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a-yellow-van · 29 days

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Wish You Were Here | Part 2

The aftermath of the previous evening.

Series masterlist

Pairing : Joel Miller x f!reader

Fanfic tags : canon compliant, slow burn, romance, eventual smut, angst, hurt/comfort, joel and the reader are terrible at feelings, female reader, no use of y/n, reader is in early 30s, past relationships, trauma/PTSD, grief, loss, post-apocalypse, jackson joel, joel is a good parent to ellie, major character death, original characters, queer characters, bisexual main character, age difference, canon-typical violence

WC for part 2 : 5.9 k

Warnings for part 2 : swearing, implied sexual content

(I had this one already written, currently working on part 3 so it'll take me a bit of time before uploading again)

You’re jolted awake, face contorted in a silent scream, dry tears stinging your cheeks, fists clenching the sheets, heart beating at a wild pace. The last remnants of a nightmare fade away, leaving a shot ringing in your ears, as you try to focus on your surroundings. You’re here, in your bedroom, in your house, in Jackson. You’re safe. You breathe, slowly, in and out. Everything is fine. Everything is-

Images from last night flash before your eyes. Joel, laughing with you. His hands on your waist. His lips on yours. The desire. His rage. And the abandon.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

A wave of shame, along with nausea, hits you like a freight train. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry, an awful taste lingering in it. You gag, leap out of bed and run to the bathroom just in time.

When you’re done, you rinse your mouth and meet your reflection. Bloodshot eyes, heavy bags underneath them, knotted hair sticking out around a sickly pale face. You left the tavern without telling anyone and immediately collapsed into bed. Yesterday’s clothes, that you’re still wearing, smell like booze and sweat and something else too- or rather someone else. You shut your eyes and rub them with closed fists, applying so much pressure it hurts. You want to bash your face in the mirror.

God you’re a wreck.

You decide brushing your teeth and taking a shower is the best course of action right now. Your watch indicates it’s well past noon and there’s no way you can get back to sleep. Not with those thoughts swimming around your head. The scalding water does little to distract you from them. You scrub your skin raw, as if you can wash away Joel’s touch; it doesn’t work. You still feel him against you when you step out of the bathtub. You’re thinking about the kiss as you get dressed, as you run a comb through your wet hair, as you walk down to your kitchen, and as you put on the kettle for tea. Why can’t you stop thinking about it? And why the hell is part of you wishing that it went further? The kettle whistling shakes you out of the spiral. You wish you had a stronger beverage, that and a painkiller, but they’re rare supplies these days. You fill a mug with the tea and try sitting at your small kitchen island, but it quickly becomes claustrophobic, as though the walls are closing in on you. So you get up and grab a rainbow wool blanket, knitted by Astrid as a Christmas present, from the couch. Wrapping yourself in it, you go out to your back porch and sprawl on one of the lawn chairs, the bitter January air stinging your lungs, shocking you into alertness. The pain is refreshing.

What a fucking way to start the year.

You look out at the frosted mountains in the distance, peaceful giants protecting the town. They’re strong, grounded, indomitable. You think it’d be nice to float up to the top and lay there above the clouds, where what is happening down below wouldn’t matter at all. You take a sip of tea, which burns your tongue, and you curse under your breath. It brings you right back to reality. On the yard right of yours, the neighbour’s kids are playing in the snow, their high-pitched giggles filling the air. The girl, about seven years old, notices you and stops to call out your name. You give her a small wave back.

“Happy new year!” She yells enthusiastically, flashing the gap of fallen front teeth. Her younger brother imitates her but stumbles on half of the words. Their little faces are flushed, snowsuits soaking wet. You can’t help but find it adorable, even in your condition. It never ceases to impress you how resilient children can be, how they can keep their wonder, their innocence when the world has crumbled around them.

“Happy new year. Don’t get frostbite,” you reply.

“Look at our snowman!” the boy chips in, his lisp evident, pointing at a shapeless mount of snow.

You chuckle. “He’s cool. You should add a carrot.”

The kids beam, and run off inside to act upon your suggestion. And then a snowball flies out of nowhere and hits you on the shoulder, almost causing you to drop your tea. You shriek, jumping to your feet and putting the mug down on the railing as another snowball misses your head by a hair’s breadth. Max’s figure appears from behind a thick pine tree growing right outside your fence.

“HEY! WHAT THE F-” you catch yourself, remembering there are children closeby. Max steps fully into view, guffawing, their bright red beanie clashing with the ginger locks peaking out. They walk to the side and push the fence door open, entering your backyard.

“Moron.” There is no humour in your voice. You brush the snow off your clothes, muttering to yourself. Max walks up the old wooden stairs and joins you on the porch.

“Really? Not even a hi, how are you, happy new year?” They raise a hand to their chest in mock offence.

“You didn’t give me time for that did you? Nearly took my fucking head off.” You cross your arms tightly. You’re really not in the mood for Max’s antics. Not today.

“Jesus, so dramatic,” they sit down on the other lawn chair, while you remain standing. “Woke up on the wrong foot?”

Anger bubbles up inside, as does the urge to punch that smug little grin off Max’s face. “What are you doing here?” You ask, bluntly.

“Hm. Not much. Just, uh, checking in on you,” Max replies, purposefully evasive. The anger rises.

“Why?” You bark, already knowing the answer to that question.

“Well…Just heard you got into, uh, an interesting situation last night.” They look up at you with that smirk again. You glare back, fuming, and grunt in response.

God they can be such a fucking pain in the ass.

“So I’m just wondering what it is exactly that made you think oh, yeah,” they suspend their voice for a few seconds “Joel Miller?” They accentuate his name as if it were an insult, full of implication.

You’re trying to keep calm, but it’s getting very difficult. You choose your words carefully. “I was drunk. We were just talking. And it’s none of your business” Your voice trembles with the emotion.

“Just talking, uh?” Max is clinging on to this stronger than a dying man to his last breath.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but nothing happened,” you lie, through gritted teeth. You’re dangerously close to your tipping point.

“Hm. That’s weird, `cause Astrid told us she saw a lot more than-”

“Can you fucking drop it?” you shout. Max has done it.

They're taken aback by your outburst, pausing for a beat, before their expression hardens. They inhale sharply and speak up again, brows furrowed in frustration.

“You know, I’m getting sick of this closed up bullshit. We’ve been friends for what, 5 years, and you never tell me a single thing about how you’re feeling, or your past, or-“

“We’re not friends,” you interrupt them, harshly.

“Oh, okay, yeah, sure!” Their tone drips with sarcasm. “Then what are we?”

The question makes you hesitate. “I don’t know. Coworkers,” you say, your tone losing conviction.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Max exclaims. “Are you serious? So you’re telling me you- you came to your coworker’s house in the middle of the night after having a breakdown?

Your chest tightens at the memory. It’s a moment of weakness you really hate to be reminded of. “That’s not fair. It was a long time ago,” you grumble, looking down.

“Uh-huh,” Max continues, raising their voice. “You supported your coworker when they came out to you?” They wait, expecting you to interject, but you keep quiet, so they take it up a notch. “You helped your coworker when they were starving, bleeding out, half-frozen to death? That’s what you’re telling me?”

You still don’t respond, but the anger is starting to melt; Max’s words are stabbing at a sensitive spot. You’re brought back in time, to one of your first ever patrols, in the dead of winter, when you were still training. You had gone off the trail because you thought you heard a faint plea for help. That’s when you had found Max, curled up in the hollow of a tree, skeletally thin, shivering, the snow stained red from a fresh wound on their leg. You had brought them back to Jackson, had strongly insisted to Maria that they stay in town, took Max’s defence when other survivors argued they were a lost cause. You’d checked in on them nearly every day, and you were right; Max had made a complete recovery, eventually growing into an active, important member of the community. At the time, you didn’t know why you were doing all of this for a stranger. Maybe you just couldn’t bear losing anyone else, couldn’t take being powerless, unable to save them.

Max lets a few seconds pass by in silence. “Look, all I’m saying is I care about you. And I got worried when you left last night. It wasn’t like you” they explain, softer now, the concern honest. You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at them as the anger vanishes completely. Truth is, you care about them too. A lot. Of course you do. And you’re mainly upset at yourself for acting in such a senseless way last night. But admitting all of that out loud, it’d be too much. Instead, you give Max a meaningful nod, and squeeze their arm.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m okay. Just- I- I’m hungover.” There’s way more than that, and Max is well aware. But they don’t push further.

“Lightweight,” they tease, lightening the tension. You’re grateful for the change in mood.

“And you’re not? I think you burst the entire town’s eardrums last night,” you respond, relieved to fall back into the usual back-and-forth.

“Uh, I’ll have you know I’m proud of that performance,” they argue.

“I’ll give it to you. Wasn’t your worst,” you reply, feeling a smile pulling at your lips. Max gives you one back.

“Alright, can we go inside now? Fucking freezing” Max asks, rubbing their arms up and down.

“Yeah,” you answer, “want some breakfast?” It’s really the least you could do. Actions are much easier than words to show that you care.

“Would love some lunch.” They correct, as you slide open the glass door and let them pass first, following them in.

“Seriously though, Joel Miller?” they add, peering at you over their shoulder. You push them into the dining room.

“Mention it again and I’m hitting you,” you threaten, half-serious.

“Alright, alright,” Max concedes. “I just didn’t know you were into old men.” They snicker. You keep to your word and kick their ankle.

They squeal out in pain and you strike a second time. “I’m. Not.”

Max sits at the dining room table, massaging their hurt leg, while you scramble some eggs for the both of you. Along with some sourdough from Leanne at the bakery, it makes a decent meal. And, as you eat, you come to a conclusion. That thing with Joel, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It can’t mean anything. Because you’re not ready to accept the possibility that there might be something more. Something like feelings that you’d need to process. You’ve taken too long to build a thick, impenetrable shield around your heart. You can’t just drop it so quickly. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgement caused by the alcohol. You’re going to lock it away in a forgotten corner of your mind, like you usually do when emotions are involved. Just pretend it never happened, stay cordial with the man if ever have to interact again. It should be easy enough.

Right?

——————————

Joel is cruelly pulled out of sleep by a series of booming knocks. He sits up abruptly, in a panic, instinctively reaching at his side for a weapon but his fingers grasp only the pilled fabric of bed sheets. It takes a moment to situate himself, to remember he is out of danger. Whoever’s behind the noise doesn’t give him reprieve to slow down his pulse, however. Another round of knocks erupts as a muffled, irritated voice travels up to his bedroom.

“JOEL! HELLO? JOEELLLLL! WAKE UP!” It’s unmistakably Ellie.

The kid can be so damn loud for her size. Joel grumbles a string of curses, hurries out of bed and down the stairs despite strained muscles and the beginning of a migraine he’s certain will be terrible. He’s too old for hangovers like this. He jogs through the hallway, gets to the back door and flings it open before Ellie pipes up again. She’s standing on the porch, bundled up in her purple puffer jacket. Her balled fists are suspended in the air, mid-movement.

“WHAT?” He yells, making Ellie flinch. He immediately regrets his tone.

“Shit, no need to be rude,” the girl replies, arms dropping to her sides.

“Sorry, kid. You almost gave me a heart attack,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

She gets straight to the point. “My heating’s busted. Can you fix it?”

Joel scoffs. “Good morning, Ellie! Happy new year to you too.”

“Uh, it’s almost 1 PM. And I didn’t think you celebrated,” Ellie answers matter-of-factly.

Little smartass.

Joel makes the motion to close the door in her face, but she’s faster and grabs the outer handle.

“Hey come on! It’s like 2 degrees in there!” She shouts.

Ellie stares up at him, impatient. Joel doesn’t budge. She sighs. “Please,” she mumbles, breaking eye contact.

