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bugichor · 2 years

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“self righteous”

pairing: joel miller x reader; joel miller x you.

genre: smut.

wc: 2k+

cw/tags: hate/angry sex, anal/from behind, marking, table sex, cream pie/breeding, age gap. NO y/n and gender neutral reader.

summary: your patrol with joel goes wrong and you find yourselves trapped in one of the safe houses along your route. things get heated. set between tlou 1 and 2.

an: i’ve never written hate sex before so bare with me. if anything in the cw is not for you, please skip it. i would hate to upset anyone but even more so, i would hate to hear about how awful i am for writing it. also this is part of my kinktober stuff!

“Move it!” You hear Joel yell from ahead.

He’s at the doorway to one of the safe houses along your usual patrol route. You sprint toward him, embarrassed that you lagged behind in the first place. You’re not even sure they’re following anymore but you don’t waste time looking around. Rather, you barrel past Joel and into the safe house, flinching a little as the door slams hard behind you.

Gasping for breath, you lean back against one of the few pieces of furniture in this room. It’s fairly empty here, but that can be expected. There’s a few cluttered bookcases lining the graffitied walls and a few tables, one of which you find yourself resting on, in the middle of the room with a few chairs tucked in beneath them. It reads as an old youth centre but you can’t be sure. These rooms have seen so many lives in the past few decades, they never really represent what they were once supposed to be. This room has no purpose now, just a hole to wait out the storm in, and the only furnishings that matter are the boards along the windows and heavy bolted doors to keep the clickers out.

You take a moment to find your lungs as Joel traipses around the room almost silently, performing a quick sweep to ensure there’s nothing in here with you both. Joel is a professional at this stuff, so you leave it to him and take a few deep breaths of stale air to get your body working again. You must’ve run a mile in three minutes getting away from that horde, and on sopping wet ground too. And yet, the old man still made it here first.

You’d known Joel for a while now, a year or two at least, but he was still an enigma to you. He was a quiet man, a real grump at times, someone that most people couldn’t get along with - and you felt he might prefer it that way. But he got along with you. You weren’t sure why, but he did. You’d spent time considering the possibilities before - maybe it was the times you’d been kind to that kid he cared about; maybe it was the few conversations about coffee you’d had; maybe it was because you simply didn’t get into his business - but it only led to a spiral of momentary memories and feelings you didn’t want to address.

You didn’t know why you cared so much, or perhaps you did. You knew you were attracted to him - he may have been twenty years older than you, but you knew a good-looking man when you saw one - but it wasn’t something you’d ever address sober. There had been a few times, drunken nights in the bar, that you’d flirted a little; using some of your most eloquent and sophisticated lines like “I just know you’re a good fuck, old man”. But, as expected, he didn’t give you any sort of response you could work with. In usual Joel fashion, he had given you a barely-there chuckle and told you to go easy on your liquor. You knew he didn’t take you seriously, and that was okay. But you always wondered what would happen if he did.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear, feel, a slam on the surface you’re leant against. The vibration sends shockwaves through you and you look around to see Joel stood at the other side of the table, his hands firmly placed and head down between his shoulders. He’s not looking at you, but the hairs on your arms stand on end regardless.

“Jesus, Joel.” You complain loudly. But you shrink a little when he looks at you. He’s angry. Oh, he’s very angry.

“What was that?” He asks seriously, the low grumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Huh? Are you gonna explain yourself?”

Feeling defensive, your brow furrows and you glare at him. “They came out of nowhere, Joel. You saw for yourself.”

“No.” He grunts, slamming his hands on the table once more. The veins are visible in his forehead and his shoulder muscle is twitching beneath his plaid shirt. You’ve never seen him like this. “Those things don’t just come out of nowhere. You weren’t paying attention.”

“I did my checks just fine.” You spit.

“Oh, you did your checks just fine. I’m sure you did. Did you get a close enough look at that stalker when it jumped you?” Joel interrogates, spittle flying from his lips as he yells. “Or should I have let it get a little closer and kill you? You wanna go back and check it again?”

And, as much as you hated it, he was right. You hadn’t noticed the stalker. You hadn’t been careful enough. And the shout you let out when it sent you flying across the room had attracted a whole horde of those things. But that didn’t mean you were going to admit complete blame. No, no - you were far too stubborn for that.

“And you’re perfect, are you?” You chide. You turn your back to him and lean your arse against the rim of the table, folding your arms more casually than defensively.

You can feel him burning up behind you, feel his anger bubbling over like a newly active volcano. There’s a sick sense of enjoyment prickling the hairs on the back of your neck; knowing how much he probably wants to kill you right now just for saying that, and knowing that he would never do it.

“I seem to remember a time I saved your life too.” You remind him. You hear him traipsing around the table towards you, but don’t dare to look at him. “But you know what? I don’t think I’ve ever brought that up - to you, to anyone. It’s almost like saving someone’s life is just a common courtesy out here.”

He’s in front of you now, close, but you still don’t meet his eye, instead looking off toward the boarded up window. It’s almost palpable, the heat radiating from his body and seething rage expelling from his breath. You find yourself excited by it, desperate to push him just a little further. Would he hit you? You doubt it. But he might shout again, and the thought of that sends butterflies fervently fluttering in the pit of your stomach. The thought of his attention being on you, good or bad, sends an electricity through your veins that you’ve never felt before, but you don’t have time to consider what that means. You’re too focused on pushing his buttons for existential thought right now.

“But your self righteous attitude really grinds on me sometimes, y’know. You’re always right, aren’t you, old man?” You provoke him, turning your face to look him in the eye now. “You’ve never made a mistake in-”

Your sentence is cut short when he seizes your jaw in his hand, his calloused fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout. The fear you should be experiencing is wholly overpowered by the intense feeling of lust and sexual intimacy. His face is so close to yours, the strong smell of his stale coffee breath is imprinting on your tongue, your skin, your psyche.

“You don’t know me.” Joel seethes. “You’re just some kid. Some kid whose bark is gonna get them bit one day.”

Your gaze flicks between his eyes and the movement of his lips as he speaks. And there’s a moment - just one fleeting moment - where he notices. And he pauses. His grip on your jaw weakens, but holds. His free hand moves to the surface behind you, shutting you in, and his stare shifts from intense to understanding.

“You’re enjoying this.” His voice is gravelly, earthy, sultry even. But you can’t read his tone, his feelings, his body language. And yet, it doesn’t matter to you.

You shift your thigh between his and press against his crotch, the hard shape of his cock evident through his tight blue jeans. “So are you.” You smirk.

It’s then that he kisses you, his hand still firmly grasping your face, his lips smashing against yours with a force. You’re taken aback at first, your breath hitched in your throat, but soon find his pace, your mouth moving in tandem with his. The taste of his tongue is intoxicating and you move to wrap your arms around his neck, but are stopped short when he seizes you by the wrists. He uses the momentum to turn your body to face the table, your hips digging painfully into the edge as he presses his weight close against your back.

“This is what you want.” Joel spits like you’re disgusting, like you’re sick, sending lightning through your body. His cock is rock hard against the small of your back. “Isn’t it?”

You struggle to answer, all the words (yes, absolutely and more than anything) erased from your brain, but words aren’t required here. He releases your wrists to unbutton his jeans and you follow suit, roughly tugging your pants down and letting them settle at your feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The old man chuckles at your eagerness, a kind of comfortable confidence exuding from his demeanour. And that power, the power he’s holding over you right now, fills your stomach with wet cement, leaving you deliciously helpless to his will.

You hear him spit on his hand and a rumble of pleasure flows through you in anticipation of what follows. Joel holds the shaft of his cock in one hand, his free hand guiding your hips into the correct position, as your body bends over the table instinctually. He enters you slowly and a string of pained and pleasured moans leave your lips. And you begin to realise just how desperately you’d wanted this, how long you’d wanted this, how badly you needed this.

Joel grunts and, holding your hips with both hands, begins to thrust into you, slowly at first but growing in pace with every swing of his hips. Your breath quickens as he reaches his desired tempo and you move with him, tightening and relaxing your muscles in time with his stride. He feels your movement and offers up praise in the form of a string of whispered curse words. One hand moves from your hip bone to your front to please you in tandem and it’s then that you begin to see stars, your cheek resting against the hard, cold table as your moans become whinier and whinier.

His hand is touching you, feeling you, groping you in the most wonderful way and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on. Joel’s body begins to sweat, the burning sensation of the heat beneath his skin evident against your thighs, and he lurches forward to place his mouth on your shoulder blade, biting and sucking at the skin. You jerk away instinctively, a symptom of living through the apocalypse, but soon relax into him, enjoying the sensation of his teeth and tongue.

He pushes into you hard and you can feel his cock already leaking, cum dripping out of you and down your thighs, the cool liquid sensation sending shivers through you. It’s then that you can’t hold on any longer, the feeling of his hands, his cock, his teeth all too much, and you reach orgasm, your pleasure manifesting in one desperate, shuddering moan. A few more thrusts and Joel finishes, his cock still buried inside you as he does, leaving you shivering as his cum fills your walls. His sweating form collapses atop you in an exhausted mess, his muscular arms limp at your sides and forehead resting hard against your shoulder blade, his stubble irritating the large red mark he’d just moments ago left there for you.

There’s a moment of quiet as the two of you catch your breath. But before you have a moment to talk about it, to say anything, to say thank you, you hear it. That familiar clicking sound coming from just a few yards away. The two of you tense at the noise and you realise what you’ve done, your eyes trained on the light between the gaps in the boarded up window slowly turning into shadow as a horde approaches.

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

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

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Come Home Chapter Eleven

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 5555

The Winter Dance is finally upon us!

This is basically fluff. Start to finish. No spoilers really, except mention of a few characters who become important in TLOU 2 (Jesse and Dina). Ellie also calls Joel a fogey in TLOU 2 and it stuck with me. This is pretty dialogue heavy compared to most chapters.

Also please don't skate on frozen ponds. It's a good way to die. And definitely don't use 20+ year old make up. It's a good way to get eye infections.

Come Home

Chapter Eleven - Dreams Of Yesterday

“Come on, Joel!”

“I am really not sure about this!”

“Just…c’mon. Do it for Ellie!”

“Oh, that is a low blow.”

“Fine, then do it for the coffee.”

“That’s even lower!” you hear him bellow as you whizz past and you cackle to yourself as you do another circuit.

The journey to the lake was barely fifteen minutes on horseback, and when you had spied it through the trees you had given a sharp intake of painfully cold breath at the simplistic yet staggering beauty in front of you. The perfectly clear, deep blue sky arching above provided a stark backdrop to the bare bones of the trees and dark pines that lined it thickly. Their reflections would be beautifully mirrored at any warmer time, but the solid circumference of pearlescent silver blue that stretched ahead delighted you far more and is exactly what you hoped you would find.

Dismounting the horse, you had pulled two pairs of skates from your backpack and turned to Joel grinning wickedly.

“Wait, are you kiddin’ me?”

“I thought I’d give a pair to Ellie for Christmas, teach her how. But we obviously need to make sure the ice is safe. If it can hold our weight, it can hold hers.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” he had asked, jumping down from his own horse.

“It will,” you promised. “I used to skate like this a lot. Besides, you know I’d never put her in danger.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he grumbled, fiddling unnecessarily with the saddlebags.

“Just…trust me,” you had said, thrusting the skates at him before beginning to put yours on. “It will be fun.”

Ten minutes later he was still prevaricating on the shore. You meanwhile had been delighting in the freeing feeling of speeding around, the freezing air ruffling your clothes and biting at your cheeks in a very pleasant way. You approach where Joel is hanging on to a tree at the edge of the lake, his skates finally on his feet. Your gloved hands seek his and you tug him toward the ice.

“I haven’t done this in years,” he protests gently.

“Neither have I. It’s just like riding a bike.”

“Well I haven’t done that in years either.”

“You’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Just think of the coffee.”

“Are you bribin’ me?”

“Bribe is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as emotional blackmail.”

He laughs and it’s a warming, lovely thing amid the frosty air.

As he steps on the ice his eyes widen and he immediately begins to flail as his legs skid underneath him. For such a big man, he resembles nothing so much as a newborn giraffe on shaky legs and you try and fail to suppress your giggles.

“Its okay! Joel? Joel! Look at me, you’re oka-“

The last word is cut off as he finally tips too far and sits down hard on the ice with an “Oof!” He’s still clinging on to your hands for dear life so manages to drags you down too, and you land somewhat painfully on your knees in between his legs.

“Oh shit!” he exclaims. “You hurt?”

You shake your head, unable to speak around the laughter that spills out.

“Well, least we know for sure the ice ain’t gonna give,” he says wryly as you get up and help to pull him to his feet. “But I’m too damn old for this.”

“Aw come on. You’re not that old. And besides, you think Ellie’s gonna give up that fast? You’ll get back into it.”

Once he gets his feet under him and remembers how to move on the ice, he ends up being pretty good. You are patient with him, first skating backward with both of his hands in yours and leading him gently until he feels confident enough to skate next to you holding on to just one hand. When he manages to do a wobbly circuit alone you cheer him on, and his smile grows wide under his flushed, cold-pinkened cheeks. To your surprise but utter delight, he slides his hand back into yours again to complete a few more passes across the ice, your voices raised together in laughter as you move joyously through the perfect winter scenery.

“So…when even is Christmas?” you ask an hour later as you lean against a pine to put your normal boots back on. “Tomorrow? Next week?”

“Coupla weeks,” he replies, grimacing as the cold hits his socked feet before he has a chance to stuff them into his own boots. “Maria somehow managed to keep an accurate calendar all this time. Thanksgivin’ was just before you came to town.”

“Oh!” you say in surprise. “Then…” You trail off.

“What’s up?” he asks as he bends to begin tying his laces.

“Nothing. Its silly really. Its just…that means that it was my birthday. Probably around the time I arrived in Jackson. I’ve not really thought about it. I know how old I am, obviously, and I knew since it was winter it was sometime around now. I just…haven’t marked it since…well, you know.”

“Hmm,” he grunts non-committally, and he touches the place on his coat where his watch lies underneath in a seemingly unconscious gesture. “Well, I’ll haveta get you a drink at the dance then.”

“Oh…yeah. When is that again?” You try to force your voice to sound casual. He hadn’t mentioned it since the clocktower the previous week and you had followed his lead, still not entirely certain whether he had just been neighbourly when he had asked you to go.

“This Saturday. Ellie hasn’t quit talkin’ about it for days. Some of the other kids will be there. Think she’s a little nervous about it all.”

“Understandable. I remember my first dance. I was terrified. Ended up having drinks with my best friend beforehand just to calm the nerves. Not that she needs that kind of courage,” you add hastily.

“If anyone has a way of winnin’ people over, its her,” Joel agrees, a begrudging admiration to his tone. “We’ll come by ‘round sundown if that’s okay with you.”

“Sounds great,” you say, and you hide your grin by bending over your pack to shove your skates inside.

Though you had been given clothes by Maria when you arrived and are grateful that they are both warm and free of any kinds of disgusting stains, at the moment you are cursing the fact that they are also all extremely practical. An hour before Joel and Ellie are due to come over, you stare at your reflection with a sigh and root around in your closet for the third time in the hope that something distinctly impractical and extremely sexy has materialised since the last time you looked. Strangely, it has not. So you make do with jeans, your boots, and a flattering and fairly low cut vest top with a more practical but still figure hugging long sleeved shirt over it. Most of the make up you had nabbed from the store is unusable, as you had imagined, but you manage to eke out a little eyeshadow and a little tinted lip balm. Just enough that you feel slightly more dressy than usual.

The knock at the door startles you, even though you have been anticipating it with nervous excitement all day, and you smooth your hair and pull on your coat before opening it. Ellie is bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet in front of the door, Joel lounging at the bottom of your porch steps.

“Hi,” you greet them warmly. “All set?”

“Yup,” says Ellie excitedly.

“Anyone would think you actually do wanna be around people,” you tease as you pull the door to.

“Pfft, I just don’t wanna spend another night playing cards with you guys,” she fires back. “Fogeys, both of you.”

You hold your hand over your heart and pretend to be deeply wounded even as Joel lets out a disbelieving scoff.

“You’re just mad ‘cause I always beat you at Go Fish.”

