#looks like someone didn't go through their lurking-and-learning phase

[lalal-99]

of timeless love {h.j.} | track 1

©March 2023, February 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: You and your annoyingly adorable boyfriend Jisung move off to university, to make new friends, find a calling and learn how to live on your own for the very first time in your lives.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I first thought of this story about a year and a half ago. I didn't feel ready at the time, but as I got better over the years, I picked this story up again. Updates might be slow, so bear with me please

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You, 6 years ago, wouldn’t have bought this romantic af, straight out of a fairy-tale storyline.

You going to University? With the love of your life? Like the picture-perfect couple, smiles glued to your face? Nuh-uh. Not you. Not in this lifetime and most likely not in the next dozen—if you ever were so unlucky.

Family, love, college. All of it was bullshit. Temporary.

Nothing good ever lasted. If anything, a dark twist was already lurking around the next corner at any given moment. You couldn’t imagine a dimension in which you were ever happy. Let alone content.

Your 14-year-old emo self would never grow out of the jet-black hair. Or the countless piercings decorating your face. Or those cole-coloured ripped skinny jeans you wore like a second skin. So much you knew. Past-you only ever wanted to gloom through life in a hazy blur. Depressed about My Chemical Romance breaking up and all the other hardships life had already put you through.

That girl would have despised who you had become. Hair grown back to its natural colour. Wearing shirts without some underground metal band’s logo printed on the front. That girl would have likely made fun of you for even thinking about grades. And your future? If you ever had one, your 14-year-old self knew it would include nothing but darkness and despair.

Every teenager around you went through that phase, though you were sure it was more than that. A phase. A short and survivable part of your story. You fully and whole-heartedly believed nothing would ever change about your attitude towards life. It couldn’t, not after everything that had happened.

Overcoming that horrible chapter of your life seemed unimaginable. That you even got the chance to reach out and grab your future by its horns only had one reason. One person who was to become the most meaningful part of your life. Of the same future, he was the reason you even considered having.

Han Jisung.

A boy of innocence and noisy introversion. A boy who, despite having lived through similar trauma as yourself, had a will for life toxic enough to capture you. A boy who you became sure was the closest thing to a soulmate you would ever find.

No one could have prepared you for how hard you’d fall for Jisung. You loved him at his best, worst, and everything between. And you had fallen in love with him despite his lousy sense of humour and silly persona. Or maybe, you had fallen for him because of it. Because he had a similar story to yours but an opposite look at it.

Your 14-year-old, always-depressed, doom-certain-self could have never imagined being with someone like him. Let alone being head-over.heels. All while doing what? Watching him do something so mediocre and none-life changing as buying toothbrushes?

“I don’t know. Which ones do you think?”

Jisung presented you two indistinguishable packs of toothbrushes, waking you from your daydream. Thus, the blurriness faded and your eyes focused on the tiny words on each cover.

“These,” you decided on the left option. “Those bristles are too hard for your gums.”

“Oh, we definitely can’t have that.” With a dramatically disgusted expression, he returned the wrong set to its place on the shelf. “I want to keep at least some of my teeth.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed with a snicker. His words cracked you up more than they should have.

No doubt, your 14-year-old self would have hated yourself six years later.

“Okay. What else is on that magic list of yours?”

“Microwave popcorn and some instant ramen. And we should get some notebooks and highlighters for tomorrow. That’s it.” You listed the remaining articles off the slip of paper while crossing out the products you had retrieved from the hygiene section. “Should we split up?”

“Nah. That’s how they die in horror movies. And I’m not going out in the food court of a 7/11.”

“Fair. How about the Back-to-School aisle then?”

Jisung pondered his reply as he wandered past toothpaste and mouthwash. “Too many pens for people to draw penises on my face. The cleaning section, however? That’s a whole other conversation.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s bleach and mops already. Also, buckets. So they can simply wheel my corpse away.”

As you walked by the pasta and other canned foods, you picked up a tray of ramen each. For convenience, if anything. Had it not been for the thinness of your wallet, you would have gone for fresher produce. So much for independent living.

With an intensive focus on your absurd conversation—Jisung listing places he would most likely die in if he were a character in a horror movie—you didn’t notice a tray of stacked goods blocking the path. It wasn’t until you bumped your shin on the square-edged tower that you finally took notice.

As a wave of pain swallowed your leg, you left out a shriek. “Gosh freakin’ dang it!”

“You good, baby?” His concern was genuine, though he couldn’t help smiling at your desperate attempt not to swear. “Let me see.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you, noticing a reddening wound once he had dragged the jean fabric up your leg.

“Just a bruise.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one feeling like your skin is being dragged off your flesh.”

“No. But I can make it better.”

He rose to his feet, arms hugging your frame as he picked you up without any effort. You giggled as he heaved you into the cart, careful not to squish the food.

“What are you doing?”

“No girlfriend of mine should have to walk when she’s in pain,” Jisung explained, helping you get settled. Pushing the crushable goods out of the way, you sat on the cans. Not the most comfortable seating, but it worked, nevertheless.