Joel smirks. It’s exactly what he wanted to hear. He keeps her hanging for another few seconds before answering : “Okay.”

Ellie rolls her eyes.

“I still got Tommy’s tools. Can you wait 10 minutes?” He’s just giving Ellie a hard time, and she knows it. He’d do anything to help her, no matter what it entailed; he’s done a hell of a lot more than repair a broken heater.

“Yeah, sure, just drill me out of the block of ice,” Ellie says, spinning on her heels and walking off towards the garage that's been converted into her living quarters.

Joel smiles, watching her go. He gets back into the house and does his best to clean up in the bathroom while avoiding looking in the mirror. He still feels like he’s been run over by a truck, and sleeping the day off is very inviting, but he can’t just let the girl freeze. And the work will keep him busy, distract him from the pain. He puts on a coat over the clothes that he slept in, the same ones he was wearing at the tavern; he hadn’t bothered changing out of them after coming home. He ties his boots with difficulty and grabs the toolbox from a storage shelf in the utility room. He borrowed it from Tommy a few weeks ago when the upstairs bathroom nearly flooded, and hasn’t returned it yet. He makes a mental note of it. Joel’s house is a fixer upper for sure, but he’s done his best over the last six months, and it’s starting to become less of a temporary shelter and more of a home, something he never would have thought possible. Ellie’s presence at such a short distance definitely plays a role. He’s not hurt by the fact she insisted on having her separate space; he doesn’t think they’d have done well trying to fit into a normal family dynamic. That’s not what they are. And besides, he’s just happy she’s still talking to him, after what happened at the hospital. Joel brushes off the thought as he crosses the back garden, counting the steps it takes to reach the garage. There’s exactly thirteen. As always.

He lets himself in. Ellie’s waiting, laying on the loveseat wrapped in her duvet. She wasn’t lying; it’s glacial inside and Joel can see his breath. Ellie’s lit a fire in the wood stove, resourceful as she is, but it’s not doing much.

“Took you long enough,” she says, barely audible as half her face is covered by the blanket.

“Hey. Drop the attitude.” Joel orders, but a little smile curves up his lips. Ellie returns it. He can’t stay mad at her and she’s proud of it.

Joel looks around the room. Ellie’s bed is unmade, stripped of its cover; clothes are piling on a chair, random objects scattered around her desk, from coloured pencils to a used plate and utensils. Her guitar is held up by a sturdy stand in a corner, pristine; it’s apparent Ellie takes good care of it. And there, on the coffee table, a good amount of crumbs, and four empty bottles of beer. His gaze lingers on them long enough for Ellie to notice.

“Um, Cat came over last night she brought those, her mom was totally okay with it-” Ellie overexplains, the words coming out quickly.

Joel raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anythin’.” He likes that she gets anxious, it shows that she cares about his opinion, and doesn't want him to be disappointed. But how could he be? He’d do much worse than drinking a beer or two if he’d gone through as much as Ellie has at her age. “What’d you guys get up to?” Joel asks as he moves towards the space heater, plugged in a wall outlet not far from the loveseat. Ellie relaxes.

“Uh, we just watched a movie. Back to the Future,” she replies. Joel smiles. He’d found it out on a run and gave it to Ellie as a Christmas present. “Cat had such a crush on Marty. It was pretty funny,” the girl adds.

“And you didn’t?” He teases as he kneels in front of the heater, his back screaming in agony, and sets the toolbox down on the cold cement floor.

“Nah. Not my type.” Ellie shifts in her seat to get a good view of Joel. He starts by trying the power switch, to no avail. “I already did that,” she tells him in a condescending tone.

“Yeah, no shit,” Joel mutters. He takes out a screwdriver and finds the appropriate bit before starting to work on taking the heater apart. He opens up the electrical box and begins testing out the various components, face drawn out in concentration. Ellie observes him quietly for a few minutes, chewing on a nail. Joel’s completely focused on the pieces he’s turning over in his hands.

And then, he hears Ellie’s voice behind him again. “So. You were out pretty late last night,” she points out.

Joel freezes up, caught off guard. The tool he’s holding drops to the ground, clattering.

Last night. Fucking Hell.

Glimpses of the drunken evening assault his brain. Bribes of your conversation, how natural it felt talking to you. The sound of your laughter. How your eyes lit up when you smiled. The blushes you tried to hide. Your hands on his shoulders.

How smooth your lips were.

Wait.

The way the night ended suddenly comes back. A rush of anger, shame, and guilt engulfs him, the same one that pushed him to abandon you about ten hours ago. He has to stop himself from screaming, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut. Why the fuck did he do that? How could he let you get so close? When did he get so weak as to let his walls down that much the second a pretty woman talks to him? And why did it feel so damn good?

Joel fights to somewhat regain his composure, to act casual as he replies to Ellie. He clears his throat and picks the tool back up. “Uh, yeah. Just out at the tavern with Tommy,” he deflects.

“Hm.” Ellie pauses, letting Joel think she’s off the scent. But then, she questions : “Just Tommy?”

Nervosity is added to the boiling pot of emotions, lighting up the wick of a bomb Joel’s trying his hardest not to let explode.

What does the kid know?

He struggles to recall another memory. Your friend, the tall blonde one who’s another patroller, she saw you too together. Not what happened outside, but enough to raise suspicion, Joel’s ninety-nine percent certain of it.

He breathes slowly before answering. “Yup.” He attempts to be firm, but he can hear the hesitation in his own voice. So he busies himself with the heater again.

“Well,” Ellie starts, but Joel cuts her off, not taking any chances.

“Didn’t you have farm duty today?” He changes the subject abruptly, pulling at a wire.

“Uh, yeah, I went already. They let me off early,” Ellie says, “I heard something interesting though.” Joel can practically see the smirk on her face from where he is crouched, but he refuses to look her in the eyes.

Damn it.

He stays silent. Ellie continues. “You were…dancing? With someone?” She adds your name, inquiring.

Joel tightens his grip on the tool handle, knuckles turning white. “You don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” he utters. “We weren’t dancing.” He keeps his gaze stubbornly stuck to the heater.

Ellie holds back a laugh. “But you were with her?” She keeps up the interrogation.

The wick of the bomb burns more. “Just havin’ a conversation. With a coworker. I don’t know who told you that, but it ain’t true,” he replies harshly.

Ellie snorts. “Uh-huh. Okay. That’s-”

“Ellie. Stop.” Joel threatens, finally snapping his head up to glare at the girl. And the expression is enough to make her understand he isn’t joking. She listens to the command and shuts right up, however, she doesn’t lose the mocking grin.

He huffs, returning to the task. He’s mulling over everything in his head, beating himself up to a pulp, when Ellie decides to pick up her guitar. She begins practising Future Days, the song Joel has been teaching her. The notes are unsteady, the rhythm choppy, but the music is like a balm over Joel’s mind, soothing it. It helps him calm down, and soon enough, he finds the source of the heater’s malfunction : the fan is clogged with dust and debris. He dislodges it from the mechanism and cleans it out with a rag, whistling along to Ellie’s playing. He puts the pieces back together and wipes his hands on his jeans, before trying the power switch once more. The heater hums into life.

Ellie breathes a sigh of relief and puts down the guitar. “Oh fuck yeah.”

“Language,” Joel reprimands her. Ellie sticks out her tongue at him. He puts away the tools he’s used and stands up with the toolbox, knees creaking.

“Hey, thanks, Joel,” the girl says timidly, taking off the layers she’d put on, “and, uh, sorry I woke you up.” She’s genuine.

“It’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.” He awkwardly claps his free hand on his thigh, unsure if he should stay longer. He’d like to, but he doesn’t want to impose, or make it weird.

“You should go shower. You look like shit,” Ellie quips. “And we got dinner with Maria and Tommy later,” she adds.

“Hmm. Right,” he groans; he’d completely forgotten. He’s never wanted to do anything less in his life. The day just keeps getting better.

He follows Ellie’s advice once he’s back inside his house. As the hot water runs over his tired skin, he takes time to reflect, and he makes a decision. The encounter with you was simply a product of intoxication. The old, rusted feelings it stirred up within him were, too. It’s just been very long since he’s done anything…intimate. With anyone. That must explain it. He’s got to convince himself of that. Because the other alternative terrifies him, fills him with dread, and he can’t afford that. Not again. Not after Tess. So, he’s going to ignore it, push it away, bury it deep at the back of his mind, enough that it can’t affect him anymore. Just pretend it never happened, go back to the way he treated you before. Cold. Indifferent. He’s done that countless times.

Right.

It should be easy enough.

——————————

It has been two weeks. Two weeks that you’ve succeeded in avoiding Joel at all costs, and the weather has definitely helped. Winter has been ruthless, the temperature dropping below zero most mornings, the snowfall almost incessant, isolating the town. It’s mostly a positive; it prevents infected, or hunters, or worse, from discovering it. Survivors have been staying in as much as possible, going out only when absolutely necessary. You did your part with helping plough the snow on your horse, a dapple grey mare named Willow; Maria had assigned time slots to the capable survivors. Thankfully, you and Joel weren’t scheduled on the same one. You haven’t crossed paths with the man since New Year’s Eve, and you’re perfectly content with that.

Well, that isn’t the full truth. There’s a part of you that incomprehensibly wishes you could see him again. You absolutely despise it, and you’ve made an immense effort to silence those thoughts when they seize you. But they come often. Too often. You’ve thrown yourself into tasks, hobbies, anything to occupy your mind. Needless to say, your house has been extremely tidy lately, you’ve listened through your record collection multiple times, finished the novel you were reading (The Count of Monte Cristo which you had previously barely made a dent it), and started on at least three paintings which you hated and scrapped, and you’re not one to waste supplies. If the thoughts are hard to control during the day, it becomes impossible at night.

You’ve…dreamed about Joel. Doing things to you that you wouldn’t dare say out loud, to anyone, your inner thighs moist upon waking up. You think you might be going completely insane. So, you’re almost excited for your upcoming patrol, and the extended distraction it’ll provide.

It’s the evening of Sunday, January 14th, 2035. The sky is clear for once, the sun has started setting behind the mountains, casting Jackson in frigid twilight. You’re speed walking towards town hall, the icy wind piercing right through your coat, chilling you to the bone. Your scarf is pulled up to your nose, the flaps of your trapper hat down and tied, thick mittens protecting your hands. You reach the building in record time, its short clock tower illuminated. You pull the heavy door and get in, a gust of warmth from the heating blasted at maximum immediately relieving. The room is spacious, cosy, with a stone hearth at the back where a fire is crackling, chairs stacked in a corner, and a long table with a tall thermos of chicory coffee and some cups strewn about. You go up to the large rolling bulletin board standing in the middle of the room, where various organisational documents for the community are pinned. A handful of survivors are already gathered around it. One of them, a teenager with a long black braid, olive skin and sharp features (Tina? Or something similar), is adding a flyer to it, advertising her services to shovel pathways for trade. Brave move. You greet the group and look over to the patroller’s duty roster for the week. You’ve set for Hoback Pass, tomorrow, with Astrid. You spot Joel’s name on the list; he’s with Tommy, as usual, for Teton Village, at the end of the week. No chance of overlap.

Good. Great. Wonderful.

You don’t stay around much longer; you need to prepare for the next day’s run. Astrid likes to get an early start, and she’ll want to plan strict routes before leaving. You’ve forgiven her for snitching on what she saw you do at New Year’s Eve; she was drunk too, and she hasn’t mentioned it since. Max must have convinced her she hallucinated it, for your sake. So you go back out into the cold, empty streets, now plunged in darkness.

