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dissociativewriter · 2 days ago

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Unnatural Affinity- Part 6

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.4k

cw: angst, farspace fleet woohoo, military ranks, caleb uses his gun to direct readers gaze to him (i just know someone’s gonna think its hot, tbh it was kinda me while writing it), power dynamics, reader is hit on, reader is called ma’am, reader is kinda mean and lies but its deserved, mentions of injury and bandages, one (1) curse word, em’s kinda weird in this one tbh, im setting stuff up guys so shh, not proofread, i wrote this in one night so im sorry if its bad

Synopsis: Despite Em’s protests due to your injury, you both set off to finish up the mission at Skyhaven. Breaking into the Farspace Fleet to gain new information is no easy task, and the obsessive interest of the Colonel certainly doesn’t make it easier.

author’s note: I actually have some ideas for future plot points now, but I am going to set up a poll as we get close to the end to see how people want me to end this! If you have any ideas for plot points I should do, send an ask :) ANYWAYS, I’m so glad y’all are liking this series, it genuinely makes me so happy to see all your comments so thank you <3

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises

Series Masterlist

“I understand that, Jenna!” Em’s voice rang through the apartment, anger building as the conversation continued. “What I don’t understand is how you can expect a person to follow through on a mission with a stab wound!”

You watched her from your spot on the couch, slowly fidgeting with the bandages on your waist, a slight grin on your face. It was funny, watching Em argue for you. You already knew how it would go, though. When you turned in your injury report, Jenna had told you to take a couple days rest, but the mission really could not wait.

You were doing it whether you wanted to or not.

“Can I not just finish the mission on my own?” she asked, exasperated. You heard mutterings on the other end, something about the ‘valuable information’ that was ‘necessary to the mission.’

Meaning, you were necessary to the mission.

Em hung up the call with a defeated sigh, collapsing next to you on the couch. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Looks like you have to finish out the mission with me. Protocol or whatever,” Em scoffed.

You shrugged. “It��ll be fine. Thanks for trying, though.” You smiled. Em grinned, looking away. “What do we have to do next, anyway?”

Em pulled up the mission report on her phone, scanning through the updates and data. “This says our target left the N109 Zone once he realized we were onto him. Nero thinks he’s gone for…” She scrolled a little farther. “Skyhaven.”

It was weird, you thought, that to get to Skyhaven, you had to ride a train.

Sure, it was anti-gravity, but it was still weird, so out of place.

The intercom crackled to life. “The Coelum Express will be arriving at its station in Skyhaven shortly. Please prepare for departure.”

You stood to get your backpack from the overhead rack, but Em gently pushed you back into your seat. “Let me. Don’t want your wound to get worse if you strain yourself.” She shot you a tense smile, pulling it down with ease.

“I’m not made of glass, you know. At least let me do something on my own,” you laughed.

Em shook her head, slinging your bag over her shoulder. “Someone’s got to take care of you.” She pulled down her own bag before offering you her hand. “Ready?”

“I have to be, don’t I?” you sighed, letting her help you up.

As you exited the train, you were met with an overwhelming metallic scent. It permeated the air until it was almost suffocating.

The city gleamed in the sunlight, glinting and reflecting light until it was nearly blinding. Skyhaven was a sight, the pinnacle of the future, and yet so unnerving. It was too clean, lacking any sort of character in the uniform silver architecture.

“Come on, we’ll go to the hotel the Association booked for us and plan our next move.” Before you could respond, Em was already walking, lightly tugging you along by your hand.

“I already have an idea of what we’ll need to do,” you began. “Nero and I found that lot of our target’s connections were in positions of power. In the N109 Zone, that meant businessmen and underworld bosses. In Skyhaven…” You hesitated, earning a suspicious glance from Em. “It’s Farspace Fleet officials.”

Em’s steps halted slightly, her fingers flexing against your own. She kept walking, keeping her focus ahead of her. “We’ll have to infiltrate the Fleet, then?”

You nodded. “We have an identity set up for you, but I don’t have one yet…”

“That’s good,” Em cut you off, “You don’t need to get involved with the Fleet.”

“Yes, I do.” You pulled your hand out of her grip, and Em stopped to look back at you. “I’m a part of this mission, too.”

Em scoffed, shaking her head. Whatever she planned to say, she decided against as she turned away from you again. “Fine,” she muttered.

Once you got into the hotel room, you were pulled into a phone call with Nero.

“I’ve gotten a couple uniforms for you two, which you should have by now, but I only have an identity card that will work for Em. Sorry, but you don’t fit the description,” he apologized.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “How badly do I need an identity card.

The sound of computer keys clacking on the other end of the phone filled the silence. “You’ll need it to gain access to certain places, but you could probably just lie your way through most of it without one.”

“It’s risky, but it sounds like it’s all we’ve got,” you murmured.

“Yeah, we don’t have many other options,” Nero agreed. “We need both of you on this mission, and we can’t wait any longer.”

Em, listening in from the other room, only gave a hum of disapproval. She walked in, tying the tie on the uniform that had arrived only a few minutes ago.

“Nero, I think we’re going to leave for the Fleet soon. Is there any last minute info I should know?”

“I think you have everything,” he said. A slight hesitation. “Please, be careful.”

You smiled. “I will.”

The Farspace Base loomed on the edge of Skyhaven. Tall and imposing, much like it’s Colonel you could see in the distance, apparently just recently back from a mission in the Deepspace Tunnel.

I’ve got to avoid him at all costs, you thought. Meeting him now could be detrimental to the mission, and you did not want to get caught by the Colonel like Em did in the main story.

Would you be able to withstand an interrogation?

As you crossed through the gate, you didn’t notice the mechanical creak of flapping wings above you.

“I’ll get access to their database, do you think you can talk to some higher ups to get info on our guy?” you whispered to Em.

She nodded. “I’ll make them talk,” she said darkly.

“I guess this is where we split up. Make sure to keep your mic on, and stay safe.”

Em returned your smile. “You too.”

You took off through the base, trying to make it seem like you belonged. You tried to keep your shoulders back, your head high, your steps deliberate. If you looked like you knew where you were going, no one would stop you, right?

Just one issue: You didn’t know where you were going.

The floor plan of the base was one extremely well hidden, and you had only gained access to part of it. Unfortunately, all you knew was that archives were underground.

You stepped into the elevator, thankful that it was empty. As it took you down two floors, you quickly pulled out your phone. Although your internet usage was likely being tracked, you needed to check the floor plan one more time.

You left the elevator, straightening your coat slightly. You passed a few men as you walked down the corridor. You returned any nods given, though you barely spared them a glance. If you didn’t want to be bothered, you thought, it would be better to pretend to be a higher ranking official. Luckily, it seemed no one intended to stop you.

That was, until a whistle cut through the otherwise empty corridor.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” An obnoxious voice rang through the hallway.

Your eyes flicked to the two snickering boys near the door to the archives. Of course they were where you needed to go. Your gaze dropped to their uniforms. No medals or distinct markers of rank.

They were just soldiers.

Pawns.

You rolled your shoulders, praying this wouldn’t end badly. “Is that how you talk to a Lieutenant Colonel?” you barked. Their eyes widened and they straightened from their relaxed stance.

“We’re sorry, ma’am!” They recited.