“Damn, those other girls are lu-cky.”

Jisung was pleased at how casually you had joined in on his joke. A smile formed on his lips as he pushed you along the shelves of seasonal produce.

You soon reached the Back-to-School aisle. There you took your sweet time deciding on notebook formats and highlighter colours. It kept surprising you how much fun it was to go grocery shopping when done with the right people. Everything was about 50 percent less boring because of Jisung. Jisung and his ability to find something ridiculous in anything and everything.

After you had made some other critical decisions—like which folders would make organising the year easiest, the ones with dogs or flowers in front—you finished up your school-supply-run.

When you reached the cash register, you noticed the strange looks the other customers gave you. Two young adults strolling through a supermarket, pushing each other in grocery carts? Definitely side-eye-worthy.

Maybe you would have cared more had you not been so enticed by Jisung’s mindless humming of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

“What?” Jisung questioned your glances as he started unloading the items from the cart.

“Nothing.” You joined him, unloading all the trays of food you had picked minutes earlier. “This feels weird. Going grocery shopping together. Feels grown-up somehow.”

“We go grocery shopping once a week,” he declared with a thoughtful pout.

“But that’s different.”

After you had emptied out your purchase, he wheeled you further down the band. The woman behind the cash register seemed equally interested in you as all the customers. Soon enough, she continued doing her job.

“You mean because we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves?” He held his hand to his heart as if heartbroken. “I miss your dad, too. Always so kind, paying for all our stuff.”

You chuckled at his playful sincerity.

“No, idiot.” As Jisung reloaded the cart, you payed for this week’s necessities. “Because we’re grocery shopping on our own, living off at uni. We have officially moved out of our home, living in the big city. It’s— new. That’s it.”

As soon as you had reached the exit, you picked reached for the strawberries, unable to abstain any longer. Strolling towards his car, you handed one over to your boyfriend while sucking on your own. Like the gentleman he was, Jisung helped you jump from the car and you packed everything into the trunk.

Once you had placed the cart back by the others, you finally headed home. Or rather, the dorm room you would be living in for the next four years.

You weren’t at that point of calling it your home yet.

A comfortable silence surrounded you throughout your drive. It remained while you stacked away your half of the food back at your place and lasted until you finished. This sort of silence wasn’t uncommon these many years into your relationship—you hardly noticed it anymore.

“Man, all this talk about horror movies makes me want to watch one.” That you hadn’t mentioned this topic for over 30 minutes seemed irrelevant.

“But you’re horrible with horror movies,” you pointed out.

“Not when you’re there to protect me.”

An hour later you were sprawled out on your bed, the last sweet strawberry long gone.

With your legs entangled, Jisung’s face rested on your chest as you massaged his scalp. After minutes of fruitless discussion, Spiderman was now webbing his way through your laptop screen. In the end, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing. It never did as long as you were with each other.

Not even 20 minutes into the movie, Jisung had fallen asleep on top of you. His faint snoring was now mere background noise as you followed the plot, ehich wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Your energy was more than drained from running around all day.

Only three days ago, you had still been back home. Packing for your upcoming move to a new city, two hours from every place you had grown up in. The one thing keeping you calm throughout the stress was your sweetheart-boyfriend. To no one’s surprise. He was the only person able to keep you sane when all you wanted was to scream and cry. Had you not had him by your side, you would have drowned in all the noise your brain usually produced.

His ability to calm your nerves when you needed him to—know when to make you laugh or when to distract you from your everyday stresses—surprised you to this day. You couldn’t begin to explain how you had been lucky enough to find someone like him. Someone you loved as much as you had seen your parents do when you were younger. Let alone how he loved you the same way, almost self-destructively so.

Your 14-year-old self would have called bs. But that girl was someone else—you, but in another lifetime. You but pre-Jisung.

When the door to your room rushed open, it pulled you from your quiet slumber. You had turned off the lights earlier to set the mood but still knew the intruder was your roommate. Besides you two, only Jisung knew the code to your dorm—a decision you had previously discussed with your new roomie, of course. Seeing as he was knocked out on top of you, you could cross him off your list of possible visitors at 8 pm on a Monday.

Adapting her eyes to the darkness, she checked her surroundings before tiptoeing into the room. The light remained off as she expected you to be asleep.

“Hey,” you greeted the dark-haired beauty, making her jump in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fu—God! You scared me.” With one hand over her heart, your roomie calmed herself from your unexpected jump-scare. Once her heart rate had settled, she slipped out of her heels and left them by the end of her bed. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting your finger run along his jaw to check. He didn’t move, so you knew he was most likely out for the night. “Long night?”

She gagged with an eye roll, pulling her jeans off her legs and exchanging them for grey sweatpants. “Don’t get me started. I haven’t even started writing my thesis, and it’s already kicking my ass.”

You watched her as she also changed out of her dress shirt and into an off-the-shoulder crop top. She slipped into a pair of sneakers while making her way to her dresser where she sprayed herself in a cloud of perfume.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yup. I spent so much time at the library today, I apparently neglected,” she air-quoted with an eye roll, “my girlfriend. At least that’s what she said.”

