift into brief tides of sleep with the warmth of him around you, his face in the crook of your neck. For most of your life, you’ve chalked up the ease with which you touch each other to an echo of your childhoods—a time in which touch is given often and without judgment. There has never been hesitation between you, not in this way. Even now, eight years since the last time you saw him, Javier slots against you in a way that just feels right—new, broader shoulders and all.

His slow, deep breaths warm your neck, your collarbone. You couldn’t wiggle out of his arms if you tried, and though it’s warm even with the window open, even with both of you on top of the covers, you don’t want to. Eight years is a long time to go without this.

When he stirs with a tortured groan, you nudge your lips against his forehead. “S’okay,” you mumble, and the whine that snakes out of him rattles your chest and slices clean through your heart. Wrapping a hand around the back of his head, fingers threading through curls, you pull him closer, and his arms tighten around your waist.

Maybe it should feel wrong when Javier nuzzles into your neck to kiss you softly beneath the jaw, but it doesn’t.

“Baby—” he croaks, and you hush him, petting his hair.

You don’t want him to say it. You never say it. If he says it now, it’ll ruin you.

“I know, Javi,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes closed so tight you see a rain of stars. “I know.”

“Y’ never let me say it,” he mumbles against your throat, his breath fogging your skin.

“You don’t need to,” you say.

“Wanted to, you know,” he replies, his voice so gentle you feel it pass from his chest to yours in a shallow tremor.

You chuckle softly from the darkness behind your eyes, like opening them will break the spell. “Oh yeah? When?”

He shrugs, his body loose and boneless. The heat of him is making you sweat.

“The whole time,” Javier mumbles, and you wish suddenly that he weren’t so close because he must hear the sudden racing of your heart. “Pensé que me casaría contigo.”

If he didn’t hear its racing, you think, there’s no way he misses when it stops. Your Spanish is mediocre at best but you catch fragments, piece it together. I thought I’d marry you.

Your forehead wrinkles as a sudden urge to cry slams into you, shattering your bones. At least you manage to pat his back teasingly, feigning coolness, steadiness. Pretending he hasn’t toppled you.

“Think you’re confusing me and Lorraine, cariño,” you tease quietly, hopeful that the wetness in your eyes doesn’t taint your voice.

Silence stretches like an elastic threatening a snap, a sting, a burn. But Javier exhales in a way that feels like he’s asleep again, like all of this is just nonsense cooked up in some drunken dream. Soon sleep is dragging at you sweetly, loosening your limbs again. You grow heavy, face slack, your limbs indistinguishable from his. When he whispers again you hardly hear it and the words don’t stick. You’ll forget them when you next wake for real. But he says them all the same.

“Not confusin’ you with anybody.”

Then you’re gone, sucked away. Asleep.

6:00 A.M.

The yellow morning leaks through your bedroom. You wake to a glint in your eyes: sunlight reflecting off a picture frame on your dresser. You and Javier twenty years ago dressed for junior prom, hidden now by the blinding. Squinting, you groan a soft mph sound as you wake, desperate to bury yourself in sleep again.

In your brief slumber the two of you have remained braided—two strands of clinging ivy. Against you, Javier groans, humming tiredly against your throat, and you feel his hand slip up the hem of your shirt again, his palm flat over your spine.

Half asleep, you let him.

Half asleep, you let yourself remember.

You’re twenty five again. Just a few years out of college, both of you home for the summer. Out in the long grass in Chucho’s yard, you stretch yourselves out to sunbathe in the Texas summer, watching bumblebees laze drowsily between blooming thistles. Beside you, Javier lies on his back with both hands cradled beneath his head while you read, those yellow aviators over his eyes.

“Could get a place together,” he says. So casual, so simply.

Looking up from your book, you see the pink collar of sunburn around his neck and grin to yourself. “We’d get sick of each other,” you lie.

Javier only shrugs, unaware, you think, that you spent all of college in love with him. In freshman year, you’d stumbled home together after a party and he’d kissed you against your front door, waking you from what you realized then had been a lifetime of slumber. You’d never considered kissing him before, but all of a sudden it was obvious. You thought this is what your lips should have been doing all this time.

But it never happened again. The sex was awkward, clumsy—you’d only done it once before—and you told yourself that’s why he never tried again. You never tried either. Now it’s a joke you tell each other, trying to make the other person blush.

The thought of sharing an apartment with him sends a river of panic through your veins. It would kill you to watch him bring girls home. To watch him date someone else. It was bad enough watching Lorraine, and he left her.

“If you say so,” he says, looking not one bit disappointed.

Half asleep, you let yourself dream you said yes.

7:00 A.M.

You don’t know who leans in—if you tilt your head down or if Javier tilts his up, if it starts in your sleep—only that when you next stir the morning is darkening to gold and orange. Panels of windowed sunlight crawl slowly across your legs, and you are kissing.

Javier’s lips melt against yours. It’s nothing like when you were kids. Eighteen and nervous wrecks, your teeth always getting in the way.

It’s different now. You know how to kiss each other like you’ve had the practice, like it hasn’t been almost two decades since last you tried. Pliant and sleepy, his tongue licking gently into your mouth. His mustache scratches sweetly against your skin. When a breathy sound whimpers from you, he cups your jaw, his other arm locking snug around your waist. There’s no rush to it, no progression. You don’t strip down and fuck—both of you content with only this: the soft murmurs you breathe into each other. The lifetime of wanting in every kiss.

Because you have wanted him, you realize. Not just in college, but before then and every day since. Maybe from the first day he walked into your sixth grade class and felt like home. Even these last eight years when you’d accepted that he was gone from your life for good, your friendship having reached the end of its life, you wanted him.

He grunts when you nibble gently at his bottom lip, and you smile. Then he moans. And it’s perfect, somehow, like he’s dug around in the cabinets of your mind to know exactly how you want to be kissed. Deeply, patiently. All tongue and breath and yielding lips, your hands in his hair, the fire of him enveloping you.

You say nothing; you talk with your touch.

He stripes his tongue along your bottom lip: I’m sorry.

You tug at his curls: I’m sorry.

He kisses the corners of your mouth: I’m sorry.

You lick the hinge of his jaw: I’m sorry.

His thumb strokes the apple of your cheek: I’m sorry. I’m falling asleep.

You tilt your head to better taste him: I don’t want to fall asleep.

But you do. The tide drags you out, your body molten, exhausted, hypnotized. Your lips still touching as you fall into a dream.

8:00 A.M.

When next you open your eyes, you’ve rolled towards the window and the weight and warmth of his arms is gone. You don’t bother turning over. Don’t bother reaching for him.

You know the bed will be empty on his side, cold.

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avatar-anna · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write something about reader having an ED and Harry doesn’t notice at first but then starts to notice And then eventually helps you through it?

Try To Find a Way Back

trigger warning: mentions and direct references to eating disorders. please be cautious if you find this topic triggering

so, i don't know a ton about eating disorders and what it's like for someone who has one to be actively struggling with it, and writing about something i don't completely understand makes me nervous bc i don't want to get it wrong. however, since you asked, i'm going to do my best to write this!

in case anyone is curious, this is the article i referenced while writing

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"I just don't understand what her issue is. If I was in her shoes, I'd get help. It's that simple."

"I don't know if—"

"I mean, it's not like struggling with eating makes her special. Like, everyone has body image issues and we just deal with it. Harry will probably break up with her because of all the reassurance she needs. Poor guy probably didn't know what he got himself into when he asked her out. God what a headache for him."

You backed up slowly, not wanting to hear the conversation that was so clearly about you anymore. You'd gone to grab drinks for yourself and who you thought were your friends, but now your hands were shaking so hard you worried the contents in the two wine glasses would come spilling out, glass shattering to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, bile rising in your throat. Finding the nearest server walking around with an empty tray and, you set the glasses down before booking it out of the club.

Tears were already starting to pool in your eyes as you ordered an Uber to take you home. Phoebe was one of Harry's friends, but she'd been kind to you since the day he introduced you to her and the rest of his close knit group of friends he'd had for years. You'd been incredibly nervous. You were an outsider, not a model or a writer or a musician or an actor. You weren't extraordinarily talented or beautiful, you were just...you.

None of that seemed to matter to Harry, though. He'd been nothing but flirtatious since the moment he met you. Well, once he was able to look past his nerves. He'd been a bit of a stuttering mess at first, and it wasn't until an hour into talking to him where he really got comfortable enough to flirt, and flirt he did.

It took not one, not two, but three tries to get you to go out with him, your insecurities getting in the way the first two times. But that had been a few months ago, and now you were pretty sure you were in love with him, except now you knew his friends hated you.

She doesn't understand, you thought. It isn't so black and white. You would love to just fix yourself, to make yourself see a doctor, seek help. But eating disorders were a behavioral disease, and when you were in the thick of it, it was hard to shake. You'd told Phoebe about your struggles with your weight and eating disorder in confidence, thinking she was someone you could confide in, only to find her mocking your pain behind your back to someone else, and now you didn't know what to do.

Your phone buzzed with a text message, and you tensed when you saw who it was from.

Bubbie: hey where'd you run off to?

You: not feeling well. heading home

Bubbie: why didn't you say anything? let me take you home

Wiping away a tear, you typed out a text. In most cases, being around Harry would've brought you comfort, but right now, you just wanted to be alone. You couldn't let him see you like this, so unsteady.

You: it's ok. enjoy your first night back with your friends. kissies xx

*.*

You'd been avoiding Harry for the last week and a half. Phoebe's words sent you into a bit of a tailspin, and shame kept you from speaking to him, not wanting to involve him in your issues. Because you realized Phoebe was right. To some extent. You should've been able to ask for help, you should've been able to tell Harry how much you were really struggling, but your shame kept you from reaching out to anyone or asking for help, along with the desire to keep up your habits, which created a toxic cycle.

"It seems like this boy is doing you more harm than good, honey," your mom said over the phone. She was the only one you told about what you overheard Phoebe say.

"He's not the problem, Mom. I just—"

"You were doing so well up until you started seeing him. I just don't want you to slip again. I worry about you, and if being with that boy is causing you problems, then you need to look at the bigger picture."

Her heart was in the right place, it really was. Your mom had been there for a lot of your darkest moments and was rightfully protective of you and your health. But Harry really wasn't the problem. He'd never made you feel like you needed to change your body for him, it was quite the opposite in fact. He constantly praised the way you looked, and not because you needed reassurance or asked him to, despite Phoebe's assumptions. He just really thought you were beautiful.

"I can't just live my life alone, Mom," you said eventually, not wanting to admit more. "He makes me happy."

You heard your mom sigh, but she thankfully didn't press the matter further, even though you knew she had lots to say. She always had lots to say where your boyfriend was concerned. The last thing she said on the matter was, "Just...be careful."

Once you hung up the phone, you fell back against your bed for a few minutes before standing up and walking to your kitchen. A trip to the grocery store was in order, just based on the meager items in your pantry and refrigerator—pasta and no sauce, cereal but no milk, veggies but they weren't organic, and did you really need the family size bag of Doritos—

You took a breath, willing those thoughts away. You were fine. You were just upset about what Phoebe had said about you, nothing more. "It's just the grocery store," you murmured. "You go all the time."

*.*

The grocery store had never looked bigger. There were too many labels, too many colors, too many brands making promises of health and wellness. Your hands gripped the shopping cart until your knuckles were white, eyes wide as you carefully browsed the aisles. Everyone else was going about their business just fine. You watched as people grabbed what they needed with ease, scratching items off their lists and moving into the next thing.

How did they know which bread to buy? How did they decide on a cereal? Whole grain or multi grain? They didn't even look at the nutritional facts before putting something in their carts, didn't stop to do the math, counting calories and carbs and grams of sugar against what they already had. How could they just exist without caring about—

Your phone buzzing pulled you from your anxiety-riddled thoughts. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your oversized zip-up, Harry's face popping up with the notification that he was calling you.

"H—Hello?"

"Hey, you! I feel like I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd call and check in."

You smiled, despite the anxiousness that still had your shoulders tensed. "Sorry, I've been...busy."

"God, me too," Harry said woefully. "But I've let work get in the way far too much this week. I need to see you. Are you free tonight? I can come over and make dinner for the two of us."

The word dinner filled you with dread. That wasn't a good idea right now. The idea of anyone seeing you eat, even Harry, felt terrifying. But what could you do? Saying no would involve having to explain yourself, and you wanted to do that even less.

"I'd love to," you said, all that anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah? You're in for a treat, I happen to be a fabulous cook."

"Can't wait."

You couldn't even feel excited to see Harry. The dread of having to sit through dinner took up too much space in your mind. You tried to will it away. You liked Harry too much to let your mind get in the way of messing up the good thing you had going.

*.*

A few weeks later, and you were at Harry's house for dinner again, only this time it wasn't just the two of you.

Your date with Harry went better than expected. You picked at your food and pushed it around, shame eating away at you as you lied through your teeth about not feeling very well when Harry asked why you'd hardly eaten anything. He'd been so sweet, making you a cup of tea, laying down with you on his couch to soothe your fake stomach ache, kissing the top of your head and rubbing a hand over your stomach comfortingly.

You felt horrible for lying to him, and you very well couldn't come clean after the fact, but it was better than talking about it. The less you talked about it, the better.

Tonight, you'd been carefully picking at your food again, making sure to take bites that were big enough to look normal and trying not to look like it was making you physically unwell. Each bite was excruciating, your mind telling you not to eat anymore and that you could never exercise all those calories away. It was all you could do to not focus on all the ways you knew how unhealthy this dinner was. It didn't match at all with your diet journal and you'd have to make up for it by—

"—just so hard, don't you think, Y/n?"

"Huh?"

Phoebe smiled at you, but it didn't feel very friendly. You'd avoided talking to her all night so far, had even taken the farthest seat away from her at the table.

"We were talking about how hard it is to live here in LA," she said, gesturing vaguely to the people around her. "It feels like there's a new diet trend every week, and it's just so hard to lose weight while not looking completely anorexic—"

"Phoebe," Harry said tightly, cutting her off before she could finish.

Your grip was tight on your fork, unable to meet anyone in the eye. Did they know? You'd been careful tonight, and any of the other times you'd seen Harry or his friends recently. You didn't want their pity or their questions or their judgement. Nothing would've been worse than the disappointed look on Harry's face, or the look of disgust if he discovered the truth.

That still wasn't enough to stop, though.

"What? I didn't mean to be offensive. I'm just saying how hard it is to get to that perfect size. Y/n knows what I'm talking about. God, I feel like I can taste every calorie I eat, can't you, Y/n?"

"I—Not really," you said meekly. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now, especially since it felt like you could feel everything you'd eaten tonight, every single bite, sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

"God, I wish I could just throw it up, you know? Then I could eat whatever I want and not feel guilty about it. No more diets, no more counting calories, I could—"

"That's enough," Harry said, voice sounding harder than you'd ever heard it. He glared at Phoebe, whose mouth was still open from stopping mid-sentence. Her eyes were wide with shock as she tried to justify her conversation topic.

"Excuse me," you murmured to Harry, standing up on shaking legs to step away from the table.

"Y/n—"

"I just need to use the restroom," you said, trying your best to talk around the lump in your throat.

You went upstairs to one of the guest bathrooms where you wouldn't be disturbed, though you locked the door to the toilet for good measure. Panic and guilt and self-loathing swirled through you, tears burning your eyes.

For weeks, you told yourself you had it under control. Your behavior was strict, but not worrisome. And effective, too, but that only made guilt and shame mingle with the feeling of success. Your jeans were loose, but you took to wearing baggy clothes so no one would notice. The scale in your bathroom got lower, but it never seemed low enough. Your stomach was taught, rib cage starting to poke through skin, but that just made you feel even worse about yourself and how quickly things escalated. It was a neverending cycle, but as you continued to lean over the toilet, you told yourself it would be just this once. Just this once and you wouldn't do it again. Just this once—

"Y/n? Can you let me in?"

Tears fell harder when you heard his voice. You couldn't let him see you like this. You couldn't face the humiliation, how disappointed he'd be when he realized—

"Y/n, open the door, or I'll break it down, I swear to God," Harry said with urgency in his voice.

Wiping your eye and then your mouth, you stood up, trembling as you turned the lock. You opened your mouth, unsure if an apology or an explanation would come tumbling out of your lips. But Harry pulled you to his chest before you could say a thing. You couldn't help the sobs that wracked your body as he held you up. His hand held the back of your head fiercely, but not harshly, the other one pushing you as close to him as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've said something sooner. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't realize—I never should've—I'm so sorry."

You didn't find out what Harry thought he shouldn't have done because he rested on top of your head, kissing you repeatedly. He squeezed you so tight, as if he worried you would slip away if he didn't. You couldn't focus on anything else but your own emotions, too ashamed at being caught and guilty for having slipped so far in the first place.

"I was okay," you sobbed. "I thought I was okay. I thought—I thought I could control it."

Harry finally leaned away from you, just enough so he could hold your face in his hands and look you in the eye. "This is not your fault. Do you understand? It's not your fault."

More tears streamed down your face, but Harry's thumbs were there to wipe them away. His eyes roved over your face, searching for something, but you didn't know what. Eventually, he said, "There's so much I want to say, but I think for now...I think you should rest."

You agreed, so you didn't try to object. You were exhausted, just wanted the whole evening to evaporate into thin air. You didn't even care if Harry's friends were still in the house or not, you just wanted all the thoughts in your head—the ones still screaming at you to finish what you started and the ones begging you to let Harry help—to stop.

"I just want it to stop," you mumbled.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, breathing in deep. "I know."