You met Astrid when she arrived in Jackson around three years ago, along with Fred. The two are like siblings; after the outbreak, they were raised in a small settlement in the Eastern Idaho forest. The group had left camp when resources were becoming scarce, travelling south in hopes of finding a new safe haven. Upon reaching Jackson, the two women were the only ones left alive. You don’t know the exact circumstances in which they lost their loved ones, but the reality is all too familiar to most people in this world. At least these two still have each other. You weren’t so lucky with that. Sometimes, when you look at them, you can’t help but get a glimpse of a future you were cruelly robbed of. In these instances, you’re hit with a burning, gut-wrenching pang of jealousy. You try not to dwell on it; it’s a useless sentiment and it’s impossible to get her back.

You jog up to your house a few minutes later. After a quick dinner, you put together your pack, checking items off a mental list: canteen, munitions, a few rations, first aid kit, flint rod, rope, hand-crank radio… You’re sharpening your knife, sitting at the dining room table, when you’re interrupted by a knock. You cross the hallway, puzzled, and undo the chain to crack open the front door. Tommy’s standing on the other side, bouncing on the spot, rapid breaths coming out in white volutes.

“Uh, hey,” you say, surprised to see him there.

“Hey,” he replies, “sorry to bother you this late.”

“Oh, it’s fine. What’s up?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile. You’ve known Tommy ever since you first came to Jackson. He’s the patrol chief; the one who teached you at your beginnings on the job. You like him as a leader; he’s fair, direct, dependable, and he’s got a sense of humour. He’s a good balance to Maria, who can be a bit too stern at times.

“Uh, well, it’s about your patrol tomorrow. I know you’re supposed to go with Astrid, but I’m gonna have to send her to train Jesse instead,” he explains, talking fast.

Jesse is the newest recruit. He’s a determined, strong young man who joined in late November, just as he turned eighteen, the required age for patrolling. He’s gone out with Astrid on practice runs a couple times before; she had volunteered to mentor him.

You furrow your brows. “Oh. Alright, sure, that’s okay. Uh, you want me to go by myself?”

“Uh, no” Tommy answers,“too risky with all the snow. I was gonna send Joel. You guys work well together and he knows Hoback.”

Your stomach drops.

Fuck.

Your expression must have changed noticeably, because Tommy tilts his head, perplexed.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He inquires.

You blink a few times, recovering from the blow. “Uh, yeah. I- I mean no. Just-” you search for the right words, “can’t Astrid do it another day?”

“Not really. We need Jesse ready ASAP. Why? Problem with Joel?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

You pause, wondering whether to tell him the truth. Ultimately, you decide it would just create a bigger problem. “No, no, nevermind. All good,” you lie, averting Tommy’s eyes.

The man doesn’t seem convinced. “Alright… You know, it’s funny. Joel didn’t seem too happy either when I told ´im.”

So he’s been thinking about you too. He remembers. This makes it so much worse. You give a nervous chuckle in response, and attempt a joke. “Is he ever?”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, you ain’t wrong.” He claps his gloved hands together. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning for briefing then.”

You give him a nod and he imitates you before walking off. You close the door behind him and rest your forehead against the hard surface, banging it a few times. You yell out in frustration. What did you just get yourself into?

That night, you restlessly lay in bed, tossing and turning, your mind racing, agitated, unable to shut itself off. You don’t get any sleep.

Joel doesn’t either.

You’re already exhausted by the time you’re out of the door the next morning, right at sunrise, which just intensifies your terrible mood. You stride down the street towards Jackson’s main gate, in full winter gear, pack hanging off a shoulder. The town is a muted grey, misty; a few snowflakes are slowly falling from heavy clouds. It matches your emotional state. You’re hoping to be the first one at the stables, giving you time to blow off some steam. But, upon arrival, you discover that the object of your torment has had the same idea. Joel’s saddling his horse, Old Beardy, an imposing black-coated male.

The bastard.

You curse him out in your head, your heartbeat quickening as you approach. You walk past him, heading towards Willow’s enclosure. Neither you nor Joel acknowledges the other. Willow neighs softly when she sees you, and you go to pet her on the nose, hyper aware of the man standing about twenty feet away from you. You quietly tend to your horse for a few minutes, every sound coming from Joel irritating you, before you finally dare steal a glance over at him. Right as you do so, he turns his head back quickly, caught in the act.

So that’s how it’s gonna go, huh?

You tie your pack to a hook on Willow’s saddle, your movements sharp, heated. Once you’re done, you take the horse’s reins and guide her out of the stable, passing by Joel once again; his back tenses as you do so, and you hear him sigh loudly. The feeling’s mutual.

You decide to take Willow for a trot around town while you wait for the other patrollers to show up. You don’t think you could stay there with Joel, in thick silence, pointlessly wondering what it is he’s thinking; it would drive you mad. You come back half an hour later, not an ounce more calm, as Tommy is about to start his report. You make sure to stand as far away from Joel as you can while you listen. The words enter one ear and come out the other; you’re too preoccupied with someone else. You’ve heard the speech a hundred times anyway: stay within sight of your partner, follow the routes, mark the logbooks, come back if you run into something you can’t handle. Once Tommy’s done, he gives the signal for the two townsfolk on guard duty to crank open the gate. You stick your right foot in the stirrup and hoist yourself up on Willow’s back, positioning yourself on the saddle. You let the other patrol team go first, staying behind, immobile, side by side with Joel. You’re not going to make the first move. And he doesn’t either. So you look over at him, and this time, he holds your gaze, fire ablaze in his deep brown eyes. Glowering. Taunting. Scornful. After thirty seconds, Tommy, posted at the wall, yells out to you.

“Guys! What are you waitin’ for? Get goin’!”

Joel capitulates first. He urges Old Beardy forward, not giving you another sight, as you internally scream in victory. You follow behind.

“Have a good one! Stay safe!” One of the guards says, as you pass the threshold. You have to hold yourself back from replying “We won’t.” Joel and you ride out of Jackson.

This day is about to be really fucking unpleasant.

Next chapter

To read on AO3

#tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal

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obsolete-stars-if · 1 year

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Obsolete Stars

Last Update: 20th/April 2024

Last updated word count: + 19k including code Read time: ~5h 45min Join the discord

Currently available: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 full

Take me to the demo. Now.

Disclaimer: While I do have an outline, this is a first draft/proof of concept situation. There will be many errors and things like personality options, and further expansion of the world around you, will be expanded once the first draft is done. Thank you for understanding.

Intro

So let’s be real, we all read fanfiction that followed the prompt of “Help, my parents sold me off to [insert boy band/ celebrate crush/ tumblr sexy man of the week)!”, but unlike those fanfictions, you weren’t sold off to your hot crush. After a life in isolation, your father, the king, sells you off to marry the prince of another country. With nothing but two guards, you make your way to meet the dreaded fate of marriage. Along the way, you will make friends, learn the truth about your kingdom, and find yourself in positions much worse than a forced marriage. One can only pray for your survival.

In this game you will explore your kingdom and what happened to the magic realm. It will include sensitive topics, and possible explicit content in the future.

The game focuses on interpersonal relationships.

What else?

Play as Male, Female, Nonbinary (option to customize your pronouns, future trans options planned)

Date one (or more) of your 7 friends

Play as straight, queer, poly, mono, or just be aro or ace

Be a total ass to your spouse or just accept your fate

Have fun seeing your kingdom in ruins!

Get your friends killed

Get yourself killed

Ę̸̱͌̌x̷͖̕p̵̣̰͐̓e̴̡̪̓̇r̸̨̹̉͘i̷͍̮̎͝e̴͇͋̒n̸̢̼͠c̵͎̳̓̈́e̵͙͇̽̄ ̴̼̈́͒j̵̨̢̈́͆ṳ̸͝͠d̶̝̈̇g̴̨͉̀̏e̸͎͒͛m̷̳̪̓ẽ̶̙͉ń̶͕͋t̵̺̾ ̵̘̓́d̵̹̈́å̵͚ȳ̸͓͗

Okay cool, but what about dating?

Tarek/Takischa (he/him; she/her) (Ftm/Mtf) (genderselectable)

Old and grumpy, TK is 15 years your senior and has been serving the palace your entire life. They are stoic and devoted to the crown, they take their job more than serious, sometimes they can even parental or possessive. Underneath their blank face, you know they care for you, and they always will.

They are 6′3 and have ashen honey hair, curly and cutting off just above their eyes. Pale green eyes set deep against their ivory skin. They hide almost all of their skin with layers of clothing.

(Great if you have parental issues.)

Samuel/Samira (he/him; she/her) (Ftm/Mtf) (genderselectable)

Young and curious, Sammy is just a year younger than yourself, they can be naive and easy trusting. They’re optimistic and want to impress you and all their friends. Sammy has a lot to learn, and they’re more than eager to do so. With enough care and time, Sammy will grow into a great protector.

Sammy is 5′9 with very short black hair. Against their warm beige skin tone, their monolidded eyes are a deep reddish brown. They wear simple robust clothes.

Sammy is ace and sex neutral.

(Great if you don’t enjoy angst)

Alia (she/they) (afab)

A quiet person, she keeps to herself, but always stays polite, she is a shrine maiden and TKs friend. She is a peacemaker at heart, and tries to deescalate every situation. She would be considered one of the strongest magic users, if she would ever use it. She is about six years your senior.

Alia is 5′3 and has bronze hair that is cut into a short wolf hairstyle. Blue eyes against satin freckled skin. She wears a lavender dress, with white clothing to cover her arm.

Alia is ace and sex repulsed.

(Great if you like slow burn)

Sascha (He/they) (Ftm)

He is about ten years older, but that can be quickly forgotten by how charming, egotistical and even cowardly he can act. He is not only a danger to you and your friends, but themselves too. He pulls danger from beyond your understanding into your orbit. He is a teasing smart ass that isn’t above blackmailing or hurting anyone. Not to forget that he committed the highest crime there is, stealing a magic companions.

They are 6′1 and have long grey-white hair that falls to his hips. He has very pale skin and ice blue eyes. He wears high quality clothes, and a golden jacket that fades into a deep red.

Sascha is ace and sex positive.

(Great test of your patience.)

Kate (she/her) (Mtf)

Just a few years older than you, she is noble and a healer, she is a loud and loving personality. With teasing smile, she cares deeply about everyone’s well-being, but will never be above calling anyone out.

She is 6′0, her chocolate goddess locs fall beneath her shoulders, the curls fading into a pink color. Dark deep brown eyes against warm yet ashen honey skin tone. She wears pink toned dresses and many accessories.

(Great if you like women.)

Mikhail (he/they) (amab)

The prince of Riag, your spouse, and the second general. His easy going and considerate personality makes it hard to grasp, that he is celebrated by his own soldiers and nobles of his country, deeply feared by anyone outside his country. A war criminal for his country. Beloved warrior, lover of war. He is only a few years your senior.

Mikail is 5′7 and their dark brown hair would fall to his shoulders, if it wasn’t pulled back into a ponytail. The tips of his hair fading into an earthy, almost blueish green tone, matching his eyes against his cool olive skin tone. He wears short clothing due to the heat in Riag and the many training sessions they have daily.

(Great if you believe everyone deserves a second chance.)

Gigi (she/her) (afab)

She promised Judgement Day.

Gigi is 5′6 and with ash blonde hair curling around her soft face frame, cutting off just below her ears, and light brown, almost hazel eyes. She wears primarily black with orange accessories.