“The things we do to keep our loved ones happy.”

“Exactly.” Unleashing her long curls from a tight ponytail, she ran her fingers through them for a few seconds. Her beach-waves veiled her face, so she pushed them behind her ears to instead frame her near-perfect features. “Anyway, I’m staying at hers tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a yawn, your roommate replying with a deep chuckle.

The past few days, you had mainly spent in your new room, settling in and getting ready for the start of the semester. You liked planning ahead, knowing your life was organised to a T, so you could focus on the important stuff. Your studies, and your boyfriend.

Your roommate seemed to have most of the same priorities. She had gone out every night since you moved in, be it to study at the library or spend some time with her better half. However she managed to squeeze in all the partying? You had no clue. You could only hope some of her togetherness rubbed off on you. But then again, never judge a book.

“I’m going to take you out one of these days. You are not going to be sitting inside all year. Not on my watch.”

Spending the first two days inside, you must have looked like the biggest couch potato ever.

“Sounds good.”

As she waltzed towards the door, you grabbed her attention one last time. The hallway lights blinded you with their brightness, framing her curves in a halo.

“Oh, and Hwasa?” She turned to face you, looking like she had jumped straight off a Vogue cover. How she did that without trying was a mystery to you. “Can you not tell Wheein he’s sleeping over? I wouldn’t want my first warning on the third day already.”

“Babe, as long as you’re my roommate, my dorm-supervisor-girlfriend won’t dare write you up. Just don’t set anything on fire, and you’re solid.”

With that, she waved goodbye, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Well, apart from the ever-so-handsome Tom Holland, who somehow made full-body suits look like a reasonable choice of clothing.

Not soon after, your eyes fell close, sending you off into a deep rest.

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[causeimhappinesss]

Your lucky star (Joel Miller x reader)

Summary: Your town got attacked and you survived, before going to the west and then, you meet Joel. He doesn't seem to be receptive, but could he develop feelings for you?

Warning: angst, age gap, implied death of a family member, blood, some slight spoilers if you didn’t play the games

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Words: 4,7k

Disclaimer: English isn't my native language (I'm french), so you can correct me if you spot somes mistakes :)

*

As far back as you can remember, you understood that life was only an eternal suffering. You had never stopped questioning the existence of your life, even if some people told you that we were all born on Earth to fulfill a particular mission. You had never understood yours.

As far back as you can remember, you had spent your time in libraries. You were born in a city that looked more like a slum, six months after the apocalypse began. Then your whole family fled and lived on the road from the time you were three until you were six, in order to find the comfort of a city that wasn’t dictated by the Fedra. You were a family of beautiful doves in search of freedom, guided by the nostalgia of a democracy, of a normal life, where children laughed out loud in the street. Your parents wanted to find a place where you would grow up and learn all sorts of things; they dreamed of a school. A hospital. Warm, cozy homes, similar to the cocoon they had worked so hard to build before the world fell apart.

For as long as you can remember, you've been happy... Because you didn't know the misery of the quarantine zones, of trafficking of all kinds to survive. No, your family had been welcomed in a small town in the countryside called Wintervale. It spanned several streets, each one prettier than the next one. Sure, there were sometimes as many as ten people per household, which justified the sentence "it takes a village to raise a child," but you were safe. The 150 inhabitants lived peacefully, enjoyed hot showers, although a limit of water was decreed, comfortable mattresses, warm blankets, a school, two doctors, a bookstore and a few stores. As for food, it was distributed fairly and the city was self-sufficient. To protect the whole town, electric fences had been installed with guard towers, where each guard was relayed for a 24-hour protection. Thus, while living a normal life, you devoured many books, of all possible genres, from fantasy to science fiction – and those used to make you laugh when they talked about the apocalypse – through historical romance. Sometimes you even read more psychological books, about self-confidence, attachments and emotions.

During 14 years, you had suffered "only" six attacks. Attacks that had caused a few deaths and, thank God, mainly on the side of the attackers. All this was just the beginning... This is what convinced your parents that you had to learn to defend yourself. In the wild, who knows who you might run into, even if you rarely went out? Creatures weren't the only dangerous things lurking in the woods and cities... Looters, rapists, cannibals, slavers... A whole bunch of deranged guys you had to avoid or kill to defend yourself. From the age of 10, you were taught how to handle a bow, a sword and firearms, in addition to defensive techniques as a counterattack. At the same time, you were taught the art of hunting, if you were ever to do so.

All this... It was beautiful.

Despite all this work, you had lost someone essential... Your mother. She had died of a long illness, incurable, according to the doctors... For lack of material and serious medicine. It took you a long time to mourn and recover from her death.

But peace and apocalypse didn’t mix well, blood would flow. You felt that this departure in your life was just a phase to prepare you for the worst. After all, wasn't the role of a mother to love and prepare her child for life?

You could feel it in your bones... Something was coming. Oh no! A clan of raiders had attacked Wintervale with one goal in mind: to take this town, leaving no survivors.