You shook your head, disappointed. “I wonder what they teach new soldiers nowadays…” Your gaze snapped back to the boys. “My eyes are up here, solider! Stop staring at the ground.”

“Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am.”

You clicked your tongue. “Just be useful for once in your life and open the archives for me.”

They obeyed wordlessly, using their keycards and quickly excusing themselves once the door was open. You walked in, nearly shrinking back from the rows upon rows of filing cabinets.

You took a deep breath, stepping further in and making a mental note of the data you needed to find.

As you opened a file on the central server, you felt an immense pressure pressing down onto you, almost pushing you into the floor.

A cold voice cut through the even colder room. “I wasn’t aware there was a new Lieutenant Colonel. That’s something I would be made aware of, wouldn’t you agree?” Heavy, practiced footsteps behind you nearly stopped your breathing.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, which earned you a sharp inhale from the Colonel as he leaned in next to you.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know you were here?” he asked, an empty humor tinging his voice.

You were silent again.

He sighed, putting the barrel of his gun under your chin, pulling it so that your head turned and your eyes met his. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “No…?” he urged.

You swallowed. “No, sir.” You looked down.

The Colonel nudged his gun against your neck. “Keep your eyes on me.” He looked at the computer in front of you, using his free hand to scroll through the documents you’d barely managed to read. “You’re from the Hunter’s Association.” He didn’t wait for your confirmation. Didn’t need to. “We’ve already caught your little friend, so why don’t you be good and cooperate?”

“What… do you need me to do?” you asked.

The Colonel dropped his gun back into its holster, standing tall in front of you. “We need to ensure you don’t know something about the Fleet that you shouldn’t. I need to clarify that you haven’t found out any confidential information if you want to leave. Now, let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for your response as he pulled you by the arm out of the room. He kept his hand firmly around your bicep as he led you through the twists and turns of the base.

Finally, he unceremoniously pushed you into a dim, gray room.

You spotted Em sitting at the empty silver table, and watched relief fill her eyes as she caught sight of you. The door shut and you became acutely aware of the Colonels’ body heat radiating onto you.

“What are you two doing here?” he hissed. You moved closer to Em as he walked forward, leaning over with both hands on the table. “I thought you knew not to try and get into the Fleet again after last time.”

“I’m sorry, Caleb, but we had another mission,” Em explained.

“And you didn’t tell me? Pip-squeak, I thought we talked about this. I just want to keep you safe, why are you making that so hard?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t just abandon my mission every time you think it’s unsafe, Caleb,” she argued.

Caleb only lightly hummed, not looking at either of you. You watched his hands clench against the table, black leather straining against them. “You’ll stay with me while you’re here.” He pushed off the table. “That’s an order,” he said as he left the small room.

You and Em were silent as Caleb picked you up from the hotel, taking you both to his apartment. “I hope I didn’t scare you!” he grinned as he took your bag.

It was odd to see in-game, but the shift in Caleb’s behavior was even more jarring in-person. He was all bright smiles out of the monotonous tones of the Farspace Fleet.

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “It’s alright,” you said.

“I still feel bad. Em scolded me pretty good after I interrogated her when she first infiltrated the fleet. I’ll be cookin’ tonight to make it up to you,” he offered.

Em’s eyes flicked between you and Caleb, scanning for something you didn’t know.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed. You knew he would anyway, of course. As long as Em was there, he’d do anything. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up this polite attitude. It was straining, being constantly on-guard.

“Are you alright?” Em suddenly asked.

You looked at her. “Yeah…? Why?”

“You just looked like something was off. Is it your wound?” She pressed.

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “Woah, woah. You’re injured? And still on a mission?”

“Jenna said I had to finish it out for protocol. It’s fine, really,” you chuckled nervously.

Caleb hummed in disapproval, just like Em did earlier. “I’ll check it for you later, if you’d like.” Although he worded it like an offer, you understood: He was going to check it later, to make sure it was alright whether you liked it or not.

You’d come to expect it, but the protective nature he was showing you that he usually reserved for Em still confused you.

What had happened to make these men act so differently around you?

It almost seemed like they were more comfortable with you than with Em at times.

You ruled out the possibility of knowing each other before, of it being some part of your life in this world that you didn’t remember. That wasn’t an option since Em had introduced you for the first time, and none of them ever said anything to indicate otherwise.

You tried to figure it out later, when you were cuddled into the couch in Caleb’s apartment. You were mindlessly folding paper airplanes after Caleb taught you and Em how.

Maybe it was just some freak accident, you thought as you tossed the paper airplane. It soared for a few seconds, before Caleb walked over.

“Intercepted.” He grinned as he held it afloat with his evol. “You can’t fly without the Colonel’s permission.” Caleb tossed the airplane back to you. “Your punishment?”

This felt familiar, you thought while Caleb pretended to deliberate the matter.

“How about this? You must miss me more with each passing day.”

Shit.

Another Relax Time interaction.

“You two look like you’re getting along well,” Em observed with her arms crossed.

Caleb laughed. “I guess your friend’s just really easy to talk to, pips.”

Em raised an eyebrow.

Was that really it?

You couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in your sit, feeling like something was different. This didn’t feel like you were simply getting along with each Love Interest, this felt like you had a connection.

So just what was different?

Were you messing things up for Em and the plot?

What would happen to you if you were?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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what about the 'making you feel safe' prompt like u did for bob and the void-but for the sentry. p.s. love ur writing🙏🏽

I’m glad you like my stuff, thank you for taking the time to read them <3

The Sentry. The nuclear weapon in human skin. The unstoppable force. The golden guardian of good as he was called wasn't just a title he bore for the public, it applied to you too, and it was a title Sentry wanted to make good on time and time again until it was a known fact that he'd keep you safe no matter what. He was all powerful, invincible and strong enough to take out teams like the Avengers without much effort on his part, so of course he could keep you safe and promised to do so until it was a permament fixture within your head as well as his own.

Yet doubt was born despite of the absolute certainty that Sentry could always be relied upon to keep you guarded all the time.

'You know i'm strong enough, powerful even to keep you portected, so why do you still doubt that when it's nothing but the truth.' Sentry asked, geuinely baffled by how despite being shown countless times that you were near untouchable when tucked under his cape, you still couldn't help but think that you were just as vulnerable as you were without his protection.

'I'm not denying that your powerful, you can stop bullets, fly, molecular manipulation, minor pyschic abilties, i could go on about your powerset and feed that ego of yours but i can't help but fear that there's someone out there that midigate your own powers.' You tell him, resting your hands on his biceps, feeling him tense for a moment before relaxing under your touch, knowing the feeling of his eyes watching you closely all too well. 'i'm not worried about your abilties to protect me, i'm more worried about you protecting yourself.' You finished explaining yourself to the man inbuded in gold.

Sentry, having more then bought into the hype fabericated about him by others who didn't fully understand what he's capable of, only seemed more frustraighted from this hypothetical of yours and wondering if he was even doing enough to prove to you that he wasn't weak. Bob was weak, he could barely stand on his own two legs, raise his voice nor make his presence known, he was a shadow on the wall in comparrison to the radient being he was. So he wondered whether you still see Bob in him or just him as Bob even now after all this time; If so he needed to put an end to it and put it to rest.