Unofficial official RO Art/Ref

Moodboards, color palettes, playlist for each RO here:

Maps and miscellaneous stuff:

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space-writes · 4 months

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hello (again) writeblr! i decided to make a new intro that has all my current wips on it, since i have way more than when i first started out on here.

about me

I go by Space, my pronouns are they/he, and I’m in my third decade of existence, which is absolutely wild. I’ve been writing for most of it, so I like to think I’m pretty decent

I write mostly fantasy and erotica (sometimes at the same time), both original and fanfiction, and all of it's queer

You can find my work on my AO3 here, crossposted to my neocities here, and under my snippets tag

I’m open to tag and ask games, and my inbox is currently open to anything as well. I don’t always reply the fastest, but I’ll get to it eventually! (I don’t take part in chain asks, so please don’t send me them)

I use obsidian.md for all my writing, and it’s my favourite notes app ever, so I also talk about that occasionally. The tag for it is here, and I’m hoping to write some more showcases/tutorials this year!

my main goal is to actually finish some damn books and also to inflict my OC brainrot upon people. so far the second one is the only thing that’s actually happened, but i live in hope

My current wips are Chronicles of Valloroth (Renegade Prince being book one), Obedience, Obsession, and claws—summaries and links for all four are under the cut!

this is my writing sideblog, you can find my main @thespacelizard, and i follow/like from there

tag directory is here

current wips

Chronicles of Valloroth

⚔ Genre: Fantasy Adventure

⚔ Features: Queer cast, found family, A Whole Entire Dragon, magical mishaps, The Mere Concept of Doing The Right Thing, a grumpy assassin, a sparkly mercenary, knock-off tieflings, a handsome prince (he’s gay), more banter than your average dungeons and dragons campaign

⚔ Status: Book One: First draft completed, re-drafting in-progress || Books Two & Three: outlined

⚔ One Sentence Summary (Book One): A runaway prince seeks freedom in a new world and must find a way to convince a rag-tag group to defeat an ancient dragon, all whilst he is being hunted by a band of mercenaries and an infamous assassin.

⚔ Series Tag: valloroth blogging

claws

🩸 Genre: Queer Horror

🩸 Features: teacher/student relationship (university edition), toxic romance, gender fuckery, broken identity, demonology, murder, self-harm, obsession, stalking, infidelity, a lot of blood, pact-based magic system, corruption, jealousy, eldritch entities, love is a wound, body horror, attempted suicide, and a little bit of arachnophilia

🩸 Status: First draft complete!

🩸 One Sentence Summary: A young student’s obsession with his demonology teacher sparks a twisted romance that draws him to the limits of his humanity—and into the web of an eldritch horror.

🩸 Series Tag: wip: claws

Obedience

💜 Genre: Erotic Romance, D&D fanfiction (original characters, Forgotten Realms setting & loose 5E ruleset)

💜 Features: a variety of BDSM scenarios, one closed off wizard dom, one enthusiastic nerdy sub, weird uses for dnd spells, a painful amount of pining, somehow; worldbuilding, emotional slow burn, as much self indulgence as I can possibly fit in a fanfic series

💜 Status: Arcs 1-3 are complete (read on AO3 here, or my neocities here). The first book of Arc 4, The Perils of Wanting is currently in edits. The second book of Arc 4, as yet untitled, is on its second draft.

💜 One Sentence Summary: A D/s M/M series featuring two wizard boys, the kinky magic they get up to, and the feelings they definitely don’t have for each other.

💜 Series Tag: obedience fic blogging (it began on my main, so the tag there has more snippets)

Obsession

🕷 Genre: War of the Spider Queen/Forgotten Realms fanfiction, also Erotica, Horror and a smidge of Dark Romance

🕷 Features: OC/canon, a nightmare transmasc wizard boy, obsession, stalking, jealousy, violent impulses, dubious consent, possessiveness, evil gender dysphoria, incest, gore, the inherent horror of Having a Body, and occasionally actual school things happening at Sorcere

🕷 Status: Ongoing serial, which you can read on AO3 here, or my neocities here

🕷 One Sentence Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym is everything to Vizaeth Thaezyr. He’ll do anything for him—even if Pharaun doesn’t know it yet.

🕷 Series Tag: obsession fic blogging (it also began on my main, so check the tag there for additional content!)

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writeblr reintro #writing community #writing #writers on tumblr #writers #i did it i remade the intro!#everyone cheer and clap for me #anyway hello to all the people who've joined me here since i started!#thanks for listening to me incessantly post about my blorbos

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bluebellofbakerstreet · 1 month

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A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Many thanks to @swissmissing for creating this bingo card! Because I'm like that, I decided to go for a blackout bingo! And because, even as I was typing these, I kept thinking of more wonderful fics that would fit the brief, I hope to fill in my bingo card again. Writers are amazing and deserve to be lauded, and I have left off so many amazing fics and authors. Besides, we all need fic recs. 💙

AU/Amnesia The Murder of Emory J Amat by chriscalledmesweetie. Sherlock and John in 1920's AgathaChristieLand. It's a WIP but is currently updating weekly. (52k, T)

BDSM/Bodyswap - Certain Skills by NoStraightLine. John expressly told Sherlock that if he stole his gun again he’d get the fucking he was asking for. Sherlock “Boundaries Are Boring” Holmes stole John’s gun. (3k, E)

Crossover/Crack - Repo Men by Anyawen. In which Mrs Turner's married ones are James Bond and Q. Q is kidnapped; everybody is a BAMF. (7k, G)

Domestic/Disability A Building of Bridges by pengke. Alternate first meeting. No one would ever send Sherlock in to defuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that’s exactly what happened. “Congratulations, Lestrade,” he called out sarcastically. “You’re traumatizing a war veteran.” (11k, G)

Established Relationship/Enemies to Lovers - Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet. In which the boys are in an 80's punk band, and are being interviewed by Rolling Stone. (2k, G)

Future/Fluff 50. Be You - No one Else Can by KittenKin. John's had a bad day and Sherlock doesn't know how to help. They both feel better at the end, and you will, too. (1k, G)

Gen/Genderswap - The Art of Communication by stillwaters01. Lestrade is receiving odd texts from Sherlock; he reads between the lines and brings help. (2k, T)

Historical/Humor - Acceptable Behavior by bbcatemysoul. Sherlock isn't really sure why John wants to shag him, but he's certain that if he's careful to behave properly about it, John can be persuaded to keep doing it. (3k, M)

Illness/imprisonment - Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor. Harrowing account of John's battle with mental health issues and addiction after - you know - everything. (280k, E)

Jealousy/Jilted - Hungry by LipstickDaddy. John can't figure out why Sherlock is being so nice to that new guy working with the yard. (7k, G)

Kids/Kink - The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem. Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies and bright sunshine. (22k, E)

Long/Love Triangle The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie. “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily. “Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!” (152k, E)

Magical Realism/Major Character Death Left by LifeonMars. John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible. (45k, M)

NSFW/Next Gen. Warzone by abundantlyqueer. Three smutty stories that pick up where the first two episodes left off. (13k, E)

Omegaverse/Only One Bed - Scars Don't Lie by CumberCurlyGirl. The prospect of going undercover as husbands to a couples retreat is just too enticing to refuse. (33k, M)

Parenthood/Platonic The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow. Sherlock's top priority is The Work, just as it's always been ... in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting Rosie from school, and preparing for Rosie's sleepover at Baker Street. (32k, T)

Queer/Quest Dance With Me by TotallySilverGirl. Sherlock's queer quest for johnlock requires dancing, and some help from Sally Donovan. (28k, E)

Retirement/Road Trip - The Winter Garden by Callie4180. As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical. (31k, T)

Soulmates/Slow Burn Soul Mate by Mottlemoth. Mystrade. The words appeared on Mycroft's arm aged fourteen. He's now lived with the unfortunate words all his life, not certain that he even wishes to meet his soul mate if that's how the man talks. (4k, T)

Teen AU/Time Travel - The Curious Adventure of the Drs Watson by ShinySherlock. What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places? (40k, M)

Undercover/Unrequited - Last Call at the Homesick Pub by Chryse. During the hiatus, Sherlock is both undercover and suffering from unrequited love. (3k, T)

Vampires/Villain POV - Nine Tenths of the Law by bendingsignpost. John knows what's his - of course he'll kill for it. (Modern vampire AU) (18k, M)

Whump/Werewolves When Your Belly’s in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart. The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side. (4k, T)

Xenomorphism/Xmas - Ghost Stories by SwissMiss. Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something. (22k, M)

Zombies/Zoomorphism - Aim for the Head by Breath4Soul. Sometimes you don't really find yourself until everything has ended.A fic about finding love, healing, and purpose after everything has gone to hell. Still a WIP, but worth it. (44k, M)

#fic recs #I reserve the right to interpret categories as I see fit #writers are amazing

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inevitably-ineffable-husbands · 10 months

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A Thought on AziraCrow from an A-Spec Perspective

On the Eve of Good Omens S2, I just wanted to put my two cents in about AziraCrow, before we see the outcome of S2, because it’s pretty clear from trailers and promotions that their relationship is a plot point in the season.

I started writing a ridiculously long post a week ago spurned on from this screenshot from Pride Magazine, and my being upset by the current discourse on Twitter about AziraCrow “being canon or not”, but decided to shorten it to just this little thought, because I feel like me writing a meta-style commentary (which I do have saved if you want a more long-form thought about it after the series airs) isn’t necessary right now.

And this is all despite Gaiman AND the cast AND crew basically confirming that it is in multiple interviews, discourse from people in the community that are supposed to understand the queer experience, completely disavowing its legitimacy unless “X” happens (where “x” usually is explicit confirmation of sex happening) so therefore it’s not valid (which is really bizarre).

But I digress.

This is just a bit of a thought that I think allos are COMPLETELY skimming over:

Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s relationship, as it currently stands now prior to S2, is representative of the beginnings of a (currently) queerplatonic asexual relationship, and as an ace who so desperately just wants to see a relationship that I can see myself in on screen, and lo and behold came Good Omens. I’m part of a demographic which I and a few of my real-life friends fall into and were so happy to see on-screen when we saw GO. A demographic that is ridiculously under-represented in media that it often is mistaken as “bromance” or “just besties”.

As it stands now, in act 1, it is the part before the romantic gestures and before the “I love you”’s, and the part before the moving in and committing your life to someone else. Very gentle and romantic, slow burn kind of stuff that I, as an ace, relate to so much.

This relationship looks like what my best friends went through for YEARS before finally tying the knot in their queerplatonic relationship because they couldn’t imagine their lives without each other anyway and they loved each other fiercely. This relationship looks like the kind of relationship that doesn’t turn me off as an asexual: to share the ridiculous amounts of love I have, and be loved in return, despite my complete disinterest in having sex. The “you go to fast for me Crowley” was SO FELT in my soul as someone who needs a lot of time to feel comfortable in any relationship I’m in (like, Aziraphale is SO me, it’s ridiculous really), and me trying to explain to people that I need a lot of time to feel comfortable in a relationship and that sex may never happen, and me knowing that I’ll probably be turned down because of it. Me not wanting to hurt someone in a world where sex is an expected endgame, so I just... tend to keep to myself. I’m just as happy with my books and my video games and doing things on my own, but I long for a life partner to love and to experience my life with. And while can’t speak for what other aces and aros may relate to about the relationship, I like to hope that they can also see themselves in AziraCrow as well.

And please don’t get me wrong: I WANT them together-together, in any or all ways that it means: committing to each other 100%, love confessions, declarations of forever, marriage, a cottage in Sussex, and yes, even sex if that’s who they are canonically... I do want that, because I want it for myself. I want to see a relationship blossom where sex isn’t the primary outcome of it, but more of an afterthought as a way to consummate their love and to FEEL loved by each other.

I think the beauty of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is that because they are essentially supernatural beings, we as people can put ourselves in their places, and use them as placeholders for us to project our relationships and experiences onto them and in turn feel seen.

AziraCrow gives me hope that I will find my Other Person someday, because there is unconditional love in the world for people like me, especially as I get older and more set in my ways. I only hope I find my own Crowley to make me feel loved.