*.*

"You're doing so well, love."

It didn't feel like it. In fact, you felt the exact opposite of well. But Harry was holding your hand as you walked through the aisles of the grocery store, his encouragement pushing you to take each step. "I don't think I can do this today."

"What did your eating disorder say to make you think that?" Harry murmured, causing you to grumble under your breath, but it did the trick. You took another step and grabbed the jar of pesto off the shelf.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. Ever since you came back from the treatment facility, he talked about your eating disorder as if it were a separate person, like it was a little devil with red horns talking over your shoulder and not a disease. It grated on your nerves at first because it made you feel like he was talking down to you, and because he was right. Your eating disorder had been the voice in your head and making you make unhealthy decisions. How he saw it first, you had no idea, you were just thankful he was still here, still with you on your road to recovery.

The trip to the grocery store took longer than it probably should've, especially since you only needed a couple things. But the minute you stepped inside, your body tensed up as you took everything in. It was a struggle not to turn packages over to read the nutritional facts, and even harder to put things in your cart. Today was re-introducing day, which meant eating a meal that had foods you'd actively avoided in the past. It scared the shit out of you, which was why Harry was here.

He'd been incredible, more patient than other people would be. He put up with your mother's harsh words when she blamed him for your relapse, he was there every day he was allowed to visit, and he picked up every phone call when you eventually came home. Whether it was to talk you down or talk about random things that came into his head to distract you from dangerous thoughts, he was there.

You honestly didn't know what you did to deserve him.

"How can I help?" Harry asked when you came to another stop.

"Do we really have to buy the parmesan cheese?" you asked, eyeing the aisle filled with various cheeses with a queasy stomach.

"I think you can do it," Harry said, not entirely answering the question. "I can tell you a story while I put it in the cart for you, if that helps."

"Okay," you said, not really sure if it would.

"Right, let me think for a moment," Harry said, mostly to himself. "Oh. Got it! Okay, so one time I went on this blind date, right? And I normally don't like them because my friends seemed to think I can't function without a partner, which is horribly embarrassing, and I normally have a horrible time, but I went to the bar I agreed to meet this person at, and—"

"What? You hated it?" you asked. Part of you thought it was weird that Harry was talking about a date with someone else, but it was doing its job.

Harry raised his brows at you. "I talk, you push."

You rolled your eyes, but pushed the cart another inch, trying to focus on his voice and not where you were headed.

"As I was saying, I get to the bar, and I'm like, holy shit, because I see the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life, and as I go over to talk to her, someone calls out to me, and I realize the girl I saw wasn't who I wasn't supposed to go on a date with, it was someone else. But I can't just ditch this other girl even though I'm dying to just go over to the girl by the bar, so I stay put and try to engage in conversation and laugh when I think I'm supposed to, but I just—All I could think about was the girl in this cute little mini skirt and vest and what was making her laugh so damn much."

"Mini skirt and vest...at a bar...Wait, you don't mean—You were on a blind date when we met?"

The bar in question wasn't one you frequented. It was an upscale one, and you went because your friend dragged you inside, curious to see if she could get any CEOs to buy her a drink, and you...you were just there to make sure your friend got home okay. But somehow you bumped into Harry, though now you supposed you knew why.

"Not technically," Harry said. "The date was over when I walked up to you, and, well, you know the rest. I charmed the pants off you."

You snorted. "That's not what happened."

You'd known who Harry was when before he introduced himself, it was kind of hard not to. You'd seen music videos and heard his songs on the radio and seen him on your TV more than a handful of times, but it was definitely surprising to see him in person, especially because on screen he seemed so chill and cool and cute, the Harry you met was cute, but he could hardly get a word out.

"Nonsense. I remember it differently," Harry said with a sniff.

"You were so nervous it was so cute," you said, wrapping your arms around one of his while he took a turn with the cart.

Kissing the top of your head, he said, "If that's how you want to remember it, fine. But I do remember talking to you for hours and feeling like no time had passed at all. We closed down the bar, do you remember?"

"Mmhm," you said, nodding against his shoulder. "And then you tried to take me home."

"Can you blame me? I met the girl of my dreams, I couldn't just let you leave."

"You mean that?" you asked, looking up at him.

With everything you'd been through recently, it surprised you to know Harry was still with you. This battle you were fighting was lifelong, and you wouldn't have blamed him for leaving somewhere down the line. You loved him, and it would've hurt like hell, but you would've understood. But he never did, and every time you asked him about it, he just said he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually, you stopped asking.

"I do," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You did it, love."

"What?" Raising your head off his shoulder, you looked around. You were at checkout, all the items you and Harry set out to buy today sitting in your basket. "We did it."

"You did it, Y/n. I'm so proud of you."

Relief rushed through you. It was one hurdle, just one, but each one was a victory, and Harry was there to help you celebrate each one. It was too public to kiss him, even though you felt the urge to, so you squeezed his hand and kissed the top of it instead.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he said, taking you by surprise when he tilted your chin up for a brief kiss. "You ready to check out?"

Anxiety filled your belly once more as the weight of your situation bore down on you once again. Squeezing Harry's hand again, you shook your head.

Harry wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side. The warmth emanating from him was a comfort, and you breathed in deep, letting the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent flood your senses to distract you.

"Don't listen to the disease, Y/n. Listen to me, okay? How about another story?"

You nodded. "Please."

"You're going to be alright, Y/n, I promise," he said.

And maybe you didn't believe him completely now, but you trusted him enough to believe it for you until you did.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #hs angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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rottenpumpkin13 · 3 months ago

Note

Given the geography of the ff7 universe, some form of the Olympic Games could exist, but of course, it’s a thing that Shinra would probably fund and control. Say Shinra does host a form of Olympics in Midgar, and it’s to show-off their soldiers’ strength and skill. What kind of events do you think our bois would be competing in? How well does it go, and what kind of events do you think they’d excel/ or flop in?

Things That Happen At The Olympics, A List

• Zack takes part in the athletics event. When the sprinting event rolls around, he runs so fast that he doesn’t stop even after crossing the finish line. Angeal has to chase him down the track.

• Sephiroth and Genesis go head-to-head in table tennis. Both are equally skilled and determined to beat the other, so the match goes on for three hours. It would have gone on longer, but Kunsel in the audience can’t take it anymore, and throws his helmet on top of the table to end the match. The cameraman curiously pans to Kunsel in the audience, but somehow he still has his helmet on.

• Genesis participates in archery. He steps up to the firing line, he's sophisticated, he's confidend, He declares, "The arrow has left the bow of the goddess," releases the arrow, and misses miserably. He struggles to keep from swearing, trying to maintain an air of good sportsmanship, but the look on his face is something Sephiroth will forever hold dear in his heart. He literally made this face -> ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

• Sephiroth keeps winning gold at sports he's never played in his life and it's driving Genesis nuts.

• Sephiroth participates in javelin throwing. He deliberately turns and hurls it toward the crowd, aiming to pierce Professor Hojo. He misses, but receives a round of applause from all of SOLDIER.

• Angeal participates in weightlifting but is visibly flustered, unable to keep his composure as Zack, Genesis, and Sephiroth shout and whistle at him. Something about Angeal’s toned skin glistening in the sun, with sweat dripping down his abs, drives them feral.

• One of the break dancers gets sick, so Zack jumps in and begs the board to let Cloud compete.

Zack: Pleeease, director?? He's really good! We promise!

Lazard: I appreciate your confidence in your friend, Zack, but this is a competitive program, and I can’t risk us being embarrassed.

*After Cloud wins gold*

Lazard: I'm not even going to ask.

• Competitive cooking is part of this Olympics. Angeal is the chosen participant, but when he sees others failing their dishes and throwing them out, he protests by grabbing the discarded food and stacking it on his station to highlight the waste. They try to drag him out, but Angeal fights back by using the leftover food as a weapon, throwing it at security and yelling, "AT LEAST WE FOUND SOME USE FOR THEM!"

• Kunsel’s career as a commentator is short-lived when he’s announcing a basketball game. He says, "And Zack goes for the ball! At least this one won’t ghost him after a bad date," and is promptly dragged off the mic by Director Lazard.

• Sephiroth is selected for dressage but withdraws from the competition at the last minute because he, quote, "developed a deep bond with the horse and cannot bear to have him compete merely as a show animal."

• The guy who was supposed to participate in the shooting portion gets sick, so Zack begs Director Lazard to put Cloud in his place instead. The participants keep disappearing and Lazard is growing suspicious. Anyway, Cloud wins gold.

• Years of childhood fencing training pay off as Genesis takes home the gold medal. He will not stop talking about it for the rest of his life.

• Zack participates in freestyle swimming, zooms through the water but miscalculates and slams his head on the inside of the pool. This goes viral on the internet not because of Zack's injury, but because the cameras capture the moment Sephiroth stops swimming to help, approaching Zack’s floating body and blood in the water slowly, like a shark, with only his eyes visible above water.

• Sephiroth participates in pole vaulting but uses the pole as a javelin, launching it into the crowd, aimed at Professor Hojo.

• Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal face off against Zack, Kunsel, and Cloud in tug of war (the guy who was originally supposed to be in Cloud's place mysteriously disappeared and Lazard is growing anxious).

Everyone assumes AGS is going to win, but somehow, it only takes 0.3 seconds for KZC to pull them over the line. At one point, Cloud pulls so hard that Sephiroth just becomes a silver blur being violently yanked forward.

• Zack is about to win gold at surfing but gets wiped out by an entire school of fish.

• Life-saving is one of the sports. Sephiroth and Angeal are paired up to rescue Genesis from drowning, but they can’t agree on the best method. While they argue, Genesis theatrically "drowns" but by the time they finally compromise, Genesis is drowning for real. Cloud jumps in and saves Genesis, winning gold. Lazard takes out his special pills.

• Drama that happens at the olympic village includes:

- Zack breaking his cardboard bed three times because he has the tendency to literally jump into bed at the end of the night. He gets a reputation for picking up dates and rolls with it "because it gives him street cred"

- Genesis practices his flute when be can't sleep, a hobby that deeply disturbs his neighbors, namely Angeal who has four times barged into the room, grabbed the flute and threatened to shove it in places that intrigue Genesis.

- Everyone notices there's never any apple muffins available. Until they discover that Zack has been hoarding all of them in his room, stockpiling enough to last the entire event.

- Sephiroth testing the fire alarm one night to see if it actually works, pulling it and then having the brilliant idea to turn this into a fire safety lesson or really he just wants to end the Olympics early because he's so over it, so he sets fire to the hallways.

- The combined sight of Sephiroth fleeing the scene with a cat no one knew he had adopted, Zack running out of his room with a wheelbarrow full of muffins, Angeal trying to save his cardboard bed by running through the halls with it over his head, Genesis playing the flute as everything burns around him, makes Lazard quit on the spot.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #kunsel ff7 #cloud strife #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core

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borahaerhy · 2 years ago

Text

Round Two - jjk

Summary: Jungkook has a big fight coming up, and he's not allowed to have sex for a month prior.

Genre: Boxer!JungkookxReader, SMUT

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Just filth, Jungkook is obscenely horny, desperate, and possessive, mentions of them being VERY sexually active before this, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't), choking? (not really, his hands just there), creampie

“No climaxing for a month before any large-scale fight.”

A sentence Jungkook had hated the first time is was said to him, but respected nonetheless. He hated not even being able to jack-off for that long, but it was manageable before he met you.

Then you showed up right as his career began to take off. A lot more of his fights were high-profile; all televised, and a lot rode on him winning - and him winning rode very heavily on him obeying that one rule he despised so much.

The first high-profile fight he had while with you, that rule wasn’t exactly something he paid much mind to; chalking it all up to superstition. He knew he was good, and having sex wasn’t going to change that, right?

Wrong.

He bombed the fight and his manager was pissed, to say the least. “I swear to god, JK, your career will be over if you pull another move like that.”

So a few months later when he was told about the next big fight, his manager repeated those words to him, and by God, he listened.

Hated having to break the news to you though.

“So, we can’t have sex? Like at all?”

“No,” He shook his head before his expression changed slightly, thinking for a moment before he continued, “Well, I can do stuff to you, I just can’t really do anything that involves my dick, and probably nothing at all for two weeks before the fight,” You sat in almost complete amazement.

“Jungkook, sweetie, since we’ve started dating we haven’t gone more than twenty-four hours without fucking, shit, I’d be surprised if we made it twelve,” you laughed, only kind of joking as Jungkook smirked, thinking back to all the times you’d had sex three and four times a day for months on end.

“Yeah, I know, but that’s why I lost my last fight so bad. I really can’t this time,” He spoke almost solemnly, his hand coming over to rub your thigh soothingly; though it really just made you want to rip his clothes off.

“A month?” You asked softly, almost whining as your eyes remained glued to his hand.

“Just a month, It’ll be easy.”

Like hell it was.

But you did it, and man, did this fight go differently from the last one.

This time, the other guy was barely even able to land a punch on Jungkook. His punches barely landed, and his attempts to overpower him were struck down as Jungkook was easily able to knock him back down and off of him. By the end of the fight, everyone was screaming his name; everyone except the one person he wanted to be screaming it the most.

He immediately closed the door to his dressing room, you already sitting on the couch wearing the skimpiest dress you owned, smiling from ear to ear as you waited to congratulate him. He’d been in a near constant state of arousal for the past several weeks, and you, while trying your best not to add to his struggle of not being able to bend you over every surface in his house, were no help.

Sure, you covered up more, and went out more than you stayed in to avoid temptations, but you were still you. You still made dirty jokes that made his mind wander, you still ran your hand across his leg absentmindedly, your perfume still smelled intoxicating and your lips still tasted like desire.

So, when he saw you in the room he knew you’d be waiting for him in, showing more skin than he had seem in a month, he cut off your words when you went to congratulate him, his mouth engulfing yours as his tongue past your lips and into the furthest corners of your mouth. You moaned into him softly, while his actions were not fully unexpected, he still threw you off balance before his hands gripped your hips and pulled you into him.

Seconds later his his hands were up your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pulled you further into him, his cock already hard as it pressed against your stomach. He desperately pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it roughly to the side as your hand went down his shorts, gripping his hard length gently as you moved up and down.

He groaned deeply, throwing his head back in pleasure as your other hand ran down his chest and abs. He moved his head back up, going back and forth between watching you stroke him under his shorts and watching your tits move as you did.

A wave of overwhelming need came over him, pulling your hand out of his pants before he grabbed you by the hips and spun you around and pushed you down onto the couch, your hands bracing you on the back of the couch.

“You have no fucking idea,” He started, hastily pulling his shorts and underwear down before he stepped toward you, running his dick along the crack of your ass as he lets out a low groan. “How hard it was for me to not fuck you,” He used his middle finger to pull your thong to the side as you pushed your ass back further, desperate for him to touch you.

He groaned as he thrust into you roughly, having to hold himself back from pounding into you relentlessly. “Fuck,” A swift slap landed on your ass as you moaned out, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “I had to rush through that fight,” His words were low as you could tell he was trying to avoid cumming too soon. “Because i knew you were back here,” thrust “wearing that,” thrust “waiting for me to come back here and fuck you,”

He snapped into you roughly, hands on your hips as he thrust into you faster than he ever had before. Your moans were obnoxiously loud and constant, something people outside this room could definitely hear; but neither of you cared. He reached on hand around your neck and pulled you back against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

“You’ve been my good little slut, hmm?” he hummed into your ear, his free hand wrapping around you to play with your tits. “Waiting so patiently for me, all for me,” you nodded against him as he kissed starting sucking harshly on your shoulder as his pace became unsteady. “Gotta cum, baby,” he whispered into your shoulder was he moved the hand from your neck down to your clit, rubbing it harshly as you reached back to pull his hair, feeling yourself about to come undone.

He pushed you back down as you came, fingers digging into your hips as he drilled into you ruthlessly before he spilled into you, his sticky cum filling you up quickly and began spurting out of you, dripping onto the couch.

He sighed heavily as he pulled out of you, falling back into the couch next to you, his body spent. He adjusted to sit next to him, your legs draped over his as he pulled you into his heaving chest. “Fuck, that was good,” he spoke after catching his breath, his voice low as his eyes remained shut.

You hummed in response, kissing his chest softly before you stood, grabbing your dress from off the ground and slipping it back on, Jungkook’s eyes low as he watched you. “Ready for round two when we get back to your place?” You smiled, noticing the way his eyes were watching you.