'What threat could there be out there that could compare to me? none. i am keeping you safe and that's all that should matter.' Sentry tells you as his hands held onto your face, keeping you close like you seemingly wanted, looking deeply into your eyes as his thumb rubs over your jawline. 'I am the safest you'll ever be, no one out there can keep you protected, be the calm to your mind like i can and i'll always come out unscathed from any battle i face becuase i am unkillable.' He adds but it was clear that stating the obvious wasn't enough, you've seen firsthand of the things he's waved off that would've been the end of others, but the downside was that most of those he fought had minimal powers or none at all.

'Just because bullets, knives and widow bites don't hurt you doesn't mean you're unkillable. You just haven't found it yet and this big headedness that nothing can touch you will be your downfall also.' You tell him, wanting him to see through your eyes and drop this egotistical view of himself and reevaluate things, but you might as well have been talking to a brick wall as your words might as well be you casting doubt on a man who thought himself a literal god despite never fighting one. Sentry acts as though he could rip one in half and you blamed Valentina heavily for all this.

Sentry's jaw twitched. 'do i need to stop a runaway train, stop a bomb from exploding or even prevent a building from toppeling to prove you wrong?' He asks, voice tense as the air between you two grew thicker by the second.

'No i just need you to be safe!' you exclaimed, surpising you both but you kept at it, 'You act as though i'm doudting your power but i'm not. i know how powerful you are, you've stood in the line a gunfire for me once for fuck sake, sheilded me with your body and so much more.' You rest your forhead against his as you allowed his warmth to weigh down on your shoulders like a weighted blanket, grounding you to him and just feel his breath fan your face, feeling his silent strength that lied beneath his skin in anticipation of being called upon. 'I just feel as though our luck will run out before we know it. i feel something bad is coming and i hate to see you be caught in the cross fire.'

There was no doubt in your mind that he could keep you safe, you were already feeling such with just him standing in front of you, powerful and beautiful and domineering in a way that made you yourself feel as if you could confidently catch bullets with your teeth. You remebered the first time he had made you feel as such as some people had somehow managed to break into the tower while it was still heavily under reconstruction, you were held at gun point by them at the time and yet while you were worried out of your mind, there was a voice within that told you to call upon The Sentry and you did in a breathy manner.

'Help me Sentry.' and he came within seconds as a flash of gold went from assailant to assaliant, forcing them to unload their clips until they were empty, only for him to destroy their weapons as though he was crumpinling up paper and sending them flying into nearby walls with a small and sharp flick of his wrist. The fight was over before they could blink and now they lied unconcious a few feet from you, not that you could see as Sentry appeared before you, holding your face in his hands as his eyes searched you for any signs that you were hurt, barely having broke a sweat.

'You're safe.' was all he said with full certainty and you have believed it ever since that fateful day and every day afterwards. You could hide under his cape and still feel the safest person alive becuase that's just how Sentry made you feel, even if he was a little overbearing and felt the inate need to accompany you everywhere as his eyes asssest every room for threats towards you, even going far as to stand infront of you on most occasions as you were face to face with his broad and powerful back.

'Then don't.' Sentry replied with a sudden calmness to his voice, his fingers trailing to caress some parts of your neck. 'Don't indulge on that feeling of something yet to come, i shall deal with it like i have dealt with everything in the past. So only focus on me and how i make you feel, focus on that instead and nothing else will matter. Nothing.’ He insists as he pushes his head further against yours, further forcing you to only acknowledge him and nothing else as his golden hair prevented anything else from taking your attention away from him.

You did as he asked and just focused on him, not letting an once of worry enter your head, not like you even could as on occasion you could feel Sentry there within your head making his presence known. It was a reminder that he was inescapable, that you could never truly be without him as there was always some part of him that lingers with you, a reminder that he was your golden guardian of good; sworn to keep you safe and protected from any and all threats, even from the ones yet to come, Sentry would keep you safe even if you didn’t want him to. It was his duty to get rid of any second guessing you had, for you shouldn’t have any and neither should he be made to second guess himself for a god shouldn’t second guess himself, not even for a second.

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sqgeism · 14 hours ago

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love mail — some small little headcanons of the dynamic between the reader x anaxagoras 😽 this is for the people who fw stuff like this (* ´ ▽ ` *) if ppl like this i'd love to do phainon and mydei,, and if u wanna know other stuff feel free to ask!! also hi airi if u see this were u srs ab the hsr tag im too shy to clarify ( *´・ω)/(；д； )

more often than not, i tend to portray anaxagoras and the reader as married. that is intentional as i feel like anaxa would struggle to be affectionate with someone who he isn't sure is his forever, so him being married to them gives him great comfort and lets him feel more open to genuine romance.

this is random and it has always depended how you all insert yourselves into the story... how anaxagoras and reader fell inlove, but i always stood firm on the idea that they were professors who fell in love with each other and their respective fields <3 so cute..

the nickname anaxagoras gives them, "dove", is based off the idea that those very birds can represent new beginnings. when he met them, he genuinely thought that he had been given a second chance in life. that in the short time he had left, he was able to see a new perspective on the world just through looking at it through the readers eyes, hence the nickname.

i think in one of my veeery first works of anaxa, he was pretty closed off but still made efforts to be there for his dove, which was a very big jump to suddenly being married! so i want to emphasize that it likely took about 3 years before anaxa would propose to reader. you can take the stuff i've written as their sort of build up but i wanna write a genuinely like.. establishing up to their marriage fic soon! + if anaxa knew just how much reader would mean to him, he would've proposed earlier. since he dies and allat Σ(´□｀ )

i do want to explore more into the more complex and 'darker' themes of a relationship with anaxagoras (this section is for you ri, ily <3) and i do think that before marriage, he was relatively distant but oddly possessive. didn't spend too much time around (chrysos heir things.. research.. all of that took time) and yet he'd get moody when he wouldn't see you during the day. he wasn't as sweet as he is now, either. he was as sharp as his aim—precise and knew where to hit. so arguments, though rare, were still intense to some degree. while you were just trying to communicate, anaxagoras saw it as some sort of debate, a battle of intelligence. he would need to be alone and clear his mind to realize his mistakes.. but be too proud to admit to them until a week or so later, where he musters up the courage to apologize.

thank goodness it wasn't for too long, 8 months of that back and fourth.. anaxagoras is convinced that any sane person would've packed their bags and gone home. however you stayed, despite his indifferent attitude to life. broke down walls he but with bloodied hands from the hardships thrown at him, and loved every ugly part of him before ever seeing the good. he always reminds you that he's eternally grateful that you were tenacious, and avowed that he couldn't ever forgive himself, had you rightfully turned your back on him and found someone else.

porcelain!dove was a really interesting concept that i want to bring back, since i feel like their development tg would be really sweet,, them being parallels of each other and learning how to go through the complexities of human emotions with each other

if i had to describe the way i write anaxagoras, i think of a man who loves his partner dearly—a yearner, even. but there will be more times where he slips up than when he doesn't, as the fact of the matter is; anaxagoras would struggle to be a good husband. he's undoubtedly good to dove, but he fails in romance and especially vulnerability. he's open for you to be vulnerable and will (try) to comfort you.. but never himself, he doesn't feel ready for it even with reader.

reader and anaxagoras live seperately. though you could say that they practically live with him since they're probably at his place more than his own home. i like to think there's an established need for personal spaces, but don't mind sharing in healthy hours. if you did ask to move in with him he wouldn't mind but would make you a seperate lab/office/area for your own work or interests.

anaxa prefers holding readers waist/hip because it lets him be closer rather than holding hands. will do it if you ask though, but that's his default when you two are side by side

the reason he urges you on having you call him anaxa because i hc he sometimes struggles to recognize your voice from other people, or just generally having a hard time to differentiate voices. so letting you call him something special makes sure he knows that whose calling him is important.

if you made a joke about the whole him being tied up in chains thing, he'd say he's not against it. you want to think he's joking but it's in a deadpan voice and you don't know how to feel.