You had fought alongside your family and the other inhabitants to defend this beautiful place tooth and nail... Until you lost them one by one. You could feel the sweat beading up your face, down your neck, and then tracing a furrow down your spine. Breathless, wavering, vision blurred, you knew it was over. You were ready to give up... A bullet whistled and split the air. It was meant for you.

But your father had decided otherwise. He threw himself on top of you to push you off, and the mortal bullet penetrated his flesh with a long, agonized scream. You could feel his warm blood on your hands and abdomen. A metallic scent floated in the cold night air. Your stomach heaved, bile rose up your throat and tears streamed down your face.

What had you done to suffer this?

No, what the poor inhabitants of this city did ? Defending your territory against evil people? No doubt it was the reason.

"Please, go away," your father murmured between coughs.

You wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes, from which life was escaping, begged you to fight...

"You are too young for eternal rest... Leave..."

Through this heartbreaking farewell, having only one way out, that of death for your father, you pressed a kiss on his cheek. What a strange thing, you had never been close to him. Not an "I love you", very few proofs of affection, simply because it wasn’t common in this family... But you found yourself saying these three words, heavy in meaning, loaded with emotions, with a trembling voice.

Your throat tightened, your stomach knotted, you waited for the agitation to calm down around you, your father already dead for a long time on you, to see a flaw... The flaw was the assailants who were dissipating in the city and who left you free to go back to your house. It was a considerable risk, but you couldn't just leave. You had gone back to get a photo album, some canned food, something to drink and provide for your basic needs for the next week... You didn't have time to say goodbye to the place where you had grown up in joy. Now it looked like a graveyard on the asphalt, with corpses lying in pools of blood.

Then you had to leave everything behind and sprint towards the woods with only one gun and two full magazines to defend yourself, a heavy bag on your back.

"Goodbye"... you breathed, without taking a last look at Wintervale.

Weeks passed and you walked across the country, not knowing where to go. You just kept going with old maps you found on your way. You ended up going west, far away from your old life, since your whole family had been dead for over a month and you didn't know anyone else. You were only focused on your survival, on finding edible food and drinkable water, on saving as much as possible. You avoided the places that led to the big abandoned cities, where it was not uncommon to see gangs shooting and kidnapping each other. You had of course come across a lovely couple, but they had only shared your life for a week and a half before they were bitten by some infected. You had no choice but to kill them... Out of dignity for them, but also to prevent new creatures from joining all the others. In fact, you were hoping that states like Wyoming or Idaho would be favorable to you, that you could find a new community based on mutual aid, with no penchant for human meat. Just the thought of it made you flinch.

After months of loneliness, where you had almost died several times at the hands of runners and clickers, but also from severe dehydration... You missed your whole life. You had thought of killing yourself several times. It would have been easier. A bullet in the head, the barrel shoved in your mouth, and it was fine. You would have done it in a room that no one could open, so that your body would be left in peace, so that no one would eat it. For some reason, you kept going. Something was telling you to go on, even though you didn't know what it was.

"No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for"

And this sentence, you will remember it for the rest of your days. You had heard it from the mouth of this man, tall, slender, muscular, bearded, and especially much older than you.

You were screaming. You were biting. You scratched. You were kicking.

The man above you had already managed to take off your shirt to see your bra-clad breasts and his dirty hand was trying to get into your panties.

"Get off me, you piece of shit!" you yelled.

The man, a few years older than you, laughed. He must have been 25 or 26 years old. There was no age for sexual assault, let alone the latest outrages. This psychopath didn't seem to feel pain, despite your best efforts. You dared to hope to attract creatures, which would leave him no choice but to release you. Despite the darkness of the night, you glanced at the sky. You prayed to your lucky stars for help. Any way you could, as long as that scumbag stopped holding on with his weight, far too heavy for yours. You had been losing weight over the years and losing strength as well. In the past, you might have been able to break free from his grip. The shame was slowly overwhelming you and you were losing your strength. You were ashamed that you couldn't push him away. Ashamed that someone would defile you like that. Ashamed to live in a world like this.

You didn't have time to beg him to spare your life, when a melee bar slammed into his skull. His hot blood spurted into your face and made you feel nauseous. His eyes rolled back and his body fell to the side. Immediately, you straightened up and moved back a good meter, before looking up.

In front of you stood a man, accompanied by a little girl. He must have been in his fifties, much older than you, marked with wrinkles, memories of his experiences, his fatigue and the traumas he carried with him. A warm and icy aura at the same time emanated from the charismatic individual.

"Thank you... Thank you... Thank you..." you stammered, over and over.

It was him, your lucky star. There was no doubt.

Your savior had turned around to give you some privacy while you got dressed properly. You were still shaking with terror and wobbling. You took one last look at your attacker before spitting on him. He deserved to be pissed on... You came to your senses at the last second and cleared your throat.

"My name is Y/N..." you breathed, in a dull voice.

They turned around and immediately the teenager next to her, who couldn't have been more than 15, gave you a warm look and a reassuring smile.

"I'm Ellie and the grumpy old man is Joel."