I know my opinion isn’t popular about AziraCrow, but honestly, their relationship, and the way it’s progressing means SO much to me, as an asexual, anyway. I hope it’s important to others too. <3

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #my meta #my thoughts #asexuality #not everything is about fucking #shitposting steph

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leandra-winchester · 19 days

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sorry in advance if i come off degrading or rude here (not my intention at all) but i'm sending this to you because you mentioned fictional narrative re: buddie, so i wanna add my thoughts about plausibility in relation to narrative format and medium conventions. long rant & full disclosure, i just watched 911, so i don't know how the conversation around this was pre-tommy but i don't understand how people thought/think it's a slowburn romance arc they were building with buddie that could actually happen. literally no romantic relationship on this show has been slowburn because it's just not how procedural shows of this kind are written. bathena barely interacts in s1 and were put together in a couple episodes. madney are only friends for five episodes or so. none of buck and eddie's relationships have build-up that lasts more than a few eps. the closest i can think of is buck and abby and even that wasn't much. i just don't think it's the nature of these type of shows, with the exception of something like the show castle where two main leads are set up as one day becoming romantic, to give breathing room for romance to go from zero to established. they're written in on-average 6-episode arcs and planned according to audience response, this is basically how every aspect of these shows work including the romantic plots.

which brings me to my second point you already touched a little bit: medium conventions but especially in relation to queer rep. when we have queer rep in these type of mainstream shows they're rarely stories about bi/gay awakening. double gay awakening? honestly, i don't remember a single show where something like this happened. i'm shocked we even got bi buck AT ALL because nominally straight hot guy main character getting confirmed as queer rarely happens. i kinda find the notion of people genuinely expecting this to happen with two main characters over seasons-long burn kind of laughable. and don't get me wrong, i understand why people love the idea, i'm myself a slow-burn building-a-bond-before-romance type of gal but i just don't think that type of queer story would ever work in a format like this, considering the average audience. look at something like 911ls for example, carlos and tk are both openly gay and start having sex on ep 2 and are boyfriends by ep 10 - that's the space queer stories currently hold in mainstream media. where it's made clear from the start and executed quickly over a few eps (not saying there's no further story with them, i just mean the relationship development). so yeah i don't think buddie was ever an option for the writers beyond being aware of the interest in it which is objectively very small compared to the millions of people watching this show. tldr: i think being ship-baited by a mainstream procedural show on fox is like going to the hardware store and asking for milkshake.

Okay, so I don't agree that slow burns aren't possible at all on shows like 911. Afaik, that popular ship on the Rookie also took several seasons, and there are many more shows that had a "will they, won't they?" situation with two main characters. Sure, it's much more difficult to write, plan and pull through, but it does get done.

Many people were hoping Buddie was FINALLY gonna be a queer version of that trope, and the thing is, there was enough subtext in the previous few seasons to support it. There were scenes that were shot and composed with commonly used cinematographic and contextual tropes that are usually used for romantic couples; there was all that stuff with Eddie having panic attacks over Ana, seeming very distanced with her, Carla's "Make sure you follow your heart, not Christopher's", and much more.

I do believe that backdoor was always open a tiny crack wide, and the writers were aware of it being a tiny, tiny option and therefore included all these little bits that would later make it plausible. There were interviews in the past with Tim where he even hinted at something like that, or left the option open; and there were other writers and directors who also subtly confirmed some subtext. It was never explicitly spelled out but hinted at.

So I'm pretty convinced that it at least was some level of consideration, in the past - always with a tiny probability to become possible, but it WAS there. (And before anyone reading this says "oh so that WAS ship baiting?" Nope, it wasn't. Giving yourself the option to maaaaybe do something in the future as a writer is normal procedure.)

Also, just because something was never done before (i.e. a queer slow burn) doesn't mean it'll never get done. It just makes it a lot less likely and subject to MANY external factors.

But yeah, I definitely agree that putting TWO queer awakening arcs around main characters into the story is extremely unlikely to ever happen on a show like this. And actually, we kinda already had two: the show started with Michael coming out to Athena. So yeah, even though we were thrown into the last stage/aftermath of that arc in s1 rather than seeing it play out from the start of its development, we had that.

#buddie but platonic #fandom discourse #kinda #stop trying to make buddie happening #It's NOT going to happen #I'd say sadly #but I'm grateful for #bucktommy #firepilot #buck will always be bisexual #nobody can take that away #and I'm more than happy about it #911

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sunset-a-story · 8 months

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Pumpkin Pitch Event: Sunset Volume 1: Sunrise

Cover art by my co-writer @touloserlautrec

A huge thanks to @writeblrgarden for putting this event on! I've been loving seeing all the awesome pitches!

Joey sees the history of everything and everyone he touches as translucent blue ghosts acting out the past all around him. And this includes his own past, which is how Joey knows he wasn't born, he was made. Made and thrown away.

What he does doesn't know is that the people who made him, SolCorp, are actively working to find him and bring him "home." Neither party has any idea how much that will change them both forever.

Sunset is slow-burn serial of building tensions with a queer ensemble cast of people with unique superhuman powers that make their lives harder more than anything. If you love slow-burn romance, slow-burn action, intrigue, and a winding web of storylines, then stick around.

It's told in three arcs (Sunrise, High Noon, and Sunset) through a series of storylines that seem unconnected until they collide and collide with ramping action and conflict.

After over a decade of working on this WIP, Sunset is live now for Patrons and then one week later on Wattpad & AO3. My co-writer is creating "issue covers" for each installment like the one above and I'm super excited about that.

Details Genre: Slow-burn 18+ science-fantasy Format: serial release POV: third person, multiple POV Cast: Queer ensemble cast Stage: - Volume 1: Sunrise = complete. 116k words/250 pages Volume 2: High Noon = in beta. 307k words/683 pages Volume 3: Sunset = drafting. Currently 995 pages

Please comment or DM for taglist +/-

A sneak-peek of the first page of Sunset can be found here but here's another little snippet from the first issue:

Marek leaned over farther. “Have you heard anything?” “Like what?” Marek shrugged. “Has it definitely happened yet?” Louis shook his head, mouth tight. “No, I don’t think so.” “How will we know? I doubt there will be an announcement or something.” Marek couldn’t imagine getting a memo just letting them know Neptune had carried out a death sentence. Louis heaved an annoyed sigh and tilted his head conspiratorially. “We won’t be told formally, he’s an Icarus after all, but it’ll get around.” It was odd to hear a department head referred to as an Icarus, the name Sol gave to its agents who committed crimes against the company. Once you were dubbed Icarus, your name was taken from you, replaced with a number until you’d either been considered redeemed or… well, the former Venus was a prime example of what happened if the transgression was bad enough to warrant erasure. Your name would never be spoken again. “How did he get caught after so long?” he asked. “His Second--” “Enough of that,” Nancy’s voice interrupted. They looked up. The others had settled in and gone quiet. “Sorry, ma’am,” Marek said, switching to formalities in a setting like this. “You know I’m easily distracted.” Well, he could only be so formal. Nancy scowled. “No one’s fooled by your pretend incompetence.” “Maybe if you didn’t tell everyone...”

Content Warning List

Mind control/telepathy

Violence/gore

Guns/weapons

Death

Substance use/misuse (prescription and recreational)

Off-screen child death

Mention of off-screen child abuse and the concept of CSA (specifically talking about how CSA did not happen)

Mention of monsters

Nudity

Religion

Medical procedures

Patriarchy B.S. and railing against it

Questionable-to-problematic relationship dynamics (eventually)

I would be remiss if I didn't note that these are the warnings for Arc 1 but Sunset is a slow burn and it starts slow so please note that these themes will only intensify. Some CW for future arcs include explicit sexual content, monster violence/gore, homophobia, threat of sexual assault, and confinement.

#writeblrgarden #pumpkinpitch #sunset a story #writeblr community #slow burn #science fantasy #queer characters

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

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Seeing LS's current predicament makes me wonder what would happen when OG releases real hints of Buddie happening right now, will it have higher demo but lower viewer count?

Honestly? I can see that. As we've mentioned these past few weeks, LS viewers knew what they were getting into with Tarlos right away, so the audience that's left in season four has made peace with/is supportive of a gay couple getting their screen time. But Buddie...remains divisive. Making each character canonically queer and putting them in a relationship at any point starting *now* will inevitably trigger the homophobes. To them, it will look like the 911verse is trying to "make everything gay" and they'll vow to no longer support the show. That's the risk they're contemplating. We won't know which side they've chosen until there's a comment in a post-mortem interview (if one of the guys is in a seemingly good relationship with a woman) or there are no more episodes left to make canon Buddie work. I know there's the possibility of everyone being signed on for next season already, and even if they're not I don't anticipate Oliver leaving (Ryan's under contract), but as each year passes, we're entering that uncomfortable "We may only get one year of canon outta this." territory. Slow burns are only worth the wait when the actors *aren't* out the door immediately after.

#anonymous #tina speaks #buddie #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1

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lucky-clover-gazette · 11 months

Text

The Big Picture

The Four Swords manga, adapted/retold using both canon and additional scenes, with a focus on Vio and Shadow's individual characters and ambiguous relationship.

Note: I have changed the tags on this fic to reflect the fact that it will be romantic. A slow burn, sure, with very Vidow-esque ambiguous closeness, but explicitly described as queer romantic attraction. At the end of the day I just really want to make the manga's subtext into text-text. Hope you'll stick around for more, but no hard feelings if you're no longer interested.

Chapter Two: Who Are You? (Part Two)

Zelda’s one-of-a-kind golden medallion clatters on the ground before them, causing everyone but Vio to gasp. Vio, meanwhile, keeps his eyes trained on the villain, unwilling to be distracted by his performance. He must have a weakness, a vulnerability he’s trying to hide, some reason for this amount of ridiculous posturing…

“If she behaves,” Shadow Link says, finally meeting Vio’s eyes straight-on, “I won’t mistreat her.”

A chill runs down Vio’s spine. Shadow Link’s smirk deepens, almost as if he can tell.

Read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

Chapter Text

“Princess Zelda! Princess, are you all right?”

Shadow lets his body go slack, leaning against the throne room’s center platform. He keeps his head down as the Captain bursts inside, his attention likely drawn to the clawed curtains and knocked-over throne.

“Link!” the Captain shouts, immediately rushing over to Shadow’s side. “Son!”

Shadow keeps his eyes shut and expression neutral as the older man lifts him slightly. So much for caring about the curtains.

“What’s happened to you?” the Captain demands. “Did you try to fight alone again?”

An interesting question, Shadow thinks. And ironic, considering the real hero’s current state. If only you knew, old man…

“You fool!” the Captain shouts, pulling Shadow into a tighter embrace. Despite the harsh words, his voice holds no malice or blame. “Please, gods of Hyrule! Save my son!”

Shadow is growing tired of this charade. Surely the Captain is overcompensating out of guilt, blaming himself for his son’s weakness.

“Take my life but spare his!”

It’s a pathetic performance. Nobody actually cares this much for their creations. The Captain should be ashamed of Link for failing, not begging some higher power for his sorry life! He should berate the hero, express his disappointment for how badly his failure reflects on his creator.

Instead he simply pulls Shadow closer, tearfully pressing his head in the crook of the young man’s neck. To the Captain, it doesn’t seem to matter whether the hero is a failure or a fool. Shadow hopes they both die painfully and alone.

All in good time, he reassures himself.

“My, my,” he says, his slack expression turning to a smirk. “What a good father you are.”

And just like that he’s himself again, staring up at an old fool too stunned to even realize his mistake. “It’s so touching I could cry,” Shadow continues, and then plunges his claws into the man’s armored chest. His magic heats the metal to an unbearable degree, summoning black smoke that takes the Captain whole. His scream still echoes through the throne room as his empty armor clatters to the ground.