As you walk to the centre of town you look up to see that the sky is a perfect winter sunset – violently orange and pink and gold in the west and fading to a purple black up above where the first stars can be seen emerging. It seems like the whole town will be in attendance tonight. People are coming from every side street, stepping from porches after closing up their shops and houses and all are heading in the same direction – a largeish building that you have never been into before but that you have noticed on your wanderings around town. You had been slightly anxious about the prospect of being around so many people all at once after so long, but you found that with Ellie by your side and Joel next to her, it wasn’t so bad and you could focus on the excitement of the night building in the air instead.

As you approach the hall music swells and you hear whoops and cheers and clapping from within. A sudden burst of warmth spreads throughout you to join the pleasant anticipation you’re already feeling – despite everything, despite what lay outside, these people were being so very human, gathering together and celebrating nothing more than the fact that they were alive.

“Ellie! Hey!”

The girl who calls to her is with small group of teenagers up ahead. She is about Ellie’s age, dark haired and dark eyed with tendrils of hair escaping her high ponytail to frame her face.

“Oh, hey Dina,” Ellie calls back, and then gives Joel a sideways glance.

“Well go on then, don’t let us fogeys cramp your style,” he murmurs in an amused tone, and she leaps forward, rushing to join the group without looking back.

“Guess I don’t have to worry about drinking in front of her and being a bad example,” you smile.

The hall is packed with people and the warmth of their collective body heat begins to thaw your frozen extremities almost immediately. The walls are made of a cosy, rustic wood, with thick, dark coloured drapes across the windows to keep out the winter’s night. Metal-framed lanterns cast their patterns to the ceiling, strings of lights have been hung from the rafters above and splay in random bursts across the walls, tables and chairs have been pushed back to the edges of the room to maximise space to dance. People twirl, faces delighted and free in a way you haven’t seen in so many years. Your eyes rove over the scene feasting upon the sight of joy and happiness. When they flick to Joel he is looking down at you with an appraising smile, the low light making his eyes twinkle black.

“Its beautiful,” you murmur, though you’re sure your voice is lost in the music that stirs the room.

You and Joel make your way to the wooden panel of the bar, where several other people stand propping it up – watching the dancers, chatting, laughing, throwing back drinks.

“Lemmie get you that birthday drink. Whaddya havin’?” Joel enquires.

“What do they have?”

“Beer, whiskey, wine, some folk brew their own moonshine but even I’d think twice about that!”

“Wine sounds good. Thanks!”

As Joel waits for Seth to serve him, you take off your gloves and stuff them in the pocket of your coat before taking that off too, folding it and holding it against your stomach. You spot Chloe and Vanessa across the bar from you, deep in conversation. Chloe catches your eye and waves and when you return it Vanessa also turns to greet you. Once she spies Joel next you she raises a very suggestive eyebrow and grins widely, making the heat rise into your cheeks. They resume their talking, now smiling and casting occasional speculative glances in your direction.

Joel turns back to you, holding out a glass of reddish liquid and you take no small pleasure in his subtle double take when he sees you properly, his dark gaze taking you in before he passes the wine to you.

“You look…nice,” he offers.

“Thanks. It’s the lack of bloodspatter I think.”

“He snorts into his beer, almost choking on his laugh before he manages to swallow the liquid.

“Yeah, that’s gotta be it.”

He places his beer on the bar and removes his own thick coat. He looks much the same as he does day to day – you hadn’t been expecting a tux after all – but since you very much enjoy how he looks anyway, you allow your own gaze to linger briefly on the triangular patch of freckled skin that the undone top buttons allow you to see, the straining of the material across his broad chest and shoulders.

“You look good too,” you say simply and he inclines his head in thanks as he gently clinks his glass against yours. The slightly bitter taste of blackberry explodes on your tongue as you take your first sip of the wine and you both stand with your back to the bar, observing the spectacle in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he moves, and while you know it’s only accidental you still get a tiny tingle across your skin.

“So…you come here often?” he ventures and now it’s your turn to splutter into your drink.

“Smooth, Joel.”

“Look who’s talkin’. You damn near spat your drink across the dancefloor.”

“I’ll bet you were king of the cheesy pick up line in your day.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t that old.”

“I didn’t say when your day was now did I?”

“Hmmm…fine, fine, you’re pullin’ it back,” he mutters, taking another swig of beer. “But no, I never dated much. Havin’ a kid and workin’ all the time didn’t leave much over for shit like that.”

You cover your surprise and embarrassment with another gulp of wine. You hadn’t been serious with your comment and hadn’t thought it an invitation to actually get him to share anything with you. But since he had…

“It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be,” you sigh. “Not that I did much of it anyway. I guess I was lucky in that regard. Got married shortly after college.”

Your hand shakes a little as you make the confession, and you cover it by taking two large gulps of wine. You can see Joel facing you in your peripheral vision, but don’t feel able to meet his eyes right now. Instead you focus on the dancing, the pairs of people moving seamlessly together round and round the floor, their happy faces bathed in the soft glow of the lights. You spot Ellie standing against the opposite wall, chatting animatedly with a tall boy with a mop of black hair and the girl you had seen earlier and then hear the empty clink of a bottle as Joel puts it on the bar. He asks the only question you have any interest in answering right now.

“Another?”

Another goes down nicely, as does the third. After getting away from the insidious topic you and Joel had been skirting around earlier, you find yourself relaxing into the night again and enjoying the conversation that flows. Tommy and Maria come to chat, as do Chloe and Vanessa. Ellie ducks in and out, appearing suddenly at your elbow as you sit atop your barstool and disappearing again just as quickly.

The evening takes on a hazy, fuzzy texture after a while and you are very aware that you are treading the line of having drunk far too much, but the alcohol and laughter buzzing through you makes you unable to care.

Do you dance, Joel?" you ask him, drunkenly.

"You askin'?"

"Pfft hell no. Trus' me, you don't want my feet anywhere near yours. You'll have bruises f'r dayyyys!" you smile. "Bu' I want you to have a good time tonigh'. Not jus' sittin' here babysittin' me. If you wanna dance, go dance."

"Oh I'm doin' just fine here," he confirms, raising his beer toward you. Tommy's the dancer of the two of us. I just sing." He suddenly clams up at your overly delighted expression.

"You siiiing?" you ask, intrigued.

"Well, sometimes," he smiles.

“ 'm gonna haveta hear you one of these days. Set up Jackson's first karaoke bar jus' f'r you."

"Aw hell no," he says fervently. "I'll take my chances on the outside if that's the way you're gonna play it!"

You giggle before taking another sip of wine, allowing yourself to look at him much more fully than you would if you were sober. His big, strong hands are picking at the edge of the rounded paper that passes for beer mats here, the movement causing muscles in his exposed forearm to twitch hypnotically back and forth. You give yourself a little shake and try to focus on conversation.

“So…where did you get your coffee hookup before me ‘s what I wanna know,” you slur at Joel, resting your hand heavily on your chin as you look at him.

“Oh, I was jonesing for a while,” he smiles.

A thought strikes you and you voice it, ignoring the slight pang in your heart as you do.

“Wha’ ‘bout Chris?”

Even in your inebriated state you notice Joel’s face darken and then the shutters come down, his eyes closing off and his smile fading to nothing.

“What about her?”

“Well when she came b’fore? I know she traded some of it las’ time she was here.”

He laughs and you detect a note of bitterness. “Trust me, she wouldn’ta traded with me.” He turns to his drink, sips it and you study him. The realisation hits you like a thunderbolt and your lack of filter at this particular time makes the words that come next unstoppable.

“Ohhh, you’re asshole Joel!” you exclaim. Heat suffuses your cheeks immediately afterward and you begin to splutter. “Fuck! I…s-shit. Shit! I’m so sorry, that wasso rude! It’s jus’ she mentioned a guy called Joel who-“

“Was an asshole?” he supplies, a wry smile curling one side of his lips.

“Well yeah but…oh Christ, fuck I’M the asshole,” you groan hopelessly.

He turns back to you and holds up a placating hand.

“I’ll forgive ya if you let me tell my side of the story,” he offers.

You bury your head in your hands. “Maybe one day I c’n talk to you without embarrassin’ myself. Today is appar’ntly not that day,” you mutter half to yourself.

Warmth covers your hand and you feel a gentle tugging. You go with it, let him pull your hand away from your face and look up at him expecting to see at least some annoyance, but there is only indulgent amusement.

“I’d seen her around a coupla times before we spoke. She wasn’t usually here long enough for me to actually get to know her. One night she came into the bar, came on to me. Very drunkenly, very loudly and very publicly. I said I wasn’t interested in the nicest way I could, but that far down the whiskey bottle she didn’t seem to understand subtlety anymore. So…I rejected her as publicly as she had propositioned me. And she did not take kindly to it.”

“Yikessss,” you replied, grimacing. “Sounds messy. I feel like I should apologise for her but um…well, uh…” You trail off and to your horror feel your chin begin to wobble.

“Hey,” Joel says softly, his eyes raking your face. “Are you okay?”

“Uhhh yup,” you manage as you take a sip of wine and swallow hard, pushing the sudden pain of her loss down inside to be released at a more appropriate time. “So uh…why did you say no? Fuck! That’s…that’s also embarassin’. Sorry. I’ll shut up…jus’…jus’ ignore me.”

He lets out a short peal of laughter. “Between the coffee and the ice skatin’ and the bein’ next door neighbours, I’m not sure ignorin’ you is an option.” His smile fades once more but his face is still kindly. “It’s ok. I understand. It’s still fresh.” You raise your eyes to his again and nod, not trusting yourself to speak this time. “Well, to answer your question, I tend not to sleep with drunk women, especially not when I’m stone cold sober. And to be honest…not my type.”

Relief that he’s not annoyed with you, mixed with inebriation makes you a little giddier than you would ordinarily be, and you let out a loud scoffing noise.

“Oh come on! Chris is everyone’s type!”

The vision of her battered face suddenly swims into your mind, lower jaw broken half off and blood marring her smooth skin as she snarled mindlessly at you before you put her out of her misery. You shudder and your breath catches in your chest as you realise what you said.

“I mean…I mean was…”

You stand up abruptly and can’t quite meet Joel’s eyes anymore for fear that you might break if you are faced with any kind of kindness or humanity at this moment.

“ ’m drunk,” you announce, entirely unnecessarily. “And ’m about to bring down the mood. I should go home.”

It’s only when you begin to walk away that you realise he is still holding on to your hand and you look down at it stupidly before looking back up at him.

“If you wanna go, I’ll walk you. Told you I’d get you home safe.”

“No, you should stay. Ellie-“

“Ellie left twenty minutes ago with her friends. They said they’d walk her home. She’s old enough and smart enough not to get herself into too much trouble in the meantime. Come on.”

With one smooth movement he stands and places your hand into the crook of his elbow, steadying your steps as you make your way outside. The freezing night air hits you with force, and you immediately feel its sobering effects. The snow crunches under your feet as you traverse the distance to your house, Joel’s warmth extremely welcome on one side of your body.

“ ’m sorry,” you mutter. “You shouldn’t haveta look after me.”

“I knew what I was signin’ up for. And so did you.” You give him a grumpy look and he laughs. “Well, you did say you wanted this.”

“Urgh, so dumb,” you murmur, already feeling the potential headache start to form.

“You think those folk in there are gonna be feelin’ good tomorrow? Just…let yourself want things.”

His words strike a chord deep within you. It’s a dangerous, dangerous idea. To want anything in this world was to leave yourself vulnerable. Avoid unnecessary risk at all costs, that was the rule. But here in Jackson it was different, wasn’t it? You could count on four strong walls, warmth, food. You could count on not being woken by terrible noises, of people trying to batter down the doors you had fortified or infected seeking you out. And maybe…just maybe…you could count on him.

“You okay?” he asks beside you. “Gone awful quiet over there.”

“ ’m good,” you reassure him. “Just…thinkin’”

Of your thighs bracketing one of his, strong, muscled arms sweeping over your back, of his lips brushing over your neck, whispering in that deep, sinful voice that he wanted you right here and right now…Christ.

You pull your mind back with an effort and realise you are almost at your door. He won’t want you, you know that. He wouldn’t when you were in this state anyway, but you’re too much of a chaotic mess in general to be an attractive prospect to someone like him. But... you also don’t want him to leave just yet.

“Will you come in for a bit?” The question sounds reedy and feeble to your ears, less of an invitation and more of a plea.

“Sure. I wasn’t just gonna dump you on the doorstep you know,” he smiles.

“Yeah I know. You’re good like that. You take care of people.” Maybe the cold hasn’t sobered you up as much as you think because part of you is aware that you’re still far too loose tongued for your own liking. “Wish I’d known you ten years ago,” you mutter. “Coulda done with someone lookin’ out for me.”

You feel his arm tense up beside you, and then slowly relax. “Naw,” he says shortly. “I wasn’t the same person ten years ago.”

“I was,” you giggle stupidly. “A fuckin’ mess then and a fuckin’ mess now.”

He stops and turns to you, placing his warm hand on your shoulder. “If you were that much of a mess, you think I’d want you hangin’ out with Ellie?”

“Fuckin’…panic attacks-” you mumble, trying hard not to focus on how close he was to you.

“So what?” he interjects. “We all got our shit. You can take care of what needs to be taken care of when it matters. And-“ he takes a deep breath and sighs it out heavily, his breath hanging white and twisting in the frozen air. “-I’m sorry if I made you think that I didn’t think you could.”

The apology wasn’t asked for and you don’t even feel that its warranted, but you get the impression that he’s not a man to apologise often or lightly.

“Thanks. And s’ok,” you slur. “I’d be wonderin’ ‘bout you too if you freaked out over a dark room in your own house.” You smile up at him and your attention is suddenly drawn by what is above his head. “Wowww,” you gasp breathily. He follows your gaze upward.

Stars. Thousands of them. Millions. Clusters and swirls and galaxies in the crystal clear winter sky above you twinkling silver and pale blue and pink, the dusty green and orange cloud of the milky way running through it all. There were so many. There were too many for you to comprehend. You crane your neck too far, and dizziness brought on by the alcohol overtakes you and makes you stagger backwards. Joel clutches your shoulder a little tighter, steadying you on your feet.

“Come on,” he laughs. “Let’s get you inside.”

With the absence of a fire burning this evening the house is cold, and you realise just how much you’re looking forward to wrapping yourself in your duvet. The stairs in front of you look like an insurmountable foe, and the thought of being cosy is the only thing that gets your feet moving clumsily up them. You half stumble and Joel catches you again, stopping you from faceplanting.

“Okay, I’m gonna come up if that’s alright? I think I’d feel better if I knew you weren’t gonna fall down the stairs.” You nod, suddenly too weary for words.”

Staggering into the bedroom, you fumble with the bedside lamp a couple of times before you manage to flick it on, half blinding yourself in the process.

“Thanks, Joel. F’r everythin’. I had fun tonight,” you say. Being in your house has sapped you of any remaining giddy excitement of the evening, and all that was left was a drunken exhaustion that only sleep could remedy. Not that you wanted him to leave, especially. You just desperately wanted to close your eyes.

Instead of taking the hint, Joel frowns as he looks down at your bed.

“Where’s your pillows and stuff?” he asks and you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed by the truth.

“Jus’ throw me in the tub, I’ll be fine.”

“What, you gonna take a bath now?”

“Not exacly,” you slur.

You fumble with the bathroom door and open it, showing him the nest you’ve made for yourself. He gives you a look of puzzlement and you sigh at the thought of the effort you have to expend to provide an explanation, keeping it as brief as you can when you do speak.

“House felt too big. Bed felt too big. Used to Chris nex’ to me. Can actually sleep in here. Sometimes.”

You expect an amused smile at your ridiculousness, but instead you see a flash of pity in his eyes and the wave of shame you feel is boosted to annoyance by the wine.

“Mus’ be hell on your back,” he mutters.

“S’fine. I’m makin’ it work,” you inform him tersely.

“Well…not tonight. Come on.”

Before you can argue he has scooped the pillow and duvet from the bathtub and has begun rearranging your bed for you. The annoyance you feel starts to soften around the edges into something else in the face of his concern for you and you try to pull it back, to hone it into something sharp again. You don’t want him to pity you. You don’t want him to think you’re incapable of managing your own shit. And now, perhaps, you do want him to leave.

“Joel if I’m sleepin’ in that bed, you’re stayin’ with me.”

His movements stop abruptly and he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes wide with shock.

“Not like that,” you protest, hands on your hips. “Mind outta the gutter…wait what’s your last name?”

“It’s Miller,” he says, emphasising the last word in a rough and slightly put-upon way as he turns back to his task and begins to shake out your pillows.