Weren't they related? Your eyebrows furrowed, you scanned them, confused. After all, you wouldn't be surprised if you'd run into a pedo...

"He's kind of my old man. He's annoying, but you'll get used to him. He's a good guy." the girl added.

"Ellie..." growled her "dad" before rolling her eyes.

And that's how you met them. You appreciated Ellie's spontaneity, sarcasm and humor, simply because you shared it. You never imagined that you would share companionship for so long...

For weeks, you grew closer to this man with a solid shell, so hard to break. Something in him attracted you like a magnet. Love at first sight? The mere thought of him made your cheeks flush. You knew you shouldn't have perceived him as a man with whom you wanted to discover the pleasures of life... He was even older than your father. If your family was there, they would have put you in your place and tried to shake you up... But all you could see was Joel... Joel Miller. His name tasted like honey on the tip of your tongue.

September was long and rainy. You found a small house to spend the night in, while Ellie stuck around to flip through the latest comic book she'd unearthed, while eating a can of food. That left you alone with Joel to try to dig up some food in the overgrown neighboring houses, whose white paint had been peeling for ages.

"Do you think we're even close to Jackson County yet?" you tossed, grabbing some handyman tools you could use.

"We have two more days at most. Then we'll rest at Tommy's."

"Man, if you only knew how much I miss a hot shower..." you muttered.

"Did you have them often?"

"Do you really want to talk about the past, Mr. Never Talk About the Past?" you teased him, in a mocking tone.

"Why not?"

That surprising as heck, but you loved the idea, you were so curious about him;

"In that case, you should do the same." you warned him, turning around to look at him.

He scratched his salt-and-pepper beard and nodded. A real miracle was happening, so you smiled, satisfied. But you didn't know what was in store for you... If you told him about your wonderful childhood, he would tell you about his most painful experiences.

Sarah. Tess. Bill. Frank. Smuggling. Life surrounded by Fedra.

"Ellie doesn't know about Sarah and... I don't want to discuss it with her," he revealed, in an enigmatic tone.

You nodded as you followed him out of the last house you had searched. Night was already falling and thunder was rumbling as the wind picked up, crisscrossing the clotted green leaves. Then torrential rain fell on you, like the deluge announced for the apocalypse.

"Hurry!" you hurried, even though you were already soaked from head to toe.

Instinctively, you grabbed his hand and pulled him with you. Against all odds, he didn't reject your hand, but tightened his grip. His hand was warm, calloused and somehow comforting. Your heart was pounding, not just from your physical effort, but from the joy that washed over you. Your whole body was quivering. Once inside the house, you noticed that Ellie was fast asleep on the living room couch.

"I'm going to change, I'm soaked from head to toe. My clean clothes are in the bedroom," you said with an awkward smile.

"I'm following you, I left some of my things there too..."

You nodded, blushing, as your imagination played tricks on you, sending you images more erotic than the others. You shook off these embarrassing thoughts and headed for the only room in the little house. Once you retrieved your other clothes, which you had quickly cleaned and dried, you watched the man unbutton his shirt. Your eyes widened and only when his shirt fell at his feet, you turned around to face him. Your cheeks flushed, your heart pounding and your hands shaking, you took off your sweater and put on a new one, then promptly swapped your pants for another. You took the opportunity to wipe your wet hair, not wanting to get sick. That would clearly be the worst thing... A simple coughing fit could alert a lot of infected people around.

At that very moment, you felt his burning gaze on yours, sweeping over your senses, so that you felt uninhibited. This man had power over you that you loved as much as you hated it. Why did he make your hands shake and your heart beat faster? Why did his lips seem so attractive? Why did you want to curl up against his chest, wrapped in his arms? When you turned around, he had also finished and was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes.

"Don't you want to eat? Shouldn't we wake up Ellie?" you questioned him, puzzled.

"She sleeps so well, it would be a shame to get her up just for a meal... Besides, it's better to eat before we leave, we'll have more energy."

In this world so rotten to the core, it was better to ration yourself and make smart choices when it came to food.

When Joel lay down on the bed, you realized that you were going to spend the night with him, unless you preferred the floor... Usually, you shared your bed with Ellie, between girls, while Joel found another mattress or rested on a sofa. You had never slept in the same bed as him, let alone this close. Nervous, you slowly moved closer, took off your shoes, then slipped under the covers. Eyes glued to the ceiling, stained with substances you'd rather not imagine –  probably mold stains from water infiltration – you enjoyed the softness of the blankets, even though they didn't have any warmth in them yet and they didn't smell like laundry. At least the bed was decent and you couldn't ask for more. Then you shivered at the cool air in the house and your damp hair.

"Come closer..." he whispered, in his rocky voice.

"What...?" you gasped in surprise.

"Come closer, Y/N."

You didn't have time to retort as he wrapped a warm, firm arm around your body and forced you closer. As you curled up in his arms, as you had been dreaming of doing for a while, you suppressed a smile and closed your eyes. Your heart was pounding against your rib cage, to the point that it was painful. Your hands were shaking on his chest. You dared to hope that he would mistake this for the aftermath of the rain.