#ㅤ 𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ㅤnew flower bloomed ! :ೃ࿔𔓘 #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #anaxagoras x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #anaxa x you #anaxagoras x you

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chrissv4mp · 2 days ago

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✮ THE WEIGHT OF IT ALL

INTRODUCTION ; PART 1 ; PART 2 ; PART 3 reading now...

warnings. angst, mentions of sa, asshole!billie the first half, language, fluff.

synopsis. after a long year of struggle, your parents decide to move back to the place you spent most of your childhood years: the old farm that they never had the heart to get rid of. however, after leaving a decade ago, they hired some help who you were never aware of until your arrival.

words. 7.3k

letters. buckle up for this one guys 💔. rereading this and realizing i might've self-projected just a bit ??

SERIES MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

you're wiping the corners of your eyes as you make your way across the lot, kicking up rocks and dust with every step.

it's dark out now—save for the dull, golden shine of headlights pulling in and out of the gravel parking lot, and the orange flicker from the bonfire across the way. the voices around you are muffled, a murmur of boots stomping on the ground, harmonies mixing with laughter and the crack of open beer cans.

but all you can hear is the echo of her voice. sharp, angry, unfamiliar. "maybe this would've been better if you didn't come to the farm at all."

your chest feels tight. your hands won't stop shaking, and you're walking but you have no clue where. maybe toward the road. maybe away. just anywhere that wasn't here. or your home. or the barn.

sniffing, you swipe at your face, and almost walk right into someone.

"hey, woah—easy there."

you look up.

he's tall. lean. looks your age, maybe a year or two older. the soft amber glow of a streetlamp illuminates the curve of his cheekbone, the slope of his nose. his light brown hair peeks out from beneath a baseball cap, tousled, and he's got a leather jacket tucked in his arms. the second he catches the way your fingers twitch on your forearms, he holds it out to you—a look on his face that's more curious than concerned.

"you good?" he asks, eyes a soft green, voice easy.

you try to brush past him, muttering, "i'm fine." but your voice cracks and you shiver, your body betraying you.

he cracks a small smile. "you don't gotta lie. here." he drapes the jacket over your shoulders without hesitation, so quickly you don't even have time to argue.

it's warm. smells faintly of laundry detergent and cologne. your guard lowers just a bit.

"i'm casey, by the way," he says, shoving his hands in his back pockets like he's trying not to scare you off. "figured you might need a minute. or a water. or someone to not ask a bunch of questions."

you blink. it takes a few seconds for you voice to work again. "you... you saw that?"

his smile fades just slightly, soft and crooked. "whole town probably did. but, hey—people fight. people suck," he shrugs, like he's used to this. "you gonna stay for the fire?"

you hesitate. the idea of maybe facing billie again—with savannah glued to her hip like a second skin—makes your stomach twist.

but you also don't know where to go.

"...i don't know," you say quietly.

"listen," casey says, nodding toward the fire in the distance. "you should stay just for the last part. the main event's about to start, and they save the best performers for last. not worth stormin' off before the good stuff."

you want to say no. you should say no. but the warmth of his jacket and the genuine look in his eyes kinda disarm you. so you nod. "fine. but i'm only staying for a few."

you let him lead you back toward the fire. not too close, just on the outer edge where the shadows stretch and no one really notices anything. people are pulling out guitars, harmonicas, even a banjo or two. it's sweet, rustic, something you swear you've seen in a movie. voices hum low as the first few take turns, laughter and clapping filling the space.

then, through the rundown speakers placed around the seats, you hear billie's name being called.

she walks into the center, guitar slung over her shoulder, boots kicking through the gravel. she doesn't notice you—not at first. but a few strums in, she lifts her gaze. her eyes land on you even in the shadows.

you tense up without meaning to, shoulders drawing tight under casey's jacket. something in the way her eyes, cold and blue, stare directly into yours makes your heart ache.

casey catches it instantly. he leans in, voice just above a whisper. "want me to get you some water?"

you nod, grateful, and follow him a few steps away from the crowd. behind you, billie stutters—just hardly, just enough that it pulls a few glances from some people. she fixes herself, tries to push through, but savannah's already leaned in, whispering in her ear.

"she's a waste of your time," she hisses, shaking her head.

billie doesn't respond, just keeps singing. her fingers strum the guitar strings, face tight. for the first time all night, she looks unsure. and she's still watching you, standing near the concession stand, wearing casey's jacket like it belongs to you. and that might just be the thing that ruins her night.

casey grabs two of the water bottles from a cooler beside the concessions table, thanking the person behind it and sliding over a few dollars before he goes to sit at one of the tables.

he hands you one of the bottles as you sit down, and you twist the cap open with a small "thanks" before sipping out of it. you watch as the flames flicker slowly, barely seen through the large crowd that formed just a few performances ago. people laughing like nothing's wrong.

"this always how it goes out here?" you ask quietly, trying to sound casual.

casey glances over at you, grinning. "pretty much. songs, drinks, bad flirting. drama, if you're lucky."

you laugh dryly, brushing your thumb along the rim of the bottle. "yeah, i've had far more than enough of that for tonight."

he doesn't press, just shifts to nudge his shoulder against yours. "looked like you needed to breathe for a second. glad you stuck around."

you're about to reply—until the sound of guitar strings stop and the applause begins. your eyes track back to the fire, catching billie just as she stands and cracks a small smile for the crowd. her eyes find you quickly, and she doesn't waste another second basking in the spotlight before she backs away, slinging her guitar behind her like she can't get out of the there fast enough.

she doesn't say anything to the crowd. doesn't not or acknowledge them—just turns and starts your way.

savannah scrambles after her, whispering something sharp under her breath. billie doesn't flinch, just rolls her eyes.

"babe, come on," she mutters. "just let it go, she's being childish—"

billie spins on her heel, voice loud enough to cut through the music. "go sit back down, sav. seriously. i don't need anymore of your clingy bullshit tonight."

you freeze.

casey's posture changes too, jaw tightening just slightly in alert. "she comin' over here?"

you nod, slowly. "seems like it."

and sure enough, billie stops right in front of you, hands in the pockets of her jacket, chest still rising and falling heavily like she hasn't fully come down from the fight yet.

"we're leavin'. now."

you blink. "what?"

billie inhales sharply. "we're leavin'. you don't have a ride if you wait any longer."

you scoff, raising your brows. "funny you think i'd still wanna ride with you."

the country boy beside you straightens up, twisting the cap back on his water bottle. "i told her i'd take her home," a lie, but he guess he was going to now.

billie's eyes snap to him like she's just now realizing he's there. "sorry, what?"