He smirked lightly as his eyes moved back up to meet yours. He swiftly stood and pulled you into him, caressing your cheek with his thumb as his eyes stayed glued on your lips. “When we get back to my place?” His smirk widening as he looked into your eyes. “Round two’s happening right here and now, baby,”

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demonmarker · 8 months ago

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Beautiful with you Ch.3

So I'm going to have to post this in two parts cause apparently there's a character limit for each post so I'll link the second part under the fic. Thank you everyone for the likes and reblogs I love how much you guys are liking this story. Hope you enjoy

Trigger warnings: Mention of death, scars and lots of smut

Ch.1 Ch.2

You let out an exhausted sigh as you open the door for Nina, Regina and tail-wagging Alexander. Nina walks in, holding gently onto Alexander’s collar; she wasn’t too much taller than him so when she was down or exhausted he would aid her in just getting to her destination. You hold out your arm gesturing for Regina to go first, “Such a gentleman,” smiling that smile that only Regina George can. “With what you date, it’s not hard”….And the smile was gone from her face and now on yours as she glared at you. Your home was just that, a home, it wasn’t fancy or that big but you put pride in making it a safe, loving environment for Nina to grow up in. While most of the students at North Shore had their TikTok feeds show them the latest music and popular trends, yours was full of storage DIY tips and tricks, mum hacks for keeping the little ones happy, and the occasional sketchbook tour from artists with styles you like. “Well this is… cosy” Regina commented standing in the middle of the lounge room which opened up into the kitchen. You hook Nina’s bag up on the back of the front door, looking Regina’s way “Expecting a mansion like your own?” you walk past her to Nina. You could practically feel the mocking face she was making behind your back as you were bending down to Nina, and Nina’s precious giggles while looking behind you confirmed it, you rolled your eyes but kept a closed smile on your face so Nina knew you guys were joking… kind of. “How about you go put on your comfy clothes Princess and I’ll make you a snack?” As an answer Nina takes off running, one arm up in the air like a flying superhero while just announcing “FOOD!” in what you could only call her food goblin voice. “And let Alexander outside for a potty break please,” from down the hall you hear “Urgh fine,” in a tone like you were asking the world of her. You stand back up to your full height and give Regina a dirty look, “She’s known you for barely more than an hour and I’m already getting attitude.” Regina scrunched up her nose with a proud smile, “We have a bond.” Trying to rub it in your face. All you could do was shake your head and start making snacks.

Three episodes of Bluey and a PB&J later and little Nina was sound asleep on Regina’s lap. Regina motioned to the TV with an open palm, while you gathered the small unconscious body into your arms, “This show is just downright amazing! Bingo is so cute she reminds me so much of me” spoken proudly by the blond. You scoff, “Oh please, you are Muffin through-and-through. Spoilt and cranky.” You acted like you didn’t take notice of Regina’s dropped jaw, but inside you were pissing yourself laughing. You tuck a still comatose Nina into her bed and ever so gently brush the hair from her closed eyes, leaning down to lightly kiss her forehead, Alexander splayed out down at the end of the little one’s bed like he does every day and night. You pat his head which he nuzzles into “Come get me when she wakes up, okay Bud?” Turning to leave you see Regina leaning against the doorframe witnessing the whole thing, she didn’t say anything as she moved out of the way as you slowly close Nina’s door, leaving it slightly ajar. You both walk back out into the kitchen in silence, you do as to not wake Nina, Regina however because of the question she wanted to ask. You start tidying up the small mess left from the snack eating when Regina spoke up, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You knew what it was going to be. Letting out a large sigh you signal Regina to follow you. In for a penny, in for pound they say, and Regina was in for a heavy load. You lead her into your room and close the door behind you, there wasn’t a large chance of Nina waking but you can’t take any risks with this, she’s been through enough. You motion for Regina to take a seat on your Queen-sized bed, which she does and you sit next to her, taking and releasing one last large breath you let Regina in on everything. “We don’t have parents. Well at least not anymore.” You reach under the bed and pull out a large cardboard box and hand it to Regina who slowly opens it. She pulls out a yellowed newspaper dated back over three years ago, the main story, ‘Drunk driver crashes into family of 4 - kills 2 critically injured 1’, Regina’s hand covers her mouth in devastation while looking over the large picture of what was your family’s car turned into a scrap heap, crumpled into half its normal size. “I can’t remember the accident, I can’t remember the year leading up to it either.” Regina turns over the page and whimpers and her eyes land on a picture of a younger you with a purposefully blurred-out large piece of shrapnel sticking out of your right rib, little Nina can be seen screaming with a bloodied up head. Regina’s eyes scrunched as she saw the position you were pinned in, her head turning this way and that, trying to make sense of it, her face going pale, expression dropping as it clicked. “You shielded Nina.” She whispered looking at you, but you couldn’t do the same as the tears started falling silently from your eyes, you stare up at the ceiling trying to blink them away.

“I-.” your voice gets caught in your throat “I get flashes of the lights coming towards my side of the car, I still can hear my Mum’s scream before the impact but that’s it. That’s all I can remember.” You let out a sob you were trying so hard to hold back “I can’t remember being told I had a little sister for the first time, it’s just gone.” Regina sets aside the newspaper and gets down on her knees in front of you “May I?” her eyes go to the affected rib. With a sniffle, you nod silently, not able to meet her eyes. She reaches for the hem of your black long sleeve and slowly pushes it up, you help her by just taking the whole shirt off in the end. Her eyes went wide with shock as she sees the scarred flesh take up half of your toned stomach and stretch all the way round to the other side of your back. Without thinking Regina leans in, kissing all around the old wound, a soft moan leaving your lips as your hand instinctively tangles into her long blond hair, whispering her name. When she hears her name on your lips she lifted her head from your midsection to push hers against yours, her lips so soft against your own you subconsciously hoped that you’d be able to spend the rest of your life kissing these lips. The kissing was heating up and you found yourself reaching to lift Regina on top of your lap straddling you. You both continue to kiss once more, Regina starting to slowly grind herself on your thighs, reaching up to release your long dark hair from the hairband that held it up, twirling your long strands around her fingers, tugging your head back to expose your neck for her to feast on with her lips, licking from your collar bone all the way up to your jaw line, releasing a moan from your throat Regina pulls back “You know the colour system right?”, It took you a little bit to register what she was talking about since you were out of it from the arousal she stirred up inside you, but you eventually nodded “Of course,” “Good” Without warning you were pushed back onto the bed, Regina moving off you to start unbuttoning your jeans “Colour?”

Pt2

@dark-hunter16 @natashamaximoff-69

#mean girls #masc lesbian #regina george x reader #lesbian #lesfic #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader

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hotchfiles · 11 months ago

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first. damn your love.

pairing: james x fem!reader.

content warnings: james being kind of an ass, cheating on lily, lily will be probably shit talked (i luv her i'm very sorry !), reader being a lil side piece, uhhh cursing, pro quidditch player!james, not totally AU but like... canon divergent i would say, reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. probably hurt/no comfort unless i switch the ending but-- paragraphs completely in italic are flashbacks and each chapter will have one.

word count: 2,5k

chapter 1

You wake up startled by the loud banging coming from your door, a glance at the clock on your nightstand makes your eyes roll immediately, but truthfully, you couldn't help moving your lips into a slight smile. There was only one person who would be at your door at three in the morning on a Thursday, and that person was James Potter.

You were still groggy and exhausted, having gone to bed just two hours before. However, you would never be able to ignore him and he knew that, so you sit on your bed and yell at the door, it was a tiny flat, he, as well as the neighbours, unfortunately, would be able to hear you loud and clear. "JUST WHY, IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING."

"I need to talk to you," he said loud enough so you could hear him, and sure enough that was convincing enough for you to get up and open the door, and he was right. You take a deep breath and mumble something you yourself didn't even understand, but it seemed like he got it. "I knocked on your door countless times, come open it, please." A loud grunt leaves your throat and you get up lazily, heading to the door, managing not to bump into furniture only because you knew your own apartment too well.

You yawned a few times and unlocked the door, opening it to find James. the guy who was usually all smiles seemed quite apprehensive. You got concerned and felt a bit less sleepy because of it.

"What happened, Jamie?" you ask, giving him space to enter your home, which he quickly did. Closing the door swiftly to be able to look at him with a serious glare. "Please tell me you're not drunk." You couldn't smell alcohol, but something about him was off; he seemed disconcerted.

"Of course not!" Still, you watched him cautiously as he sat on the sofa, sighing deeply. You followed his steps, sitting beside him and taking one of his hands, cold as a stone.

James looked at your hands and then at your face, smiling calmly and breaking the contact just to hug you sideways, so your head rested on his shoulder, a quick response to a regular move. "I received an offer from Wimbourne Wasps," he began, and you heard another sigh from him, you kept quiet, saying nothing as you waited for him to continue. "I'm seriously considering accepting it." He fell silent, and for a few seconds, you still waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"And what's the problem?" you asked.

"Lily didn't take the idea very well. We had a fight. Sirius isn't thrilled with this possibility either. Appleby Arrows' fans got wind of the offer, and even though I haven't accepted it yet, they're already calling me a traitor." he poured it all out at once, and for a moment, you were speechless. You could understand Sirius, and the fans… But his girlfriend too? What happened to support and companionship in a relationship? You sigh deeply and look into his eyes, hoping to give him the assurance he so wanted to receive from someone, anyone.

"You want to take it?" You hold back all the insults you could direct at his girlfriend, and see him nod slowly. "Then do it. It's your life, your career, no one has the right to interfere in what you think is best for both."

"Really?" he asks, another cry for validation, and you nod, getting a beautiful smile from him. "You're the best person in the world." Those sweet words cut deep through your chest. Hearing that was good, but knowing that even if he thought that, you weren't his first choice hurt like a goddamn bitch. But you smiled, stealing a kiss from his lips and remembering the first time he had said those words when you were both fifteen.

You looked into his eyes and tried to look as serious as possible, trying to show that you weren't that kind of person, and he knew that very well. Asking you to do something like that went against how you had led your whole student life. But contrary to what you thought, you weren't convincing enough; you just made him show a big and adorable pout of supplication.

"Please, honey! I have to train for the next match, it's an important one. I won't have any time to think about it, to research, to read and write." He shook you by the shoulders, and you held back a long sigh that was about to escape, just blinking a few times and reconsidering the idea of helping him.

You threw your arms in the air to show you were accepting your defeat, and the smile you loved so much was again the center of all your attentions, James kisses your forehead and brushes his lips to yours teasingly. You laughed with rosy cheeks because that still made me you nervous, and he hugged you sideways.

"Honey, I love you," he said simply, casually. Your heart raced, despite knowing each other for years and having been friends during all of them, he had never said those words to you, not even when he asked you out, then he only said that he liked you more than a friend. You looked into his eyes and nodded, unable to respond, but knowing he would understand. "You're the best person in the world."

"D'you have plans for tomorrow?" he asks after a long period of silence. You already had your eyes closed, about to doze off on his shoulder, nodding calmly was all response you had energy to give. "Cancel them and come with me to Wimborne." You open your eyes in a jump, getting up and leaving his embrace. That was one of the best and worst things about James Potter: He always had unexpected plans.

It was fun, but there was always that tone in his voice, as if you were obliged to do what he said, never a request, always an order. The real problem was that you could never bring yourself to complain, any plans he had with you, any time you could spend with him was enough, because you were the other woman, you had to accept his conditions, adapt to his schedule and his… Needs. You did feel like trash many times, used, especially when he disappeared for weeks and only showed up when he needed to hook up with someone and his girlfriend was somehow unavailable. But you had loved him since before you were fifteen, and you couldn't help it, it was your impromptu response, always, to just let him make you a fool for his attention.

"I do need to know some info before, y'know?," despite wanting to go because you loved traveling with James, there were some different concerns since the last time you had done it together. "How long do you plan to stay? And what happened to your girlfriend? What if someone sees us?" You take a deep breath after pouring out all the questions without pause, and James smiled sweetly, putting one of your hair strands behind your ear.

"The weekend, we'll be back sunday afternoon," he began, and you knew he already knew you would go either way, just by the way he spoke. "Wimbourne's proposal was made over letter, I'm going to study it better, talk to the directors, and make sure if this is really good for me." James sounded calm, irritatingly calm and confident, but you kept your mouth shut, the two most important questions still remained unanswered, you cross your arms and wait for him to do it so. "Lily went to spend a few days with her friends, said she wasn't in the mood to look at my face after the fight. And no one will see us, I swear." You rolled your eyes and sighed, throwing your arms up in the air, totally defeated, making him laugh.

"I'll pack then," you shrugged and got up, feeling his arms hug you from behind and his lips tracing a trail of kisses between your shoulder and your neck, making you shiver and turn abruptly, sealing your lips in an initially calm kiss, but you both knew where that would lead.

James paused the kiss just to throw you over his shoulder, forcing you to hold back a scream and then burst into laughter in a way that probably all the neighbours heard, and you were carried to the bedroom, where he threw you on your bed and took his shirt off, soon returning to where you had stopped minutes before.

You were having breakfast calmly while James took his shower, having someone serve you breakfast in bed reminded you of when you lived with your mother, and you were loving it. It was already Saturday morning, and you had spent the entire previous day walking around town, getting to know the home of one of the most famous quidditch teams in your country; you went to the Minster and saw the Chained Library, the Astronomy Clock, the small local museum and the adorable model town.

Then you both just kept going into every place that served coffee you could find. The rest of the afternoon was spent comparing which coffee was better and as a result, you arrived at the hotel more excited than usual, talking loudly and making senseless jokes that made you both laugh scandalously. Anyone who saw you would think you were drunk.

Obviously, after so much caffeine, you stayed awake all night and unlike what would normally happen, you and James just talked, snuggling lightly, as if you were sixteen again. You felt heavenly, still not quite believing that such a thing was happening; it was as if he had finally noticed that you were the person for him, that you deserved the girlfriend title, and that brought you joy so immense nothing could ruin.

"What you eating?" he asked, a towel wrapped around his waist, and you could see his chest still wet from the shower, but honestly, that wasn't sexier than James messing with his wet hair frantically so that it wouldn't get too messy, or maybe to mess it up even more.

"Toast, come eat," you felt your eyes tear up as you yawned loudly, you were tired, too tired. you still hadn't slept, neither had he, and you had both taken a shower to wake up, but it didn't seem to have worked. "When's the Wimbourne Waps' meeting?"

"Toast, just toast? I'm an athlete; I need much more than that." James complains in the most whiny of ways, but takes the toast you were about to eat from your hand and takes a big bite, sitting on the bed still wet. "Dinner tonight; apology in advance for leaving you alone." His lips form a pout, and you roll your eyes laughing, pulling his face against yours and giving him a quick kiss. "Oh! I have a surprise, miss!" Tremendous curiosity invades you but still it doesn't stop the laughter that comes from your lips when you see him putting more of the toast in his mouth than he could actually chew.

"Nitwit." you lightly slap his arm, and he spits out part of what was in his mouth with the scare. "Potter! Gross!" you shout in disgust and leave the bed running, but soon he comes after you, pulling you by the arm against his chest. You smile and look into his eyes, "What's the surprise?"

"Look in the black suitcase while I put on at least some pants." You agree with a nod and leave the embrace, going towards the suitcase and you can hear his steps going in the opposite direction where he left his clothes.

You open the suitcase with great expectations, having no idea what it could be because James is, in fact, very good at surprises, so you never really know what to expect from him. You see the contents of the suitcase, and for a second, you feel disappointed, but then you shake your head, slap your right palm on your forehead, and burst into laughter, finally noticing what the fuss was about.

"You brought your wizard's chess set?" incredulously you ask, still laughing as you turn to him, already dressed, a smile on his face.

"Of course! I hardly have time to play at home, and I like playing with you; it gets my ego going." He shrugs and takes the board on his hands, putting over the bed instead of the table, so you both would be comfortable.

"I'm not that bad!" you complain loudly, making a face and taking the chess pieces to him, so he could set it up.

"Yes, you are."

You huff but decide not to complain. It had been a long time since you had spent time like this, being teenagers, and you were loving every second of it.

Unfortunately, the weekend had flown by, proving that as everyone says, all good things come to an end because all you wanted was to spend the rest of your life in that B&B, in that town with James by your side. On a happier note, James seemed to finally have his focus solely on you, and he was also virtually decided to accept Wimbourne's offer; everything seemed to be falling into place.

Yet he seemed bothered by something as you both arrive at your building, so you sigh and look at him. taking one of of his hands swiftly and kissing one of his cheeks, asking if something had happened. He simply smiled weakly and shrugged.

"Nothing honey, just in a bit of a hurry."

"Hurry? You're not coming up with me?" You were obviously sad with that, but try to ignore it, knowing that he probably had practice. However, you soon notice that, unlike what you wished for, time hadn't stopped, and it was already Sunday evening.

"Can't, Lily's already home by now."

Your heart felt like it was going to implode; Lily, as always, was the priority, not you, not your company, and the weekend for him hadn't meant a third of what it had meant to you.

You muster strength from unknown places to you and smile, holding back tears.

"I understand! See you later, then." You let go of his hand, open the car door and get out, looking back only to open the back door and grab the only suitcase you had taken. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't move.

You leave your suitcase in some corner of your flat, still trying to hold back tears. But as soon as you pass by the picture frame with a moving photo of you both from five years ago, you break down completely.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, you berate yourself for being stupid enough to think that he had changed. You end up spending hours there, without moving, just crying as hard as you could, and you come to a conclusion.

Loving is pain.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #james x reader #james x you #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x you #lari writes sometimes #i did proofread this but hm--

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jtl-fics · 1 year ago

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Fluent Freshman - Part 17

1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement 2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement

Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.

Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.

Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.

That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)

Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.

Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.

It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.

3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.

When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.

So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:

They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.

So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.

“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.

Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.

Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.

Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.

Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.

Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.

“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.

“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.

So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.

There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.

1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)

2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)

3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)

So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.

It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.

Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.

Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.

So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.

In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.

And then there were three.

***

FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.

It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.

He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.

Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.

When the hell did Nicky lea-

Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.

He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.

At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.

Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.

If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-

Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.

“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.

Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.

They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!

That was nice.

Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.

Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.

So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.

FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.

“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.

How fancy is this bathroom?

The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.

“Acceptable. You know the rules.”

Rules?

Wash your hands?

Don’t piss on the floor?

Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?

FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.

Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?

The door opens and-

Oh.

Those are stairs.

Oh.