“Mind outta the gutter, Miller,” you say as if you hadn’t interrupted yourself. “If you’re so hell bent on me sleepin’ there tonight, you gotta stay. Even with half the wine stock Jackson’s got inside me, soon as you step outside ‘m gonna have to get right back in that tub.”

His hands no longer busy, he turns to you, the soft light from the bedroom lamp outlining his broad frame as he puts his hands on his hips too.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“No funny business,” you continue grandly, your brain very slow to catch up with your ears. “Clothes on, shoes off and – wait, what?”

“I said okay,” he repeats, a small smile on his face. “I can witness that hangover you were so desperate to recreate.”

You freeze where you stand. You don’t know what to do. You actually don’t know what to do. You expected him to shrug and bid you goodnight and walk away to leave you to it. You never expected him to actually agree to this. To sleep next to you. All night. To wake up next to him. With your inevitable messy hair and morning breath and puffy eyes. Not that he hasn’t witnessed that before but not like this. Not so close. Not together.

His broad form is so casually relaxed only feet away from you. How can he be this calm, how can his eyes betray such amusement when you’re screaming so loud inside? Your brain is short circuiting again and you do the only thing it will allow. You blow a raspberry at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make the coffee in the morning,” he laughs.

“You better,” you mutter darkly.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay?”

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice.

While he’s gone you take the opportunity to go to the bathroom, wash your face, brush your teeth and get dressed in your usual baggy t shirt that you use for sleeping in. Tonight, you add a pair of leggings but whether its to make yourself or him more comfortable you really can’t tell.

By the time you emerge from the bathroom he’s sitting on your bed and halfway through taking his boots off. You want to tell him it's okay, to not be silly, that you were only joking, that he doesn’t have to do this. You also really do want to sleep in that bed. Especially if you get to wake up next to him. So you say nothing. You allow yourself to want.

The bed itself is cold under the duvet and you shiver as you pull the covers tight around you. Joel lies down with a groan, closing his eyes and grinding his back into the mattress as he settles in.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“You can…you can get under the duvet too you know. It’s…kinda cold.” Internally you roll your eyes at your unceasing ability to state the fucking obvious in front of him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer than you find comfortable before getting into the bed properly, and relaxing back into the mattress again. You reach for the light, managing to switch it off first time this time before lying on your side away from him. The presence of another person - this person – is just as comforting as you knew it would be, and that in addition to the alcohol soon has you floating in a dreamy, near sleep.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice husks into the dark. When you turn on your other side to face him, he’s still lying flat on his back, but his face turns to you and in the dim light of the room you can see the hollows of his eyes and his facial hair standing dark against the rest of him. And you can see the smile as it spreads slowly across his face.

“I had fun tonight too.”

@thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #joel tlou x f!reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou fanfic #joel tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us x reader #joel the last of us x you

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sapphosdickandballs · 2 months

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iiiii feel like ive been sending you too many asks as of late but i just am starting something to talk about. its due tomorrow so uhhh im gonna binge read it. ive got several things to read lol.

i didnt want to start another book right away cause id finished pride and prejudice and pittsburgh yesterday-ish after reading the majority during my shift- and OH YEAH.

i was so- stand offish at first about it because i thought it was so... goofy how the timetravel mechanic worked but literallyyyyy- stick it out. ugh it was so good???? i loved it. IT WAS GREAT. literally is everything. AND i think its a def rec. im not gonna spoil much but yeahhhhh lol.

is it better than she gets the girl? no not imo but like they're both rly good books.

i was listening to it during work and audrey had mentioned phoebe bridgers and my voice cracked bc i deadass gasped and shouted "PHOEBE???" making like two ppl look at me very confused 💀😭. "moon song" mention !!!! 🗣🔥🔥🔥🎶 . i love audrey for that. why am i always so shocked when someone mentions her in wlw books- anygays... proud!!! good choice. im in love with books that name drop music like that *looks at ols <3* i love punisher as an album sm ughh so that makes me 10x happier.

uhh- low key?? side note. after i sent you the previous ask abt books ghost LITERALLY sent me an epub of the falling in love montage without me asking or anything- like straight up just sent it to me 🫡. HAVEN'T READ IT YET BUT I HAVE AQUIRED IT.

oh and another thing.. i know what i said about not liking delilah green doesn't care and you taking it off of your tbr. i wanted to say- i think you should read it anyway. i would like to see you disagree with me not liking it or have a conversation about it and your thoughts. because- EVEN if i don't like it- i think you should have your own say on if you want or should read it. and like- i think itd be interesting to get your perspective or thoughts?? i wouldn't bump it high on the list or anything but i do think you should read it anyway. what i may not like, you could. i don't want you to miss out on that lol. hope that makes sense?? i can go into explanation on why i didn't like it then too. i went on a 15 min deep dive through voice notes with ghost after i finished it so 😭.

ghost managed to get me another wlw book i look forward to reading soon but i feel like this might be getting too long. i saw some art and i was sold. its like- enemies to lovers during the apocalypse?? it gives me tlou energy w the premise and thats speaking to me w my ellabs hyperfixation 🫡. obv not tlou but yeah. HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED TLOU EITHER UGH BUT I WANT TO. anygays that tis all.

ifffff and when u finish kiss her once for me dooooo lmk. ik u said you had uni stuff and might be busy so obviously no rush or pressure but do lmk whenever that is!! i would love to infodump more but idk what else to say atm lol but i hope this isn't too annoying <3. i like sending u reading asks n stuff!!

you are not sending me too many at all! Your asks have been making my day every time I get them <3 and I’ll add that to my list! I love time travel stories so imma eat it up. I haven’t read in like 2 weeks 😭 and unis starting soon😭😭😭 but the second I can muster up reading energy I’ll finish kiss her once for me :]

#sapphoanswers #Cramity Rambles

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this-is-krikkit · 2 years

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Hi Krikkit! How's your day going?

For the character game *drum roll*: LESLIE KNOPE

Thought I'd change things up a bit to explore some of our other shared fandoms 😅

xoxo

hey Alice, thanks for suggesting this one! i miss parks badly these days (tlou and nick offerman starring in it might have a lil to do with that) and i love that we share that fandom too, so kudos to you for that idea 🤗

favorite thing about her: her determination!!! she's so fucking stubborn when she wants to get something done, and she'll find a way to reach her goal no matter what! we have chosen to stan forever.

least favorite thing about them: how aware i am that i would not be able to stand her energy irl lmao like i love her a lot but anyone who tries to wake me up early the one time a month i get to sleep in WILL be killed

favorite line: "the only thing i will be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your weeping mother!!" bc i love an overcompetitive drama queen who struggle to bury her feelings so deep that they end up sounding like over the top death threat during model UN ♥️♥️

brOTP: leslie x ron were always my fave friendship of the show, even before their epic scene in the last season

OTP: benslie is love, benslie is life. it's the healthiest relationship i've ever seen depicted on a TV show, and it's refreshing that they didn't destroy that for the sake of comedy like it happens so often (monica x chandler in friends, barney x robin in himym... i could go on)

nOTP: i guess anything that's not leslie x ben? i didn't like her with the cop dude, although he was funny. they never felt half as genuine and soft and perfect as benslie did from the very beginning

random headcanon: she tried being a supportive spouse and reading ben's star trek fanfiction once, thought it was cool but whatever yk, until ben joked that there probably were fanfic authors who wrote US historical figures fics out there. it was the beginning of a VERY long summer where leslie posted about 30 historically accurate M to E rated works on ao3, 2 of which were over 100k words multichapters. ben, half horrified and half impressed, commented dutifully on each chapter, even getting into virtual fights with rightists (is that a word?) who called leslie names bc they disagreed with the politics aspects of her fics, and even though nothing beats that actual real life punch he once threw to defend her honor, his internet chivalry effectively turned her on still. they had a short but intense reign as ao3's most productive power couple before the triplets came back from chris and ann's for school and they had to focus on their parenting roles + her presidential campaign again.

unpopular opinion: idk how unpopular it is, but there was never a doubt in my mind that she's the president at the very end of the series?? like ik they left a doubt there on purpose, but seriously, does anyone really think leslie's story ends with her being the first lady and not the fucking president when it's been her dream forever?? how rude can the universe be

song i associate with her: sadly, the get on your feet and make it happen campaign song x) anytime i hear her name that's what i think about and it's horrible bc it won't leave my headdd

favorite picture of her: leslie in a suit!!!!!!!!?????? 😍🥰🥵 that hair length and color suited her best too imo, oh god i miss her now 😭

#leslie knope #parks and rec #ben wyatt #ron swanson #headcanons #i miss parks :/#mutuals #wanderlustqueen writes #asks

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l3sbianomens · 11 months

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I wrote this monstrosity a month or so after good omens 2 released. I had a lot of thoughts about the final scene bouncing around in my head and I had to get them out. So for my zero followers, here you go. Spoilers ahead.

Good Omens season 2 has genuinely impacted my life. I can't remember a time I've ever been so invested in a story. This hyperfixation is so different for me, and it's so fun. I didn't have the same kind of reaction that I did to other hyperfixations of mine, like TLOU and ST. I didn't yell at my screen, pleading for the life of a character I loved. I wasn't heaving and wiping snot from my face. I didn't cover my mouth with my hands. I just sat in silence. With my heart in my throat. It felt like whiplash. My face had been sore from smiling so hard. And then the last 15 minutes I could feel my brows furrowing closer, inching together. My cheeks no longer hurt. But my forehead did. I had the climax of The Scene spoiled, but I didn't know the context. So the further I got into the final minutes, I was more and more confused. Crowley was going to take Aziraphale to the Ritz for breakfast, okay this is good. Nina and Maggie show up, and finally, FINALLY, knock some sense into Crowley. All those things you've got pent up inside? You have to tell him. You can't keep avoiding it. You have to communicate for once in your life. Now's your chance. Tell Aziraphale how you REALLY feel. My heart started beating out of my chest. I was spinning. Crowley is going to confess.

But then Aziraphale came back to the bookshop. And barreled over Crowley. "Hold that thought!" And spoke and spoke and spoke. And my heart started its downward spiral into the pit in my stomach. There's no way. He can't, can he? Watching the horror spread across Crowley's face as Aziraphale speaks. Then the first dagger hit "Tell me you said no! Tell me you said no!?" And when Crowley started to speak? My heart raced with each word that was spoken. The microexpressions, the pacing of the dialogue, the emotion you can hear in their voice. I'm sure Crowley had spent the time Aziraphale was still gone after Nina and Maggie left deciding what he wanted to say. But then everything changed. It was no longer just a confession. He was pleading his case to the lone juror. "And I would like to spend- hmm" The dagger twisted in my chest as I watched the tears beading on his waterline, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks (David Tennant I am in your WALLS for that) as Aziraphale with tears in his eyes says "Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever" The dagger didn't just twist, it was pulled out nearly all the way, and shoved back in. "No... No I don't suppose it does." Then Crowley puts his glasses come back on, and walks away. And Aziraphale realizes what's happening. He begs and begs. He even insinuates that Crowley has misunderstood. But Crowley? Crowley understands exactly what's happening. Their love for each other does not absolve the fact that heaven is no place for Crowley, for either of them really. He won't compromise himself, not again. He won't go back to heaven. And Aziraphale shouldn't either.

And then Crowley says the line that made me realize there was really no going back. We had started a swan dive into the deep end. "That's the point. No nightingales" And honestly? I think that line hurt just as much as "Nothing lasts forever" for me, because A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square didn't just signify the happy ending from season one for us, the viewers. It was playing at the Ritz. It wasn't just for the fans, for the joke of a nightingale really singing in Berkeley Square. It actually HAPPENED for them. To Crowley and Aziraphale. The two of them experienced it with us. It meant something to them, too. Aziraphale's face says it all. And then what I had been waiting for, the moment I had completely warped in my mind, it happened. "You idiot. We could have been...us." Aziraphale had to physically look away, and I felt like I COULDN'T look away. I could feel the knife going for its final twist. The music swelled, I could feel it in my bones that this was a moment I would never forget. It wasn't what I had expected. It wasn't what I wanted. I didn't think we'd get ANY of this. Not a confession, not the additional context of their lives together. A season of so much joy. I'd been laughing and smiling and kicking my feet for fucks sake! I didn't expect us to get anything. But I ESPECIALLY did not expect what I got. Crowley takes three steps. Nothing was the same after those three steps.

The absolute force at which Crowley kissed him felt like it knocked ME back. Watching Aziraphale panic, the pain in his eyes. The confusion. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't decide whether to hold on or let go. He eventually closes his eyes but he can't decide where to place his hands. Whether to grip on for dear life. And then they pull apart. The look on Aziraphale's face is burned into my corneas. His shaky gasp. His eyes darting as he tries to process what just happened. And then the final twist of the knife before it was ripped from my chest, "I-I..." the shift in Aziraphale's face here? Haunts me. (Michael Sheen I am in your FUCKING WALLS for that). And then? "I forgive you" and Crowley's face, unchanging since they pulled apart, saying "Don't bother" while walking away. And the knife was ripped from my chest, not clean, though. It's twisted on the way out, too. Maximum carnage.

And then, of course, a new knife appeared. Because I could see every emotion washing through Aziraphael. The knife twisted when I saw the tears in Aziraphale's eyes, shakily exhaling as Crowley retreated. And then, it twisted again. Because Aziraphale reached for his lips, to feel where they'd just touched Crowley's for the first time. His eyes widen, brows raising as the shock set in. And then, when he pulled his hand away? The anger had set in. He looked fucking angry. He looked how I felt, that "It wasn't supposed to happen like THIS. Not like this." look. That's how I looked, too. This whole season, Aziraphale was so much more open with his love for Crowley. In gestures, in words, in glances. He's spent millenia watching humans fall in love, reading about love, and eventually falling in love himself. He'd just spent the last few days doing everything in his power to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love. He watched Beelzebub and Gabriel leave, happy, and together, and in love. I nearly jumped out of my seat when he grabbed Crowley's arm, as Gabriel and Beelzebub finally hold onto each other. Aziraphale realized that his love for Crowley was possible. An angel and a demon could BE together. It happened in front of him. He had just planned the whole night for Nina and Maggie, sure. But Aziraphale planned it for him, too. He told us as much when he and Crowley were discussing ways to make Maggie and Nina fall in love. Dancing, realizing you had misunderstood each other. His first plan had already been ruined by Shax appearing. And then Gabriel and Beelzebub happen. And the wheels started to turn. This was his chance. Even better than before because they had just seen an angel and a demon go off together and not be stopped. It was possible for them now. They had a shot.

And of course, the fucking Metatron appeared. Because of course he did. This was all his plan. He knew Crowley would say no. He had to have known. There was nothing in the coffee. There were no threats. And how did he know? Well, he was the one to get Crowley cast out of heaven of course. He tells us as much. "Always did want to go his own way, asking damned fool questions" He is the voice of God. To speak to him is to speak to God, or so he says. So Crowley spoke to him. And the Metatron did not like what he had to say. He knew that Crowley would never come back. He ESPECIALLY knew that, being the one to appoint a traitor to be the next Supreme Archangel. The one who went native. Soft, but pliable, or so he thinks. The one with little faith in heaven but full faith in the almighty. And that was enough. He knew that was enough. Because he also knows that Aziraphale and Crowley together are too powerful. Why else would the score have changed when he got Aziraphale to go with him to chat? Why else would he have looked relieved when Aziraphale got into the elevator? He needs them to be separated, for whatever reason. I don't have any specific theories besides them being too powerful together.

#can you tell my brain is rotting?#because i genuinely feel like I'm losing it #i could talk about individual scenes for hours #good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2

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bluestar22x · 2 years

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TLOU Rewatch: Episode 2 (Joel And Ellie Involved Scenes Only)

This is earlier than I planned to post this, but I’ll just post when I feel like it.

- The symbolism of Ellie being bathed in light in her first scene of the episode when her name literally means light and she is humanity’s hope for a vaccine (and also will be the light in Joel’s post-apocalypse life) LOVE it.

- Joel’s hurt hand shaking :(

- Love Joel trying to stop Tess from getting closer to Ellie because she might get her infected (as far as he knows)

- Tess says “Then you must have heard he wants to shoot you” and then the camera pans to a somber, soft faced Joel. Convincing.

- Joel’s negative attitude about a cure being possible is just realism in my eyes btw, and yes, people do get annoyed with me for being negative lol

- Funniest bits – Ellie saying the fireflies got the sandwich from smugglers while Joel and Tess, two smugglers, are eating meager pieces of old beef jerky (she will live to regret this in episode 8 though when she ends up surviving on that jerky), her making fake infected noises and movements (she really isn’t afraid of Joel), and her asking for a gun (Tess: “No.” Joel: “Absolutely NOT.” Don’t mind me, I’m just crying from laughing at those 2 parents being parents to a kid they barely know.)