"Joel..."

"Good night, Y/N." he whispered in the hollow of your ear, stroking your back.

You held back from stroking his chest, pressing warm kisses on his neck, then undulating your pelvis against his. However, you did nothing and savored the moment, knowing that it wouldn’t happen again soon. Since your childhood, your parents had taught you to cherish every magical moment, something you did, without asking yourself more questions... Questions to which you would have no answer. The heart has its reasons that the reason ignores.

The time passed and you found in the city of his brother, Tommy. The shooting had already taken place, the bodies had been recovered and their families were already preparing to bury them. Then... there was the conflict with Ellie. The situation became more complex, tense and you tried not to interfere too much between Ellie and Joel, because you understood both of their reactions. There was nothing left to do but leave for University in Colorado, was there? Before you could even say a word, Joel slipped an arm behind your back and pulled you with him, a little further away, so that Tommy and Ellie wouldn't hear anything of your conversation.

"Is there a problem...?"

"I want you to stay with Tommy and Paula."

You almost choked and shook your head. Miller pressed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. A dark look, full of mystery and danger. A look you always melted for... But this time you wanted to stand up to him.

"No way."

"Please. I need you to stay with them... I don't know what's going to happen on the way to this campus or with the Fireflies. We've been through a lot of perilous situations already and..."

His voice froze and he pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking away to the orange trees.

"And what...?"

Joel shook his head and turned back toward two others. However, you wanted him to follow through with his thought, intrigued. He couldn't start a sentence without finishing it, what's more, if you were to be separated and... maybe never see each other again.

"Joel! And what?"

He turned around and took a deep breath.

"I don't want something to happen to you."

You could have smiled and jumped of joy, but at that moment you couldn't. That serious look on his face filled your heart and brain with a poison called fear... An oppressive fear, ready to make your heart bleed.

"Nothing will happen to me. I can defend myself."

"Don’t try to make me change my mind. Do this for me, please." he insisted, in an authoritative tone.

An authoritative tone and a request more toxic than ever, the only thing missing was the "if you love me, do it"... You knew Joel and this man was capable of tying you to a tree if it wasn’t for you to not follow him. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to accept. What you didn't understand was that moments like this were like saying "I love you" to him, words they hadn't used in twenty years... words that were so hard to say.

Joel Miller was not a man of words.

He was a man of actions.

And that act meant more than you could ever know.

Months had passed and they had returned, when everyone thought they were dead. In the meantime, Tommy had found a nice little house for you, where Joel and Ellie would soon join you. Meanwhile, you were working as a librarian and organized activities for children. Even though you didn't technically have to work, it was the least you could do. This town offered you shelter, hot water, electricity and food, as well as protection... You felt indebted. You also got to know Tommy and Paula, wonderful people, who always taught you a little more about Joel, but with limits. You wanted the older Miller to open up to you on his own.

Joel was immediately useful to this charming community, from guarding the ramparts to collecting food and doing manual labor in the surrounding area. As he relaxed, you discovered a completely different man, with more humor and a real talent, especially for music.

He began to teach you to play guitar... but that was before he met Jolene, a sultry redhead, a widow with two children. Her husband had died two years before, of a long illness. They had met at a party you couldn't attend, being bedridden with a fever, while Ellie watched over you like a guardian angel. Yet, that night, you would have preferred her to keep Joel under control... Over the next few weeks, you noticed that he was drifting away, focusing on Jolene, whenever he had free time. You were almost forgotten.

Hurt and heartbroken, you made sure to avoid him. You didn't eat meals at the same times as him, you focused on your work, which filled your heart with a little bit of happiness, and you tried to make new friendships with people your own age. So much so that there were no more guitar lessons... and you missed it a lot. You just didn't have the strength to go back to him. Even though he never promised you anything or really showed you something, you felt betrayed. You felt so stupid for letting yourself go and falling in love with a man much older than you, who probably only saw you as a kid... Like Ellie. The very thought made you feel nauseous, twisted your stomach and made you shiver with embarrassment.

One night, after a long day, you came home. Usually Ellie was already asleep or in the shower. There was not a sound, a sign that she was already snoring under all her covers. You took off your coat, scarf, and shoes before stepping further into your house. You walked down the hallway, which opened to the kitchen and the living room, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Joel's guitar. It was in plain sight, whereas most of the time he kept it in a corner. He probably had time to play a tune before he left for Jolene's house, where he slept half the nights... In fact, you were sure he wasn't just sleeping...

Don't think about it, you're hurting yourself for nothing... your conscience whispered. But it was so hard to accept.

A throat clearing pulled you out of your lethargy and made you jump. Quickly, you turned around and saw that Joel had returned without you noticing.

"Hey... I'm going to bed, good night," you whispered.

"Wait."

You frowned and watched him as he moved closer to you. Suddenly closer, he towered over you, so that you lifted your chin and he lowered his nose at you. This proximity made you miss a heartbeat. Only about ten inches separated you, something that had not happened for so long...