Andrew’s taking him to the basement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per Your Requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lilyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense

#Fluent Freshman AU #Neil at the booth: Hey Smith how you doing?#FF staring through time and space: ....#Neil to Andrew in Russian: I don't think he's having a lot of fun up here #Andrew to Neil: He said it isn't really his scene #Neil turning back to FF: Hey Smith do you wanna go somewhere quieter?#FF briefly stares at Neil before his gaze returns to the far off future: .....#Andrew: I don't think he can hear you #Neil: Hey Smith! Can you hear me?#FF looking at them again: I Can't Hear You!#Andrew: Told you.#AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #My Fics #FF - Pt.17

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 years ago

Text

The End of Love

➪the one where you break up but still love each other. (requested-ish)

Warnings: angst, fluff, break ups, swearing, gaslighting

Inspired by the song 'The End of Love' by Florence + The Machine

Word Count: 3.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The buildings intimated you in the best way.

You look up and have to squint, even though you were wearing sunglasses. The sun was high and had no clouds whatsoever to hide behind, making the heat shine down on you.

It didn’t bother you, though.

How could you be bothered when you had the perfect guy next to you? The same guy who had been next to you since junior year of high school, as well as the guy who promised you that university wouldn’t change anything between the two of you. Oh, how you wished that were true. You wished you knew how bad things would end. Maybe if you did, you could’ve saved yourself from the heartbreak.

But that was later.

Right now, you were in awe.

“I knew it was going to be big, but I never imagined New York being this massive,” you say, barely able to catch your breath. “How will we find the time to explore everything before school starts?”

“We have all summer,” Ethan says as he wraps his arm around your shoulder. The two of you continue to walk down one of the many streets that made up the big city, your eyes looking everywhere in hopes to take everything in all at once. “And even when school starts back up again, we’ll still find time to explore together. We’re going to be fine.”

“You promise?” You ask and tilt your head up to look at him.

Ethan laughed and nodded, leaning down to kiss you quickly. “I promise,”

You were three seconds away from pulling your hair out.

You knew education after high school would be hard but you weren’t aware that it would be this fucking brutal. You were tired and stressed and annoyed and about this close to throwing your textbooks at Sam and Tara as they once again got into another argument.

Gripping your pen tighter, your mind goes back to Sam’s apologetic smile and her kind words of, “I’m sorry we were so loud earlier. We’ll be more quiet next time, Tara just frustrates me sometimes,” and then fast forward to an hour later when they began bickering again.

You tried to focus your attention on your school work, but your mind was somewhere else completely. You look over at your phone and debate whether or not to pick it up and send Ethan another text. He probably wouldn’t answer it, anyway, as the last three you’ve sent him had been left on delivered.

Six whole hours had gone by since you sent the first one, another three since the second and just one since the last. He had to be busy, right? Maybe he was trying to get some work done, too, and turned his phone off or something.

Still, it would’ve been nice to receive just one text saying that he couldn’t talk right now and that he’d call you later.

Instead of unlocking your phone when you reach for it, you toss it even further away from you on the bed in hopes the distance would make it so you didn’t feel the need to constantly keep checking it.

You would just keep disappointing yourself if you were to open your messages and see the same stupid words.

Delivered an hour ago. Three hours ago. Six hours ago.

Seriously, what the fuck was he doing that was so important he couldn’t find the time to send a quick text?

God, when did you turn into this kind of girlfriend? The one who drives herself crazy when she doesn’t receive a text back in a reasonable amount of time? Ethan never gave you a reason not to trust him, so why were you getting so annoyed at his lack of responses?

You take a deep breath before going back to the notes you took in class today. Though, as soon as you began reading, your phone went off and you grabbed it within seconds.

Eth <3: hey, sorry for not answering :/ i’ve been stuck in lectures all day and left my phone at the apartment. i just got home now

It was embarrassing how quickly you began typing a response.

No worries, glad you’re alive

Eth <3: haha

Your brows furrowed at his unusual short response and your thumbs started moving again without a second thought.

What are you doing now? Want to come save me from The Bickersons? The sisters aren’t getting along at all today

After hitting send, you set your phone back down and go back to reading over your notes, relieved at the fact that you were able to get into contact with your boyfriend.

During the middle of your mini study session, your phone went off again and you were surprised to see that it had been a full forty five minutes since you sent the last text.

Eth <3: sorry, babe, i can’t tonight. i’m going to that frat party with chad

Eth <3: maybe we can hang out tomorrow?

Disappointment settled in your chest as you read over the two messages again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Hang out? It seemed weird for your boyfriend to suggest hanging out when he usually always just showed up or sent you a text that let you know he was on the way. There was never any planning, just doing.

You shake off the weird feeling that bubbled in your chest and answer his text.

That’s okay, I just miss you :) Tomorrow works for me

Eth <3: miss you too <3

You held back a scoff and tossed your phone to the end of your bed. Ethan’s short replies were unusual and made a sinking feeling form in your heart at the very real change that is currently happening in your relationship.

The next day came, and once again you found yourself unable to reach Ethan.

Hey, when did you want to hang out?

You cringed when you sent that text as you never referred to spending time with him as ‘hanging out’.

Half an hour went by before you sent a second text, and another hour before a third.

Did you want to check out that breakfast place we were talking about?

Are you even awake yet?

You assumed he wasn’t when another hour passed with radio silence on his end. Believing that was better than the alternative; he was ignoring you.

It was hard to believe that a whole twelve hours went by before your phone went off.

Eth <3: i’m so sorry, i forgot we had plans. i’ve been studying all day for that test on friday so i wasn’t near my phone

Plans? That’s news to you.

As far as you knew, Ethan asked you to hang out then completely ghosted you.

It was then when you found yourself slipping away and not bothering to reach out first anymore. It was a sad realisation that you two would go days without speaking or seeing each other and the only time he would talk to you was when you started a conversation or asked to spend a day with him.

The effort he was putting in was non-existent and you quickly found yourself putting in less and less effort as well.

You didn’t know what happened, but you knew when it happened.

You two were so happy during the summer, but now that school had started again it was as if you were dating a ghost. Though, really thinking about it, you were sure a ghost would respond to you more than Ethan does at this point.

An entire month went by with very little contact between you and Ethan, and to say you were losing hope in the relationship would be the biggest understatement of the century.

A total of fifteen texts were shared and you had only seen each other nine times. What kind of relationship were you in? It wasn’t normal at all and it wasn’t like either of you to be so distant with each other. You couldn’t help it, though. Ethan had failed to stay on top of replying to texts and it hurt you more than you cared to admit.

Though, the lack of communication was not just his fault. You had stopped texting him daily and instead only sent him a message every few days, some of which went unanswered completely. Instead of going over to his place or having him come over to yours, you only really saw him in between classes or at a party, and even that was rare.

Like the other night, both you and Ethan were invited to a frat party without either of you realising it. When you bumped into him and saw your boyfriend for the first time in five days, you were brought back to the good times you used to have with him. It was easy to forget how bad things had gotten.

You ended up staying with him for the rest of the night and the two of you acted like you were in a normal relationship still and ignored the very obvious tension that hung in the air.

It was nice to pretend for a night.

A day went by and you were back to not communicating once again. And the cycle continued.

You considered it a miracle when you both found the time to spend a day with each other, though you two were both far from how you used to be. Ethan moved around your apartment with the hesitation of a stranger, and you couldn’t think of one thing to say to him that would start a conversation.

Now here you were. You were sitting on the couch with Ethan right next to you, yet you felt so far away. There was an overwhelming sinking feeling in your chest and you knew what was coming. It was inevitable at this point, you both felt it.

It wasn’t working out.

School got in the way.

We’re going in different directions.

We’re just too busy.

It didn’t make you feel any better.

But then again…who actually felt good about ending a relationship where you used to be so happy, one where you two were so good together?

The silence was overwhelming and both of you were too scared to be the first one to talk as you knew that when one of you did…it would be over. A nearly three year relationship just over. It hurt to think about, let alone allow it to happen.

With a shaky breath, you look over at him to find him already looking at you. You give him a sad smile and he returns it, refraining from reaching over and taking your hand in his. Instead, he bit back his hesitation and mumbled, “This isn’t working out, is it?”

You look away quickly, biting down on your lower lip as you slowly shake your head. “It’s not,”

There it was. The end.

Ethan sighed as he played with the sleeves of his henley. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep that promise,” he said quietly.

Your mind went back to the summertime and his promising words of ‘Even when school starts back up again….we’re going to be fine’.

But you weren’t fine.

His apology had your eyes watering and your lip quivering. Turning your head away from him so he wouldn’t see your face, you let a few tears fall. It was too much. You had thought you’d prepared yourself for this. Your relationship this past month was more like a friendship, and you were sure that things would be so different when you were over for good. The only reason you even saw him this month was because you both felt guilty about not putting in enough effort and just decided to push aside the tension and act like everything was fine.

Would you ever see him again after this?

The thought had another sharp stab pierce your heart.

You shrug your shoulders in response, quickly wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand. “It just got too hard to keep up with. Life got in the way,” you hated the words you were saying as you refused to meet his eyes. “We tried, didn’t we?”

You weren’t sure why you were asking him that as you knew you both put in a poor effort to keep the relationship going. But Ethan knew this too, yet he didn’t want to say the truth, either. “We did,” he completed the lie with a simple nod of his head, something you missed as you still didn’t look over at him.

The silence returned and you shifted uncomfortably. Never did you ever think you’d be uncomfortable while in the presence of Ethan. Things really have changed.

In hopes to keep him in your life just a little bit longer, you ask him another question and try to ignore the way your voice cracked, “We were good together, right?”

Ethan’s reply came instantly. “Of course we were,” and it wasn’t a lie.

Sure, the end of your relationship was hard, but the beginning was amazing, the middle was when you had some of the best days of your life, and the decision to end it was mutual. Not many couples can say that their breakup was mutual.

You nod at his words, taking a chance and reaching over to grab his hand. Ethan let you as he knew this would be one of the last times he would be able to touch you.

A teary exchange of smiles later had him getting up and leaving your apartment and finally you were able to bury your head in the pillows to muffle your sobs, the harsh reality of what just happened hitting you hard.

Two weeks passed and you weren’t over the breakup. You feared it would take many months for your heart to heal even a little bit, but you were okay with that. The ache you felt when you woke up was bearable as it meant your love was real and it happened.

Sure, it was over, but it happened. And that was enough to keep you going.

You skipped a lecture today to stay home and catch up on some reading. Well, you were supposed to be reading but here you were, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone with the book open on your chest.

That Summer in New York <3

You don’t know how many times you’ve read that caption of your last post with Ethan on your Instagram. The various photos did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart, but they did bring you the smallest bit of comfort.

The post was from the same day Ethan promised you’d be fine when school started, and the memory of that day was what kept you going. It was a good day, one filled with laughs, love and exploring the big city with your boyfriend. It was hard to think of that day being one of the last good ones you had with him.

Fuck, you missed him. Just like how you felt during the last stretch of your relationship, you felt worse now that it was truly over.

The amount of times you had to stop yourself from texting him were countless, though the high twenties would be your guess. You hadn’t seen him since the breakup, with the exception of his past self in the photos on your page, and all you wanted to do was check if he was okay. Was he sad like you? Happy? Fine?

Like yours, his Instagram was still full of posts of the two of you as it seemed like he, too, couldn’t bring himself to delete them. It brought you the smallest amount of joy to know that the wound was still fresh to him like it was to you.

Your mind went back to before you two were even dating and you realised that you started out as friends. That got you thinking; if you were friends before your relationship, who says you can’t be friends after it?

And with that, you open your texts and type out a message before you could stop yourself.

Hey! I was thinking about you today and wanted to know if you were wanting to get together sometime? As friends :) I miss you and don’t want to not have you in my life

Before you could tell yourself that you sounded too desperate, your thumb hit send and you were left with the same message that used to haunt you.

Delivered one minute ago.

It was only ten minutes later when your phone went off and you sat up quickly, setting the book down and grabbing your phone from off the coffee table.

Ethan: you read my mind

Ethan: i miss you, too

The smile that formed on your lips was the biggest you’ve had in months and you quickly typed back a reply, not caring at how needy it made you look.

Great, we’ll set something up for the end of the week?

A reply never came as quick as his.

Ethan: definitely, can’t wait

You were now in a much better mood as you stood up from the couch and peaked your head in Tara’s room. She was on her bed, playing on her phone when she looked over and immediately sat up. “Hey, Y/n,” she said, the smile on your face making one form on hers. She hadn’t seen you look this happy in a while, so she wasn’t about to decline when you asked her if she wanted to go get brunch together.

Tara was beyond excited to see your true, happy self slowly coming back. She knew how hard the breakup hit you and to see you begin to put yourself back together had a permanent smile on her face.

Fall was just around the corner and the air was chilly, but that was the last thing on your mind as Tara guided you towards the new restaurant that had recently opened. She went there with Chad and couldn’t stop talking about how good the food was.

You listened with a smile on your face but within seconds your legs stop moving and your smile drops.

Tara, who continued rambling about the food, stopped walking when she realised you were no longer next to her. She backtracks and stands next to you, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “What? What is it?”

You were looking off in the distance, unable to answer her as you felt tears spring to your eyes. Tara furrowed her brows at that and tried to see what you were looking at, and when she did, her hold on you tightened.

On the opposite side of the street was Ethan.

You knew the first time you saw him after the breakup would hurt, but you assumed it would be because of a completely different reason than the one you felt now.

You assumed it would hurt because you hadn’t seen him in weeks and you missed him, not because he was currently locking lips with a girl.

“Y/n,” Tara said quietly, her hand moving down to properly hold yours. Tara had a feeling that the reason you were so happy was because of Ethan and a possible reconciliation, so seeing this had her mind going blank and her jaw locking.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the scene and you watch as Ethan’s hands grip the girl’s waist and she leans further into the kiss. Her hands caress the sides of his face as she moves closer to him and that was when you decided you’d seen enough.

Tara tugged you away and you let her. The two of you turn your back to your ex as she guides you back in the direction of your apartment, missing the way Ethan pulled away just in time to see you walk around the corner.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream 6 ethan #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream 6 imagines

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sootical · 1 year ago

Text

Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration.

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t.

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent.

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired.

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I?

My phone rings again, this time I do answer.

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired.

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon.

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think.

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks.

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent.

#wilbur soot #fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur #angst #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur Soot x Reader angst #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #heavy angst #hurt/comfort #Minimal comfort #lovejoy

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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UNEVEN ODDS — CH. 4

Chapter Four: An Orchestration of Dissonance And Innocent Surrender

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Mention of catcalling, men being awful, tiny fluff, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, Zombies, eventual SMUT, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing

Word Count: 11.1k

A/N: HELLO UM! THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU AGAIN! UM AHHHH T^T I love you guys so much, thank you for all the kind words and comments. The reblogs and then PUTTING ME IN FIC RECS WHAT– O_O Thank you guys again so so so so so much! You deserve the world <3 And as always, I put my little outline and thoughts at the end notes! Mwa ilysm

Song: Bigger Than Love by Oh Wonder

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD – 2023

OLD ABANDONED TRUCK STOP– DAY

You three are at an abandoned truck stop and fully aged, weathered vehicles surround the area. The sun shone on your skin as you waited for Ellie just outside the restroom door after she demanded privacy for a bit to relieve herself. You didn’t question the kid, it was the least you could do for her.

You’re secretly admiring Joel from a distance, and you watch Joel prepare the red large gas can, a clear long tube, and a siphon. Promptly, you hear the sound of the restroom door slamming open and you look at Ellie, “You good?” She nods cheerfully at you, “Yep. All good.” And then you both approach Joel, the gravel crunching beneath your feet as you did, and you slowly take notice that the asphalt has lifted from the ground strangely. You stop walking and quizzically stare at the lifted asphalt, your eyebrows knit together and you kneel down to take a better look at it, Ellie looks at you like you’ve gone insane, “Are you alright?” she asks you, and you keep your eyes focused on the ground, “Yeah, just… It’s hopefully nothing.” You say in response and push yourself upright, “Let’s go see what Joel is up to.”

Joel is currently kneeling on one knee and feeding both tubes in the tank, Ellie stands in front of him while you stand to the left of her, “We have to do this every hour?” she asked in a bored tone. Joel glances at her in acknowledgment then continues on with the siphon, “Gas breaks down over time. This stuff’s almost water.” He grabs a rag to create a seal around the tubes, “Back in the day, we’d drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere.” He says as you and Ellie continue to watch him keenly, “So where’d you go?” she questioned, and he looks up at the both of you, “Pretty much nowhere.” Joel subsequently blows air into the short tube, which forces air through the short tube and increases the pressure of the air above the gas in the tank, causing it to flow through the longer tube and into the gas can. You lean your weight on one of the rusted cars and fold your arms in front of you.

“Nice! How does that work?” Ellie asks Joel and you tilt your head to the side to listen to his response, “It’s a siphon. It’s when liquid… travels against gravity because pressure…” Ellie’s lips are pressed together as she says, “You don’t know.” He stares at her before asserting, “I know it works.” She chuckles and you smirk at him, “Want me to explain it or…” He only mumbles, “Smartass,” and you roll your eyes, something truly possessed you to be bold for a moment, because you teasingly reply, “But you secretly like it.”