"s'no big deal," he shrugs. "we were talkin'. i got my truck, and i'm free all night."

you watch the tension pull taut in billie's jaw, the way her eyes flick from you to casey, then back again. for the first time tonight, you're in control. and it shows in how tightly her fists curl at her sides.

savannah's standing a few feet back, arms crossed, clearly waiting for billie to get her shit together.

but she's too busy staring at you. like maybe she's trying to read something you're not ready to show her, or maybe she thinks that if she stares long enough, you'll crumble under her gaze.

everyone's quiet for a few tense moments. you're still sitting uncomfortably beside casey, crumpling your bottle mindlessly between your fingers. billie's just standing there, eyes narrowed slightly, like she's trying to figure out how to word something without setting herself off.

finally, she speaks. and you think she's gonna curse out casey and walk away—but she doesn't. she just... grins. fake.

"never caught your name, prince charming."

he looks up at her with the same amount of composure he's had all night. "casey," he introduces, deciding it's best not to offer a hand. "and you must be... billie." if he heard your screams right.

she nods sharply, brows furrowing like she's sizing him up and already knows she hates the outcome.

"casey," she repeats, voice low. "how long you been in town?" she asks, like she's interrogating the poor boy.

"born n' raised," he smiles up at her, friendly. "my folks live out near the mill. and you?"

"m'from down in the northern area."

he nods, still calm. "figured. you don't talk like most of us."

you press your lips together, hiding a grin.

billie doesn't blink. "guess not."

savannah shifts impatiently behind her, murmuring something about leaving soon, stepping closer and brushing her fingers against the loops of billie's jeans. billie's not listening at all, eyes having never left you for a second.

casey stands, brushing the back of his jeans. "i was just about to walk her to my truck."

"yeah," billie grumbles, tone like a child. "bet you were."

casey raises an eyebrow but stays cool. "i meant what i said—i'll get her home safe."

"i don't remember asking you to," billie bites.

he pauses just long enough to let those words hang in the air, then dips his head lightly, still polite. "wasn't askin' for permission."

and that? that sets her off. you can see it—jaw tighter than before, nostrils flared, hands in fists so tight her knuckles bleed white. but she doesn't say anything.

"c'mon," he says softly, turning to you. "let's go."

you glance once at billie, who looks like she's seconds away from popping casey in the mouth. savannah's tugging at her sleeve now, practically begging her to walk away now. and then you turn, slipping your hand into the crook of casey's arm just for the fun of it as he leads you toward his truck in the floodlights.

behind you, billie doesn't move. but you can feel her eyes burning into the back of your head as you walk.

you jump into casey's truck when he unlocked it, strapping yourself in and sighing heavily like you're finally able to really breathe after the terrible events of tonight.

the inside of his truck hums to life just as turns the key in the ignition, fingers moving to mess with the buttonss on the ac before it spurs to life and a breeze starts to blow toward you, the setting turned down just enough to keep the windows from fogging. you're both quiet as he pulls out of the lot, the tires bumping across rocks and small pot holes, the road illuminated only by headlights and the occasional glow of a porch light or corner store as you pass by.

he drives slow, but with purpose—like he knows where every curve of the road is by heart. you're picking at the hem of your shorts when he speaks.

"she's kinda rude," he says, not harsh—more like an observation, amused and casual.

you glance at him, then through the windshield, biting the inside of your cheek. "she's not usually like that."

he raises an eyebrow but doesn't push.

"i mean..." you hesitate, then add. "i've only known her a week."

he hums thoughtfully, one hand resting loosely on the wheel while the other takes off his hat and brushes a hand through his hair. "still counts. lot can happen in a week."

you nod. and before you can stop yourself, the words just start slipping out, like the seatbelt across your chest is the only thing keeping you from unraveling entirely.

"my parent's dragged me here," you say, picking at a loose thread on your shorts. "i grew up here, actually. this old farm just outside of town. they didn't sell it when we moved. then, a few weeks before summer hit, they sprung the news that they were struggling financially and had to move back."

he doesn't say anything—just listens. and that's all you need.

"turns out billie's been the farmhand."

"seriously?" he says, not surprised—just intrigued. "how long's she been there for?"

"a while, apparently. i didn't even know until i showed up," your voice goes quieter. "i didn't know a lot, actually."

casey glances over, catching your eyes. "small world."

you laugh under your breath. "way too small."

he smiles gently, eyes back on the dark road. "not so bad, though. s'good to have someone who remembers what it's like."

"someone?" you raise an eyebrow.

he shrugs. "maybe two."

you catch his smile in the soft light of the dashboard—and maybe it's just the moonlight, but something about him feels safe. familiar. warm.

the drive goes on with quiet, comfortable conversation after that—so comfortable you don't even realize you've passed your road until casey turns down another street, pulling into a small gravel lot beside a neon-lit shack with a crooked sign that reads daisy's dairy bar. it glows soft pink and yellow in the dark, tucked under strung-up fairy lights and buzzing moths.

you look over at him, confused.

he puts the truck into park, then says, "just c'mon, you deserve it after everything that went on tonight."

you furrow your brows. "ice cream?"

casey grins. "it fixes more than people think."

and somehow, you believe him.

so you follow him inside, the place smelling of waffle cones and sugar. you order—something simple, because your brain's still processing things from earlier—and he orders his usual. you don't catch the name, but it's got caramel dripping down side and he hands you a couple of napkins like he knows you're gonna need them.

you both settle at a table outside, the wood a little chipped, but it feels charming in the glow of the lights.

you spoon your ice cream slowly, not really tasting it. but you're calmer now, more grounded, heart rate no longer trying to sprint out of your chest.

"so," you say, licking your spoon. "i just spilled everything, what about you?"

he leans back in his chair, lazy and thoughtful. "grew up here. always wanted to leave. never did. well, not yet."

"why not?"

he hums, not missing a beat. "got a dog, a little sister, and a mom who bakes too well to leave. and this town... it just grows on you. even if you hate it at first."

you nod slowly. "sounds familiar."

"your turn," he says.

cocking an eyebrow, you smile. "i think you already got mine back in the truck on the way here."

he grins. "fair. but i got the sad girl version. i want the real version.

you look down into your cup. "not sure those are all that different." casey sits up at your words, leaning over the table.

"maybe not. but still worth findin' out."

and he's right. so you say everything. from when you used to sneak into places you weren't supposed to be at to the real reason your parents brought you out here, to the middle of nowhere. and he listens, really listens to everything you say without even looking bored or uninterested. he nods, asks questions, even adds his own little comments every now and then. and it feels normal, like you've known him since the beginning of time.

you both finish your ice cream and jump back into the truck before the conversation even lulls. it's a strange sense of peace you haven't felt in a while, and you realize you're not looking to leave just yet.

when the truck turns back onto your road, you let out a small sigh, even if you're not ready to face whatever's waiting at home. you know you're gonna run into billie again at the barn tomorrow, whether you want to or not. but tonight, it's just you, your thoughts, and casey.

he pulls up to your driveway and puts the truck in park, killing the engine so that you could get out. the lights of your house look faint against the night sky, but they're too bright for your eyes, already tired from all the chaos the day had to offer.