- It bugs me how much Joel uses his hurt hand in this episode. Like – ouch.

- The CGI for the city is soooo good.

- I keep thinking about how in this episode Joel is trailing quietly behind while Tess and Ellie talk (by quite a bit most of the time) and comparing it to how he is in episode 9 - he’s come a long way baby. (But it also pains me how chatty Ellie is in episode 2 compared to 9 – they’ve swapped).

- The random frog was cute

- I love how Joel almost immediately gets Ellie back for the QZ has books line with the bunny hop into the water Ellie thought would be deep. (Also, I know I’m not the only one who finds it cute when that gruff old man does that hop.)

- I am sad nothing happened this season with Ellie not being able to swim. It just ended up being a one-time reference to the game. I guess it might have been hard to film a scene where she nearly drowns/does drown, but still. :(

- Joel calling Ellie a weird kid and immediately moving to protect her when the skeleton startles her. <3

- I took Joel removing his hand from Ellie’s quickly as a reaction to his hand hurting, but the lingering look at his hand after was definitely something else. Being reminded that he protected her from the guard? That a part of him can’t help but care about her? The showrunners did say he started caring about her from the start even though he didn’t want to.

- I love how Tess and later Joel in episode 4 both complain about the stairs. I felt that. The stairs usually affect my calves more than my knees, but my knees hurt plenty often too. And I’m almost half their age.

- That little moment of Joel pulling Ellie out of the way by her backpack and Ellie sighing heavily. They are just competing for who annoys who more. LOL

- IDK Joel is just so cute awkwardly hunched over, trying to start a conversation with Ellie (Because it’s too awkward of a silence? Because he can’t help himself?). The heavy sigh when Ellie says “the circus”. He looks so handsome too in the golden light of this hotel scene. I love the cinematography of this episode. <3

- His quiet little snort (not sure how else to describe it) when Ellie says “it’s [FEDRA school’s] a really shitty one”. I love that little moment. It’s the first time we see Joel still has a sense of humor buried somewhere in there.

- I notice Joel never answers Ellie any time she mentions him killing non-infected humans. Touchy subject.

- Seeing the infected all in a group just rolling around on the ground is so weird. Eerie.

- Every time I rewatch these episodes I notice how much Joel fiddles with his hands whenever he has nothing in them. It’s often.

- The museum sequence is soooo good. It’s my favorite action bit in the show. It’s just so intense. That dread over any little noise they made and the clickers wandering around them. So good.

- Joel redirecting the clicker from Ellie to him, Joel handing the cloth to Ellie to wrap her new bite, Joel saying “I know it looks scary” when Ellie’s about to cross the plank - so dad.

- The look Tess gives Joel when he starts tending to her foot/ankle. <3 (I know he’s not doing it right, but if he’d have splinted her foot properly it probably wouldn’t fit in her boot anyway so I’m not sure what else could’ve been done.)

- Always love Joel glancing at his watch after Ellie says “you can’t deny that view”. The way she is so different from Sarah but still reminds him of her sometimes.

- The way Tess says that’s not her home. Detroit was her home. It’s gone. She can’t get anything like that back. Especially because she’s bit. It’s over for her. Even if Ellie eventually gets to the fireflies it’ll be too late for her and she won’t have seen it.

- I can’t believe there are people who said Joel was too emotionless in Tess’ goodbye scene. Hello? Did they look at his eyes? Did they not see his head shake when Tess tells him to take Ellie to Bill and Frank’s? The way he just stands there breathing heavier and twitching, trying to keep his emotions reigned in as Tess dumps the fuel and grenades onto the floor? The man’s barely keeping it together.

- I can tell the EXACT moment Joel shuts down so he is able to turn, grab Ellie, and leave Tess behind, and it breaks my heart every time.

- That last shot of Ellie just trying to keep it together is heartbreaking too.

#TLOU (HBO) Rewatch

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west-haven · 2 years

Text

okay okay okay so watched episode 2 of tlou hbo (spoilers)

I am not crazy about these new mechanics with the infected, like the web of fungus and the tendrils, its super fucking weird and not JUST cuz it was not in the game, but it’s like, I don’t want the show to look like stranger things 4 with all this bullshit they can’t step on and all. I am just not crazy about that

I think it is a bit them trying to make things more cinematic and also this is this series now living in a post actual pandemic world, where most people on some level understand airborne particles, understand how covid spreads, so it is kind of knee jerk to try to make it more believable in today’s world. Which yeah I get but.... ugh it seems so weird

And most of all........ the infected kissed Tess, like that was not just the weird tendrils going into her mouth, that was like a KISS and it’s like nah man, nah. It was intentionally like a kiss which is gross, but also it just makes me mad that that’s how we get to remember Tess. Her in the game where you just see her steel herself, take a deep breath, and then turn around to die in a flash of gunfire, it says way more without showing stuff we don’t need to see. Even just her fumbling with the lighter, that would be better. But like, what happened to people getting fucking BIT, not making out with clickers. GET BIT.

And kudos to them for these opening scenes that show more backstory of how things went down, but also, I honestly would like that time just for more of the main story ;;;; it’s like, I would have easily given up that time for a little bit more time to show us Tess, especially cuz that opening scene really only explained how it spreads a bit, and the fact that places were bombed to try to contain the infection, both of which could have been explained by Tess and Joel while walking thru Boston..… you know, like how it was in the game omg. I AM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO BE THAT ASSHOLE BUT ALSO. I AM THAT ASSHOLE WHO IS LIKE WELL. THE GAME THO.

This show is def intriguing and I am liking the actual characters of it, but some of the random world things I am just not entirely liking. I liked Joel, Tess and Ellie’s interactions in this episode, and then seeing Bill in the next episode teaser I am like BILL YOU ARE OUR ONLY HOPE SAVE THIS SHOW cuz I am so fucking excited to see him and Frank, even though they may play him too funny but I hope that’s just pre-Frank dying Bill and we more saw post-Frank dying Bill where he’s a thousand percent more of an asshole

Ugh I did not want to feel this conflicted with this show omg I thought it was gonna be a big slam dunk of me loving it but watching it only makes me realize just how fucking special and perfect the game is

#a day in the life of Carrie #spoilers #Carrie plays tlou #kinda #Carrie complains about tlou hbo

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caitsyoi · 3 years

Text

I wanted to talk about FEDRA in Seattle a bit. What they did was super impressive, even if it did end really badly for them.

Under the cut because there are lots of pictures and I talk about FEDRA too. Actually, this got really out of hand but it is interesting af to me, so click below to read my thesis on FEDRA.

I think the singular most impressive thing that FEDRA did was building this wall. I estimate that the constructed about 5 miles of concrete wall (based on Dina's map and the distance in RL Seattle), and this wall is around 4 stories tall. I have no idea how they managed this during a pandemic of this size. Maybe Seattle got a heads-up from other infected areas, and maybe they set up temporary barriers first while constructing this one. Still, that is a lot of material to haul to and set up during a devastating outbreak like in the TLOU universe. It is insanely impressive.

They also set the QZ up into zones, and the zones were created using concrete walls about a story high. That's even more work they had to do, all the while fighting off infected and trying to keep everyone fed.

I can't imagine they were receiving supplies from outside for long, their supply routes probably didn't stay functioning too long past Outbreak Day. It's unknown whether they started up any farming of their own or if the WLF was the first to do that, but as you can see here, searching the buildings for food and supplies was a very important task. If that was all they had for food for 5-10 years, it is no wonder there was heavy rationing and food shortages.

Another interesting thing about this picture are the cleared zones. Based on this and Dina's map, they cleared the zone around the FOB, Capitol Hill (and another just outside the wall but still in the neighborhood of Capitol Hill), and they cleared parts of what I'm guessing was downtown (that is if the WLF use the same names for zones as FEDRA did). They hadn't cleared the stadium (implying they weren't doing any farming), or a lot of areas in the north central part of Seattle (what is referred to as the "Contested Zone" by the WLF, which you can see on Issac's map). The security situation in the QZ was a real mess.

FEDRA did make an attempt to move people out of less secure zones and into safer ones. You can see that in some of the notes you find and on the doors to some apartments. I actually looked this up to find out what it means. Basically, the "X" means "Dangerous - Do Not Enter", "0-6" is supposed to be time and date but it could number of survivors and corpses, "NE" means "No Entry" and it's where you would indicate types of hazards, and DOA is what you think it means (this is also typically where they state the condition and amount of people found). If you want to see the reference I used, look here.

In the notes you can find, it seems like the safe zones were not a pleasant place to be. They sound like the lawless refugee camps you tend to hear about in war-torn areas. It's not surprising that some people resisted going, like the Seraphites in the NW and the residents of Hillcrest in the NE.

Another unpleasant aspect of QZ life - rationing. This seems to be a thing in every QZ we see in game, although to be fair, we only see Boston and Seattle. All the citizens of the QZ were divided into 3 groups based on their role in the QZ. "A" ration cards are the best and held by soldiers, but it's unclear who got "B" and "C" cards. What is clear is that just like in Boston, this caused a lot of resentment towards the soldiers. The WLF used this resentment to recruit members, much like we saw with the Fireflies in Boston. It makes sense, since Issac used to be a Firefly.

Ration cards also worked as identification. It's what they needed to move between different zones or enter certain areas. The WLF probably got a lot of goodwill by falsifying ration cards (and it probably allowed them to move weapons and supplies around much easier).

This is how I figured out the soldiers were type "A". This was on the FEDRA trailers near the main gate, which are designated as authorized personnel only. It also says "ablebodied" here, which makes me wonder if there was forced conscription like you saw in Boston. This seems very likely to me. It also seems like there was not a high standard for those selected for conscription, other than being physically able to do it. Again, this was probably not a popular policy.

It's pretty brutal that they didn't allow anyone with any disease or condition into the QZ. This adds up for what you find out about FEDRA in other parts of the game, but it's still sad to think of the people who weren't contagious but were still denied entry. It's also sad to think of the contagious people who were denied, although that is a bit easier to understand (although still so fucked up).

You find a note near the Fuck FEDRA gate that lists the amount of people allowed in, the amount turned away, and the amount that were kicked out. Over time, the amount allowed in decreased to 0, and the amount turned away or banished greatly increased. Again you can see why they grew to become very unpopular.

Another thing you get from these signs is that there were a ton of restrictions: no photography in certain areas, you had to surrender your firearms, no freedom of movement, and you weren't not allowed to enter OR leave the QZ without permission. Again it makes sense when you are dealing with something as dangerous as the fungus, but you can still see why this was not popular with people. Life under FEDRA was pretty darn oppressive (though it isn't much better in that respect under the Seraphites or the WLF either).

They also had a curfew at night, which also makes sense. Honestly, I wouldn't mind this because who the fuck wants to go out and possibly come across infected in the dark? I wouldn't even want to see them in the light.

There are also signs all over former FEDRA property telling people to report any suspicious activity. This makes sense with dealing with infected people, there were probably a lot of scared, recently infected people who tried to sneak in. You can see though how this was probably not just used to locate potential infected, the WLF and possibly the Seraphites were also targeted.

This is another common sign you see. They really weren't afraid to use lethal force either, there are several notes mentioning how FEDRA was willing to kill without trial, just shooting those they suspect in the street. It is not hard to see why they were overthrown. Violence begat violence, and the WLF paid them back in kind.

It had to be so hard to live in the QZ and find out someone you care about is infected. If you don't report it and they found out (which I imagine they'd have to find out eventually), you could be killed as punishment. If you do report it, you are effectively killing them. I understand why FEDRA was so strict about infection, but damn is that brutal.

Last but not least, I love that they took real photos of the different kinds of infected. Some poor FEDRA soldiers were tasked with bringing back a runner, a clicker, a stalker, and a bloater. A pretty common story for soldiers everywhere, sometimes you just get the shit jobs. I also think it's funny that in Boston they just drew pictures instead.

I also love the advice they give. For runners, it's all about not letting them swarm you. For stalkers, it's all about checking your surroundings. For clickers, it's all about keeping your distance. Finally, for bloaters it's basically don't engage unless you absolutely have to. All great advice.

Another interesting fact, there is no indication that FEDRA was ever aware of the existence of Shamblers. The earliest mention is a WLF soldier who found one and left a note to report back. That means that this type of infected took at least 5-10 years to first show up.

And that's it for my FEDRA post. If you can't tell, the TLOU universe is interesting as fuck to me. Like, I would spend cash money on a book just about TLOU lore.

Once again, if you got through all this, you are my people.

#the last of FEDRA #I wonder if there are any other QZ's that they still control by the end of TLOU2 #If there are then they must've adapted to be more like the WLF #with the farming and the whole not starving thing #overall they managed pretty well when facing an extremely overwhelming situation #just not well enough to sustain their power #deep thoughts about TLOU at 2 AM #it's either this or shitposts #no in-between #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #FEDRA #thank god for Dina and her map #it has been crucial for all my deep dives about Seattle

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damn-stark · 4 years

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The Trouble ~ Jesse Imagine

(Not my gif)

Jesse x Fem!reader

Requested by @expecto-nox “Uh..Hi? I just saw that you take TLOU 2 requests and I just wanna request if you're okay with it,only if you're okay with it. It's a Jesse x reader fic and Reader almost got bitten by an Infected and Jesse was there to save her. Can you make it angsty then fluffy? If you wanna add anything it's totally cool. Thanks for taking the time to read this if you did.”

A/N- I kind of want to do a mini series off this imagine? Like follow their journey towards Seattle and then end it when the unfortunate event that shall not be mentioned happened. What do you guys think? Would yall like to see that??

Warning- Violence, Angst, swearing, fluff

———-

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around us traveling to Seattle.” You complained to your boyfriend.

Even if you were currently halfway to said destination. With no sign of turning back.

Jesse sighed and briefly looked over his shoulder to show you his look of disapproval. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

“And let you come alone?” You quirked your eyebrow and showed a smug smile, “no.”

Jesse let out a small chuckle as he looked forward, “just admit it you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed, “no I am not. Why should I be?”

“Because we’re going to Dina.”

“So?” You question as if clueless to what he was referring to. “We’re also going to Tommy and Ellie.”

“Okay.” He nodded with an amused smile, “well just so you know you have nothing worry about.”

You smile and even if you were never going to admit it, his comment was a reassurance to your overwhelming worry. It’s not that you didn’t trust him because you did. You trusted this man with your life, but the only reason why the thought of Dina and him bugged you so much was because they dated for a long time—Even if it was on and off again. It’s just if they got back together so much it was for a reason right?

And your relationship was still so new and you really cared for him. Maybe even loved him? And maybe it was because the both of you were traveling through different states, fighting and avoiding danger from both the dead and difficult people, but that’s how you really felt and if this trip was just going to end up with them getting back together then it was really going to break your heart and make this trip just disappointing—not worthless since you did come help your best friend Ellie.

“Watcha thinkin back there?” Jesse questioned, making you pull away from your thoughts.

“Nothing...just tired.”

“Once we’re past this path we’ll set up camp and rest, okay?”

Responding with a quiet “okay” you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, avoiding looking ahead at the continued narrowed path or to the side and looking down at the steep ledges.

Even if you never liked to because you liked to keep guard while Jesse guided the horse, it was getting hard not to drift to sleep. The slow careful pace, the sweet smell of fresh rain and sound of nothing but each other’s calm breathing surely not helping your situation. But it was also a moment that didn’t last long as you began to hear rustling from the ledge above you, making you pick up your head and your ears to perk up.

“You hear that?” You pointed out.

Jesse looked up to where the noise came from, but didn’t stop the horse, seconds later shrugging off said sound. “It’s probably nothing but some animal. Don’t worry.”

The rustling continued and this time you slowly pulled out your pistol, trying to ignore the sound of your heart beat picking up in your chest and trying real hard to focus on the noise above you.

“It’s not—” Jesse’s words were abruptly cut off as someone came tumbling down the ledge and blocked the path before you. “What the hell?” The horse lets out a loud squeal before she rises up on its hind legs, causing you to hold on tightly to Jesse as to not fall back. “Wow, wow calm down girl.”

The horse gets back on its four legs and walks back, snorting and nodding her head. Just as you were going to ask what or who fell the figure lifts up and reveals its torn clothes, blood covered mouth, and clouded dead looking eyes, letting both Jesse and you come to the realization that it was no living person but a runner.