It earns you a look from him that causes your heartbeat to accelerate and it suddenly becomes a little harder to breathe, he only pulls away because he spots Ellie turning around to wander off, “No wanderin’.” He tells her seriously, she stops short and sighs, before saying, “Okay. This is your fault then.” She places her bag atop one of the abandoned, rusty cars, and pulls out a book with the title ‘No Pun Intended Volume Too by Will Livingston’, Joel watches her bewildered and perplexed as she reads out one of the puns from the book, “It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationary.” She gives a little laugh and you smile at her merriment as she shows Joel the book cover, “‘No Pun Intended Volume Too by Will Livingston.’ Volume Too. Look. You get it? ‘Too’ Like, T-O-O.” And Joel huffs and begins to stand up with a peeved look, “Oh Jesus.” But Ellie pushes on and says, “What did the mermaid wear to her math class?” You and Joel look at each other, then at Ellie, waiting for her to say the punch line, and you watch her as she slowly leans forward slowly before saying, “‘An algae bra.’ Like, algae bra.” She laughs out loud before speaking again, “I stayed up all night wondering–” To which Joel shakes his head at her, “No,” but this doesn’t deter her at all and goes on, “ where the sun went and then it dawned on me.”

Seemingly annoyed he gruffly says to her, “Feel free to wait in the truck,” and she exhales, “Okay, but just know, you can’t escape Will Livingston. He’ll be back.” Ellie puts her book in her pack and before leaving you both she says, “There’s nothing you can do to stop him.” Joel says nothing as he also leans on the old rusting car with his arms crossed, and Ellie goes to wait in the truck. You let the silence settle and give him a little bit of peace before calling out to him, “Joel.” He says nothing but he does bring his eyes to look at you. “You know it’s okay to like her. Right?” You said with the softest eyes and kind smile, and he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” You deeply exhale and push yourself off the hood of the car to stand in front of him, “You can’t or you won’t?” And he looks down at his boots, “Can’t.”

You didn’t want to put any more discomfort and decided to simply nod instead, “Okay.” He slowly brings his head up to give you a suspicious look, “Okay?” You nod, “Mhm, okay.” His eyes narrow, “That’s it? No tryin’ to change my mind?” You shrug in response, “I have a feeling you’ll do that on your own. Anyways, the gas can is full.” You raise your eyebrows, “Need any help carrying that thing?” He grumpily bends down to pick up the heavy gas can and his voice timber and low says, “I could carry you and this back to the truck if I wanted to.” You feel your brain short-circuits for a second, the warmth spreads throughout your whole body and your eyes widened in embarrassment, “Um, I’m just gonna… mhm.” And you turn to run to the truck. Joel lets out a breathy chuckle, smirking the whole time as he watches your figure run.

ON THE ROAD - NOON

The blue Chevy pulls out of the gas station and Joel has one hand on the steering wheel and his right rest on the console, while you are sitting next to him in the passenger seat, looking out at the window studying the environment, and Ellie is content in the backseat. You feel an unease settle in and create a home in your bones, not knowing what could happen terrifies you. Every possibility in your mind pops in and out, and you ponder which part of the video game did they keep or change.

“Must’ve been some truck.” Ellie says as she peers through the window glass at the back of the vehicle, Joel grunts in agreement and explains why the highways are so clear, “Yeah, they used to stick big ass plows on the back and clear the road for their tanks and such.” Ellie finds all of this very exciting and exclaims, “I wanna see a tank!” Joel looks at her from the rearview mirror and simply says, “You will.” Your eyes shift to look at Joel as he keeps talking with a wearied cynicism, “Tanks, choppers, all that stuff, but they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.”

Ellie digs through the utility pocket behind the passenger seat to find another cassette tape, she raises up enthusiastic and eager, “I got something. Here. This make you all nostalgic?” She says as she pushes up to show Joel, he takes it and you peer over to look at the title cover, ‘Hank Williams, The Original Singles Collection’, Joel replies, “This is actually before my time.” And Ellie goes to sit back properly in the backseat, “Great.”

He hums appreciatively, “It’s a winner, though.” When he places the cassette tape in the player, the rattling sound of plastic can be heard before the music begins and he cranks up the volume. Joel miraculously smiles as he listens to the song, “Oh, man.” And you raise an eyebrow at him, “Of course, you’d like this, it’s cowboy music.” You said and he lets out a small but beautiful chuckle, which causes your body to heat up. The young girl continues to explore the back of the truck, digging through the other utility pocket, you hear a quiet rustling of paper as she whips out a magazine, “Got something else.”

Joel looks at the rearview mirror again to look at Ellie, while you turn to look at what she has and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and so does hers. “It’s light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures.” Your shoulders begin to shake as you try and hold in your laugh as Joel seemingly panics, “No. No, no, no. Put that back, that’s not for kids.” Ellie doesn’t listen and continues to flip through the pages, “How would he even walk around with that thing?” God, you tried to hold it in but couldn’t anymore, you’re now full-on grinning and laughing so loud and carefree, while Joel is trying his best to get Ellie to cooperate, “Please get rid of it.”

“Hold your horses. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” Ellie says as she analyzes the magazine, while you’re practically wheezing and happy that they incorporated this part of the video game. Joel practically gives up but Ellie decides to innocently say, “Why are all these pages stuck together?” Joel has a baffled look on his face as he lets out an, “Uh… The…” Your mouth hangs wide open for a moment and you curl your hand into a fist, bringing it to your mouth to bite back from cackling again. Ellie puts him out of his misery and slaps him on the shoulder, “I’m just fucking with you.” And throws the adult magazine out the window, it flutters out into the wind and onto the side of the road, yelling out, “Bye-bye, dude!”

You smile and think to yourself, joy itself always seems to end before we want it to. Brief and ephemeral. So, this time, you decide to let go and in this moment you can breathe. It lives in your periphery. In the corner of your eyes. Suddenly, it shows up and the surprise adds to its beauty. A gratitude for all that follows

ON THE ROAD AND TO THE FOREST - CIVIL TWILIGHT

Time moves quickly as Joel continues to drive and Ellie silently watches the view from the window. You take note of the cows grazing on grass, the cars that were left to rot, and the familiar landmarks crumbling down as mother intended to take back what was hers. They must have cried themselves a hurricane because there was an earthquake and an avalanche of change. The echo, as vast as the equator, spreads across a world of bottled-up anger, and it's too late to prevent it now.

As the hours pass by and the sun slowly begins to set, you check on Ellie from the rearview, she looks fatigued from all the driving and so do you, it’s been a while since your last road trip, and you barely had time for yourself since you were stuck in the lab all day and night. Joel sees your weary eyes and frown, he also sees a similar look to Ellie, and he decides to tell you both, “All right. That’s enough for today.” He places both of his hands to turn the wheel to the right, driving off the road and into the field, straight into a thick forest filled with tall evergreen trees.

The truck comes to a stop and you all prepare to camp out for the night. You help Joel cook and prepare dinner and Ellie keeps herself occupied as she pokes around the dirt with a stick. The smell of canned ravioli fills your lungs and your mouth begins to water. Joel taps the edge of the pot, indicating that it’s cooked and you call for Ellie to sit down for dinner. The three of you sit down in a semi-circle, with you in the middle, and Joel and Ellie on each side. You gently blow on the hot ravioli before bringing the food into your mouth, chewing quietly, and amusingly watch Ellie scarf down her food quickly. Joel looks at her kind of bothered by her manners, “Slow down.” He said, and she replies with a mouthful of food, “This is slow. What am I even eating?” Joel cuts hit food using his fork and knife and answers, “That is 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli.” Ellie brings another piece of pasta and answers while chewing, “That guy was good.” Joel hums in agreement, “I actually agree.” And you nod appreciatively as you finish your food.

“How long are we staying out here?” Ellie asks Joel and you look to him for his response, “I figure I’d sleep tonight and drive tomorrow all day, all night get us to Wyoming by next morning.” Ellie plays with her food as she asks, “So can we start a fire? I’m freezing.” Joel gives a pointed stare, “Now why am I gonna tell you no?” She shrugs and guesses, “Because the infected will see the smoke.” He shakes his head at her, “No. Fungus isn’t that smart. This is too remote for infected, anyway.” The answer dawns on Ellie and asks, “People?” And Joel nods, his answer to her question. She continues to press for more information, “So what are they gonna do? Rob us?” And you frown, knowing exactly what people do during war or a crisis, morals are thrown out the window and everyone can do as they please. Every crime, assault, and misdemeanor is seen as means to an end, which is to take and survive. Your knuckles turn white as you grip your fork, angry at the world and the people who choose to do all forms of wrong. Joel warns her, “Well, they’ll have way more in mind than that.” Ellie nods while pouting, “Okay.”

LOCATION UNKNOWN, A FOREST – NIGHT

Your eyes are well-versed in the dark and the mind was then created to illumine the heart. And when every constellation suddenly emerged, the remote was drawn so close by telescopes and computations. You inhale, exhale, and reset. Realizing, every living creature is in a continual state of uncertainty. Even with all of your past, you’ve just scratched the surface of what it all implies. Ellie prepares her sleeping bag and so do you, placing yours in between hers and Joel’s. “Actually smells kinda good.” Ellie said as she continues to unfold the sleeping bag, you hear Joel comment, “Well, that would be Frank’s then.” She tucks herself in and you help her as you do, lightly patting the blanket as she settles comfortably. You do the same and now you’re flat on your back as you gaze at the stars illuminating the darkness and listen to the quiet rustling of the branches and leaves of the trees, the melodies sung by the chirping of crickets. Joel checks the chamber of the rifle and ensures that it’s loaded and ready just in case of an ambush, then he places it next to him. You hear Ellie take something out of her backpack and you had a sneaking suspicion it was the No Pun Intended book. The light of the lantern slowly fades away and the shadows follow the rules and the darkness expands around all of you.

Joel is facing away from the both of you and Ellie whips out her flashlight and quickly glances at her favorite book, clicks off the light, and aloud she calls out both of your names, you look at her but Joel doesn’t respond at first, you slide out a little to lean a bit forward to his side and tap him on the shoulder, “What?” he asks, and Ellie responds, “Can I ask you a serious question?” And without hesitation, he says, “Yeah.” You smile knowingly at what was about to happen as she questions, “Why did the scarecrow get an award?” A beat passes between the three of you, and you and Joel whisper simultaneously, “Because he was outstanding in his field.” Ellie rises from her sleeping bag and exclaims, “You dicks!”

A large grin spreads across your face and Joel turns around to face the other direction, Ellie begins to interrogate the two of you, “Did both of you read this?” You hear the smile in Joel’s voice as he answers, “No.” And you give an airy chuckle, “Nope.” He sighs and then tells you both, “Now go to sleep.” Ellie makes a noise of suspicion but says nothing as she tucks the book into her sleeping pouch, the hoot of an owl can be heard from above, and the howls of coyotes from a distance.

Ellie is also gazing up at the stars with you now and begins to appreciate the way they glow and shimmer. You move your head to look at Ellie and whisper, “Psst. Ellie…” She turns her head to your side, “Yeah?” And in a hushed tone, you ask, “Do you wanna learn something about constellations?” She nods enthusiastically, “Yeah!” And you begin to whisper the explanation and details, you point and trace your fingers at the stars, your rickety astrology determined to give her hope, “Orion's belt is right above the equator of the Earth. Everyone, and everywhere can see just stars in that area. A star placed above one of the poles, such as the North Star, and concealed from us in the opposing hemisphere, obstructed by Earth itself.”

She is looking at you with her eyes as big as summer tomatoes, full of admiration and awe at your intelligence like you have all the answers, and wonders if she will ever be a woman like you. She seeks an answer to her next question, “Is Orion like a place?” You smile and in a soft voice you say, “No, he’s someone from greek mythology. In the stores, he was a giant and very handsome hunter, who had many affairs and lovers. Either his assault on or admiration for a goddess named Artemis, another god named Zeus placed him amongst the stars as punishment. Stories and text sometimes get lost in translation.”

This is when she learned to wish on stars, content she hums an appreciative thank you and you give a small smile in return. After another beat passes, Ellie poses a new question, this time aimed at Joel, who had been listening to the two of you the whole time but stayed quiet, “Those people you said… there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us.”

Her words hang in the air briefly, “No one’s gonna find us.” Joel reassures her and Ellie responds with a quiet, “Okay.” She turns in for the night and begins to fall asleep. There is a sudden weight on your chest when she asked her query, and you suddenly feel nauseous at the thought of anything happening to Ellie and Joel. You close your eyes and swallow away the urge to vomit, and with the darkness, you’ve seen, your tired eyes rest and allow yourself to sleep for a while. But if you had stayed up just a little longer, you would have heard Joel leave his sleeping bag and reach for his rifle, and his footsteps walking a distance away from you and Ellie, ensuring your safety as he watches and anticipates any sign of danger, his guilt for scaring the girl keeps him up all night and the thought of you getting hurt. He holds his rifle ready, protecting the two of you who quietly snore into the night.

LOCATION UNKNOWN, A FOREST – DAWN

The sound of chirping birds wakes you and you groggily sit up. You look to your left to see Ellie who was still sound asleep, and then you see Joel standing watch with his rifle, you have a suspicion he didn’t actually sleep and Ellie’s concern kept him up. You sigh and quietly leave your sleeping bag, down your arms, a thousand satellites discover the cool breeze in the air, causing you to shiver and wrap your arms around yourself to salvage some warmth. You stretch your arms up to the sky, trying to wake your body to begin the day, then you hear the lime-green grass rustle and shake, creating whispers of sound beneath Joel’s boots as he walks toward you, glancing over your shoulder before turning to face him.

You feel his confident presence and your heart skips a beat, he greets you with his voice thick and smooth, “Mornin’.” You warmly say good morning to him in a hushed voice, you take a good look at him to see his deep eyebags, completely exhausted, and you ask, “Did you even sleep at all?” He doesn’t deny it as he shook his head, “No, I couldn’t.” You hum in response, already confirming what you thought, next, you inquire, “Do we have any coffee that I could brew? I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

“Did you not sleep well last night? Could hear you snorin’ from where I was standing.” Joel said with his tone straightforward and deep, you shrug, “Sometimes I wake up tired, and besides, I enjoy a good cup of coffee to start my day, it’s my morning ritual back home.” You make your way to the pouch of coffee grounds, open it, and inhale the aroma, and Joel observes you as you do.

You begin to brew both of your coffee, making enough to fit two insulated tumblers. You make your way into the forest, already telling Joel you needed to pee, and him reminding you in his thick Texan accent, “If you don’t get your ass back here in five minutes, I’m comin' to look for you.” After finding a bush and relieving yourself, you stand by one of the tall thick trees, leaning your weight against the trunk of the tree and crossing your arms as you watch Ellie and Joel from a distance.

You close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself and your breathing, trying to recall parts of the game you’ve seen, a little peek at what could be adapted. Unfortunately, you knew the ending of the first and second games, and you knew there was nothing you could do for the first, but the second one however…

Joel yells your name, telling you to come back already and you jog your way back, not wanting to make them wait. No one says anything as you pack up camp and hop in the truck, this time letting Ellie sit in the passenger seat while you sit in the back. The engine of the truck revs to life and Joel drives you out of the woods and back onto the highway.

Joel takes a loud sip of his coffee while you are still blowing away the steam, Ellie doesn’t seem to be impressed with the drink as she comments, “Is that seriously what those Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” With one hand on the steering wheel, he lowers his thermos and retorts, “Well, theirs was a lot fresher than Bill saved up but, yeah, this is what they sold.” The young girl looks at it in disgust, “Smells like… burnt shit.” Joel wanting to be slightly petty, takes a long, loud, pointed sip of his coffee, before turning to Ellie saying, “Eyes on the map, or else I’m askin’ you to switch seats with Birdie.”

Your heart flutters at the nickname but you hide your smile by sipping your own coffee, looking out the window as you do. Ellie smirks knowingly at Joel but doesn’t push any further, she begins to give directions, “76 West, and then… 70 West for, like, ever. Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” And to your surprise, Joel indulges her, “Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody.” Ellie straightens the map to find the tower, “Cody. Cody… Cody. Man. That is deep up in there.” Joel glances then reply, “Yeah.” The young curious kid asks him, “And if he’s not there?” He thoughtfully sighs, “Then odds are he’ll be near a settlement probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of them in Wyoming.”

“Chee-Yen.” Ellie tries to pronounce it, and Joel corrects her, “Cheyenne.” She looks at him in disbelief, “Che… Really?” He nods as she goes on to trace her finger along the map, “Cheyenne, Laramie… Casper? What’s his name?” Joel then asks, “Whose name?” She throws back, “Your brother.” He grunts out, “Tommy.” You smile to yourself, knowing that tone of voice is him trying to build invisible walls around himself to protect whatever he has left of his family. “Younger or older?” Ellie persists, and he answers immediately, “Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?” She asked and you watch Joel try to evade her inquiry, “Long story.” Ellie never knowing when to give up, persists, “Is it longer than twenty-five hours? Because I think that’s what we got.” Joel looks at Ellie with a pointed stare, mouth slightly open ready to scold her but realizes she has a point. He glances at the rearview to see you looking back at him, waiting for his choice.

His eyes go back to the road as he speaks, “Tommy’s what we used to call a joiner. Dreams of becoming a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right out of high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm.”

Ellie turns to him quizzically but stays silent as he carries on, “It’s what they called that war. It doesn’t matter. Point is, being in the Army didn’t make him feel much of a hero. Cut to twelve years later, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group making their way up to Boston which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.” He glances at the rearview mirror again and this time you aren’t staring back, you’re resting your head on the window, listening intently, “It’s where we met Tess.”

He takes a swig of his coffee before continuing, “And that whole crew, we… Well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joining the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen.” Joel shakes his head in disapproval and his tone shifts into cynicism, ��Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him, Fireflies, all of them… delusional.”

You blink blankly and frown, not agreeing with his view but understanding where he’s coming from. His world ended when Sarah died, and since she’s gone he has no reason to go back to the way things were.