Shadow stands, brushes himself up, and chuckles above the Captain’s smoldering remains. Just as with Zelda, he isn’t dead—but he has met with a terrible fate nonetheless.

Shadow allows the lingering smoke to carry him across dimensions, standing proudly in the castle’s twisted reflection. The Captain lies at his feet, dazed and unprotected.

“Let me welcome you to the Dark World,” Shadow says, releasing a low chuckle. He stares down at the old man, radiating smug pleasure and disdain. “You fool.”

/////////////

Hyrule Castle is in ruins. A place Link once found beautiful now crumbles beneath Vio’s feet, littered with abandoned weapons and supernatural smoke licking the ground.

“All this, in one day?” Green asks, pausing to assess the damage.

“No!” Blue shouts, slamming his hand on a stone column. Vio turns swiftly and shushes him.

“It’s awfully quiet,” he says between gritted teeth. “Arcy said there were monsters here.”

The four proceed, keeping a circular defensive formation that totally isn’t awkward at all. Vio’s ear twitches at a nearby clang of metal, the unmistakable sound of a castle knight’s approach. For a second he considers lowering his weapon, and can already sense Red already doing so… but Vio isn’t that trustworthy. Nothing today has gone as expected, why should he expect anything different now?

Sure enough, a knight emerges from the shadows to meet the four. He is easily identifiable by the scarf on his shoulders and feather on his helmet.

“That’s Artura’s armor,” Green informs the others. “Father’s top knight!”

Yeah, genius, Vio wants to tell him. We know everything you know.

“Is he alive in there?” Green asks, “Or…?”

Artura slams down his claymore with such force that it breaks the stone beneath them. Vio side-hops just in time, narrowly avoiding damage.

“Is it a monster in disguise?” Green asks as the four resume their formation, standing tightly back-to-back-to-back-to-back. Two dozen knights enter the courtyard, surrounding them from all sides.

“They are knights of Hyrule!” their very perceptive leader exclaims in disbelief.

But not quite, Vio thinks, noticing the strange way the ‘knight’s’ eyes glow behind their helmets.

“No!” Red cries out, voice unsteady.

“Stop!” Vio commands the knights. “Wake up!” He can tell Green is looking at him questioningly, but unlike their leader, Vio feels no need to explain his every thought—especially when he could still be wrong.

The knights attack them from all sides, intimidating despite their predictability. Vio’s Four Sword—a one-handed broadsword—holds up surprisingly well against a knight’s claymore, undoubtedly benefitting from some kind of magical stat boost.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices their leader holding back. “What are you doing, Green? Fight or they’ll cut you down!”

A bead of sweat rolls down Green’s face. “But what if they’re just being controlled? We know these guys! We trained together, ate together!”

Blue vaults over Green, releasing a mighty downward slash upon his opponent. “Well, they’re enemies now!” he growls, grabbing their leader by the tunic. “Do you want to die?”

Before Vio can agree with Blue, he hears Red’s loud whimper at his side. The knights have four swords of their own pointed at the guy, and Vio fears what would happen if he tried to get closer.

They’re cornered, Vio realizes, as his back hits the courtyard wall. They’ve been herded in this direction by the attacking forces. But why…?

Tak-tak-tak.

Vio furrows his brow. What the hell kind of shoes even make a noise like that?

Emerging from the shadows is Shadow Link himself, crossing his arms behind his back and keeping his head low. “Well, well…”

Vio’s eyes narrow as Shadow Link steps in full view. His red eyes meet Green’s as he lifts his hand, summoning a charge of magic smoke at his fingertip. “Your concern is quite pathetic,” he condescends. “They’re just my toys.”

All of the armor clatters to the ground at once, greyish smoke pouring from neck and arm holes. Vio looks from the smoldering shells to Shadow Link, unsurprised by the reveal but stern nonetheless. “You!”

Shadow Link only spares him a second’s glance before returning his attention to Green. This split-second’s dismissal may piss Vio off more than the entire swarm of knights attacking him moments before.

“You’re late,” Shadow Link says dryly, standing only a few feet away from the four. “I got tired of waiting.”

“What have you done with Princess Zelda?” Green demands, so easily taking the bait and playing the bleeding-heart hero. “Release the maidens!”

“The princess?” Shadow Link asks, keeping one hand on his hip as the other tosses a small metal object towards them. “Carrying her off was hard. She’s quite stubborn. Here.”

“If she behaves,” Shadow Link says, finally meeting Vio’s eyes straight-on, “I won’t mistreat her.”

A chill runs down Vio’s spine. Shadow Link’s smirk deepens, almost as if he can tell.

“But soon enough the darkness will win,” the villain continues, wistfully staring off into the distance, “and she’ll be one of us.”

Again, he looks to Green. He seems to understand which of them those words are most likely to hurt.

“Who are you?” Green asks, stepping slightly in front of the group. “One of Vaati’s minions?”

It’s very fast, but Vio sees it: a moment of genuine irritation on Shadow Link’s face. He recovers almost immediately, regaining his smug villainous persona, but not before revealing a hint of weakness to the only person actually paying attention.

“I told you,” Shadow Link chuckles, crossing his arms over his appropriately dark tunic. “I’m the hero, Link. I’m your shadow, your living reflection in the Dark World.”

This is first thing he’s said to really stop Vio in his tracks. A million questions race through his head, drowning each other out so that none are coherent at all.

Green, however, prefers to keep his questions simple. “What? My shadow?!”

Shadow Link preens at the invitation to explain. “The wind mage Vaati is awake, and blowing dark energy into this world. When he is completely reborn, the Dark World will replace yours.”

Vio’s frown deepens. He wish he knew more about the Dark World and its relationship to the light. They’re opposing elements, obviously, much like Shadow Link and the four heroes… although that’s not quite right, because Shadow Link is a subversion of the full hero, while Vio is an entirely new being informed by one-fourth of Link Prime’s original attributes.

So what does that make him to Shadow Link? Not a perfect opposite, nor a copy. If Shadow Link belongs to the Dark World, and Link Prime is the light… what does that suggest about Vio’s place in all this?

“Then noble Princess Zelda of the Hyrulean royal family will be offered as a sacrifice,” Shadow Link continues, swiftly disrupting Vio’s existential spiral. Well, Vio thinks with equal parts dread and relief, at least my place isn’t that.

“Never!” exclaims Green, pointing his weapon at Shadow Link. “I’ll beat the darkness with the power of the Four Sword!”

The shadow’s face goes blank at the threat of the blade, only for him to burst out laughing seconds later. “The Four Sword?” More laughter follows, and Vio rolls his eyes.

“Unfortunately for you,” Shadow Link says, regaining his composure, “darkness already taints that sword!” He points at the weapon in Green’s hand, completely unfazed by its proximity to his unarmored form. “It can’t beat me. Swing it and I’ve already won!”

For a second, Vio thinks he may be bluffing—but he truly can’t believe it possible for someone to have this much unfounded confidence.

Blue clearly disagrees, though, because he launches towards the villain with his own Four Sword aimed for the heart. “That’s ridiculous!”

Shadow Link brings his own sword in a downward slash, repelling Blue with such power that he’s thrust into the stone wall. Vio steps back slightly, unsettled by the deranged smile on the shade’s face.

“Now do you get it?” Shadow Link asks, motioning with his sword to Blue’s collapsed body. He groans as Red helps him to his feet. Green approaches Shadow Link while Vio hangs back behind them all.

“Wait!” Green says, “What happened to the people in the castle, and my father?”

Vio pictures the Captain in his memories. His father… but not mine?

“Oh…” Shadow Link says, like the cat who’s had the canary in a cage for the past twenty minutes but is still just super stoked about it. “Your father?”

Not his, either, Vio observes.

“I sent them all to the Dark World as one big happy family,” Shadow Link reveals, his voice especially disdainful during the final three words. “He was such a weak man. In the end, he bowed down and begged for his life. Over and over, he begged to be spared!”

Vio searches his memories for the man he knew to be his father. That can’t possibly be true. The Captain was far too noble, far too selfless, far too loyal to surrender and grovel to save his own skin.

If Link’s father had begged for a life, it would have been for his son’s. Period.

Shadow Link is a dirty fucking liar.

“You dirty liar!” Green shouts, charging at the villain with zero restraint. This time, Vio can’t even blame him. He notices his own fists clenched at his sides and releases them at once. If he wants to save himself, his friends, and his father, he needs to keep his cool.

“Whoops!” Shadow Link mocks, unnaturally extending his body so Green’s sword passes through a now-transparent middle. It should be impossible, and Vio has so many questions, but now is not the time to consider them.

Shadow Link returns to form and floats above the four, crossing his arms and legs as if lounging on an invisible chaise. “I told you it wouldn’t work against me.”

“Blast it!” Green shouts, and Vio wonders if the part of Link Prime that knew how to say ‘fuck’ went solely to him.

Shadow Link pans his gaze over them, then shakes his head in mock-pity. “Four fools, trying to save a doomed world.”

“You coward!” Blue shoots back, “Hiding in the shadows! Why don’t you make like one and fade away?”

Shadow Link’s eyes widen. His smile disappears as he smites Blue with a new kind of magic, straight from the blade of his sword, stunning him and sending him backwards again. The shade still floats, but no longer lounges—fangs gritted, he issues his warning:

“Don’t ever… mock the shadows.”

His eyes burn as he’s surrounded by unstable energy and dark smoke. “You think they’re weak and insubstantial!”

Despite his fear, Vio cocks his head. What? Who even said that?

“Do I look weak to you?!”

You do now, Vio thinks, trying to hide his relief at some sign of vulnerability. Maybe they have a chance, after all…

“Can’t you feel my strength?! Let me show you the power of darkness!”

Vio may know Shadow Link’s weakness—but knowledge, it turns out, is nothing compared to power. The villain’s blade releases another mighty arc of magic, stunning the four heroes and launching them across the courtyard. Vio remembers taking damage as Link Prime, but this is the first true pain he’s felt as himself. And it sucks.

Green stands on shaking legs, and in this state of pain Vio can’t help but admire him. Their leader may be dense, but he’s obviously the most heroic among them.

“Four Sword,” Green groans, “lend me your strength! Just as in legend, give us—”

“Don’t you get it?” Shadow Link laughs, his blade dragging against the floor as he walks over to Green. “It’s just a sword!” He stands above the hero as if he’s already won—which, Vio has to admit, he may be correct in assuming. “And you’re nothing. I’m the hero now!”

The villain raises his sword to land a finishing blow and Vio braces himself for impact. If Green dies here, his own death will be soon to follow. In a way, this comes almost as a relief—does he really want to exist in such a complicated, strange new form?

“What’s that?” Red asks, and Vio opens one eye. A tiny ball of light meets Shadow Link’s sword, stopping him from bringing it down on Green. No, not a ball of light—a fairy!

Shadow Link reacts to the creature like it’s radioactive, shielding his face and drawing back immediately. “Stop it!” he cries out, and Vio almost pities him—but not really, because that magic blast hurt.

The fairy encircles the four in light, rescuing them with the ring of a bell.

/////////////

Shadow Link is not having fun right now.

He massages his shaking wrist and pants on the courtyard’s cobblestone floor, mind still reeling from the fairy’s sudden attack. The pure light emanating from her body had been enough to completely disarm him, to allow the heroes to escape—all because of Shadow’s pathetic weakness.

“The Maidens…” he mutters, staring up at the stormy sky. “Even sealed, they must have some power.”

Thunder rumbles through the clouds, reminding him that the darkness is far from defeated. He’s still conquered the castle. He still freed Vaati. He hasn’t yet failed.