"I thought we could play a song together, it's been so long," he suggested, in a warm tone.

"I probably lost everything, it's a waste of time."

You didn't say this with aggression, but as a logical thing. You hadn't practiced since he was dating Jolene and it was late, the fatigue of the day was taking its toll.

"Please, just once..."

Joel wasn't a man you said "no" to so easily, he could be so stubborn and you didn't have the head to bicker with him. No, far from it. So you nodded and followed him into the living room, before sitting on the edge of the couch. He soon joined you with his guitar, which he placed on his thighs, before tuning it.

"I'd like to play you a song... I heard it today, it's been a long time since I heard it and it made me think of you."

With your lips sealed, you admired the way he prepared himself. He cleared his throat another time and began to pluck the strings in a soft melancholy tune. You recognized the notes immediately. Your mother loved this song that came out a few months before the world fell apart. Then, his husky voice, with a so particular tone, which never failed to make you shiver, took you with it and vibrated in the air.

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

But it's so cold and I don't know where

I brought you daffodils in a pretty string

But they won't flower like they did last spring

And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright

I'm just so tired to share my nights

I wanna cry and I wanna love

But all my tears have been used up

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

Why are you doing this to me, Joel...? you thought, your eyes moist. You had the feeling that he was doing this to torture you. How could he sing that song to you, with his eyes locked in yours, when he was in a relationship with another woman?

A tear rolled down your cheek as the last notes of music wavered in the air until they disappeared. You wiped it away with the back of your sleeve and jumped to your feet. You couldn't stand this humiliation any longer and be so weak in front of him. It was unacceptable.

"Y/N..."

"Leave me alone. Do you like making fun of me? Well, get the hell out of this house and back to your Jolene, before I beat the crap out of you!" you threatened, in a hoarse voice.

A gleam of guilt shone in the eyes of the older man who tried to take a step forward, but you pointed your index finger in his direction, in order to tell him not to move.

"Y/N, I broke up with Jolene. I have no feelings for her."

"Oh yeah? Nice? Shall we pop the champagne bottle?" you retorted, in a sharp tone.

"You're worse than me, you're stubborn. I just made a declaration of love to you.”

"More stubborn than you? Are you kidding me..."

You stopped dead in your tracks, when you realized what he had just said, confused.

"Wait... Can you say that again?"

Joel didn't like to repeat himself, you couldn't count on him to do that. Instead, his hands framed your face and he pressed his lips against yours. His rough beard teased your face, but you savored the moment. Your hands clutched the back of his neck and your body moved closer to his. You should have gotten mad and pushed him away, but your heart didn't care. For the first time, your heart was truly exploding with joy. Your heart was pounding, your legs felt like cotton and you felt like you were floating. In your bubble, you prayed that this moment would never end.

Love is a war made of battles, each one more difficult than the other and this day, you were triumphant.

*

Now, I’m thinking about writing a smut part… Should I do it?

My Ko-fi: betrayedwriter

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

[nimium-amatrix-ingenii-sui]

Laughing my ass off at the idea that Lex of all people doesn’t get new engagement But seriously. What the hell is that person even talking about. Tumblr isn’t making people get an account just to read. You can casually scroll blogs without being logged in till the cows come home and you’ve reached the very first post ever made on a blog unless it’s locked, should you have the time and patience. You DO have to be logged in order to reblog (obviously. No blog no reblog), to comment, or to send asks to people who have Anon Asks blocked. So this post never addressed readers without Tumblr accounts who just read a handful of blogs for the fun of it. It addresses people who make accounts and then never reblog. “That influx of people following you that have empty/barely used blogs is likely from that” Well if they’ve supposedly been reading and lurking for a while they should’ve gotten a feel for the site’s culture shouldn’t they. Or possibly come across one of those “if your blog is mostly empty we will assume you’re a bot” posts. Ah no, I forgot, that’s entitlement and bullying and insisting that your followers owe you something! I mean, you’re right, new users don’t owe the site or other users shit. But then, they also don’t get to whine that the non-existent algorithm treats them poorly, that a lot of users just block them on sight, or what old users are mean when they point out that this isn’t how Tumblr works. They also don’t get to make up nonsense about the technical side of Tumblr without getting called out on it

seeing a lot of “why would i reblog anything i don’t have something to add” like

sir this is the user-circulated content site

[13eyond13]

Have go ever gone through goth/emo phase. I heard a lot of story about it and wonder does it cringe that much?

I don't know much about goth because that was a bit before my time. But I would say that "emo kid" was definitely the group I felt I belonged in most when I was in my teens? I was never one of the people who was actually really deep into the trendy/fashion aspect of it though, so I didn't look much like the ones you see now as the examples of what an emo kid looks like. I think I mostly just wore a LOT of eye makeup and straightened my hair constantly, and I also had a lip ring for a while (facial piercings were extremely cool at the time). Skinny jeans and black thick-rimmed glasses and sort of a mix between goth and geek and punk was the thing then, as was dyeing your hair black and having long bangs over one eye.... For example, this was an emoji I used to make all the time to make fun of myself for being emo: (/_-) I wish I could find pictures because I know that I have some funny mid 2000s high contrast pictures I took of myself with a digital camera very MySpace angle/angsty style.