“‘Course, last I heard, he quit the Fireflies too. So now he’s on his own out there and… I gotta go get him.” He states and takes a long sip of the rest of his coffee, while Ellie tries to make sense of his story, another question pops into her mind as she quietly asks him, “If you don’t think there’s hope for the world why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?” A beat passes, and then he answers grimly, “You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know. You keep going for family. That’s about it.”

Ellie moves her eyes to look at him, “I’m not family?” And he shakes his head, “No. You’re cargo.” Your form shrinks a little bit and think to yourself, and you secretly figure that Joel doesn’t mean that, but doesn’t want her treating him like a father yet.

You quietly exhale and will yourself to stop bouncing your leg up and down, grounding yourself. “And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.” Ellie nods before bringing up more possibilities, “What if you don’t find him?” It doesn’t take him long to reply, “I will.” She shoots back, “How do you know?” With a voice so sure and confident, he says, “I’m persistent.”

And you swore you saw him glance at you from the rearview mirror for a millisecond, but you weren’t so sure, you chalked it up to your wishful thinking. It was quiet for a bit before Joel speaks to Ellie, “You got up pretty early. If you wanna grab more sleep…” Ellie immediately replies, “Pfft. I’m not even tired.”

Ellie was in fact tired, after ten minutes of saying that, she fell into a deep sleep, and her snores echoed in the car. After two or three hours Joel pulls over at the side of the road, telling you to switch seats with Ellie since he needs help reading the map. You decided not to question it and got out of the truck as he did the same. You watched him quietly open the door, and carry Ellie from the passenger side to the back seat where he gently set her.

You climb into the passenger seat and wait for Joel to sit in the driver’s seat. The map was now on your lap and you gently traced the piece of paper, lines stretching out, with too many miles to count. Dots reminds you of where you’ve been, sometimes it feels like your inner compass breaks, and your steady true north fades. You try and reassure yourself it’ll be just fine, that whatever comes next, you’ll handle it together.

Joel quietly speaks your name so as to not disturb Ellie, you look up at him from the map, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the armrest console, “Tell me somethin’ good about your world.” He grumbles, and you stagger a bit before saying, “You actually believe what I said back then? You believe me?”

He shrugs with one shoulder and taps on the steering wheel, “There’s a fuckin’ apocalypse. My guess is that anythin’ could be possible now.” You lightly chuckle, “Yeah, I guess so.”

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to come up with an answer, any kind of answer, and you settle for the truth, “I don’t know. Besides the fact, we have no infected and our technology is more advanced, everything is still the same. Same landmarks, problems, the people hate the government but still need it, choosing the lesser of two evils and everyday people trying their damn best.”

He gruffly says to you, “Would prefer that over this shit.” You let out a huff, “Yeah, that’s valid.”

“Tell me about your home.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow, “Are you asking or demanding? Also, why are you suddenly so curious about me?” He’s unsure for a moment but he answers, “You already know stuff about me. It’s only fair.” Your lips form a line as you press them against each other, and your eyes shift to look at the map instead of him, “I thought you didn’t want to hear about any of our histories?”

“I think we broke that rule the moment Ellie kept askin’ about my life.” Your eyes wrinkle as you smile, “There isn’t much to say, and also I don’t really like talking about myself.” He harrumphs, “Why? You’re a scientist and incredibly smart.” You bring your eyes back to him and give him a look of disbelief, “Did you just say something nice?” His face sours and grumpily murmurs, “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I’m definitely telling Ellie later,” You smile teasingly at him, and he shakes his head, “So, what did you research, discover, or whatever?” And that question causes you to inhale through your nose deeply, “Um, in 2022 three scientists were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for experiments with entangled photons, establishing the violation of Bell inequalities and pioneering quantum information science. Basically, they got awarded for their research and I took an interest in what they found. I had a theory with what they discovered with quantum teleportation.”

Joel didn’t really understand the science jargon that was spitting out of your mouth so fast like lightning, but he was intrigued, “What was your theory?” You nervously removed the dirt from your fingernails as you replied, “It’s a little complicated.” He retorts, “I’m beginning to think that’s your favorite line.” You bite the inner walls of your cheek and exhale loudly through your nose. Joel senses you didn’t want to discuss it any further and the quiet returns. Only the muffled rumbling of the engine and the sound of the tires rolling on the pavement. The only occasional noise from the two of you was asking for directions from Joel and you giving him a prompt reply.

The hours go by quickly and the sun is beginning to set, the orange glow illuminating both of your faces. The truck begins to pull up to the outskirts of Kansas City and you silently pray that this will all go smoothly.

TLOU WORLD – 2023

KANSAS CITY - SUNSET

Ellie awakens shortly after you pull up to the tunnel and Joel slowly presses on the brakes to put the truck to stop. Joel turns off the engine and turns to you both before opening the door, “Stay put.” He grabs the rifle from the back and proceeds to scout the area. Ellie kindly asks to switch with you again and for a moment you almost decline, your gut feeling telling you something is wrong, but couldn’t resist the kid and again move to the back while she moves upfront.

Joel sees the tunnel to Kansas City is blocked by a SaraLee bread truck and you watch him make his way back to the truck. He opens the back door and places the rifle beside you and goes back to the driver's seat. “Where are we?” Ellie asks and he quickly replies, “Kansas City.” Ellie gives him the map and you lean over Joel’s shoulder to analyze the map, “How far back do we have to go to get around this?” The young girl questions and you watch Joel trace his finger along the many red lines. He shakes his head and sighs in frustration before deciding, “Screw it.” And he turns the key to start the truck up again. “What are you doing?” Ellie asks and Joel answers as he performs a three-point turn, “We can jog right around this tunnel take the next ramp and we’re back on the road, minute tops.” You look out the window and see the rusting cars and burned corpses of people, shuddering, you try and remember a portion of the game for some clue of what was about to happen. You weren’t in Pittsburgh, but the way this was adapted would still have the very important elements of the original intellectual property. Fuck.

Joel enters the city and it’s eerily quiet, you take note of the empty streets and zero signs of runners. “Where the fuck is the highway?” Joel states frustrated and Ellie retorts, “I can’t tell from this. I’m all turned around.” You hear him get irritated, “Don’t look at the state map. Look at the inset.”

“I don’t know where we are in that either! It’s my second day in a fucking car, man. I mean, I think we’re heading north?” Joel continues to drive and you keenly observe your surroundings and see something unusual, you spot a pile of ash and remains of people as he drives by. “It’s gotta be right. What the fuck?” He says and you try and voice your concerns, “Joel, there’s um,” but he quickly fires back, “Not now Birdie.” And you deflate a little but keep trying, “Joel, something is–” But Ellie yells out, “Stop!” The tires shriek as he steps on the breaks, and Ellie stares at something wide-eyed and you do too, “Is that the QZ?” The gates were wide open without a single FEDRA officer in sight and completely vacated, your mouth hangs open, “Shit.” Ellie presses on, “Where the fuck is FEDRA?” As if on queue, you hear someone yell, “Hey!” All three of your heads whip to the sound of the man’s voice, he’s clutching his lower abdomen and yelling out, “Please help!”

“Put your seatbelt on,” Joel demands and you and Ellie follow, you clutch on the assist grips above the car, knowing this isn’t gonna go well. “Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asks innocently, “No.” You and Joel answer quickly, he floors it and the man moves out of the way screaming, “Fuck! Go… go!”

Ellie looks above and shrieks, “Joel!” And a cylinder brick falls from the sky, crashing atop the windshield glass, cracks, and fractures are created and you hear the tires pop, and you assume they’ve laid down spikes. You gritted your teeth as Joel tries to get control of the truck, and another man tries to shoot you all down, “Fuck!” Having no other options, he crashes the truck into an old laundromat, and the impact causes you to jerk forward, hitting your head slightly in the seat in front of you.

“Are you okay?” Joel worriedly questions, “Yeah.” Ellie replies and he turns to see you slightly bleeding from your head, “Hummin’ bird, you okay?” And you quickly compose yourself, “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” He then asks Ellie, “You’re not hurt? Nothing?” She shakes her head, “I don’t think so.”

The sound of gunfire cause the three of you to flinch and duck down for cover, Joel yells and commands, “Belts off. Fast!” And what he says goes, immediately you grab your pack and rifle from the backseat, the loud popping sounds of gunfire continue as you get out, and duck behind the truck. You toss Joel his rifle and you pull out your gun, you hear the taunts on the other side, “Let’s see you, motherfucker! Give us your shit, you’ll make it through this! We promise!”

Joel pulls off his safety and makes sure his rifle is loaded, he spots a hole in the walls of the laundromat and asks Ellie, “Hey, you see that hole? Can you squeeze through?” The gunfire doesn’t let up and she shakily nods, Joel realizes that time is running out before the enemy decides to push forward, he instructs Ellie while looking at her directly, “When I say go, you both crawl to that wall and you two squeeze through and you don’t come out until I say, okay?” You try and protest but the sound of another bullet swiftly breaks the class of the truck and all three of you flinch.

Your breathing quickens and you feel the adrenaline coursing through you, while Joel’s chest bounces up and down as he pants, “And they’re not gonna hit you.” But Ellie isn’t listening, too scared and afraid of all the chaos ensuing, Joel growls, “Look at me!” She twists her head and her wide doe eyes look at him, frightened and unsure, he reassures her, “They’re not gonna hit you. You stay down, you stay low, you stay quiet.” Ellie nods reluctantly, “Mhm.” A pause during the gunfire, and you realize they’re reloading. “Okay.” He says and Ellie parrots to him, “Okay.” Joel takes that as his signal and yells to you both, “Go!” Ellie stays low and crawls through the wall, safe and secure for now. You however help Joel and shoot at the enemies. He yells your name, “What the fuck are you doing? I can handle this now go!” You shake your head and exclaim, “No! I can help you.”

He pulls you down, both of you crouching on the ground and cups one hand to hold your face, “Right now that kid is scared shitless and shouldn’t be alone.” You try again to object, but he stops you, “No, listen to me. Go through that hole and be with Ellie, she needs you.” You feel your eyes water and give him a sincere look, your voice breathy as you reply, “We both do.” His mouth parts and his eyes dart to your soft lips for just a second, so fast you almost missed it if your faces weren’t so close to each other, and at that moment your heartbeats were synchronized, and both of your breathing unsteady. Warmth fills you both and causes both of your eyes to dilate, similar to an eclipse.

Another gunshot rings out and it hits the cement on the ground, causing you to jump, Joel wipes away some of the dust on your cheek and intently says to you, “I’ve got this. I promise, now go.”

You blink back your tears and whisper, “Give 'em hell.” He stands up again to cover you while you crawl into the hole, to be with Ellie. Both of you have your back against the wall, and you try and steady your racing heartbeat.

“What about Joel?” She asks you, full of worry and concern. Instead of answering, you hug her close to you, and she buries her face on your stomach, as you try and shield her away from the noise and gunfire. Then there is a sudden silence, and you and Ellie take a peek from the hole in the wall, the sound of footsteps stepping over broke glass fills the space and you have your gun ready in one hand just in case and shield Ellie with your body.

He steps a bit closer to your hiding place and instantly there was a gunshot, you and Ellie turn away as you also held back a scream. Stillness fills the room and you try your best to listen for Joel to tell you to come out, only hearing him try and unjam his rifle. Then, the sudden slam of a door opening, and another loud pop could be heard. You hear grunts, groans, and yelling from the intruder and Joel, and Ellie urgently whispers, “We need to help him!”

You nod, and Ellie swiftly sidesteps you and climbs out of the hiding space and you go after her. You and her quietly step out and to your surprise, she’s holding her gun out, aiming directly at the unidentified man’s head, before you could even utter a word or try and stop her, she shoots him in the spine. Joel rolls over to the side coughing and wheezing as he tries to catch his breath. You gently approach Joel as he side-eyes Ellie but continues to cough, you begin first aid, loosen any tight clothing, remove the top button of his outer shirt and place your hand on his back to try and feel his lungs, and hear Ellie step a little closer to the man, her gun still aimed at him.

The man begins to plead, “No, no, no! It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s over, we’re not fighting anymore.” Ellie doesn’t say anything and still has the gun pointed at him, “I’m gonna go home. I’ll tell everyone you’re good.” His face scrunches up and he begins to cry, “I don’t know what to do. My legs don’t work. My mom isn’t far if you can get me to her.”

Joel’s breathing returns to normal and you whisper, “You good?” And he only nods, angry and upset that he got caught off guard so easily. You help him up and hear the man still begging for his life, “We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn’t know. I’m Bryan. I’m Bryan. What’s your name?” He continues to sob.

Joel looks at Ellie angrily, and she sniffs. He doesn’t say anything but holds out his hand and she hands him her gun which he places in his back pocket. Joel pulls out his revolver, slowly turns around, and Bryan continues to beg, “Wait… wait.” He pulls out a knife and says, “You can have it. It’s a good knife.” You stand next to Ellie and watch Joel lean down and pick up the knife. His eyes are dark with rage as he looks at you and Ellie, his voice deep and dominant that fills a warmth in your belly, “Get back behind the wall.”

Bryan instantly sobs, “No, no, no. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, we could just talk. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You slowly grab Ellie to gently coax her away, and she follows, Bryan screams for his life as you step back inside the hole. Ellie hugs your middle as she lets a single tear roll down her cheek, and you hug her right back, covering her ears from his yelling and pleading. You hear the slashing of a knife and the sound of blood splattering.

You try and calm Ellie and stroke her hair as you murmur reassuringly, “We’ll be just fine.” It was quiet for a second before you hear Joel’s booming voice calling you and Ellie, “I gotta get in there, I can’t fit through.” You wipe away her tears and gently pat her cheek, “We got this, yeah?” Ellie nods, “Mhm.”

You and her take a look around the room and Ellie yells out, “There’s some stuff against the door.” Joel is quick to reply, “Can you both move it?” You and Ellie nod at each other and work together to pull the table aside while Joel uses his arm to push the door open. He manages to get in and slams the door shut, “Let’s go. Fast.” He states and all three of you push the table back in its place. Joel looks at the both of you with concern, but Ellie quickly gets her bag and says, “I’m okay. I’m good.” You say nothing and also reach for your bag, quickly grabbing a bandaid from your first aid kit and then throwing it over your shoulder. Ellie approaches Joel and opens her pack, “I got some food in here still, and I got your light still.” He grabs it from her while you are on the side quietly and swiftly, placing a bandaid on your head, no time to disinfect it yet.

“What now?” Ellie asks, trying to be brave, and Joel observes her for a moment before saying, “We go up.” And she throws her back over her shoulders, “To get a better look?” You follow them both to a door and Joel responds, “Hopefully, we spot a clear route out.” He pushes the door open and clicks on the flashlight to check if it's safe, the only sound you could hear was the dripping of water from a leaky pipe, he turns to you both and says, “Stay close.” Ellie nods, “Got it.” Joel moves forward and Ellie and you follow him to a narrow alleyway. He has his revolver in one hand and you also have your gun out.

You three duck behind a rusted car, and you hear and spot multiple vehicles driving by. They were all armed, carrying various weapons and knives. Joel signals you two to wait and walks across to open a black door, he flicks on the flashlight and with one look, signals both of you to run across the street and into the next building.

You take cover and hide in a neglected bar, with newspapers covering the large windows. Joel peeks through the uncovered patches and watches the hunters pass by, searching different buildings. “They’re not FEDRA, and they’re not Fireflies. So who are they?” Ellie asks and Joel plainly states, “People.” You and Ellie are also looking through the small patches, she quietly asks, “Are we okay in here?”

“For a little bit, maybe. Looks like they’re checking apartment buildings first. But they’ll be coming through these places soon enough.” Joel says and walks away to stand away from the windows. And you decide to sit, choosing the floor by the door of the old bar, and tend to the wound on your head. Ellie is still looking through the small patches of glass, “There’s a really tall building, like, four blocks away.” Joel’s voice is rough as he replies, “Yeah, saw it.”

“So that’s the one?” Ellie questions him, and he immediately answers, “As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move. Fast as we can.” Joel slowly sits down on the cushion and eyes you as you busy yourself disinfecting and cleaning up the blood on your head. Ellie sits down next to you, her knees close to her chest, and by now you’re done cleaning your wound and placing a new bandage on your head. Joel has his hand on his head, his face was expressionless and exhausted. Ellie asks you and him the same question, “Are you okay?” You nod and Joel replies with, “I’m all right.” He struggles with the debrief but he gets the question out to Ellie, “Are you all right?” And she simply replies with, “Yeah.”

You watch Joel struggle to find the words to express his emotions and feelings, his reserved nature is slowly crumbling, brick by brick. He shakes his head, “Thing is, is I didn’t hear that guy coming, and… You shouldn’t have to… You know.” Ellie brings her eyes to look at him, “Well, you’re glad I did, right?” She said. His voice falters, “You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t know what it means to… It’s not like you killed him. But… shooting or… I know what it’s like the first time that you hurt someone like that.” The young girl says nothing and simply stares at him in silence. He tries again, “If you… I’m not good at this.”

“Yeah, you really aren’t.” Ellie says, and if it wasn’t so somber, if you were safely at home watching this, you would have laughed. You wonder if you should say something, but eventually figured that you needed to let them both bond and understand each other, it’s important to their story. While you believed your presence here was an accident. You push aside your feelings and stress to let them talk it out.