"hey," you say suddenly, hesitating before you lean against the door. "think i could get your number? for, y'know... next time?"

casey raises an eyebrow, a small smirk pulling at his lips. "next time, huh? you really gonna put me on speed dial after one night?"

"not a bad night, though," you say, the edge of a grin curling on your lips. "i mean, i could use a little more... peace and quiet, away from everything."

he laughs, a low, easy sound. "i can't promise you peace. i can promise i won't ignore you though."

you find a chuckle of your own slipping past your mouth, but you've already got your phone in your hand, holding it out to him. "no promises, huh?"

he takes it from you, typing in his number. "nope. i'm a wildcard. ask anyone in town."

when he hands it back you, you take a breath before stepping away from the truck, glancing up at your house. there's something about the way the truck's engine rumbles, the way casey's laugh lingers in the cool night air, that feels so different from what you're about to face tomorrow.

you let out a small sigh, reaching out for the front door handle before casey calls out to you again.

"hey," he calls from his truck, voice light. "try not to let the night get to you too much. tomorrow's a new day, so try not to get stuck in your head too long."

you nod, a tired smile pulling at your lips. "i'll try."

and with that, he's gone—driving back down the road, lights vanishing into the distance as he turns. you stand there for a few beats, looking back at your phone in your hand, then at the front door, where you know billie will probably be waiting for you in the morning.

but right now, you're just grateful for the silence.

the door creaks open, and it's not the sound of your alarm that wakes you—it's the deep scrape of your dad's boots across the hardwood. you barely register the sound until the light flicks on, bright against your sleep-swollen eyes. you're curled up in bed, one leg hanging off the mattress, shorts unbuttoned and wrinkled because you couldn't care less to take them off last night. your crop top's draped over the corner of the bed frame. your hair's knotted and your mouth still tastes like sugar from the ice cream last night.

"up," your dad's voice is cold, firm. not yelling—he hardly yells—but it hits sharper than if he did.

you groan, turning your face deeper into the pillow. "gimme a few more minutes."

"no. now. that eilish girl has been out there for an hour now. you're late."

you blink slowly, trying to gather the strength to sit up, but your body aches. your heart aches even worse. "i didn't even think she'd show up."

he pauses at the foot of your bed, a little confused. "you think the world stops spinning 'cause you're in a mood?"

you finally sit up. slowly. painfully. "can't i have one free morning? i barely fucking slept."

your father grits his teeth at your words, crossing his arms over his chest. "don't care. you asked to stay on the—"

"i didn't ask for anything," you scoff. "you made me come. you dragged me here."

he looks at you hard then. like really looks at you for the first time since you arrived back here. there's something in his eyes that flickers—tiredness, maybe. disappointment, definitely.

"you think me and your mother dragged you here for fun?" he says. "because we wanted a moody teenager running around acting like she's better than all of this?"

you cross your arms defensively. "that's not what i'm doing."

"then what are you doing?" he snaps. "you ran from everything back in the city. from your therapist. from school. from that mess with your ex boyfriend that you still won't talk about. and we—your mother and i—we gave you space. we let you come here. we thought this would help you."

his voice isn't loud, it's cutting. like every word was chosen to hurt much more than the last.

"instead, you're late to chores almost every day, mouthing off to everyone who gives a damn, and now you're making her pick up your mess."

you swallow hard, blinking back tears. "i never asked her to."

he shakes his head. "i don't know what you're problem is with her suddenly, but you have one job right now, and that's to show up. not just here, but in your own life."

he leaves after that, slamming the door behind him so hard it makes you flinch.

you sit there for a few minutes, throat tight. then you drag yourself out of bed, change into a new shirt and a pair of jeans that you'll definitely regret putting on after being out in the sun, grab your phone off the floor, and step into a rundown pair of converse.

you find your old bike in the garage. it's dusty, the pink paint faded, the streamers long gone from the handlebars. it used to mean something to ride it. freedom, maybe. but it doesn't feel like that years later, now that you can actually feel things.

the ride to the barn is quiet, long. your legs burn as you pedal, but you keep going, jaw set.

when you get there, billie's crouched by the feed bins, arm deep in a bag of pellets. her flannel's tied up again, blue this time, skin glinting with sweat. her hair's shoved under her hat. she looks good. she always looks good.

but her face is unreadable.

she glances up, just once. "nice of you to finally show."

you sigh, leaning your bike against the barn doors and walking over. "i always do."

billie stands, finally turning to you with her jaw tight in irritation that's becoming far too familiar now. "figured you'd be too busy runnin' away with your new boyfriend."

you freeze for half a second. then, "are you seriously doing this?"

she shrugs, grabbing two buckets of water like they weigh nothing. "just surprised he didn't ride you in a horse like your knight-in-shining-armor."

a dry laugh emits from your throat. "you jealous or just bitter?"

that gets her attention. she turns, full-body, eyes sharp and cold. "don't flatter yourself, y/n."

you step closer. "you wanna talk about flattering? you were the one shoving savannah in my face like she was something special, something i should be threatened by."

her brows furrow. "oh, that's funny—coming from the girl who throws tantrums the second all attention isn't on her."

you flinch. "you don't get to say that."

"why? because cowboy casanova made you feel special for five minutes?"

that pushes you. "no. because my dad ripped me apart before even saying good morning, and i still dragged my ass down here to do my part. because i'm trying even if it's not perfect. and because i'm not gonna let you treat me like shit just because you're mad you got caught juggling girls."

silence.

the chickens rustle in their coop. domino huffs in his stall.

billie's eyes drop to the ground for a second before muttering, "he's not your type anyway."

you laugh—bitter, hollow. "and you think you are?"

she looks up. "i don't know what i am to you."

"yeah, me either."

she exhales hard. the kind of breath you take before everything crumbles or explodes.

after that, it's quiet. awkwardly, painfully quiet.

just the scrape of boots on the dirty barn floor, the occasional clink of a metal latch, the rustle of feed bags. every now and then, billie mumbles something like "water trough's low" or "you got the eggs?" and you answer with a flat "yeah" or a clipped "done."

none of you bring up the night before. none of you talks about your mornings. none of you say anything that really matters.

two hours pass. the sun's high now, warming the earth and your skin with it. you're sweaty, sore, and done—grabbing your bike and wheeling it toward the edge of the barn when you hear her voice.

"y'wanna get lunch?"

you stop. your back's to her, and you almost laugh. "why would i wanna do that?"

billie steps closer. "thought you might be hungry."

turning slowly, you narrow your eyes at her. "and i thought you said it'd be better if i didn't come here at all."

she blinks. her jaw tenses, like she's biting back words that'll dig her grave deeper. "i didn't mean it."