“How lucky for those fools!” Shadow chuckles raggedly, already mentally drafting the ‘good news/bad news’ e-mail to Vaati and Ganon. They’ll be mad, but there’s no way they can fully blame Shadow for his light sensitivity. Ganon is the one who created him from darkness, after all.

Light, Shadow thinks, staring down at his still-shaking hands. I hate the cursed light!

#four swords #fs #my writing #vidow #vio x shadow #vio link #shadow link

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matan4il · 1 year

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I was the anti shipper, and yes, just to be very clear, it wasn't homophobia. Yes, I am straight, and I ship both straight and queer couples. It's chemistry. But I am always more confident in straight couples because I know if the fans react, the showrunners will too. See Green Arrow. Not to use the tired catchphrase, but if either of them were women and shared the Ryan and Oliver chemistry, I have no doubt they would have changed it. You know, even if it was supposed to be Taylor and Anna or Shannon end game. That's the part that made me so annoyed.

S2 and S3 you could not go an episode that didn't have some ship worthy content. Then, in S4 and S5, it was the fact that they grew so much more emotionally intimately that they had to pull back being physically affectionate. I often see them compared to McDanno, and to me, it's like no. The difference is McDanno never pulled back or acted weird when in a relationship. They embraced the codependent/buddy cop/bro work husband of it. If anyone currently, they are more like Tim and Lucy in The Rookie.

So yes I was mostly annoyed because I felt like they wouldn't be brave enough to shift the story. I really believe that Buddie is just an important representation. All LBGTQ content is, but theirs is yes a little different when you can explore the ways you come at it, their professions, backgrounds, potential repression, mid life gay panic. And of course their adorable son!

So thanks for understanding my point so well and not assuming I was no homo, you know!!

Lovely, you have nothing to thank me for! I thought your ask was AWESOME, I understood immediately where you were coming from, and it had the exact desired effect, it filled me with joy!

And I agree with you, I’m a hopeless romantic which means even as a kid, I shipped to my heart’s content. I was incapable of watching any show without finding a couple who I loved and cheered for. And without a doubt, even though I pick up on similar chemistry and tropes when I ship opposite sex couples who aren’t together yet as when I ship same sex ones, the former will almost ALWAYS get together (or at least be acknowledged by the show in some way... for example as a one-sided love, it’s happened maybe twice, but it’s still a recognition of what the viewers see), even if they may not be endgame, but the same cannot be said for the latter. So yeah, when I ship two guys who aren’t together canonically, I walk into that with my eyes fully open. And it is frustrating sometimes because of precisely what you point out. If Buck and Eddie were an opposite sex couple and had everything they have now (not just the chemistry, but the build up and intimacy and emotional intensity, plus tropes like the shooting arc at the end of s4), we’d all know it’s just a matter of time before they got together. It wouldn’t even be a question.

I never watched Hawaii 5-0, but I did always assume that the genre dictated that McDanno would never get together, but they would def tease (I hate using this term now since it has become such a dividing term but yeah, I assumed they were queerbaiting) to get that extra slice of viewership from McDanno shippers. So I kind of... am not surprised that they preserved the same kind of dynamic without change throughout the show’s run. Because the only REAL change that they could have provided without losing the shippers is getting them together, right? And like I said, I never thought they would do that.

I don’t watch The Rookie either (listen, there is just TOO MUCH out there, I can’t keep up with everything *sobs*), but I gather Tim and Lucy have gone canon? Semi-canon? IDK, but that’s what gifsets on my dash have led me to believe. But that says it all, if Chenford are that comparable to Buddie!

And once again, fully agreed. Buddie matter so much! In terms of being able to offer us the first REAL mlm slow burn, the fact that they work in such “masculine” professions (break that stereotype even more, 911! I will give you my kidney), their age (coming to realize who they are or how to be in a same sex r/s at a later stage in life), the fact that they’re basically co-parenting (there are not enough mlm couples CHOOSING to raise kids together on our screen), all of it could make Buddie groundbreaking.

Thank you again, it’s been a delight chatting to you! As always, here’s my ask tag. xoxox

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succubusphan · 10 months

Text

Two Man Team - Chapter 12

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 12: When the bones are good, the rest don’t matter.

October 2018

With everything going on, his relationship with Dan blossoming, their friendship and their public branding being sort of related again, Phil debated on whether to look into posts he was not tagged in for mentions of the ship, to see what people thought of them now and it took him weeks to finally decide to go through with it.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that most viewers on Tumblr talked about the glass closet concept, respectful of them not wanting to discuss their current relationship status but having caught onto the clues that there was something there, just enough context clues to let the queer viewers into the secret and let the homophobic people pretend that they didn’t see anything.

There was a moment, a sinking feeling in his stomach, when he came across another post saying that Dan and Phil had gone back to queer baiting to sell merch and get more views and condemning it, but not many people seemed to agree. It was dated a few months prior, before their coming out videos, but it still hurt Phil’s feelings. Only a blind person could accuse him of queer baiting.

He shook his head and hopped into the shower, he needed to relax. He washed his body thoroughly, briefly considering getting off but he was too stressed about what he’d seen to give it a shot. Phil almost slipped and cracked his skull in the shower when he heard the door to this flat open. He wrapped a towel around his hips and carefully walked out of the bathroom, stopping by the kitchen to grab a cast iron pan.

“Hey!”

Phil jumped and dropped the pan to the floor, narrowly avoiding his foot but cracking a tile in the process. “Dan!”.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Dan said. “I used the spare key because you were not answering,” he mumbled as his eyes travelled down Phil’s naked torso hungrily.

“Oh,” Phil said, trying to ignore Dan’s scolding stare. “What happened?”

“I just - wanted to tell you about a thing I was offered…” trailed off, still not looking into Phil’s eyes.

“Well, what is it?” Phil tried, but Dan ran his fingers on Phil’s chest softly, fiddling with the sparse patch of hair.

“You are so wet,” Dan said, clearly not paying attention.

“I was in the shower,” Phil said awkwardly.

Dan finally looked up and pulled him closer by the hips. Then, he pressed their noses together, looking into Phil’s eyes. “God, I love you so much,” he whispered.

Phil’s eyes widened and before he could say anything, Dan was kissing him as he ran the tips of his fingers down Phil’s back adoringly, barely grazing the skin, the touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. Dan’s hands came to rest in the small of his back as he kissed Phil’s neck, he smirked when Phil gasped and held onto his shoulders.

He paused and looked into Phil’s eyes for a moment before asking: “May I?” he said, running his fingers on the edge of the towel.

Phil considered it for a moment, trying to not jump into things because he was horny, but they had been working towards it for a few months now, slowly, really talking things through, paying attention to their feelings and where they were at mentally and emotionally, and - yes, Phil really wanted to. He was ready. “Yes,” he whispered and leaned in for another kiss, burying his fingers in the curls on the back of Dan’s head, playing with them softly. He let out a happy sigh when their hips met. He had missed this, he had missed having Dan like this.

Grabbing Phil’s butt through the towel, Dan took a few steps forward, trying to guide Phil to his bedroom, but snorted at how they stumbled awkwardly and opted for just pulling Phil along by the hand. Phil laughed along; it wouldn’t be them if it wasn’t at least a little bit ungraceful.

Once they had arrived at their destination, Phil sat on the bed and watched Dan unceremoniously remove his shirt and unbuckle his belt, marvelling at all the changes in his body and how good he looked. “Come here,” he said, extending a hand towards Dan and helping him with his zipper and looking up at him, caressing his tummy. “Gorgeous,” he said under his breath.

Dan leaned down for a quick kiss and gently pushed at his chest.

“But-” Phil protested as he discarded the towel, trying to tempt Dan.

“Later,” Dan said. He removed his jeans and lay on top of Phil, resting his weight on his elbows and leaning down to kiss him.

Phil let Dan do as he wished and let his hands wander down Dan’s gorgeous back, grabbing his ass. The sudden movement startled Dan, causing his hips to twitch and finally press their cocks together.

Phil smiled into the kiss when Dan began to grind on him. Their breaths came out in pants as Phil met Dan thrust for thrust, perhaps a bit too eagerly and Dan let out a high-pitched whine. He tried to angle away from the friction but Phil wrapped one leg around him, not ready to let go of the amazing sensation quickly building in his stomach.

Beginning to tremble, Dan gave up on the kiss, unable to keep his focus, and pressed his forehead to Phil’s shoulder, letting out small puffs of air that tickled his neck.

“Phil!” Dan moaned as his thrust became more erratic, his entire body shaking. “Ah, fuck,” he said before coming all over Phil who was still thrusting up against him, still desperately chasing his own orgasm, letting out breathy moans.

“You’re so cute when you whine like that,” Dan mumbled into his ear and bit down on Phil’s neck finally pushing him over the edge.

They lay there panting for a little while before Dan got up and went to get a towel soaked in warm water, sitting at the edge of the bed to clean Phil up, which made him smile.

“Thank you,” Phil said, placing his hand on Dan’s arm.

“You’re welcome,” Dan said, dropping a kiss to his forehead and climbing into bed with him.

Phil wrapped one arm around Dan and pulled him close, sighing happily. He pressed a few kisses on Dan’s cheeks, lips, forehead and nose.

Dan snorted a laugh, blushing and trying to hide his face in the pillow.

“What?” Phil asked with what he knew was a goofy smile.

“Nothing!” Dan said. “I missed this. Us”

“Me too,” Phil admitted. “What did you want to tell me earlier?”

“Nothing, it was all a ploy to barge in and find you naked.”

“Oh, shut up,” Phil laughed. “Be serious now!”

Dan paused, his expression dropping for a moment. “I was offered a book deal. It would be a self-help book,” he said. “And I wanted to know what you thought about that.”

“What else am I going to think? I think it’s amazing! You’ve always wanted to help people through books. Who came to you? Publishing?”

“Young Minds, actually. I had mentioned to them before that it is something that interested me, they handled everything but left the door open for negotiations,” Dan said.

“I love that! Congratulations, you deserve it!” Phil gave Dan a quick kiss. “I’m so proud of you!”

Dan smiled. “Thank you,” he said and Phil could tell that he was holding off, trying to say something else.

“What?”

“Ready for another one?” Dan smirked.

“That was not what you were going to say!” Phil laughed.

“It was!” Dan kissed him, trying to distract him from the conversation, and it worked, of course, Phil had never been able to resist Dan and Dan knew that very well.

Dan’s lips wandered down, dropping kisses on his neck and chest, teasing Phil with random bites on his tummy, his inner thighs and even his hips until he was fully hard. Only then did Dan settle between his legs.

Phil buried his fingers in Dan’s curls, pulling softly as he watched Dan wrap one hand around the base of his cock and ghost his breath over it, licking his lips as if he couldn’t wait to figuratively eat him. It was too much for Phil; he let his head drop back to the pillow.

“Look at me,” Dan demanded and Phil complied, locking eyes with Dan just for a moment, watching him press his tongue flat against the shaft and give him a long lick from root to tip, taking him in and sucking lightly. Phil’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as Dan hollowed his cheeks and began bobbing his head before pulling away and swirling his tongue around the head.

Phil felt his fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead, the heat already rising within him when Dan pressed the tip of his tongue to his slit and sucked harder before really getting into a nice rhythm, taking him a bit deeper each time and moaning so loudly, the vibrations sending tiny shocks of pleasure to Phil’s cock as he got into his throat.

High-pitched whines were falling from Phil’s lips ever so often, his legs starting to shake as he got closer and closer to the edge. He wasn’t usually this fast, fuck, but Dan had learned a trick or two in the time they’d been apart. That thought pulled him away from the edge. Who the fuck did Dan learn this from? He frowned.