“I mean it was my fault. You shouldn’t have had to… and I’m sorry.” Joel sighs and looks away at Ellie, and begins to cry silently with her face turning red, you let her lean her head on your shoulder and it’s quiet. She goes to speak but her throat closes up, “It wasn’t my first time.” Joel looks at her after that to see her pure raw honesty.

Joel plays the idea in his head for a moment before coming to a decision, he reaches into his back pocket for the handgun he took from Ellie earlier, unloads the magazine, and removes the shell of the previous bullet from the chamber. The girl's head lifts from your shoulder as Joel kneels down on one knee in front of her, handing her the gun back, “Show me your grip.” Ellie does as she’s told and you watch Joel teach her the proper way to hold a firearm, “Finger off the trigger.” She holds it with one hand and Joel is unimpressed, “Now, who taught you that?” She mumbles in reply, “FEDRA school.” He nods his head, “Figures.”

Joel teaches her how to hold the gun with two hands, “Your thumb over your thumb. Left hand, squeezes down on the right. You got it?” She nods, her thumbs interlocked, which makes it harder to drop the gun when it recoils or if someone were to try and grab it. Joel holds both of her tiny hands in his calloused rough ones, “There you go. Look it.” He shakes it and the gun doesn’t budge, completely steady. She giggles as he tries again and you smile, Joel then says, “Okay?” While Ellie nods, seemingly happy, he gestures to her to give him the gun and he loads the magazine back in the gun and then hands it back to her.

Ellie takes it and as she is about to place it in her back pocket, Joel stops her, “Nuh-uh. You put it in your pack. You’ll shoot your damn ass off.” He groans a little as he stands up again and you give Ellie a high-five and she laughs again. Joel walks to your side and this time it’s your turn, he kneels in front of you and you’re wide-eyed. He gently brushes away some of your hair and checks on your wound, you feel his fingertips graze along the plaster of your band-aid. Lightly, you touch his wrist and say, “I’m fine. Promise.”

None of you move for a bit, but then he slowly pulls away and stands to remove the wooden planks boarded up on the door, you also get up to help him. He holds on to the door handle and sighs, “We’ll get through this.” Ellie blinks once and then nods, “I know.” A beat passes and he pulls open the door, you and Ellie following him out into the setting sun of the city.

OFFICE BUILDING, KANSAS CITY – NIGHT

The midnight blue covers the sky, the stars shine above you, and see the moon glimmer. You three find the side of the building but find the service door to be locked. You look above and point out a vent, Joel nods and turns to Ellie. Taking notice that Joel is this close to passing out on the ground after all the events that have happened, staying up all night to protect the both of you, driving for almost thirteen hours to get to Kansas City, and shooting a bunch of hunters. You offer to boost Ellie up to reach the vent, “Here, put your foot on my hand and then… One, two…”

“Oh shit.” She curses and you reassure her, “It’s okay, I got you.” And she manages to push open the vent and climb inside, “Okay I’m in.” And Joel decides to give out instructions, “Take a look around first. Ellie.” But she doesn’t reply, he harshly whispers, “Goddamn it.” And you say to Joel, “Just give her a second.” And a moment later, Ellie swings the door wide open, “Where would you be without me, huh?” Joel frowns, “By now, Wyoming.” You smack his shoulder, which does absolutely nothing. He glances at you and you stare back, he then walks forward into the building as Ellie takes it in stride. “Oh, yeah. Walked into that one.” The door slams closed behind you three and you take out your own flashlight to click it open.

All three of your footsteps echo around the building, while lights from your flashlights moved about the space. A minute later you see the door to a staircase that leads to the rooftop, you all walk over to it and Joel says, “All right, we’ll make our way up, and come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out.” He pushes the door open, and it squeaks as he does, shining the light in one hand and his revolver in the other, checking the dark area to make sure there’s no threat.

He walks straight while you and Ellie trail along, “We’re going up forty-two flights?” She groans, and Joel adds, “Forty-five.” The door behind you closes and you shine your flashlight to the ceiling, looking at the seemingly never-ending staircase. “But no. Not all the way.” He says, and Ellie asks, “How far?” Joel takes a breath, “As far as I can make it.” You and Ellie giggle at him and follow right behind the grump, footsteps sounding on the concrete steps of the building as you make your way up each floor.

After twenty flights of stairs, Joel is gripping the hand railing, slightly winded already, you are trying to manage your breathing with all the cardio, while Ellie is only lightly panting, she takes an opportunity to ask a question, “Hey, you know that guy who said he was hurt? How did you know it was an ambush?” Joel stops before the next landing and catches his breath, “I’ve been on both sides. It was a long time ago. We did what we needed to survive.”

“You and Tess?” She asked, and he nods, “And the people we were with. My brother too.” He looks up to check how many more to go, while Ellie can’t help herself, “Did you kill innocent people?” He turns to look at her with an unreadable expression, but doesn’t answer her question, “Come on.” But already you both already knew the answer, and still followed him anyways.

It’s a few minutes later and Joel pushes the fire exit door open and holds it out for you and Ellie to walk through. “Holy shit.” Ellie curses and Joel leans on the wall, “Yeah.” And slides down the wall completely exhausted. You are soaked with sweat and trying to catch your breath, using one hand to lean on the door as it closes by itself. “Thirty-three floors. That’s good.” The young girl comments, and you hear Joel wheeze, “It’s gonna have to be.”

Ellie makes her way over to him and kicks his boot, “Come on.” And holds out her small hand, Joel groans, “Give me a minute.” But Ellie doesn’t agree, “Get up, you lazy ass.” That does it, he grips his hand with hers and helps him up, while you finally got enough oxygen back into your system. Joel grits his teeth, “Lazy ass. Fifty-six years old, you little shit.” Ellie giggles and you smile wide and continue to trail after him.

Joel grabs a fire extinguisher to break through the glass of one of the office doors, the sharp sound of glass shattering rings throughout the room, and Joel reaches in to shake the handle open.

You and Ellie prepare to sleep, and you realize that there aren’t enough cushions for the three of you. Joel scatters glass on the ground as Ellie sits on her makeshift bed, and calls out his name as you sit cross-legged on the carpet, silently contemplating sleeping on the floor. He doesn’t hear Ellie the second time, too busy dumping out the glass.

But the third time she yells out his name he finally turned, “What?” He grudgingly says, and she asks him pointedly, “What are you doing?” And replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I don’t want someone sneaking up on us while we’re sleeping.”

He puts the bucket down and Ellie realizes what he meant, “Oh, I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch…” He walks over to the couch cushions on the floor and Ellie questions him, “Are you sure you’re gonna hear it?” Joel takes offense to her asking him that, “Of course, I’ll hear it. That’s the damn point.” Ellie leans back, “Okay. Well, good night.” And he gives a small, “Yeah, goodnight.”

You prepare to sleep on top of your backpack and Joel says your name, “What are you doing?” You turn your head to him and swallow, “Um, there’s not enough cushions. It’s okay though, I’ve slept on the floor before.” His eyebrows furrow and he huffs, “You sleep on mine then.” You shake your head, “Joel, you stayed up late, floored it all the way to Kansas City, fought three hunters, and then walked up thirty-three flights of stairs. You’re literally fifty-six and wheezing. You’re exhausted, so it’s okay, you can have it.”

Joel places his hands on his hips as he stares down at your figure, “That isn’t right though, you’re equally as tired and you got injured earlier. So take the damn bed.” He argues, this was slowly going to become a full-on debate that could have lasted till the morning, but Ellie butts in, “Why don’t you guys just share?” Immediately, your eyes go wide, and feel your face grow warm. You begin to stutter as you try and explain to her why that would be inappropriate, “Um, Ellie… I don’t think that’s—”

“Fine.” You hear him say and your head quickly turns to look at Joel, almost giving you a whiplash as you did. You blink wildly at him and shakily say, “You don’t need to–” He gives you no chance to finish your sentence, “I said fine. Do you want to share or not?” Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell is happening? He didn’t just offer that, did he? Your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water, not knowing how to act or find the right words for this. You take a deep inhale and try not to stumble over your words as you stared into his dark chocolate-brown eyes, “Are you… sure?”

He nods and gestures to you to lay down, you pinch your lips and swallow away your nerves and climb atop the cushions, using your own jacket as a pillow. Joel quietly does the same and faces the opposite of you. You bring your hands to your mouth, they’re slightly trembling as you try and calm your racing heart. Ellie is looking at you with a smirk, that cheeky little shit, she’s playing matchmaker. You mouth out the words, “Fuck you.” Which causes her to grin wider, happy with what she’s accomplished.

“Hey.” Joel's voice is deep and low from behind you, and you raise your eyebrows at Ellie, she replies, “Yeah?” He proceeds to ask, “When we were talking about hurtin’ people, what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?” You give Ellie a sad smile knowingly, the places may have changed, but at its core, the story stayed the same. She changes her position to lay flat on her back and stares at the ceiling, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He doesn’t push her and settles, “All right.” After a second he rolls over to his left and lifts his head up, to look at Ellie, you are now inches apart from him brushing his hand on your waist, he tells the kid, “You don’t have to. I’m just saying… it isn’t fair, your age having to deal with all of this.”

Ellie looks to the both of you, “So it gets easier when you get older?” You snort, “God, no.” And Joel shakes his head, “No. Not really. But still.” Ellie doesn’t say anything back to him for a bit, and he sighs, you feel his breath along the back of your neck, causing your spine to shiver at the sensation. “The reason I asked whether you’d hear the glass or not, is because Miss Birdie and I have noticed you don’t hear too well from your right side. Is it ‘cause you were shot there?”

“Probably more from shootin’. So if you wanna keep your hearing, you stick to that knife.” He says and lays back down again, rolling back over to his right side and closing his eyes, Ellie says both of your names and you look at her, waiting, “Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?” He glances over his shoulder, “What?” And Ellie continues, “Yeah. It runs in your jeans.”

You didn’t know if your humor was broken, or if you were traumatized, or just exhausted, but you giggled with her and hear Joel whisper, “Jesus.”

He shakes his head, and you and Ellie continue to giggle, “That is so goddamn stupid.” But Ellie points out, “You laughed, motherfucker.” You hear the smile in his voice, “I didn’t laugh.” The kid throws back at him, “Yes, you did.” And you agree with her, “Yeah, you most certainly did, cowboy.”

He mumbles, “Jesus, I’m losin’ it,” and you loudly agree, “Yep, you are and so am I.”

And then his invisible walls came down and allowed himself to be vulnerable, to laugh at Ellie’s stupid joke. Finally, letting his baggage down, if he was being honest, he was so tired of being afraid, and this feeling of weightlessness felt like euphoria. Your cheeks rise to meet your eyes and lines appear as you smile, listening to both of their laughter. Though the storms will push and pull, you three are slowly beginning to form a home. The years, while they were here, haven’t been so kind, but the melody of laughter reminds you to keep your heart open wide. Slowly finding the strength and the nerve it takes to keep going because you know what lies beneath is the greatest thing you have. To trust that there will be light always waiting behind even in the darkest of nights. Somehow you will all be okay.

OFFICE BUILDING, KANSAS CITY – A FEW HOURS INTO THE NIGHT

You feel something heavy and warm draped over your waist, and your head resting on something firm beneath your head. You hear Ellie yell out both of your names in urgency and blink your eyes open to find yourself wrapped up in arms, with your head on his chest. You take a deep inhale, turn your head slightly, and tap Joel awake, his eyes open, alert and confused, to see Ellie kneeling on the cushions with her hands up and Henry pointing a gun at her head. Shit.

And you both turn to look in front of you, a little boy, Sam, with orange paint on his face resembling a superhero mask, pointing a gun at you both, he brings his pointer finger to his lips, indicating for you to be quiet. Joel tries to shield you from the boy, covering your figure with his large frame, gripping your waist so tight, and breathing through his nose heavily. You feel a little paralyzed, as you can’t help but watch the train wreck about to happen right in front of you.

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

END NOTES:

This was probably one of the most difficult chapters to write because of all the technicalities and this episode was definitely more centered around Ellie and Joel’s relationship so I didn’t want the reader to completely overshadow that HHEHEHEHE ONE BED TROPE The moment I watched that episode, I immediately thought, I’m writing a one-bed trope (idk if i got it right tho lol I tried to make it realistic??) I had to cut a huge ass important memory from the reader but decided again it's TOO SOON also it wouldn’t add anything to the plot so I’ll add that in later My bad for taking too long to finish this chapter, it was the most intimidating episode for me to write, the loss of innocence is also the main theme of this part of the show, and my experiences with losing innocence are WAY DIFFERENT so it proved it harder to write about You can see Joel slowly giving in and opening up to both you and Ellie Tbh, to me, this is one of the more mediocre chapters I’ve written thus far but I can’t seem to edit it anymore T^T Ellie absolutely adores you and 100% looks up to you hehe (Also she definitely wants you to get with her father figure) cAN SOMEONE UPDATE ME IF THEY WERE AT A TRUCK STOP OR GAS STATION BCS I’ve read sO MANY DAMN ARTICLES trying to figure out what it was and I just settled for a truck stop T^T Thank you, guys, so much for all your kind questions, comments, and feedback aHHH IT TRULY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME Lastly, this is the last call for the taglist before I close it! OKAY BYE OFF TO EPISODE 5 I GO WRITE HNGGGG - Grace

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe

Edit: Sorry for the notif twice! The taglist completely bonked itself :,)

#uneven odds joel miller #unevenoddstaglist #uneven odds #unevenodds #joel miller x reader series #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x modern reader #joel miller x reader au #joel miller x reader tlou #tlou rewrite #tlou remake #tlou series #joel miller x reader masterlist #joel miller x reader series masterlist #ethereal writes

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gothicprep · 1 year ago

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so, apparently marvel is in disarray. ahead of the marvels coming out this weekend, variety dropped a bomb on the studio's somewhat dire state of affairs, as the franchise has hit its first real rough patch since the release of iron man 15 years ago. among the issues: jonathan majors, whose domestic violence arrest continues to hang over marvel's plans to make his character the thanos-like heavy for the next sequence of movies, the weak box office projections for the marvels (which some have said is tracking lower than recent bombs like the flash), the unending flood of hashtag content on disney plus which is overwhelming audiences who are finding it harder to keep up with the interlocking stories that have served marvel so well over the years, shoddy visual effects, spiraling budgets such as the reported $25mil an episode for she-hulk, a show that looked terrible because of the shoddy effects work aforementioned, behind the scenes chaos as kevin feige works to slash budgets and kill projects that aren't coming together. one movie at risk is the forthcoming blade reboot with mahershala ali, which has gone through rewrite after rewrite including reportedly one draft in which blade was the fourth lead in, quote, "a narrative led by women and filled with life lessons".

that last line has provided a lot of laughs for people like jay gothicprep, and critics who insist that marvel's efforts to diversify the lineup have led to much of this disaster, indicative of disney's overall failure with things like indiana jones and the dial of destiny or animated projects like strange world or lightyear. while this is potentially true (i guess, it's possible) it doesn't seem true because this certainly wasn't the case when black panther and captain marvel were both cracking the billion dollar mark a few years ago. rather it just seems, more simply, that marvel has run its course. marvel was hit by a double-whammy of endings. the thanos storyline that'd dominated the first ten or so years of the project came to an end. at the same time, the pandemic began and disney plus started flooding the zone with content, creating a natural break point for audiences that had no desire to watch hours of tv to understand 1.5 plot points in whatever the next movie that's coming out is.

this preamble is getting kind of long, and i have a lot more to say, so i'm going to continue to thought dump about this under a cut.

first of all, i'm still laughing like a week later at the women led life lessons description. no one has disputed that it happened. that description is the funniest thing i've ever read in a trade industry report possibly ever. what in the hell, my friends. did a writer even talk to a producer about what blade was? it's a movie about a guy with a sword who kills vampires! it's pretty straighforward! that sounds like something i want to see! there were three of them already, and two of them were pretty good!

anyway, i think you can take that incredibly ridiculous description of a draft that maybe wasn't the main draft – this movie has been through tons of writers and directors – and see some of the real problems with marvel's creative direction, which is that they've stopped making movies that highlight the core concepts of their characters. there are other problems as well, but when's the last time they put out a movie that was like, "iron man. he's a guy in a metal suit and he fights a bad guy." or "spider man. it's a guy in a spider suit with spider powers. he's got girlfriend problems and he fights crime around manhattan and maybe there's dr octopus." they don't do that. their recent stretch of movies have all been these impenetrable multiverse stuff with ties to tv series that you haven't seen and maybe won't ever see. there was a whole 25 minute section in black panther 2 that was setting up armor wars and ironheart. and like. who needs that sequence, which was boring and looked like total garbage? and now armor wars is being redeveloped lol. they've just departed from a lot of the core concepts that powered their earlier films.

they have some other problems. they've leaned into a slate of characters that is not all that well-known or inherently super popular, even for marvel being able to deliver on making billion dollar films out of guardians of the galaxy and such. maybe with the exception of spider man, which they don't get a full cut from because sony owns the actual movie rights. then there's the fact that the streaming series, by all accounts, aren't great but you *feel* like you need to have seen them. they're all real big problems. marvel needs to go back to making movies that are named after a character who's a superhero with a clear concept. guy with spider powers fights crime in his neighborhood. even though those movies got kind of repetitive, they did well enough because they didn't stray too far from the character concept.

i think, too, as a viewer, when you have a studio churning out so much stuff that's not good, you get the impression that the superhero industry feels entitled to your time and entitled to your money while not delivering.

this summer also represents an interesting counterpoint to what's happened with marvel and dc. the sheer amount of stuff that you devote every waking minute to keeping track of the damn things got exhausting and made movies stop feeling like events. this summer we've had barbenheimer and the eras tour, and those have been both big events and felt exciting. barbie was a chance to be campy, oppenheimer was a chance to see something serious and cinematic, the eras tour was exciting for fans of taylor swift who couldn't afford to spend $3k on taylor swift. and they felt this way because they were all unlike anything you'd seen at the movies in recent years. they had a high standard of quality, and going, it genuinely felt like people were there because they wanted to be, not because they were being force marched by a cultural behemoth to be there. you can't summon that same kind of energy for a marvel movie when it both feels obligatory and you expect it to be bad.

it also feels like there's a certain contempt for the audience where it concerns quality problems. i mean, i don't think that this is the intention. marvel isn't saying "we can deliver this stuff that's garbage and people will see it anyway". but one of the things i thought was the most damning about that variety story was the fact that, on some of the marvel tv shows, the final effects were inserted after the shows were released. so if you watched the show on opening night, you probably didn't see the final effects work. the arrogance involved in that is insane. it speaks to a total vanished pride in putting out a good product.

even some of marvel's better regarded films were heavily edited and heavily worked on right until the end, in part because kevin feige would come in and fix things, so stuff would have to get reworked. that's why effects deadlines were super tight and people were always crunching at the very end of this. there was that incredible quote from sam raimi from a couple months before the second doctor strange came out where he was like, "i think it's done but i'm not sure. marvel, they work on their movies until the very end." the director didn't even know if his own movie was locked or not because he clearly wasn't the one making the decisions about what the final print would look like.

that can work if you're making two movies a year and have a supervisor that comes in during the process and says, "i need you to redo this, in this way". but when you stretch that out to three movies a year, plus god knows how many episodes of television, there's no way to do that and make it a high quality product.

an instructive lesson comes from the book "disneywar", which chronicles michael eisner's time at disney. and one of the things in this book was the development and deployment of "who wants to be a millionaire" in america. bob iger is head of abc at this time. the guys making this show do it for a week. audiences love it. it's putting up huge numbers. everybody is excited. it's crushing it in the ratings. and the people who made it wanted to keep doing special week or two week long engagements that people would show up for. and iger was like, "no. i want this every week, three times a week, forever." and audiences got burnt out on it quickly, because it was something that only really worked as a special that ran for a week and disappeared for a few months. that's what the disney plus strategy feels like with marvel.