Quickly Jesse pulls his gun out and shoots the runner directly in the head, said monster dropping dead before he could run forward.

“Told you.” You breathed, right as he was going remark more growling was heard followed by tumbling down, same as the previous runner had. This time though there was more than one and they blocked the horse from both sides, not that the horse cared as it jumped up, knocking both Jesse and you off her back, seconds later barely managing to avoid being attacked and jumping over the dead to run away.

Jesse quickly helped you to your feet, the both of you standing back to back, ignoring the pain all over your bodies from the fall and facing the dead that surrounded you.

“I count five in front of me. All runners.” You inform Jesse through heavy breaths, “I only have four bullets.”

“I count four in front of me. Theirs a clicker in the group.” He responds and just as he was going to report how many bullets he had, you avoided a swing from one of the fast approaching runners, moments later following by kicking it back into another runner and making them fall on the ground.

The other two ran towards you, growling and snapping at you, but in a swift motion you took out your machete and hacked it into one of its head, that single runner dropping whilst you shot the one behind it in the chest and then in the head killing it completely.

You quickly then focused your pistol on the other two that had now stood up and were making a beeline directly towards you. Right as you were going to shoot one, you were roughly tackled from one unsuspected clicker that tumbled down, the force of the impact taking you both down to roll off the ledge, only Jesse’s distant exclaim heard while you did so. “No!”

You kept your hands on the clickers neck as you tumbled down, having to hold it back as it kept snapping at you in attempts to bite any part of you it could. “Shit, shit!” The pain only worsened as you landed on your back on the hard muddy floor, the cuts all over your body combining with your new pains and making the clicker increasingly more violent. The thought of Jesse’s well being replacing the thought and worry for yourself.

But you knew you had to focus on the fight you had, couldn’t worry about Jesse even if that’s all you could think about now. You had to and couldn’t let the clicker get you, and now having no weapon in your hand you had to tighten your grip around its throat, before kneeing it in what you think is it’s stomach, that action giving you the opportunity to throw it back.

Without hesitating you struggled to pick yourself up, grunting in the effort. Through heavy breaths and shooting pains you searching for any weapon, smiling to yourself as you saw your machete a couple feet away. Right as you took one step forward you were pulled down by the same clicker gripping onto your ankle.

“Get off!” You growled as you tried to stretch your hand towards your machete while using your other foot to kick the clickers ugly head. “Get off—” a sharp pain shot in your leg making you bellow out loudly, making your efforts to escape falter and for the clicker to gain the upper hand and climb on top of you. The ugly sounds of its teeth clicking sounding right in your ear as it tried to bite your neck.

Again and without any other way you tried to fight it off your back as best you could, using every piece of strength you could. Right before you were able to reach the handle of your machete the repetitive annoying sound of the clicker stopped and the weight of it was completely off you. Before you could react you were turned on your back, coming face to face with Jesse.

“You’re alive. You’re alive.” Jesse repeated under his breath before offering his hand to help you up. “Are you okay?”

You nodded in agreement, trying to calm your breathing before you could verbally confirm or ask about himself. Before you could even attempt, the sharp pain on your leg reminded you that you were definitely not okay and that you had something worse then just cuts to worry about.

Hesitating to look down you exhaled deeply, briefly closing your eyes before you looked at the pained area, only and disappointingly seeing it covered in mud and blood.

“Shit.” You cursed as you sat back down and groaned from the pain.

“What’s wrong?” Jesse stressed, his eyes following your hands as you tore the new rip on your jeans. “Are you okay? Y/N?”

You swallowed thickly and blinked to meet his worried gaze, following his movements as he crouched in front of you; “I don’t know. I-I” it pained you to even say the next words or to even think of them and think of the outcome of the big what if. “I..think it bit me.”

Jesse’s eyes widened, a hand running through his hair and a deep frown appearing on his features, a terrified look replacing the one of worry.

“No. No it didn’t.” Jesse shoved your hands off your leg and ripped the jean up wider, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he couldn’t immediately identify your wound because of what covered it. “You can’t be bit.” He mumbled as he shrugged the backpack strap off his shoulder and searched for something inside.

“Jesse.” You tried to catch his attention but he kept frantically searching, ignoring you or tuning you out with the thoughts running through his head. “Jesse!”

Said man finally looked to you, his lips partially open and eyes glossy with tears.

You reached to cup his cheek, showing him a small smile even through your own worry. “I just want to say that the time I’ve spent traveling with you has been more than amazing. I’ve got to see and explore more than I have ever had in my life, I got to know what’s it’s like to do that with someone I like and really care for and that’s all I could ask for. Jesse I know we haven’t been dating long but the time we have—and maybe it’s because I’ve liked you before we actually dated, but regardless Jesse, I—”

“Don’t.” He cut you off, the tears you never knew he would shed or let you see rolling down his cheek, “don’t say it. Not like this, not when we don’t know if you’re bit or not. I can’t hear it if you are.”

Jesse pulled his face away from your hand and focused back on the contents inside his backpack, causing your own tears to roll down your cheeks. Only lifting his head moments later when he pulled out a half full water bottle, choosing to remain silent as he twisted off the lid and poured water on your wound, in a gentle motion rubbing the grime off it, the both of you hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was.

A soft wince escaped your lips as he did what he did, that making him let out a quiet apology as he continued with a fast beating heart. The anticipation of if you were, or if you weren’t bit making you turn your head away and focus on anything else beside the fact. Jesse feeling the same as his hand covered the awaited answer, a deep shaky exhale heard coming out his nose as he slowly pulled his hand away.

“Shit,” Jesse cursed as he fully sat down, rubbing his face with his hands and calming his fast breaths.

Not receiving the answer you wanted you peeked at your wound, a grin breaking through your lips as you saw nothing but a deep cut caused by the fall.

“It’s okay,” you shared as you threw your head back and lay on the ground, the fear you had moments ago slowly fading away. “I’m okay, I’m not bit.”

Jesse shifted around to lay next to you, the tears that once pooled his eyes no longer visible and instead replaced with content, a smile replacing his deep frown.

“You can say what you were planning to say before.” He grinned.

Turning your head to face him you matched his grin but shook your head. “You ruined the moment, I can’t say it anymore.”

“Come on say it.” Jesse urged, “it will help me feel better after the scare you gave me.”

“You did great back there, fighting those runners,” You shared. Words you knew he didn’t want to hear. “I’m proud.” You lifted your hand to ask for a high five, a action he glared at but did so anyway, to later interlace his fingers with yours and pull your hands down to the your sides.

“I’m just going to ignore you said that because you didn’t even see me fight them off.”

You shrugged and showed a cocky smile, “I still know you did great.” With your other hand you moved it to cup his cheek, moving in to give him a soft kiss, a gesture he easily returned and pulled you closer to deepen the kiss.

Later pulling away but keeping you close to stroke your cheek and express what he wanted to say before. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss before pulling away and standing up—“the horse shouldn’t be far off we should find her. Seattle is still far off.”

“What about your leg? Let me stitch up your wound.”

You shook your head and began to walk, “after we find your horse.”

“Y/n.”

“Jesse.” You turn and face him, quirking your eyebrow, that letting him know that you weren’t going to accept any other suggestion.

Jesse sighs and moves past you to walk ahead just in case anymore surprises happened, choosing to stay silent and not wanting to add or question your previous conversation.

But that making it the perfect opportunity for you to bring it up. “Jesse?”

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

Said man stops in his tracks, hiding the warm smile he had on his lips by having his back turned to you. Not failing to add a witty remark, and quoting you from before right before he could continue forward.

“You ruined the moment I can’t say it anymore.”

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dissonantdreamer · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on zodiac signs for TLOU characters? part II included as well

I’ll be honesty i have zero knowledge of zodiac signs. I don’t know what they mean only that I am a cancer and when I tell people that they’re like, “wow, you are far too violent to be a cancer” so if you know what that means let me know cause I’m hopin’ it’s a compliment. But for the sake of trying to be funny I can toss my hat into the ring for Zodiac signs Ted Cruz style instead of looking up everyone’s zodiac sign and making something up about it. Hope this doesn’t reflect too poorly on who I am deep down as a person:

Joel: could do what ted cruz has done and do it better however he got a little to bold there at the end 6/10

Ellie: proficient at killing, very bad at keeping her trail hidden would get caught pretty fast. 4/10

Dina: brilliant, could come up with a cryptogram that puzzles cops for decades. we don't know what she's fully capable of but we know she could fuck you up 10/10

Lev: while capable and no one would suspect him, he is too good for that sort of thing 2/10

Yara: absolutely efficient and clean, she would have the cops running in circles for decades 8/10

Abby: one look at her and everyone would know but are you gonna go stop her, didn't think so. 9/10

Tommy: could totally pull it off if he could keep his mouth shut for 2 seconds. 3/10

Manny: if he can hide sex dens all over Seattle he can hide years of murder. 7/10

Marlene: if she was you’d never live long enough to find out 9/10

Tess: do you want to accuse her? ‘Cause I don’t. Even if you’re wrong, you’re dead 10/10

Bill: has the fashion for it, but who his is as a person would give him away 1/10

#i am very sorry anon #i know shit about zodiac signs #i do really appreciate the ask though #sorry i'm like this #i'll be honest i haven't slept much and i'm not sure if this is funny or tasteless #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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darlingsdevil · 4 years

Text

Of The Valley (Joel x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Autumn Days

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

Of The Valley Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added or removed): @fangirl-inthe-us @sidepuff

A/N: This fic will follow pre revenge plot TLOU 2. It will follow the flashbacks and such, up until the day after the dance, then it will sprout out differently. I don’t recommend reading this until you have finished the game.

Welcome to my Fanfixtion. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here!

•••

The sun rose slowly above the eastern mountains, streams of sunlight pouring into the old windows. The bustling of mid morning Jackson was loud outside, even louder in the crowded restaurant. You kept up with the never ending pile of orders though.

You waded through the chattering crowd, holding dirty plates close to you, you placed them on the back counter and returned to your post by the front of the bar.

“Maria,” You called out cheerfully as the older woman sat down at the bar. She responded with a smile.

“I’ll take an order of scrambled eggs and bacon. Side of toast will do just fine too.”

“Bacons in high demand right now. I can only give you a few pieces,” You replied, writing down the order on a piece of paper.

“As long as it’s bacon, I don’t care if I get one piece or five.”

“Anything to drink with that?”

“Nope. Unless by any chance you’ve got coffee, then I’ll have to buy a cup for me and for Joel.”

“No coffee yet. The trader’s from the south aren’t due for a couple more months, I thought? I’ll be first in line to get those beans when they do come through though,” You said, backing away from the bar to place the receipt on the far counter.

“You might have to fight Joel for that spot, you know,” Maria chuckled.

“On second thought, I’ll be second in line, I do know he loves his coffee. Almost as much as you love bacon.”

“That’s probably true,” Maria responded with a shrug.

You went back to taking orders and bringing out food to customers, chatting with your friends here and there. When Maria’s order came out, you brought it over to her quickly. Breakfast sounded amazing right now, you would definitely order some food once your shift ended. At least the crowd had died down, only a few stragglers were left in the restaurant.

“Here you are. Scrambled eggs and bacon. With some toast,” You said, placing the two plates in front of her.

“Thank you.” Maria grabbed a fork and dug in. There were no more orders coming out from the back, so you took this time to rest. You grabbed a rag and began wiping down the bar. Maria glanced over at you briefly, like she was looking to say something.

“Penny for your thoughts, Maria?”

Maria sighed and set down her fork.

“I need a favor.”

“What type of favor?” You tried your hardest not to sound suspicious. When Maria needed a favor from you, it usually wasn’t good.

“It’s a small one. Nothing too bad,” She said slowly.

“Okay,” You blinked, setting down your rag.

“I need you to go on patrol today.”

“Nope,” You said dismissively.

“Come on, do it for me? You’re our best shooter next to Tommy. There’s a large group of infected near the north that can easily be picked off by two snipers. Tommy’s already up there waiting.”

“I told you I’m not going on anymore patrols.”

“I know, but please, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“I’m not going, Maria. I can’t go.” You shook your head.

“Look, I know why you don’t want to go out, I do, but I really need you to. No one else can do the job as well as you.” It was true. You were Jackson’s best shot next to Tommy. You owed Maria more than a couple favors, it seemed she was cashing in now.

“I’m not going there alone.. I can’t go alone,” You repeated.

“You won’t be alone. I’m having Jesse escort you there. We need you,” Maria negotiated.

“You’re having a kid escort me?”

“Look, Jesse’s more than capable. Just because he’s 17 doesn’t mean he can’t take you up there,” Maria said.

“Will Jesse stay?”

“No. He’s going to meet up with Eugene after to finish patrolling a route,” Maria told you, finally picking up her fork. The second waitress arrived which meant you were off for the rest of the day. It pulled you away from your thoughts. You had been working since three in the morning, helping the restaurant get ready since they opened at four. It was seven now.

“I need someone to stay with me other than Tommy. Someone, someone I trust well,” You replied, your head swimming in what ifs.

Maria sighed, staring down at her food.

“I can ask Joel if he could. He won’t be happy, it’s his first day off in awhile. But just this once I will, okay?” Maria asked you. You breathed out a sigh of relief. You couldn’t say no to Maria. You owed her too much. Even if you tried your hardest to get out of it, it would never work. At least you would be going with someone you trusted. Of course.. you hadn’t seen or talked to Joel in awhile though. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

“I haven’t been out in a long time, you know, I probably won’t be the best shot,” You told Maria.

“You’re going on the damn patrol,” Maria glared at you with humor. It was worth a shot.

•••

Joel met up with you an hour later near the stables. He didn’t look happy. Your stomach was doing somersaults thinking about going back out there. You weren’t just nervous, you were terrified.

“I’m sorry I made you come out here to escort me. It’s a stupid job, I know,” You said to him while you were retrieving the horses. You surrendered your horse back to the stables after you left the patrol job, you would rather have someone else take her out then have her stuck in the stables for eternity. Luckily though, she was in for the day.

“Yeah,” Joel grumbled. It stung a little, but you would be angry too having to go out on an escort when it was your first day off in awhile.

You looked down at your feet, the wet mud covering your worn leather boots. “I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t want to do this either.” You said, sounding defeated.

Joel didn’t respond, instead he went off to retrieve his own horse. The stable worker brought you Levia, her dark coat shimmering in the morning sun.

“It’s been awhile since she’s seen you. How long has it been, three or four months?” The stable worker asked, handing you the reins.

You shrugged. “Three months,” You laughed nervously. The worker didn’t know anything of course, no one did.

“Been that long, huh? I think Levia missed you,” The worker said, patting Levia’s side.

“I missed her too.” You gently pulled on the reins and muttered a thanks to the worker. You took Levia outside to the chilly, late autumn air. While you waited for Joel, you gently petted Levia, she neighed softly, you could tell she missed you. You missed her too. You wondered if her new owner was treating her as well. Levia was spoiled with you.

Joel came out of the stables with his own horse, Caesar. Caesar was a stallion with a dark brown coat with white markings near the top of his head. Levia’s coat was completely black.

“I missed you, girl,” You muttered to the horse. Joel led Caesar towards you.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“I need to log out a couple guns from the armory first. Been a while since I’ve been around here, they change anything for procedures?” You asked, heading towards the armory. Levia and Caesar’s hooves clicked behind you against the mud. Joel walked beside you, standing further away from you then he usually did.

“Not that I know of. It’s not changed since you’ve been out.” Jackson was always changing procedures for how to check things out, especially near the gates.

“That’s good. They might not even recognize me up here,” You joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Joel just shook his head. “Don’t think they would have forgotten you, it’s only been three months.”

“I’m not coming back after this, they probably will,” You said, walking up to the table set up for guns.

Joel began to say something, but you cut him off by talking to the man at the table.

“Two rifles please. One with a scope,” You asked.

“Sure thing,” The man responded, getting up to fetch the two guns.

“You’re not coming back?” Joel questioned behind you. You could practically feel the confusion from him.

“No, I’m not coming back. Already been reassigned to the bar. You haven’t been there in awhile, have you?” You said quickly, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Joel dismissed your question, “Maria told me you were just taking a break?”

“I never said I was taking a break. I’m done with patrolling, Joel.” You turned to face him. Joel looked angry, lied to. You never lied, you simply avoided him for three months.

“You know you could have told me that instead of avoiding me for three months pretending like you were coming back?” Joel glared at you.