"sure sounded like you did."

you expect her to snap again, or roll her eyes, or crawl back into that cold shell she's been clinging to all morning. but she just... sighs. "look, i fucked up, okay? just—get in the truck. let me do this for you."

you pause, weigh it for a second. you could ride your bike home. burn the rest of the bridge. or you could climb into her old pickup and pretend the ache in your chest doesn't mean something.

with a sigh, you grab your bike and toss it into the bed of her truck, then you climb into the passenger seat.

billie gets in quietly after you, her fingers twitching on the wheel. she starts the engine, and the radio hums to life softly in the speakers, partially blown out because of last summer. she doesn't adjust the volume. doesn't say a word.

but you can feel her looking at you. every few seconds.

and you keep your eyes on the road, pretending you don't notice. but your stomach twists with each glance.

she drives to a nearby diner, the parking lot empty for the most part, save for a dusty van and an old truck similar to billie's. she turns off the car, jumping out and trying to keep up with your anger-fueled steps as you walk toward the entrance of the place. when you step in, the scent of freshly-cooked bacon and coffee fills your senses.

a waiter grabs you and billie quickly, seating you two at a small booth in the back near the kitchen. neither of you speak, just take small sips from your water.

billie's knee is bouncing under the table. she's hardly looked over at her menu. just turning the glass of water in slow, nervous circles between her fingers like she's trying to wring the tension out of the air.

you're pretending to read the menu. but not a single word is sticking. not when your dad's voice echoes in the back of your mind, every word like a nail through the floorboard you've been trying to balance on since the day you got back here.

"you ran from everything back in the city. from your therapist. from school. from that mess with your ex boyfriend that you still won't talk about."

your stomach twists. that word. mess. as if it had been a misunderstanding. a bad breakup. as if your silence had made it any smaller.

you clench your hand in your lap just thinking about it, fingernails digging crescent-shaped indents into your palm.

billie looks up. she's trying not to be obvious, but you feel her eyes on you—curious, unsure, still full of yesterday's tension, maybe even nervous.

there's a bitter taste in your mouth as swallow, what you imagine acid might taste like.

your father didn't know what happened. no one really did. not the full story. not the way you'd been dragged upstairs at some party by a boy you trusted, a boy you loved with all your heart, just to be left on the host's bed like something disposable. not the way you tried to convince yourself that it was normal. not the way he acted normal the next day at school, laughing like nothing had happened. not the way you found out he recorded it. not the way he posted it after a week. and definitely not the way no one believed you.

you grip the menu tighter, wishing it would just crumble in your hands. wishing you would.

"you okay?" billie finally asks, voice careful, softer than before. the kind of careful that feels like someone walking barefoot on broken glass.

no answer.

"hey," she tries again. "you—uhm. you look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'. is every—?"

"don't," you snap, sharper than you mean to.

her brows raise, but she doesn't push or shoot back. she just leans back in the booth, arms crossed. "sorry. didn't mean anything."

silence again. thicker. more uncomfortable than before.

you hate this.

hate that you're here. that you came to this stupid town. that everything inside of you feels like it's about to crack open in public. and worst of all, you hate that billie's the one who sees it—because she's not allowed to, not after last night.

not after she made you feel like you were nothing.

she glances at you again. "still mad at me?" her voice is quieter now. guilty.

you don't look up, just set the menu down. "i'm mad at everything. you, especially."

billie shifts. "i deserve that," she murmurs. "is it your parents as well?"

"don't ask me that."

"you're allowed to be mad, y'know," she says. "but... you don't have to just sit there in silence, waiting for it to blow up into something bigger."

you finally meet her eyes—and there's a flicker of something raw there, something real, but you don't let yourself soften.

"stop acting like you know me," you say. "we've been around each other a week."

her face stiffens, like you slapped her.

and maybe you did, emotionally. but she doesn't pull away.

you look away again, blinking hard, swallowing. your throat is tight, your voice even tighter when it comes out, quiet. "my dad, he said... said that i ran away from it. my ex boyfriend. that whole 'mess.'" your fingers tremble in your lap. were you really doing this? "but he doesn't know what it was."

billie tilts her head, expression falling into something softer. something unreadable.

you shouldn't be saying any of this so soon. but the words are slipping out now, broken and slow.

"it wasn't a mess." you whisper. "he... he hurt me. at a party. and then he made sure everybody saw it, everybody who cared."

billie doesn't speak. doesn't move. but her jaw clenches.

"i was fifteen," you say, voice quieter now. "and then it got posted. and i couldn't even walk into a room without feeling like everyone thought i was disgusting."

the confession sits there between you two, raw and sharp and loud even in your quiet voice.

"i didn't tell anyone. not even my mom. not my therapist. i just... shut down, and, god—i fucking hate myself for staying silent." you finally exhale. "so yeah, maybe i'm mad. maybe i'm cold. maybe i'm a brat in your eyes. but that's because i don't trust anyone to care."

her eyes are wide, glassy. her lips are parted like she wants to say something—but nothing comes out.

you sniff. push back in your seat. "and that includes you."

you don't mean the last part.

but maybe you do.

billie looks like she might cry. but you're too tired to care. or maybe you care too much.

she just stares at you for a few minutes, so still she looks like she's not breathing. like the world's tipped sideways and she's scrambling to find her footing.

you can see it—the way her chest rises and falls slower than before, like the air got thicker and heavier between you both. her fingers, which had been resting around her glass, curl into the edge of the table like she's trying to hold herself together.

"i didn't..." she stutters, voice cracking. "i didn't know."

you roll your eyes and wipe your cheek quickly the with the back of your hand. you didn't even notice the tear. stupid.

"don't," you mutter.

"don't what?" billie's voice is quiet again, but firmer now. less careful. more real.

"don't do that."

she swallows. "do what?"

"say shit that sounds like you pity me."

she flinches at the word. "i don't," she says after a beat. "i swear. i don't pity you."

you look at her, and your face is unreadable—but the ache behind your eyes isn't.

"then what do you call this? treating me like glass all of a sudden?"

"i'm treating you like someone who deserves more than what she's gotten." she bark, but there's no bite behind it.

that shuts you up. not because it's dramatic. but because it's true. plain and unflinching and heavy.

you look down, blinking fast.

billie exhales slowly, dragging a hand down her face. "look, i was a dick yesterday. i know that. i got mad and jealous and said stuff i shouldn't have and made it all about me. it's not. it never should've been."

you don't speak.

she leans forward, voice so low it's like she only wants you to hear it. "but this? what you just told me?" she pauses. "you didn't deserve any of it. none. and it doesn't make you weak. or dramatic. or broken. it just makes you... someone who went through some real shit. and you're still standing."

your lip trembles before you can stop it.

then you glance away, hating how warm your face is getting. how the shame is still so fresh, like it happened yesterday instead of years ago.

"you're not glass, okay?" billie says softly. "you're nor fragile. you're just... tired. scared. and you've been carrying something far too heavy for way too long."

you press your lips together, knuckles white from how hard your clenching your fists under the table.

then, so quietly you barely hear yourself, "why do you care now?"

billie winces, like that question hurt her more than she expected. but she doesn't dodge it.

"because i've been watching you hold it together since the day you got here. and i didn't get it before. i just thought you were bitter. angry. and yeah, you are." she smiles a little, almost fond. "but now i know why. and i care because i want to. because i should've cared a lot more."

her voice wavers near the end, and it does something to you. melts something.

you fold your arms, slouching into the booth, head tilted. "still don't want your pity."

"good," she says. "wasn't offering that anway."

you look at her again. she's staring down at her hands, the stubborn tilt in her jaw still there—but there's a softness now. something slow and steady and patient. your heart twists.

and against your better judgement, you lean into it.

just a little.

you pull your water closer and take a sip, and she doesn't comment when you sniffle and wipe another tear away.