#i love watching movies with my friends

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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

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hi 🫧 if you have some spare time at some point, could you write Azriel headcanons in a modern world with reader? What would your hobbies and outings be? And if you have something +18 I will appreciate it too 👀

I loved your writing 💗💗 (I'm really shy, so I'll have to stay at anon, sorry 🙈)

please don't be sorry!! you're always more than welcome to stay on anon!!

modern!az definitely meets his girlfriend in one of those accidental ways and they're definitely friends first.

I think they probably meet through cassian, actually.

she goes to cassian's boxing gym but has never actually had the bravery to try boxing, she just uses the regular gym stuff.

and one day, a later night session, azriel and cassian are sparring in the ring.

azriel has had a rough day, like a really rough day, all his leads on his latest case fell through, he got a parking ticket while stopping to get coffee, the coffee order ended up being wrong, he forgot to set his washing off this morning so he didn't have the clothes he wanted, and he had to stop for gas at a place where it was like twice the price.

honestly, he's moody.

so, when he senses her watching them both, when he breaks for water, he doesn't really think about it when he whips around and just sort of glares at her.

because, he knows he's good at this, and logically, he knows he's attractive.

she hasn't seen his scarred hands inside of those gloves, or seen him up close.

she's just staring at him the same way a lot of women stare at him, when they just want a quick, hot fuck, and then to leave him, because as his ex told him many years ago, he's "got way too much baggage to be serious, and he's not the kind of guy she'd ever want to build a future with".

didn't matter that azriel had been looking at engagement rings, of course.

so, yeah, he snaps a little, and he hates himself for it instantly because he's not that guy, and the way you flinch a little at his tone when he says "can I help you?" makes him feel awful.

but before he can really calm himself enough to apologise, you're apologising, mumbling a soft "sorry" and leaving.

and he wants to go after you, but by the time he's made it out of the ring and down the steps, you're gone, gym bag bumping against your leg as you swipe your entry card and jog across the parking lot.

he feels like an ass, and cassian doesn't let it slide either

"dude, you had a bad day, I get it, but don't scare my patrons. I work hard to make this gym feel like a safe space, especially for women, so get your shit together, or don't come here to blow off steam."

and he knows cassian is right, he does work hard, even so far as to have women-only hours, where even he won't come in.

it's three days later when azriel sees you again.

he has been working later these last few days to catch up on that one day, making his workouts much later than usual, and there you are.

you keep your head down, particularly when you pass him by, and he knows you've already seen him.

you take the long route round to the changing rooms, walking all the way through the cardio section to avoid him.

he feels like crap again.

so, he waits til he's finished his workout, trying not to look like a creep as he watches you move between the equipment.

and when you're taking a break at the treadmill, he makes his move

"hey." he practically terrifies you with his sudden appearance. "I wanted to apologise for the other day."

"it's fine, I shouldn't have been staring, it was rude, and-"

"no, I'm rude, I shouldn't have snapped, I was having a bad day, you were just watching, you did nothing wrong."

"well, thanks." and then he lingers, because it still doesn't feel right. like maybe you're just saying it's okay because you feel like you have to. "it was very impressive."

"have you ever boxed?"

"I don't even look at that side of the gym. punching bags and high kicks and- wow. I mean, it all just looks terrifying. I wouldn't know where to start."

"I can show you some things, if you'd like?"

and that's where it starts.

he shows you a few things, and he actually finds he likes it, and so do you.

so you make a loose plan to do it again sometime. really one of those 'we should do this again sometime' comments.

the following week he sees you again, and he asks if you remember what he taught, you show him.

four days after that, he sees you again, and he shows you something new, and also gets your phone number.

you start meeting up for boxing lessons, because he finds it helps him on bad days to at least do something useful.

so, when those lessons end up getting a little more handsy and flirty, its really no surprise.

the first time he kisses you is by your car, in the middle of winter, after a lesson. a really good lesson, where you're both laughing and teasing out to the parking lot, and he can't take it anymore when you wish him a goodnight and he just wants to stay right there, in the freezing cold, talking to you all night, just being with you.

so he presses you back against your car, and leans in, letting his nose bumps yours because he's so sure you want this too, but he wants to give you a chance to pull away. you don't. he makes it one hell of a kiss.

your back pressed up against the cold car, his hands sitting hot under your jacket on the bare skin between your shorts and sports bra, breath clouding in the winter air between pants for breath, it's intense. just like him.

after that, azriel permanently shifts his schedule to nighttime workouts.

you would both workout together, spotting one another, practising boxing. when you get good enough, they'd become sparring matches, which was practically foreplay with all the teasing and gambling and trash-talking that would take place.

also, az is an active man. dates would consist of things like hiking, or activity adventures, or simply walks around the park.

he would also often make trips out of his work, the perks of being a bounty hunter private investigator meant being his own boss, nobody to tell him what to do.

so, whenever he had to go away for weekends/a few days, he'd always ask you to come with him. during the day, he'd track his mark and do his research, make calls, etc, but he'd plan times for dinners and sightseeing too.

there's a rule that he absolutely will not take you on stake-outs in person anymore. he'll call you and stay on the phone the whole time chatting, but an incident the one and only time meant he stays strong now.

the incident being that azriel couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you both nearly got arrested for fucking in the backseat of the car.

he missed his mark, had a ruined orgasm when you got caught, and had blue balls for hours afterwards until he could finally get you alone.

a very, very active sex life.

"we're done here, time to head home, baby."

"we haven't done cardio, yet."

"we're going to my place to do cardio."

"oh."

always up for trying something new. always.

you can't tell me he wouldn't have a box full of toys in his closet. this man would be kinky.

definitely tests your limits, but is also the king of aftercare.

likes you to stay over and always cooks you breakfast in the morning.

especially when it means he gets to smirk at the way your legs are still a little shaky when you stumble into the kitchen.

cooks shirtless, of course.

his biggest weakness, like, sends him weak in the knees, is when you trace the tattoos on his chest with your mouth.

he would crawl to you if you asked while doing that.

he is a 'flowers at every date' kind of guy.

even if that date is a date in, which is his preference. cooking together, or ordering takeout, watching movies or playing games or just generally being together.

if you come over during the day to work and you both sit in silence for hours doing your own work, he'll consider that a date.

modern!az would be very domestic.

despite all this, azriel always would keep things casual.

he never asks you about the future, he barely even clears a drawer for you in his dresser, you have a few things in a drawer with his stuff, and he never leaves things at your place.

after almost year, you start trying to push it. because, things are going great, you're wildly in love with him, and you can really see a future with him, but it seems like he doesn't want that.

so, you try to get him to meet your mom. it's casual, really, you bring it up over dinner one night.

"so, my mom's gonna be in town, I'm going to go to dinner with her, if you're free next thursday, you should join us."

you both know he's free next thursday, it's one of your dedicated workout nights, has been for over half a year now.

"eh, I don't think so. but, bring me something back." he doesn't even look up at you as he says it. and that hurts, he just dismissed you while scrolling on Instagram. you have no idea how much his palms are sweating, he's not even processed the last few posts he's seen, he's just randomly liking things in hopes he seems casual to you right now.

"seriously?"

"what?" now he looks up. he knows that tone. knows he's in trouble.

"unbelievable. I invite you to meet my mom, and you just say 'I don't think so', I mean, you can't even make up an excuse."

"I don't need any excuse! I just thought, you know, we don't really need to take that step. that's not.. us." and damn, if that doesn't sting you the most. azriel feels like he's swallowing acid as he says it, but he feels like someone gutted him where he stood at the look that takes over your face.

and you, you're staring at him. you want to scream 'why isn't that us? what do you mean? I love you, I want my mom to know about the man I tell her about!' but then it clicks. the extreme pain when your mind flickers back.

to the first time you'd told azriel you loved him, and he grabbed your face and kissed you.

to the second time, the same night, bundled up in his arms as he snapped his hips into yours in a way that made you so sure he felt the same as he held you, made you see stars, and he'd merely pressed his face into your neck and bit the spot that made you weak.

to the third time, when he'd just smiled bashfully, the eighth time when he just tapped the tip of your nose and laughed at the way you stole his ice cream, to the fifteenth time, to the twenty-second, all the way through to this morning, when you'd left his house, happy smile on your lips again and you'd whispered it at the front door.

"don't forget your scarf, can't have you getting a chill, pretty girl." was all he'd said. it meant so much at the time, like his way of telling you he loved you wasn't through words but actions.

now, you doubted it.

azriel had never once said he loved you back.

that realisation crushed you from the inside out, like something in your chest had snapped.

azriel didn't know what was going on inside of your head, but nothing made every single cell in his body feel like it was turning to rock-hard ice like watching that look take over your face. heartbroken, into understanding, into closed off. you were shutting him out, he didn't know why, what you were thinking, what he'd done, but you were putting up walls right before his eyes and he had no idea what to say or do to stop it.

"right, of course, you're right."

"what?"

"you're right, that's not us."

"it's not? I mean, it's not, right? we're not.. serious like that. we're just, I mean, what's happening right now?"

"nothing is happening." he could feel the double meaning behind your words, he just didn't know what it meant.

"okay.. well, I found a movie for us to watch on netflix while we have dessert."

"I actually have to go after dinner, I have some stuff to do in the morning."

and that, right there, is when azriel knows that whatever just happened ended everything. you never leave, you brought a bag, he knows you have spare clothes with you because you only ever bring the purple gym bag when you need extra space for the next day's clothes, and now you're leaving.

you never leave on an argument, you always work it out, even if you're still mad at him.

which is what tells him you're not mad at him, you're simply done.

he watches you leave exactly thirty-two minutes later, with the blasted purple gym bag over your shoulder, his heart aching in his chest.

you walk away from azriel thirty-two minutes later, feeling like a total idiot, with your heart breaking in your chest.

nine days later, you’re cautiously making your way through the iced-over parking lot, trying to work out exactly how to explain to your mom that the man you were so sure was the one is now gone, when only a week ago you were fawning on the phone, heart-eyed and utterly stupid.

there’s a host waiting at the stand, smart pressed waistcoat and a smile, and when you tell him the name of your reservation, he frowns a little.

“sorry, ma’am, we already seated that booking?”

“I’m sorry?”

“well, two people already arrived. we seated your booking. do they know you’re coming?”

“uh, it’s my booking, my name.” producing your ID from your pocket, he checked it, cheeks tinting a little.

"my apologies, ma’am. it’s really no trouble, it’s a table for four, so I’ll just grab another menu, and I’ll take you over.”

he did just that, wandering away to collect another selection of menus, before motioning you to follow him. you did.

your mom brought a date? and didn’t tell you? at least someone was happily in love, then.

except, it definitely wasn’t your mother’s date when you rounded the corner on the second floor to your table.

hazel eyes met your own, and you froze, stumbling a little in your smart heels as your sights locked with bright hazel eyes.

azriel lifted his water glass to his lips, taking a deep and nervous gulp, but never looking away.

you shuffled a little closer to the table, and when you finally made it close enough for your mother to notice your appearance, azriel’s chair scraped across the floor loudly. he stood.

as though sensing the tension, the host placed your menus down neatly in the chair beside azriel’s, promising to send a waiter over to take a drinks order soon.

“hi, baby,” you croaked out the word roughly, the petname feeling oh-so-wrong on your tongue, and oh-so-right at the same time. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” there was something raw in his voice when he spoke, and you simply nodded. he shuffled forward again, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, before you were slipping your coat from your shoulders. he took it from you, always such a gentleman, one of the reason you fell for him, and laid it with his own and your mother’s over the spare chair. he pulled your chair out for you as you sat down.

“okay, okay, I see you trying to act reserved because your mother is here. I’m going to nip to the bathroom, give you two a moment.”

she winked, before getting up from the table to leave, having no idea just what she was leaving you in. utter silence took over as she walked away.

azriel pushed a bouquet of flowers towards you, twisting a little in his seat.

“these were for you, but, uh, when I got here you were running late and I was intending to apologise, but, your mom didn’t seem to know we were.. so, I said they were for her, but..”

“I hadn’t told her yet, hadn’t really worked up the courage to do so.” he only nodded, licking over his lower lip. “if you don’t mind, could you stay tonight? just, for the dinner now, and then in a few days, I’ll tell her it didn’t work out. I don’t want to spend the whole dinner with her questioning me, and-”

“or, you don’t tell her anything at all.”

“what?”

you finally looked up at him, having felt his gaze burning into the side of your head until you met it.

“I miss you.”

“azriel..”

“no, I miss you like I have never missed anyone or anything before. I miss you and it’s like I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything, because every time I remember you’re not there, you’re not coming back, it feels like something inside of me dies.”

“why are you here?”

“because you invited me, and I wanted to meet your mother.”

“you didn’t want to when I asked you!”

“yes, I did!”

your brows furrowed, and azriel lifted a hand, resting it over your cheek. you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it a little bit. “last time I let myself love someone even half as much as I love you, I got hurt so bad I thought I’d never be whole again.”

your throat burned, the words he’d finally spoken rattling around the inside of your skull, ringing in your ears.

“so, what changed?”

“you did. I had put up so many walls that when you were fixing everything, when you were doing and being everything I wanted, I couldn’t see it. I was so sure you were going to leave me, and so I figured it would hurt less if I never let you get that close. but you did get that close, you’re under my skin, running through my mind, living in my heart. so, I love you, and if you still love me, I think we should kiss and make up, because I’m going through withdrawals from your love, baby.”

“that last bit was so cheesy.” you whispered, eyes flicking down and lingering on his lips, which twisted into a smirk before you looked back up. he smoothed his thumb over your cheekbone, urging you a little closer.

“say you still love me.”

“you were an asshole.”

“yeah, I was. say you still love me.”

“you’re here.”

“yeah, I am. say you still love me.”

“I love you, azriel.”

“I love you, baby.”

and his lips brushed yours, once to tease, a second time to linger, and then he pressed his mouth firmly against your own. your sigh matched his, the feeling of pure bliss racing through your veins, a feeling you’d missed so much finally coming crashing back down. it was like you’d been cold for days, cold since the moment you left him, finally warm again.

“I missed you so much.” his words were mumbled into your mouth, softly between needy kisses, the hand on your cheek slipping down to rest on the back of your chair, the other slipping down to under the seat, your chair scraping on the floor as he pulled you closer to him. “don’t ever leave me again, think I was going insane.”

placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back just enough to take a proper breath and catch his eye.

“trust me, azriel, I am not going anywhere. you.. you’re it. I know you’ve been hurt, you don’t have to tell me the ins and outs of it, but just know, I’m in it with you, all of it. it’s us, always. I just need you to trust that, trust that I love you and I want you, all of you, and we’ll make everything else up as we go.”

he only nodded, blinking away the shine that took over his eyes, and resting his forehead against yours, noses brushing lightly.

“oh, to be young and in love again.”

you jerked apart as your mother sat back down, staring between you both like she knew everything and nothing all at once.

maybe she did. you didn’t care, you were simply happy about having them both here. azriel’s hand smoothed down your arm lightly where it sat on the table, linking your fingers together, and squeezing.

it was a promise, that this was it, now. from now on, it was the two of you, together.

“so,” your mother started, leaning conspiratorially across the table. “I want to hear all about how you two met.”

#azriel x reader

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