“When the hell did I say I was coming back?” You hurled right back, crossing your arms in a defiant stance. This was not how you wanted your morning to go.

“Excuse me, miss, here are the guns,” The man cleared his throat behind you. You swiveled around and took the guns from his hands.

“Thank you. Put our names down for -” You began but were quickly cut off.

“Already done. You guys be safe out there, okay?” The man nodded to you.

“Sure thing. Thanks for the guns.” You hadn’t been forgotten it seemed, at least not yet.

Not wanting to cause any more of a scene, you left quickly, heading towards the gate. You felt bad thinking you had been leading Joel on by letting him think that you were coming back, but truth be told, you never said anything to him. It all got back to him through rumors, rumors ran rampant in Jackson, always had and always will. Which is why you kept your secrets under closed lips, the only one who knew of most of them being Maria.

The gates were opened for you and Joel, and as you stepped out of Jackson a wave of nausea immediately hit, a deep sinking feeling like you weren’t meant to be out there. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm your racing nerves. It was hard to, especially with Joel breathing down your neck. Luckily, he didn’t notice, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

You pulled yourself up onto Levia’s saddle. It felt foreign to be back on a horse. You gently squeezed her side with your feet to tell her it was time to go. Levia was a well trained horse, and immediately started into a slow gallop. Caesar and Joel following behind you.

Levia followed where you lead here, through the dirt paths for a couple minutes until Joel finally spoke.

“You know where you’re going?” Joel’s voice was condescending.

“Yeah. Been there a couple times. It’s common for infected to be in that area this time of year. It’s a sniper's nest. Shouldn’t be too far from here actually. Thirty minute ride at very least,” You responded. It wasn’t worth your time to quip back at him.

“You sure you know where it is?” Joel questioned.

“Course I do,” You snapped back. Looks like it was worth your time.

“Been awhile since you’ve been out here, that’s all.”

“Just because I haven’t been outside the walls in awhile doesn’t mean I have forgotten where to go, Joel,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You were beginning to regret asking Maria to assign Joel to escort you to the nest. And if things went south for you, you weren’t sure Joel would back you up, with the way he was acting towards you, you could tell he was pissed.

It was silent for a few moments. Joel taking in what you said earlier about not returning to patrols.

“Why aren’t you returning?” He asked, his tone much lighter this time.

You bit your tongue, “Patrol work just wasn’t fit for me anymore,” You replied plainly.

“You are our best shot.”

“Look Joel, I just didn’t want to be on patrol anymore, simple as that.” You shut his question down. Of course he would have questions. Everyone did.

Joel didn’t believe it for a second, he knew something was up.

“Haven’t seen Mark in a while either. Where is he? Taking a break too?” Joel questioned. You prayed he would stop bothering you.

“Mark? He’s around. Got taken off patrol too,” You said quickly. You held on tightly to Levia’s saddle in hopes to calm your nerves.

“Maybe I should pay him a visit, been awhile since I’ve seen him.”

“He won’t answer. He’s sick right now,” You lied straight through your teeth.

“Sick. Yep. What does he have?”

“Will you stop bothering me, please?” You barked out, letting anger seep through your clenched teeth. You took a glance behind you at Joel. He looked annoyed, if looks could kill, you would already be dead.

“Sure thing, boss,” Joel told you. You rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long trip.

•••

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arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass · 5 years

Text

The Progress of Arthur Morgan | Chapter 3

A/N: I’m sooo sorry I forgot to post yesterday! I got too caught up playing TLOU for idk, the 5th or 6th time because I’m a dirty rat and would totally suck Joel’s dick? Anyways, here’s the conclusion to this thrilling saga, by yours truly! As always, please, give the feedback! Thanks for reading in advance!

Playlist

Word Count: 8,200 words oof

Chapters: 1 | 2

Arthur had started greeting you with a kiss on the cheek about two or three sessions ago, and you were taken aback by the sudden change in behavior — usually he’d stick to the trivial nod of head, maybe a shake of hands, but this was a bit over the top.

You had blinked at him, flustered at the sudden easiness in which he seemed to touch you. With a sudden wave of uneasiness, you took in the small details, his trimmed hair and carefully shaven face, clothing on the nicer side of his wardrobe and a terribly good smelling sandalwood cologne.

Over the past weeks, he had made considerable improvements on his self-image and body language, seemingly more at ease with himself at each session, his behavior growing more flirtatious and teasing with time. It made you happy, to see Arthur progressing like that, but that last bit worried you. It wasn’t unusual for patients to feel attracted to their therapists, but it was rare for them to actively pursued it.

It took half a heartbeat for you to realize that you were most likely in deep shit.

“How are we doing this week, Arthur?,” you had asked him with a tight smile, ignoring the flutter of your stomach at the way he smiled at you, as if aware of the effect he had over you.

“All good, I s’ppose,” he shrugged lightly, apparently not too keen on highlighting any moment of his week, “same old, same old.”

“Same old would be a lie,” you laughed at his offhanded comment, moving to take a seat at your armchair, all too aware of the way Arthur was watching you. “We’ve come a long way since your first session and you seem far better, from my point of view.”

Arthur scoffed, averting his gaze with a flustered look. He soon chuckled, smile widening at your words. “Geez, doc— you can’t go ‘round blurtin’ out stuff like that.”

Was he blushing?

Crap.

“I’m just saying the obvious,” you tried to contour the situation, feeling the twist of emotion in your stomach. “I mean, you’re clearly taking better care of yourself, dressing better—“

At this, he smirked, fixing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Arthur shrugged again, as nonchalant as he could be. “S’ppose I have, don’t have to mean anythin’.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you said in a secretive voice, curiosity dripping from your words, “don’t you dare shit me.”

He laughed warmly, the light of it making the corner of his eyes crinkle, no longer hiding behind his hand. Arthur was charming. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before. “Let’s say there’s someone,” he started, seeming to be examining you for a reaction, “would you look down on me ‘cause of it?”

“Why would I do such a thing?,” you inquired, wary of the nature of the conversation.

The man huffed out a breath, leaning forwards in his seat in an intimate way as if to tell you a particularly nasty piece of gossip. “Well, all things considered, I just got out of a sinkin’ marriage, doc,” his eyebrows shot up, as if stating the obvious. “Sure sounds weird, me suddenly goin’ ‘round with someone else after barely a couple months, ain’t that so?”

You mouth suddenly felt dry, but you nodded nevertheless. “Each has their own time to heal, I suppose… but if you need to hear it, I wouldn’t look down or think less of you because of that.”

He seemed satisfied, a sheepish little smile blossoming on his full lips. The man seemed almost boyish with the way his eyes fixated on you, the warmth in it threatening to smother you. “Ain’t sure if she likes me yet,” Arthur said quizzically, smile broadening at your nodding answer, “but I sure am tryin’ to catch her eye.”

“It’s good to see that you’re allowing yourself room to grow,” you spoke gently, fighting the urge to prod on the subject, “it makes me proud knowing you’re reaching out for the things you want, Arthur.”

The man cocked his head to the side, an enigmatic little smile playing on his lips as he watched and you could swear his eyes dallied a second too long on your left hand. “Yer told me you’ve divorced too” he started casually, a teasing lilt in his voice as he leaned back, “never told me how that went down for you.”

“Ah,” you gasped out as your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard, “I don’t think— I mean,” you smiled nervously, fixing your hair, “it’s— it was okay for me.”

Arthur laughed softly, amused at how he had been able to knock you off your feet. “Don’t tell me I’ve ruffled your feathers, doc,” he teased, “why did you divorce?”

Because my husband was a lying piece of garbage who had been fucking the desk attendant, of all people, behind my back as I worked my ass off sounded a bit too extreme, you decided. With a placid smile, you answered:

“I suppose we couldn’t see eye to eye anymore,” your hands tightened on your lap and you trained your gaze on some point above Arthur’s shoulder, “eventually, other people came around and we grew distant.”

He watched you, as if absorbing that piece of information and deciding if he should ask more on it. “Did he cheat on you?,” Arthur asked, all the amusement and jeering gone from his voice, replaced by genuine worry. You had a hard time trying to remember if you’ve seen him this serious.

You turned your head to the side, running away from the question. “I believe we should be talking about you, Arthur—“

“I’m tired of talking ‘bout myself,” Arthur interrupted in a soft voice, “we been seein’ each other once a week, for months now. Figured I should get to know yer a little more, ‘s all.”

With a steadying breath, you rubbed your lips together, tasting the sweetness of your lipgloss. What was he trying to do, cornering you like that? “I don’t think—“

“Don’t give me the ethics talk,” Arthur complained, sighing wearily, “think we’re well past that. ‘sides, I just asked yer a question,” his eyebrows jutted up, a soft smile playing on his full lips. “What’s wrong with that?”

You flirting with me is everything that’s wrong with it¸ you thought to yourself, trying not to seem too closed off, and the worst part is that I want to flirt back.

“I see your point,” you spoke up, in your best nonchalant voice. “I suppose that’s fair.

“Well?,” Arthur probed further, gently. “Don’t have to tell me if I’m pushin’ too hard, doc. I’m just curious ‘bout you, ‘s all.”

“He cheated on me,” came your quiet confession, gaze resting on his eyes, so blue now you swore you could drown in them. You wanted to cry. “With one of our front desk attendants, about 2 years ago.”

Arthur nodded comprehensively, wary not to abuse his already stretched thin luck. You swallowed thickly, trying hard not to seem too sensitive over it. “We divorced and split the money, I got the house and he took the car, nothing new there. I’m okay with it.”

What an awful liar.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to upset yer, doc.”

“It’s okay,” you turned your attention to him now, forcing a smile, “it’s behind me.”

Arthur blinked, letting the silence settle in until you squirmed. And then, suddenly, he reached forwards, slowly, offering you his upturned palm. “Thanks for tellin’ me, doc.”

You hesitated, the few centimeters between you both diminishing by half. Your own hand moved, brushing his fingers before gently allowing him to hold it. Arthur’s hand squeezed yours and you noticed how warm his touch was, almost comforting, like a long waited embrace. You gasped out quietly, allowing the tears to pool in your eyes before wiping at them.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, listening the thunderous beating of your heart, hoping it wouldn’t give you away. “It’s okay, Arthur.”

He squinted at you, smiling so softly it made your heart clench — and you had to restrain yourself not to pull away in distress. “It’ll be.”

You pushed the entrance door open, the well known jingle of the bell ringing over your head.

The café you usually went to wasn’t a busy one — a small little thing, a family business with an incredibly sweet Italian cappuccino, just the way you liked it, with an adorably white-and caramel themed decoration —, and today wasn’t any different. With a pleasant smile, took a deep breath in, the smell of coffee and delicacies filling the air as you scanned a good spot to sit down at and maybe update your logbook.

You refused to actively address the issue at hand, opting for avoidance rather direct confrontation.

Arthur had been a recurring subject on your mind for the past few weeks, and what with after the little display a couple days ago, the presence of his character only intensified itself — much to your despair. His hands had felt so incredibly warm against the cool tips of your fingers, gentle and steady, much like his very presence and overall disposition whenever he walked into the listening room lately.

You were satisfied for him, really, proud of the path he had taken towards self-improvement and acceptance — Arthur was far better than when he came to you all those months ago, the curling satisfaction in your chest doing all the more to have you feel like an important part of it. Arthur needed reassurance, a little bit of recognition to realize his own self-worth, resourcing to it every once in a while, which you were all too happy to provide. The look in his eyes whenever you said something kind to him made your heart beat faster — the warmth there, the satisfaction on top of the inherent need to have someone to simply listen.

Scouting a place to sit was easy enough, your gaze sweeping through the few occupied tables to find a quiet and secluded spot for yourself, where you could possibly dissect your feelings revolving Arthur—

Until you found him sitting at the corner of the shop.

Arthur had his chin resting on his hand, holding a pencil as he scribbled something away in the journal you had gifted him — and your heart swelled with affection for him, tinged with a little bit of satisfaction by having him actually enjoy something you had given to him. There was half an empty cup of coffee at his table, beside a plate with half of a sandwich and you figured he must’ve arrived not too long ago.

He didn’t seem to have noticed you, too focused on the task at hand to actually pay much mind to whatever was happening around him. The thought had you smiling with fondness, for some reason.

Your hand tightened around the strap of your shoulderbag. You wanted to sit with him, you realized with a shocking realization; maybe have a coffee and chat a little. Arthur was by no means a bad company, he was funny and witty, having an air of caring disposal to his personality that made you enjoy every minute you could get with him.

It was just a chat, a little voice at the back of your mind reasoned. Just a casual conversation. There would be no harm in that. You were simply being amicable, weren’t you? Friendly, just plain and simple. With a steadying breath, you moved towards him, smile automatically broadening as you got closer.

You were in deep shit.

“How are we doing today, Arthur?,” you asked in your therapeutic voice and Arthur perked up immediately.

He turned to you, setting the pencil down as soon as soon as his eyes caught yours and you could tell he was surprised, but wasted no time on getting to his feet. “Hey, doc,” he spoke casually, bending down to press a polite kiss to the side of your face like he’d done a thousand times. You felt your face burn up just a little. “didn’t expect to run into you here.”

You nodded, absolutely not regretting it. “It’s a small place, yes; I confess that’s the main reason why I like coming here. Also, it has a really good cappuccino.”

Arthur chuckled, the sound of it familiar and comforting to you at this point. “Yeah, well, just got here myself. Was workin’ at the journal and I have to admit, you were right ‘bout it. It’s quite calmin’.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve enjoyed it, really,” you offered gently, feeling brave enough to risk a fleeting brush to his shoulder. You marveled at the way he always seemed to feel so warm and solid every time you touched him. “Like I said, it’s a good way to voice your feelings, quite soothing.”

He smiled softly at you. “Yeah, good excuse to practice my watercolor too,” Arthur motioned towards the leather bound journal, obviously at ease, “good pages for it, too. I’m surprised you knew.”

You shrugged lightly, quickly avoiding your gaze before looking at him again. “I just had a hunch, I think.”

Arthur breathed out a laugh, sitting back sideways on the white cushioned chair in order to face you. “Wanna take a look at it?”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the offer. It was innocent enough, but it still made your heartbeat raise a little, and you hesitated. “Oh, you don’t have to show it to me—“

“Nonsense,” Arthur waved his hand dismissively, motioning for you to sit across from him at the beige colored sofa-booth right beside the window, “wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want ya to take a peek, ‘sides you’re yet to see some art by me, right?” He smiled softly, in an inviting way, “tell me what you think.”

It’s okay, you told yourself, just take a look at it, maybe have a coffee and—

Who said anything about coffee?!

With a mortified sense of self-awareness, you made your way to the sofa-booth. It was an intimate way to sit with someone, especially with the small table and warmth emanating from everywhere around you. Arthur picked up the menu, passing it to you with a sweet smile.

“Order somethin’ for yourself, doc,” he drawled, in voice that could only be classified as teasing, as if he knew the effect he had on you. “Now yer obligated to spend some time with me.”

Laughing, you took the menu from him and set it down. “I guess you caught me in your trap, Mr. Morgan. How rude of you.”

Arthur hummed, trying to look smug. “I’m smarter than I look like.”

“Quite,” you agreed, smiling at the flustered look that passed through his features for a split second. “Won’t you order me something, since you’re so smart?”

He watched you for a moment, almost surprised, before deciding on it and picking up the discarded menu. “Let’s see,” his gaze lingered on your face, flicking every so often downwards, “you seem like the kind who goes by somethin’ sweet,” he spoke more to himself and you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“So does you,” you motioned towards the half drained mocha coffee sitting by his hand, “although I’d never have guessed. You seemed like the type to take it straight to me.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, a light chuckle at the back of his throat. “Good to know I can still surprise you somehow, doc.”

Oh, he had no idea.

“What do you have in mind, then?,” you asked, trying to peek at the menu, only to have Arthur pull it more closely to him with an amused laugh.

“I’ll say either Italian cappuccino or mochaccino,” he announced with finality, putting the little booklet aside and moving to his own cup of half finished coffee. “I’ll let you pick which, cuz whatever you’re having, I’ll want one too; if you don’t mind.”

You tried to hide your smile, looking over to one of the waitresses and signaling for her to come over and take the order. Arthur stayed silent, watching you somewhat fondly, until the waitress left, taking the empty cup and the plate in which only a small portion of his sandwich remained after he had said he wouldn’t be finishing it.

“Are you going to show me your journal,” you started casually, pointing to it, “or was it just a way to trick me into having a coffee with you?”

Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender before speaking up. “Maybe a lil’ bit of both, I’ll admit. Just hope you don’t mind much.”

You sighed, cocking your head to the side with a sense of familiarity. A tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind that you were taking things too far; but you preferred to ignore it in order to have Arthur looking at you the way he did now. “Very well then,” you acquiesced gently, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “let’s see what you have.”

“Ain’t much writing,” he explained, picking it up and passing it to you “just drawings n’ such, few watercolors, ‘s all.”

His fingers brushed yours when you touched the leather cover, which made you startle slightly, coughing a bit to diffuse the tension. With a little surprise, you noticed that Arthur had nearly used half of the pages already. “You sure liked the idea, don’t know why you never took to it before.”

Arthur shrugged, watching you open the journal and examine a particularly skillful work of a riverbank forestline, the goldish-orange hue of it making it clear which season it was. “Just needed the right push, s’ppose.”

“That’s…,” you ran your hands over the picture, turning to see a pencil sketch of a bird on the next page, beside what you thought was the perfect representation of a tree leaf on the other side. He was skilled, definitely. “Arthur, that’s so beautiful…”

The man scoffed a little, clearly embarrassed. “Ain’t much, but thank you—“

“No,” you interjected softly, turning to the next page for a particularly good-looking representation of blue flowers, which you recognized to be a clump of forget-me-nots, their name written below in neat calligraphy with Arthur’s signature beside. “I mean it, they’re really beautiful.”

“Ah,” he gasped, standing up and quickly moving to your side and you unthinkingly made room for him to sit beside you. “I forgot to give this one to you,” Arthur pointed to it, “thought you deserved a little thank you for… well, you know, didn’t have to buy the journal, but since you did—“

You turned to look at him, the realization and embarrassment slowly creeping in and covering your cheeks in a pinkish hue. “Oh, please, you don’t have to—“

“Aw, c’mon, doc,” he gently pulled the journal from your hands, steadying the pages to rip off the one with the watercolor meant for you, “it’s the least I could do.”

He passed it you, feigning nonchalance, but you noticed how nervous he was; so you took it in your hands, marveling once more at how beautiful it was. “I don’t know what to say, it really is beautiful, Arthur,” you glanced up at him, smiling, “thank you so much.”

“s nothin’,” he half muttered, with a sheepish little smile, pushing the leather bound book back to you, but he didn’t move to go back to his chair across from you. “Just thought you’d like it, ‘s all.”

Trying to repress your own smile, you averted your gaze and set it aside to keep it from crumpling or staining, turning your attention once more to the journal. This was a red light, a big red light — and you tried to play it off as a gentleness, nothing more than that, just Arthur being kind to you. He was an artist, you reminded yourself, and he painted things all the time. It was okay.

You turned the pages idly, examining animal studies and plants, coupled with a few other watercolors — from childhood memories, a few other landscapes, a perky looking brownish dog which Arthur explained to be the one he owned when younger.

“Hosea and Dutch took me to the animal shelter, couple weeks after I came ‘round. Love at first sight, I say,” Arthur chuckled, scratching at his chin, “he was one mad pup, always had his snout where it shouldn’t be.”

“You never mentioned you had a dog,” you commented idly, turning to look at him with a pleasant smile, “I didn’t think you were a dog person.”

Arthur snickered, resting his elbow on the table and leaning into it a little. “Never got the opportunity to mention, ‘s all.”

You watched him for a second, taking in the soft smile on his lips and the warmth of his eyes; so incredibly open you could barely believe how clamped up he had seemed to be when you first met. The coffee had come and was gone now, with how entranced you were by the conversation — and so was Arthur, to your absolute glee —, and you were entertaining the idea of ordering another one just to not have to leave.

Politely skipping Arthur’s writings, you preferred not to pry on his thoughts, instead focusing on his artwork — which were, once more, breathtaking. He paid close attention to details, you noticed. There was a myriad of subjects, but it was clear that Arthur had, indeed, a keen interest in nature. You didn’t know why, but it made you smile. As much as he was willing to share things with you, there was still a lot to discover.

“I wonder where you picked up drawing from,” you whispered outloud, caressing the page of a watercolor of the silhouette of a hare standing out against the sun as it set.

“From Hosea,” Arthur said, leaning closer to the book in order to examine the art himself. Christ, he smelled perfect. “He taught me most of it, but I just got better with time, y’know.”

You nodded, smiling. All you wanted was to lean sideways and rest your head on his shoulder, but you held back, instead turning the page.

And at that, you cocked your head to the side.

It wasn’t the recreation of a budding flower or a bird spreading its wings ready to fly, there was no landscape or careful study of animal anatomy; no leaves

Instead, you looked at a picture of yourself.

You were standing, about half of your torso in it, next to the desk you kept at the listening room; a serene, yet focused expression on your face as you read through the stack of papers there, the profile of your face highlighted beautifully in Arthur’s skills. The colors he had picked for you were soft, pastel-like, putting together an overall dreamy picture and you could see everything, you noticed; the tiny strands of hair, the glimmer of your eyes, the gentle way that your shoulders slouched a bit. Your lips were pulled up slightly, in a quirky smile and there was an overall soft pink hue to your cheeks.

It was simply beautiful.

Turning to look at Arthur, you found yourself out of words. You tried to say something — anything! —, but you could simply look at him, either in shock or realization, you couldn’t really tell. His eyes drifted to yours and he smiled sheepishly, looking way softer than he had ever in the whole time you had known him. His presence now was nerve-wracking, every inch of your body responding to him as if to electricity.

Arthur leaned closer to you, his breathing fanning warmly against your face at his proximity and it felt almost surreal as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. His hand touched yours, cradling it in his touch as he took the opportunity to brush his nose gently against the sensitive skin. You unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes.

It was sweet, achingly so, the way he touched you; almost as if you were made of spun glass, a precious treasure to keep. His fingers tangled with yours and he sighed, pulling back to look at you with half-lidded eyes. The same smile was still there, only softer this time, more of admiration and tenderness than anything else.

With a pinkish hue creeping to your cheeks, you noticed the way which Arthur’s gaze dipped ever so slightly to your lips, coming back up a couple times. He wanted to kiss you, came the realization. You reached out, touching his warm cheek with the tips of your fingers, running them around to the back of his neck, making Arthur close his eyes.

There was a pause as you took in the softness in his expression, the way which he leaned into your touch like a something he’d craved for a long time; his free hand coming up to wrap on your wrist. With a flutter in you stomach, you finally caved, leaning towards him for a kiss.

The kiss was so gentle, the soft press of his lips to yours smooth and perfect. Arthur sighed into it, squeezing your hand fondly as he coached you to open your mouth and give him entrance; a request you could never deny. He was surrounding you, the warmth of his touch on your hand and the sweetness of the cappuccino on his tongue a constant reminder.

Your fingers tightened on his hand, unwilling to let go.

You were fucked, you realized instantly.

You brushed your hair slowly, pensively at the vanity of your bedroom. The moon was high in the sky as you stared at your own reflection. Had you committed the worst mistake in your profession? Allowed yourself to catch feelings for your patient, as well as captivating them in him? There was no way of knowing for certain.

Nevertheless, the treatment had seemed to be nearing the end. You’d close off Arthur Morgan’s file and hopefully drown your feelings in an unholy amount of ice cream and vodka, like any divorced woman would.

He was handsome, you reasoned with yourself, and so unbelievably sweet. Such a good kisser, too, gentle and loving. Even with his tendency to clamp up, Arthur was willing to let people in if they cared enough to stick around for him. It made you wonder if he really was so bad that his ex-wife had wanted to divorce him, but…

Did you even know Arthur?

Well, you felt like you did. People never lied in therapy and it was easy to follow things through and the diagnosis would come together and you figured out where to work, plus you had the reference contacts. It all matched. Sometimes people just wanted to talk and it was easier without the judgment of someone they knew — hence the reason why there couldn’t be a prior contact between patients and therapists aside from the listening room.

You set the brush down, watching yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you had made a mistake. You were still recovering from your own failed marriage, your ex-husband having been a poor excuse for a companion for the past 8 years of your life. You were confused, Arthur was caring and you got carried away. That was it.

If he had been anything like Arthur, a tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind, you’d probably still be married. Maybe even with children.

“What the fuck,” you whispered at yourself, “what the actual fuck—“

You started entertaining the idea of referring him to someone else, a colleague maybe, someone who wouldn’t catch feelings for him but then—

Arthur has trust issues, you reminded yourself angrily, if you refer him to someone else, especially after that long of therapy, he’ll feel dejected. We’re speaking of lives, here. You know the prognosis. You can’t.

Even if you wanted to.

“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling the start of a migraine building up. You paced in an antsy manner in your bedroom before deciding to storm towards the office. You needed the files.

The room was clear, with hues of soft blues and white furnishing to keep your books and logs into shelves. Tying your hair back into a loose knot, you fished Arthur’s logbook from between a disarray of books that looked the same for anyone else asides from you, flicking the pages quickly until you found his entry. You felt as if you were intruding, checking at his logbook like that, even though you were his therapist. You were supposed to accompany his case and make sure he was progressing, not risking your career as a whole because of an infatuation—

You put your reading glasses on with an annoyed sound at the back of your throat.

-> Patient seems to have become less intolerant towards his emotions, displays more willingness to talk about them occasionally + improved verbalization and recognition;

-> Has stopped shying away from family topics; speaks blandly about early childhood;

-> Settled divorce has caused relief, patient has started to develop more self-confidence + vocalization of his wants;

-> Has shown a willingness for connection with others;

-> Patient has shown uneasiness about the ending of treatment; possible codependency?

-> Difficulty when it comes to reaching out for things he wants + unbelieving of self-worth on certain situations (needs work); strives for reassurance every now and then.

Frowning you set the logbook down, with a shivering sigh. Just a couple months more, until the end of the six months period and you’d be able to breath properly — maybe even talk to a colleague about your situation.

When it came to Arthur Morgan, all the years of experience dried up as if an empty well.

With a sickening drop of your stomach, you sat down on your office desk, pulling out a clean paper branded with your name and wrote down a patient referral letter alongside a clean copy of Arthur’s logbook. You decided to keep the flirty behavior and professional boundaries crossed aside, not wanting to get in trouble, alleging that you felt like you could no longer help your client. The moonlight filtering through the window seemed to be the only witness of your deeds, silent and judging.

There was no way you could keep seeing Arthur, you told yourself with a painfully tight tinge of pain in your chest, not when he messed with your head like that, the way you had kissed; and with you willing to bend the rules and blur the lines between your relationship just to indulge him, the memory of the kiss still fresh on your mind. You were no rookie, no fresh-out-of-a-classroom therapist, with only theories to guide you.

You were a seasoned therapist. You had experience and an outlined career path, with good mentors, of a decent formation. You’ve always had a good way with people, always been told you were a good listener. It’s not supposed to happen like this, you kept telling yourself as the letter came to be. It simply isn’t.

You signed it off with a flourish, like a death sentence. You’d make sure to find a colleague who’d suit his needs, better than you ever possibly could — and to call his referral contact, Hosea, later tomorrow. It’s for the best, you told yourself.

Freud had once said that psychoanalysis is, in its essence, a cure through love. It was healing, pure and nurturing, but the love in which he referred to had nothing to do with developing affairs with your patients. You were supposed to listen to Arthur, help him realize his own inner strength and send him off back on his way; and you had done it a thousand times before, with countless clients.

Your eyes welled up with tears of frustration and you leaned forwards to press your forehead against the sealed off envelope on your desk, as if hoping it’d give you the answers you needed.

The day dragged slowly, with you delivering the letter to one of your colleagues of a different clinic, who had experience around the same area as you — he was polite enough not to ask about your sudden decision, looking suspicious, but took the document nevertheless. You passed along details regarding referral contacts and little conjectures on diagnosis and approaches for Arthur — how he seemed to be fond of humor when nervous, his eye contact avoidance when uncomfortable and etc.

Your colleague took notes slowly, fixing you with the look of someone who wanted to ask more, but decided against it.

After getting the worst part of it done, you left the clinic, walking out in the brisk autumn air towards your car, sighing loudly once the door was shut. “Fuck,” you muttered in the deafening silence.

Might as well get it done with. You fished out your cellphone, quickly finding Hosea’s number and dialing to explain the situation for him, doing your best to sound calm once he his voice came up from the other side of the line. “Hello?,” there was a clattering of dishes in the background and you supposed he was in the kitchen.

“Hello, Mr. Matthews,” you said softly, trying to avoid a tremor in your voice, “it’s Arthur’s therapist, I was wondering if you had some time to talk?”

“Ah, yes,” he replied promptly and you heard a door being closed and shuffling, someone asking about the call. Maybe he had gone to the garden? “Has something happened? Is Arthur okay?”

“No need to worry,” you bit your lip, closing your eyes, “Arthur is completely fine. I’m just calling to let you know that unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay with him for the remaining sessions of our treatment—“

“He hasn’t offended you, has he?,” the man asked suddenly, sounding worried, “boy has a poor filter, but his heart is right.”

“No, he…,” you gulped, shaking your head as more tears welled up, “he’s a good patient, but I do believe that your son would be in more capable hands with another therapist.” Hosea hummed thoughtfully, considering your words. “I took the liberty of putting together a referral letter, with all his documentation and information and passed it along to a few colleagues and fortunately one of them replied to me,” you pushed your hair back, trying to keep the tremor off of your voice, “I just left his office, actually.”

“I see…” Hosea sounded surprised, even though he agreed, “that’s a bit sudden, though. I thought you were getting along nicely, weren’t you?”

Perhaps too nicely, you wanted to reply.

“We are, I’ve built a strong bond with Arthur, but I feel like his situation is now beyond my capability as a professional, unfortunately.”

The man hummed, considering your words. “Huh,” he sounded wary, as if not entirely pleased, but understanding. “Will you pass me the information on your colleague then?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you sighed out thankfully, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, “do you have paper?”

It was wasn’t until a month later that you heard of Arthur, mind constantly wandering off to conjure him in the empty seat of the listening room. The brown throw-pillow of the loveseat seemed far too neat for your liking now, and you picked it up slowly. You missed him, you realized with a sudden wave of emotion. Was it possible to mourn a romance that never came to be? Did he miss you too? You couldn’t possibly know, nor shouldn’t. It was for the best if you severed ties with him.

As if on cue, your phone started ringing, snapping you out of your daydream. Frowning, you recognized the name as the one of your colleague which you had referred Arthur to, and you flopped down on the loveseat with your arms wrapped protectively around the cushion, like Arthur used to do before picking up.

“Hey,” the man greeted you lightly, “do you have some time? I was hoping to ask you a few questions, could be over the phone if you’re in a hurry.”

“Sure thing,” you agreed promptly, “I’m between breaks now, but I can talk. What’s the matter?”

“It’s about the patient you’ve referred me to, some…,” he paused for a moment, as if reading a file, “Arthur Morgan, I believe.”

Your throat tightened and you felt the cold pinpricks of needles at the back of your neck. “Yes, Arthur. What do you need to know, then?”

“I was just wondering if he had the habit of skipping sessions,” your heart dropped at it, “it’s been a month now and he hasn’t showed up for about… six sessions I think, with the reschedules of course.”

“He never skipped with me,” you said in a levelled voice, devoid of any emotion, “maybe he’s having a hard time readjusting with the change?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I called the referral contact, his father I believe? Hosea Matthews?”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Matthews,” you agreed.

“Well, I called and he said he couldn’t convince Arthur to finish the remaining time in therapy. The patient seems reluctant, apparently, he says that he doesn’t need it anymore and I grew worried because according to the information you passed me along—“

Your mind zoomed out, the words falling on deafened ears. Fuck.

What would be of Arthur now, with an incomplete treatment? What if you had left him scarred for life, breaking his trust like that, without so much as a warning? Your stomach twisted painfully at the memory of the kiss, the growing anxiety creeping around you and seeping into your bones.

All because you were too scared to access your feelings, choosing to play on the safer side and pushing him away. There were ways to make it work, you knew — loopholes and technicalities —, but you clamped up at the prospect of letting him get any closer. You felt your eyes burn with the warmth of unshed tears, reaching for the tissue paper to keep your emotions from ruining the light makeup of the day.

Someone calling your name snapped you out of your haze.

“Are you still there?,” your colleague asked, as if expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I kinda spaced out here,” you said, fighting against the waver in your voice, “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“I asked if you could come in contact with the patient or his referral, just to be sure. I don’t think they trust me enough to handle it.”