Dan pulled back and gave him an unimpressed look. “What?” he panted. “You’re distracted, I can tell.”

“Nothing!” Phil rushed to say, trying not to completely ruin things.

“Don’t lie!” Dan huffed, squeezing his cock slightly, making Phil groan in discomfort.

“You’ve gotten good at this,” Phil said and it was only half a compliment, and Dan knew it, raising one eyebrow to call Phil out on his bullshit. “Since we’ve done it,” he finally finished the sentence.

Dan huffed, crawling up to speak to him properly, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I did. And now I’m going to use everything I know on you. Only you,” he said. “You have nothing to be jealous of.”

Phil gasped when Dan wrapped one hand around his cock, his lips already attached to Phil’s neck as he pumped torturously slowly, twisting his hand on the upstroke and thumbing the head.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Dan said, biting his neck softly.

“I don’t want to think about anyone touching you,” Phil said.

“Then don’t. That was after I left. It was nobody important,” Dan mumbled, his hand still moving. “And I thought of you with each and every one of them.”

“You are mine,” Phil snarled, pulling Dan’s hair a bit too harshly to give himself space to bite his neck. He pushed Dan onto the mattress, crawling on top of him and pinning his arms down.

“Yes!” Dan moaned, his body responding to Phil’s change in demeanour.

Phil paused, a bit bewildered about Dan’s reaction. “What?”

“Fuck me,” Dan mumbled.

Phil’s eyes widened, his resolution faltering. “What?”

Dan looked into his eyes and spoke up. “Please, fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

Dan nodded, but when Phil didn’t move, he continued. “Phil, for fuck’s sake, I've been fingering myself in the shower thinking about you for years,” he said. “It's been years!”

Phil bit his lip as a memory crossed his mind. The first time they were together, Dan had asked Phil to ride him, it was only fair that he got to watch this time. “Alright,” he smirked. “Ride me.”

Dan didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded and straddled Phil, reaching for the bedside drawer, finding the lube and a condom in no time. Phil watched with rapt attention as Dan rubbed the lube between his fingers, his hand disappearing behind his back as he leaned down to kiss him and started stretching himself.

Even though Phil had no way of seeing exactly what Dan was doing, he could feel every sigh into the kiss, the tremble of his legs, and the incredibly happy smile that graced his lips. He took this opportunity to get reacquainted with Dan’s body, gently gracing the tips of his fingers on his nipples, shoulders, and down his back, feeling the goosebumps the sensation brought Dan until he reached Dan’s lower back. Curiosity got the best of him as he traced Dan’s fingers down to his hole. “Do you need help?” he mumbled against Dan’s lips hoping he would say yes.

Dan broke the kiss and he shook his head. “Just kiss me, I can do it,” he said, shutting his eyes with a focused frown.

Phil smirked and pulled Dan down for a deep kiss, letting out a happy sigh as his hands travelled south once again, settling on Dan’s ass and helping him move, causing him to grind gently on Phil as he fingered himself.

Turning his head towards Dan’s side, Phil managed to kiss his neck and suck lightly before the other pulled away.

“Don’t do that or this will be over before it starts,” Dan hissed, sitting up. He gave Phil a stern look and passed the condom and lube to him.

“Sorry,” Phil said with a smirk, not feeling sorry for a second. He tore the packet, uncapped the lube and did his usual method, making sure that the condom was rolled correctly and well lubed inside and out.

Dan pulled his fingers out and wiped his hands on his discarded T-shirt before settling them on Phil’s chest.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Phil asked, not wanting Dan to hurt himself.

“Yeah,” Dan said, reaching back to grab Phil’s cock. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and looked into Phil’s eyes as he sank down slowly, his brows burrowed into a frown.

There was a little resistance but Phil let Dan handle it on his own time.

“Fuck!” Dan moaned.

Phil was in heaven, his hands on Dan’s hips, helping him settle down slowly, feeling him pulse around him. “So beautiful,” Phil whispered.

“You,” Dan replied. He rolled his hips and it was Phil’s time to moan. Despite the stretching, Dan was so tight. “Always wanted to do this with you.”

“Yeah?” Phil asked breathlessly.

“Mhmm. I knew you would feel amazing,” Dan said. He started rocking, slowly at first but gradually getting into it. Throwing his head back, he rolled his hips again and again, pulling out and sinking back harder down with each roll.

Dan had such a beautiful neck, Phil wanted to bite it again, but he settled for watching the gorgeous expanse of skin just out of his reach, Adam’s apple bobbing as Dan swallowed and the muscles flexing as he moaned. Phil dug his nails into Dan’s hips and helped him sink down harder as they picked up the pace.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Dan whined, louder and louder and Phil was starting to get distracted thinking of the neighbours.

Then he did it. He spanked Dan’s ass, throwing him off his rhythm but watching his cock twitch at the pain. That kinky bastard. “Be quiet,” Phil snickered.

“Make me,” Dan pouted, slowing down to a stop.

“Really?” Phil asked.

The blush creeping up Dan’s chest and neck confirmed it, even before he nodded.

Phil tapped Dan’s side. “Up. I’ll take care of you,” he said and Dan looked way too happy about it. “On your knees and elbows.”

Dan bit his lip and gave him a sly smile before obliging. Just as he was settling comfortably on his elbows, Phil grabbed his ass, spreading him open and slowly pushed inside as deep as he could. Dan let out a low moan and arched his back, trying to push back against him. Phil paused, holding him still, giving Dan a moment to adjust to the feeling again before pulling one of his hands behind his back and then the other, leaving him trembling on his knees until he settled forward on his shoulders.

“I can’t really move like this,” Dan said.

“That’s the idea,” Phil replied and grasped both of Dan’s wrists with one hand, placing a pillow in front of his face. “If you want to scream, do it into the pillow. I trust you to turn your head to the side if you can’t breathe.”

“What if I want to choke?” Dan snorted and tried to move his hips but Phil spanked him with his free hand. “Ngh!”

“Do you want me to fuck you hard or gently?” Phil asked.

“Hard,” Dan groaned.

“Good. Then keep your hands behind your back like this,” Phil commanded. “Got it?”

“Yeah!” Dan moaned.

Satisfied with that reply, Phil let go of Dan’s hands and placed his own on Dan’s gorgeous hips again. He pulled out just a bit before thrusting back in, experimenting with different angles until he found what he was looking for. Smirking, Phil thrust harder and harder, barely able to hear Dan screaming his moans into the pillow above the sound of his blood rushing to his ears and the slap of flesh against flesh.

Dan put his hands down and pushed himself back against his thrusts. “Harder,” he begged as he began to tremble. “Please! please! I’ll be quiet,” he babbled.

Phil obliged, pulling out and slamming back into Dan as hard as he could, effectively pushing Dan into the mattress shoulders first again. “Touch yourself,” he said and continued to slam into him at a punishing pace.

Dan shut his eyes and turned his head to the side. He bit his lip hard, stifling his moans as his hand flew over his cock until he came with a silent scream.

Phil slammed into Dan one more time as deep as he could and came into the condom, shivering as he felt Dan’s overstimulated body twitch. He pulled out and discarded the condom but when he saw Dan’s beautiful body covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair stuck to his face, and the bruises already forming on his hips, Phil couldn’t help himself and pushed one finger inside of him, pressing it gently against his prostate. He leaned over Dan’s body and whispered: “Can I eat you out, Baby?”

“Fuck,” Dan laughed looking at him over his shoulder. “Right now?”

Phil raised one eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” Dan whispered. “Ok.”

Phil grabbed Dan’s ass and pried his cheeks open, exposing his hole and pressed the tip of his tongue against it, giving him teasing licks for a few minutes until he sneaked his hand around and confirmed his suspicions, Dan was getting hard again.

“Bastard,” Dan said. “I’m too sensitive.” He pressed his face into the pillow.

“Do you want me to stop?” Phil teased.

Dan looked over his shoulder. “Shut up and eat me out,” he groaned.

“Bossy.” Phil laughed and shoved his tongue inside of Dan without further preamble. He alternated between thrusting his tongue inside and soft licks and kisses until Dan was ready to murder him. Only then did Phil properly fucked him with his tongue until his jaw was sore and even past that point, when Dan’s balls drew up and his hole clenched hard around Phil as he came for what felt like forever.

Dan lay down at his side, trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm and turned his head to look at Phil, his brows burrowing into a frown. Phil could see Dan’s expression slowly begin to change into one of worry, or even panic, as time went on.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, bracing himself as his anxiety began to rise with every second Dan stayed silent. “Please, don’t leave. Let’s talk about it.”

“I’m not leaving,” Dan mumbled, his eyes wide.

“Do you regret it?” Phil asked, his voice small, already cursing himself for pushing Dan’s boundaries.

“No!” Dan said and rolled onto his side to face Phil, lacing their fingers together. “No, I swear. I just -”

“What?” Phil squeaked.

“I meant to say it on a romantic date, not like that,” Dan pouted.

Phil’s brain was beginning to come back online and then it hit him, what Dan had said earlier. He actually meant what Phil had hoped he did. “You love me?”

“You’ve always known that. What I meant to say was… I am in love with you,” Dan said and held his gaze, waiting for an answer.

Phil smiled widely, letting out a sigh of relief. “Me too. I mean, I love you so much.” He rolled onto his side to face Dan and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, dropping a few more around his face for good measure.

Dan giggled as Phil kissed him all over but still asked: “But are you in love with me? That’s different.”

Phil rolled his eyes at him. “Yeah, I am in love with you, dork.”

“Then you are my boyfriend now,” Dan said with a cheeky smile.

“Is that even a question?” Phil asked, amused.

Dan shook his head, a smile still on his lips. “No, Lester. You are mine now. No turning back.”

“Good.” Phil nodded. “Stay.”

“There’s nowhere else I would rather be,” Dan said, pressing a kiss to the back of Phil’s hand.

“Aww, that’s cheesy,” Phil teased.

“It’s supposed to be cheesy,” Dan laughed.

Phil tickled him until Dan was cry-laughing and begging him to stop. “God, I love you, I love you so much, you can’t imagine,” he said and pressed their lips together into a soft kiss, sighing happily. It was just a relief to be able to say it out loud; Phil hadn’t realised how much he’d needed to say it, to let Dan know. “I love you,” he said again and he felt butterflies in his stomach at the fond smile Dan gave him, his eyes full of love and almost adoration.

“I love you too,” Dan whispered.

In fact, Dan’s voice whispering sweet nothings into his ear was what lulled Phil to sleep peacefully.

When Phil opened his eyes again, he felt inundated with a sense of happiness like he had never felt before, not in the early morning at least and not just for waking up, for being alive.

His vision focused and he smiled as he saw Dan snoring softly at his side, the sunlight coming through the window making his skin glow, enhancing the little freckles on his shoulders and the warm brown in his hair. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of Dan before cuddling up to him and resting his face on his shoulder.

Dan stirred, his brows furrowed until he saw Phil and flashed him a smile. “Hi, love,” Dan said in his low and raspy morning voice.

Phil almost squealed at the pet name, but he controlled himself. “Hi,” he whispered. “Breakfast?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Dan said. “Later.” His head disappeared under the sheets as he made his way down Phil’s body laying kisses on his wake.

Phil’s shocked laugh soon turned into a string of moans and, for some reason, they didn’t make it to breakfast until much much later.

Dan was good on his promise. He stayed that day, and the next, and the one after that, until he had to return to work, and even then he came back in his spare time. Just like back in the day, there was barely a time when Dan wasn’t at Phil’s flat. He had, once again, “dumped all his shit” at Phil’s and made it his second home, and in December, when Dan’s lease was due, the decision was obvious: he officially moved in with Phil.

#succubusphan fics #phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan au #dan and phil #ospbb 2023

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