Back then only the people who owned digital cameras or web cameras could take pictures for social media, and MySpace was basically the only big social media out there worth using at the time. MySpace was definitely the gathering hub for the trendiest emo kids to meet and show off their looks and taste and so on, and I used to lurk it because I didn't feel like I was old enough or cool enough to actually have a profile on it... it sort of felt like there was an unspoken rule to me that you also had to be in a band or be a musician to not be a poser for being on there, from what I remember. It seems like EVERYBODY was in a band of some kind they formed with a little group of friends, at least where I lived lol. And in the town where I lived a "scene kid" was a label that was similar to an emo kid, but kind of more hard/edgy/aggressive than an emo kid or something. They were always going to shows and dancing and moshing and stuff, and a lot of them were "straight-edge," which meant you didn't drink or smoke or do drugs, even if you were old enough to. They'd often have X's drawn with marker on their hands, which I think started as an indication that they weren't allowed to drink at shows, but later just became a symbol of being straight-edge? And I think that's also why a lot of usernames from forums back then had X's bracketing the names, too. I didn't go to any of these shows, but my older brother was sort of involved in them, so I'd catch some of what was going on through him. I still always wanted to see what everyone was up to on MySpace and check out all the cool looks and learn about new bands, though. It was WAY harder back then to just learn about other people out there who didn't live in your immediate vicinity, and much rarer to be able to find pictures or songs or videos for anything you wanted to see or hear or learn. You'd have to either buy albums or have someone burn you CDs for most music, or wait for it to come on the radio or TV.

I remember emo being pretty ridiculed a lot of the time by people too, including my older brother. He was more into hardcore/heavy metal stuff and often would make fun of me if he caught me listening to anything considered emo... Bright Eyes, for example, which was my all-time favourite band for a while... I would get teased mercilessly by him for how whiny the lyrics and the singing were (which in retrospect I now agree with him about, but at the time Conor Oberst was my biggest celebrity crush lol). Emo had a stigma attached to it based on how self-harming and attention-seeking and hating yourself was a big aspect of the identity, too. I thought most of that aspect of it was pretty cringey myself, but I did like the way you could express your sadder emotions and more vulnerable feelings through listening to the music and writing in diaries and such, so I think that's why I identified with it more than the hardcore music my brother liked.

Emo/scene kid culture was also probably one of the first ways I ever got a glimpse of a world where it was okay to be gender nonconforming or not straight, because it was very trendy to be androgynous and bi as an emo kid. So I think that was a massive part of the appeal to me at that age. Stuff like kissing people of the same gender and posting photos and videos of that online for other people to thirst over was a huge part of what I remember about it, and also a huge part of what other people mocked about it. I think queer and questioning people gravitated to it a lot because of that freedom to experiment and be ambiguous and open about gender and sexuality. Mainstream pop culture was pretty toxic and hateful and ignorant about anything queer most of the time in those days. Back then people seemed to barely ever talk about sexuality or gender unless it was to be homophobic or transphobic, and so there was definitely a lot of that tied into the hatred of emo culture as well... lots of F slurs being thrown around and mocking the dudes for being effeminate and accusing people of just pretending to be bi for the attention and so on. So in a way knowing someone liked emo music or participated in the culture somehow was a nice indication for me that they were probably more queer-positive and open-minded than many others were about it at the time, and also maybe queer themselves.

[katoska]

Once again pointing out that tumblr makes people get an account if they want to look through someone's blog past the first couple of posts, which skews new user and follower counts. And that's assuming the person is aware of that blog's existence in the first place, eg heard of it on Twitter. That influx of people following you that have empty/barely used blogs is likely from that. Many people new to a platform start as lurkers who are just browsing (which they used to be able to do on here without an account), then, after registering so they could follow some blogs for their own convenience, they go through a phase where they only reblog stuff that they think is -literally and figuratively- noteworthy (and might comment on how great/wrong an OP is bc they stand out), and eventually settle into reblogging pretty much everything that so much as gives them a Sensible Chuckle while using the Likes as an I-approve-of-those-tags signal or as an reblog-forever/check-out-later reminder. That's normal, and people should be allowed to have that trajectory and engage with posts exactly as much as they want.

What's not normal is insisting that your followers owe you something or (which was a related sentiment in other posts that I see around a lot) have to reblog your posts else they are personally responsible for tumblr dying. Even though it's Tumblr (tptb) that's mainly responsible for tumblr (userbase) dying. Blogging is a hobby. We don't owe the site or other bloggers shit.

You are ofc free to block lurkers (or anyone) because you find their lack if engagement creepy (or whatever reason), but then don't be surprised that you never get new engagement, or only by annoying new people who didn't bother to learn the etiquette around here (bc they jumped right into opening their mouths without going through the lurking-and-learning phase).

seeing a lot of “why would i reblog anything i don’t have something to add” like

sir this is the user-circulated content site