“Sure,” you muttered out with a dry mouth, “I’ll try to reach him, do you want me to get back to you—“

“With all due honesty,” your colleague spoke softly, making you want to cry even more. Had he heard the silent despair in your voice? “I do believe that you should figure out what you really want before anything else.

Silence stretched for a few seconds before you recovered. “I don’t know—“

“I won’t tell,” he said gently, “I can vouch for that.”

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to gather there. It wasn’t unknown to most of your profession colleagues about the nasty breakout with your ex-husband and your self-induced behavior of isolation. You took a deep breath before speaking again. “Thank you.”

You parked the car in front of an apartment complex, in a nice little residential neighborhood. The building was somewhat stocky, with only eight floors, with white and dark blue tiling. Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you started to fidget anxiously.

You had rushed to your desk, fingers running through patient files until you found Arthur’s — complete with contact, address and etc. With a resolute sort of conviction, you set out, asking your front desk attendant to reschedule any appointments you were to have later that day. Tucking the file below your arm, you took the car and set the GPS to the address.

Now, standing at the final destination, according to your cellphone, you looked up at the building. Coming closer to the intercom, you searched for the right name, reading the freshly scribbled “Morgan” in pen and paper, in contrast to the others, which were clean slates.

“Okay,” you pressed the button, listening to the telltale buzz of the call being ensued, “right.”

It rung until it didn’t anymore, your anxiety growing by the minute. With some sense of impatience, you pressed the button again and the faint sound started once more. You pressed your hands together, shivering at the cool wind blowing through the street. The afternoon was clear, but you had forgotten to grab your coat on your way out of the clinic and the autumn chill was exerting its power.

“Who’s it?,” came Arthur’s annoyed voice from the intercom, sounding annoyed. “Ain’t got no time—“

“Arthur,” you said his name gently and he quieted down. It was uncomfortable, you had to admit. “Arthur, I need to—“

“What do you want?,” he muttered out, sounding defensive.

“Can you buzz me in, please?,” you asked with a tight knot in your throat, “I need to see you.”

You heard him huff from the other side of the line, unbelieving. “Do ya, now?”

“I know,” you acquiesced, feeling your desperation growing by the minute, “I know, but we need to talk, please?”

He stayed quiet for a while, your heart pounding in your chest at his silence. “I’m not… sure if I want to see you, doc.”

“Arthur,” you pleaded, “I’m not here as your therapist, that’s not who I am,” your voice wavered as you pressed your hand to your lips to keep check of your own emotions. You had missed his voice so much. “I’m here as your friend, please.”

Arthur sighed and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He seemed unwilling to say anything else.

“I just need to see you,” you whispered to the intercom, voice cracking at the emotion of everything, “I just— please, Arthur,” you breathed out shakily, “please.“ The gate buzzed and you startled, before pushing it open hesitantly. Your hands felt clammy despite the cold.

Gathering the little courage you had left, you walked into the building with a growing sense of dread, your heart fluttering in your chest like a caged bird. Did he really want to see you now? Arthur wouldn’t have let you in, if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t. You felt as if your legs might give out.

There were some people walking about the hall, some chatting casually at the common area, but no one paid much mind to your presence. Fidgeting with the sleeve of your blouse as you walked towards the elevator, you turned your gaze down to your phone where the number to Arthur’s apartment appeared in the notepad — 302. Swallowing down your anxiety, you pressed the number three and watched as the doors closed.

You weren’t sure what to say to Arthur. Should you confess? Was that too cliché? You should tell him the truth, though. That’s what he deserved, after wall, the reason why you had come all this way. The elevator was taking a long way up, thankfully, and you were left to your own thoughts.

No way in hell you were ready for what was to come. There was nothing about it in the books back when you studied — and even if there were, you’d have brushed it off as some hypothetical situation that could never happen to you because you were too disciplined. A pretty little tale spun for those who were romantic at heart, but not you. You knew how to behave, or at least thought you did.

It hurt your head to think.

The elevator came to a stuttering halt, the doors hissing as it opened and you stepped out into the equally well-lit hall.

“Three o’ two…,” you muttered, rubbing your hands together as your head turned from one side to another, squinting slightly and moving towards it once you located the door.

You stood there, for maybe a few seconds, before knocking gently at the door; once, twice. There was silence from the inside, but soon enough you heard it unlock and Arthur appeared in front of you, worse than you had ever seen him. There were dark bags under his eyes, a day or two beard sprouting on his face with a greasy mess of curls on top of that. He looked tired, in a simple grey tee and some sweatpants in the middle of the summer. Far too tired. Had he just woken up?

With a tight press of your lips, you felt your eyes watering. Had you done this to him? “Arthur,” you choked out his name, raising both your hands to the lower half of your face, “I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the surprise in his demeanor before sighing tiredly and averting his gaze to the floor. “You never told me anythin’…”

“I know,” you cut in with a teary voice, wiping away the stubborn tears that insisted on streaking down your cheeks, “I just didn’t know what do when you— when we… I got scared that you—“

The man reached out, one calloused hand curling around your forearm in a gentle motion as you allowed yourself to be drawn in by his presence, warm and solid. Arthur made a noise at the back of his throat, something choked with emotion, when you threw yourself into his embrace, clutching to his tee with all the might you could muster up. “I was so scared, I thought it was my fault—“

Arthur shook his head slightly, staggering out a shaky breath himself. “’s okay, doc…”

“Please,” you hugged him tighter and you still could smell the sandalwood cologne on his skin, subtle but definitely there, “I never meant to…,” you trailed off, shaking your head, “I like you, Arthur. More than I probably should, but…”

“I want you to stay,” Arthur whispered suddenly and you were highly aware of your own lack of words after it. He circled your waist, fingers digging gently into your back as he took a steadying breath. “I need to know, I need to know if I can love you, so please— I don’t wanna do this if you’re not… I gotta know if you’ll stay with me. I need to.”

You pulled back from him, eyes watering and searching into his teal colored ones and this time you allowed yourself to take in just how handsome Arthur really was, as your hands cupped the sculpted marble of his face. He shuddered at it, closing his eyes and leaning forwards to press his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh of someone who’d been denied for far too long.

“Let me kiss you again,” Arthur pleaded in a whisper, calmly and too benevolent for you not make a sweet sound at the back of your throat, “please.”

You closed your eyes, taking a steadying hold of his neck. “Next time,” you whispered back, thumb caressing the sensitive skin under his eye, gently wiping away the dampness that had gathered there, “you don’t have to ask.”

He took a gentle hold of your hand, pressing his chapped lips to your palm like a caress, his demeanor sweet and reverent; and with a twinge, you realized that Arthur was far too good for his own good. “I want you to stay,” he said again, moving on to your forehead and pressing another kiss there. You shivered, tilting your face to allow him better access. “Wanna be with you,” a press of lips to the space between your eyes, “make yer happy.”

At this, you hummed lightly, breathing out shakily. Arthur cupped your face, bringing you closer to him, if that was even possible. His lips caressed your cheek and the subtle curve of your jawline before finally pressing to your own. When it came, the kiss was sweet, so frail and light you could almost believe it wasn’t happening, even if the pressure of Arthur’s hand on the base of your neck was enough proof to you. He muttered your name, trying to pull you more closely against his body, and you gave in with a sigh.

There was a shy prod of tongue against your lips and you complied promptly because oh, it just felt so right — the moment, with him, right then and there. The voice at the back of your mind quieted down immediately, its last murmurs of protests dying out in face of Arthur sweet humming. He pulled you backwards with him, into his apartment, and you pushed the door closed before he could press your back to it with a desperate little gasp.

“Stay with me,” Arthur whispered and God, consequences be damned, you wanted to. His nose brushed against yours, so intimately you could swear you were dreaming, “don’t go.”

You answered by pushing back the soft tresses of his hair, pulling away and making Arthur close his eyes with a soft complaint at the back of his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.” His breathing quickened as he pressed his head to the crook of your neck and you were somewhat amused, fond of the sweetness of the act. “I’ll stay here.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan #patient!arthur x therapist!reader #they finally got around #wohoo #red dead redemption #red dead redemption imagines

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rreader · 6 years

Text

the only hope - tlou!au (3)

pairing: kim namjoon x reader ; (jeon jeongguk x reader)

fandom: bts ; exo

warnings: tlou!au (post-apocalyptic!au) ; language ; abuse ; kai is kinda the villain in this story, so idk if this is a warning, but just in case haha

genre: angst ; horror

previous: 1 ; 2

summary: namjoon and his brothers kept to themselves, trying their hardest to survive in a world where infected roamed around and, they themselves, lived in constant fear of becoming one of them. until you entered his life. and then everything changed.

chapter summary: he only wanted to help. give you one night of rest. he had no idea that things would escalate that much in one night.

a/n: let me say it right away: I am so sorry for that cliffhanger hahaha. (also, two more things: please note that I don’t think yoongi is abusive in any way. this was only in the heat of the moment and WILL be addressed in a future chapter. as for kai: yeah, idk, he was just the face that popped up in my head when I imagined a sexy villain, so yeah :’))

You woke up to various voices outside of the bedroom you were sleeping in. You blinked a couple of times, the morning sun already warming up your face, a small smile spreading on your lips because of it.

When had been the last time you had gotten a decent amount of sleep and had woken up to the sun and not to an Infected or somebody else trying to kill you?

Certainly ages ago.

But as much as you enjoyed this, you had promised them and yourself to only stay for the night to catch up on sleep and you needed to get out of the city anyways. At least now you had the energy to do so.

So you pushed the covers aside - as hard as it was - and let your legs dangle over the mattress for a couple of seconds, before slowly getting up and walking over to your bag to pack up.

Unfortunately, you didn't even get as far as the other end of the room, before the door got pushed open and you were forcefully shoved against the wall, a forearm pressed hard against your throat, cutting off your air supply.

“Yoongi! That's enough!” you heard Namjoon yell, he and another of his brothers trying to pull the guy in front of you away, “It's not her fault!”

“Isn't it?! Before last night, we were fine, didn't run into trouble once! But the second she shows up, everything goes to shit!”

“You're overreacting! They're probably just wandering around the woods as always,” Jin said, trying to calm him down.

Yoongi's eyes were filled with rage, but you could barely keep yours open with the way he was still preventing you from breathing.

Just before you were about to pass out, he took a step back, brushing his hands through his hair. You immediately sank to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Namjoon knelt down in front of you, cupping your face in his hands, apologizing and trying to get you to breathe in deeply. Your forehead fell against his chin and you just focused on your voice, trying to breathe in sync with him.

“They should have been back hours ago. This isn't like them,” Hoseok said, agreeing with his hyung, if not with his ways of getting someone to talk.

“I agree,” Jimin said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, worry written all over his face for the fact that his younger brothers had gone out for supplies and haven't come back yet.

“You’re right. They’re taking longer than usually, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re in trouble. They’ve done this before, remember? And remember what we did then? We panicked. And what happens when we panic? One of us almost dies,” he looked at Jimin, who immediately lowered his head in shame at the memory.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this hyung,” Hobi shook his head and looked down at you, “She might not have anything to do with it, but I still think something is up.”

While the three of them were arguing with Jin on who was at fault, you were still trying to get your breathing to even out. You'd think you'd be used to something like this, people physically assaulting you to get you to talk.. but maybe this was just something that would always be as painful and uncomfortable as the time before.

“I'm so sorry,” Namjoon whispered for the millionth time, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, “We're just all a little on edge. Our younger brothers haven't come back yet.. we're worried.”

You took a deep breath to answer him: “What does that have to do with me?”

“Don't fuck with me. I know a fugitive when I see one. And you're not just some random girl Namjoon picked up in a store.”

Yoongi seemed to have been the only one who saw right through the lie that Namjoon had told them last night, since the others were all furrowing their eyebrows in confusion.

“You're a fugitive?”

Your chest was still heaving heavily, looking into the eyes of all five of them in the room, before carefully getting up and throwing every single one of your things carelessly into your bag without another word.

“Wait.. he's not joking? Why did you bring a fugitive here, Namjoon?” now even Jin was upset. He had been the only one to take your side, thinking that you were no danger for them.

“She needed help. What was I supposed to do? Leave her to die?”

“Yes. That's how we have survived for so long.”

The arguing continued. Now it was all four against Namjoon. Until you turned around, bag already hanging from your shoulder.

“I'm not yours to worry about anymore. I'm leaving and you will never see me again, I promise.”

“A little too late now, isn't it? Whoever or whatever is following you, surely ran into OUR brothers. And let me make this one thing very clear to you,” Yoongi walked up so close to you, that you could feel his breath against your face. Namjoon instinctively took a step towards you, in case he had to intervene, “If they're dead? You are too.”

“I'll add you to my list of people trying to kill me, then,” you spat back, walking around him and towards the door, but mouthing a silent thank you to Namjoon, before you turned around and were about to walk out of their lives forever.

Or at least, that's what you had thought.

* * *

You decided to make your way out of the city through the woods, the buildings and streets being too risky for you at the moment.

Your fingers were wrapped tightly around your dagger and with the sleep you had gotten last night, you were hyperaware of your surroundings. Every chirp, every breeze, every snapped branch, your head would whip into the direction of the sound, ready to strike if necessary.

But so far, you had ran into nothing and nobody.

You were alone, with nature being the only company you had.

That is, until you heard it.

That familiar voice you had tried so desperately to forget. The one that had haunted you for the past weeks. And he seemed to have just arrived.

You should have run, should have turned around and made your way out of the city like you had planned on doing. But what stopped you from doing so, was one of his lackeys saying:

“We found them wandering around the woods. They mentioned her by name. They said (Y/N).”

Wandering around the woods, plural, so more than one person, knowing you by name.

“Fuck,” you murmured to yourself, closing your eyes when guilt rushed through you.

Yoongi had been right.

This really was your fault.

“Ah, so you know my dear (Y/N), then?” Kai knelt down in front of Jeongguk and cocked his head to the side.

Taehyung wriggled in the grasp of the man behind him, scared for his younger brother's safety.

“We..-” Jeongguk was unsure. He didn't know you, so betraying you shouldn't be so hard, right? At least that's what Yoongi had always said. When it comes down to it, he should always look out for himself first. But now that he was pretty much signing your death sentence? It was a lot easier said than done.

Kai smiled and licked his lips, “I understand, I really do. She's a pretty girl and I'm sure there aren't that many around anymore. Maybe you even have a little crush on her, hm?”

“What do you want to know?” Taehyung said sternly.

Kai turned his head to the older one, “I want to know where I can find her,” his voice was calm. So calm, that it made a shiver run down Taehyung's spine, “Because, you see.. that girl? She's mine. She belongs to me.”

“She belongs to no one,” Jeongguk replied, without thinking twice about it. The back of Kai's hand harshly came in contact with Jeongguk's cheek, making tears prickle in his eyes because of the impact, but he forced himself not to let them see. He forced himself to be strong.

“Don't!” Taehyung wriggled more and more, “I'll tell you everything you want to know, just.. don't hurt him!”

“You don't have to tell him anything,” you said, stepping out of the shadow the tree had provided, hands up in the air. All attention was immediately on you, guns were raised in your direction, but their boss lowered his hand he had previously raised, signaling them to lower their weapons, “Let them go, Kai. This isn't about them.”

Kai grinned and got up from the ground, Taehyung leaning over to his younger brother, asking him if he was alright. Jeongguk only nodded a little, not wanting the older to see the tears.

“Running away from me.. now that was a BIG mistake, (Y/N). You should have known that.”

“We do what we have to survive.. isn't that one of the things you once told me?”

“I would never kill you. You're too valuable for that.”

“Right. You only want to experiment on me. Torture me. Want to add a couple of scars to the ones that are already on my body. Because what am I, but a test subject to you?”

The closer Kai got, the more your fake confidence faltered. He may not look like it, but that guy was one of the scariest ones you had ever met in your life.

“You're our future,” he whispered, cupping your face in his hands.

Your gaze flickered over to the two boys still kneeling on the ground, then back up to Kai's.

“I'll go back with you. I won’t try to run again and I’ll let you do whatever you think necessary to me. If you let them go.”

Kai turned around, eyeing the boys, “What? Do you care about them?”

“It doesn't matter whether or not I care. They have nothing to do with this. You don't need them.”

“But that's precisely the point, isn't it?” he dipped his head, so that his lips were almost touching yours. You felt yourself gagging and tried to lean back, but he held your face so tight in his hands, that you couldn't move, “I don't need them.”

And the next thing you heard, were guns going off and your eyes widened in shock.

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