"s'doesn't mean we're good again," you mumble.

"i know."

you glance at her. "you still suck."

billie snorts. "figured."

then silence. a different kind, this time. one that feels like a bandage instead of a knife.

and it's quiet like that for a while—just two opposites in a roadside diner, sitting across from each other, both still healing in places they haven't dared name. but for the first time, it doesn't feel unbearable.

you finally nudge the menu across the table toward her.

"i want fries," you say.

she smirks, eyes flicking up. "yeah?"

you nod. "you're paying."

billie laughs. and this time, it actually sounds real.

billie unlocks the car and holds the door open for you like always, a quiet habit she never seems to think about. you slide into the passenger seat, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as she closes the door behind you and circles around.

the engine hums to life. her hand lingers near the shifter. you haven't buckled up yet.

"you alright?" she asks, finally glancing your way.

you stare out the window, then mutter, barely loud enough for her to hear, "i don't wanna go home."

it hangs in the air. heavy. loaded. honestly.

her eyes flick to yours. there's no teasing smirk or sarcastic quip this time. she just nods once, short and understanding, then shifts the car into drive. she doesn't ask questions. doesn't make a big show of it. just starts driving somewhere else.

the ride is quiet except for the gravel under the tires and the faint strum of some folk song playing low from the stereo. the sun's starting to dip, the sky all pink and orange and soft like it's trying to apologize for how hard the past couple days have been.

she pulls into her driveway. the house is just as you remember, modest, weather-worn but warm. maggie's car is parked out in front, and the porch light is already on.

"finn is home," billie says as she parks. "dad's probably still stuck at the mill like always."

you nod.

"y'sure?" she asks.

you turn to her. there's something open in her face. not pushing, just offering.

"yeah," you murmur.

she leads you inside, calling a quick "hey" toward the kitchen. maggie's voice answers—light, distracted, cooking something. her brother gives a lazy "yo" from somewhere down the hall.

but billie's hand finds yours again as she tugs you gently up the stairs.

her room smells like cedar and fresh laundry. you take a moment to look around since you didn't get the time before, noticing all the different posters from different bands and various singers, a small bedside lamp, her bed messy like she didn't bother making it this morning. there's a hoodie thrown on the floor and a guitar propped by her dresser, the one from last night.

you hover by the door.

"you can sit," she offers, motioning toward the bed. "or lie down. steal my pillows. whatever."

you drop onto the edge of her mattress, exhaling into it like your body just realized it's allowed to be tired.

billie walks over and picks up her guitar, plopping into the desk chair across from you. her fingers hover over the strings, eyes flicking up to you.

"gonna try to redeem myself from last night," she says, brows raised.

you manage a faint smirk. "what, planning to stutter through it again?"

billie laughs. "yeah, real funny."

then she starts to play.

and it's soft.

no lyrics at first. just chords, warm and deliberate. her fingers glide over the strings like muscle memory, like second nature. it's not flashy like the other night, not something to impress—it's quiet, pretty. it fills the space between you both like something safe.

you lean back into her pillows, letting your eyes drift toward her open window, where the sunset is spilling in orange light across the floor and her walls.

and in the middle of her playing, you realize something you didn't expect to feel again so soon.

calm.

safe.

wanted.

billie glances up once, and her eyes meet yours—really meet—and for a second, you forget about the house you don't want to go back to. about your dad's words. about that night from years ago that still sticks to your ribs. because right now, it's just you and her and this song she's playing like it's just for you.

she keeps playing.

you don't know the song—if it's one she wrote herself or something she's turning into her own. her foot taps quietly against the wooden floor like a silent metronome, her fingers moving like they're not even thinking anymore. like they know exactly where they're supposed to go. like they were made to do this.

you tuck your legs up beneath you, arms wrapped around a pillow that smells faintly like her shampoo. outside her window, the sky has folded itself into the night, thick and blue. a few dogs bark down the road somewhere, wind rustling the trees near the window.

and still, billie plays.

you wonder if she's doing this just so she won't have to talk. so she won't say anything else rhat sounds like pity. you wonder if this is her way of giving you space, but also not leaving you alone. not yet.

when the last chord rings out, there's a pause. but it's not awkward. it's full.

you look at her. she's looking at the guitar, her calloused thumb brushing over a string like she's thinking about playing again.

you swallow. your throat feels dry.

"that was nice," you compliment.

she huffs a laugh, but it's quiet. humble. "thanks."

another pause.

then, "you okay?"

you breathe in slowly. you could lie. it would be easy, especially with how many times she's asked that already. but something in your chest feels too tired to lie. too raw.

"no," you huff.

her eyes flick up to yours, but she doesn't rush to fill the silence.

you add, "but i don't wanna talk about it anymore tonight."

she nods, like she gets it. "that's okay."

you shift on the bed, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. her room is warmer than yours. safer. less full of ghosts and past memories.

"thanks for bringing me here," you mumble, tired.

"thanks for comin'," she replies, then leans the guitar against the side of the chair. "d'you want a blanket or—?"

you shake your head. "i'm good."

"you're shaking."

"am not."

"liar." but there's no bite in it.

she stands, crosses the room, and grabs a hoodie from the back of her door as she shuts it softly. she tosses it toward you and you catch it midair.

"put that on before i come over there and tuck you in like a baby."

you roll your eyes but pull it over your head anyway. it smells like vanilla and peppermint gum. like her.

she sits down at the edge of the bed beside you, close but not crowding. not touching you unless you ask for it.

neither of you say anything for a long time. just breathe. exist.

"you're not a mess," she says quietly. out of nowhere.

you frown. "what?"

"your dad. the stuff he said." she glances down at the sheets. "he doesn't get to call the situation that. doesn't get to act like this place is a cure when it's just... a change of scenery."

you study her face. the slope of her nose. the curve of her jaw.

"you remember all that?" you say, trying to force a laugh.

"i'll never forget." she shrugs. "but i'll keep it our secret. no matter what. even if i'm held at gun point." she jokes.

you let out a soft breath. it's almost a laugh.

then you say, "i don't... hate it here. don't love it, either."

"i remember that too."

"but you make it suck a little less."

her eyes flick to yours. there's something swirling in them. surprised, maybe. or proud.

"you suck a little less, too," she grins.

and this time, when you laugh, it's real.

you sit together in the quiet for a while. the weight of everything still hanging in the air, but not crushing you like before. it's not fixed. it's not forgotten. it still lives in your bones and under your skin. but you're not alone with it.

not tonight.

eventually, billie offers to sleep on the floor, but you pull the pillow from behind your back and toss it at her head.

"shut up and get in bed."

she does, and you lie back beside each other. not touching, but not miles apart either. you fall asleep to the soft sound of her breathing, the wind outside her window, and the faint echo of her guitar in your memory.

and for the first time in what feels like years, you don't dream about that party. you dream of firelight and a cowgirl with calloused fingers. you dream of a slow, soft song.

you dream of someone staying.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @dyingbymistake @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @astr-0-wrld @lovesturni0l0s @umadirectioner @lanabrock @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone

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flawssy-227 · 8 hours ago

Text

All I Really Want To Do (part 1)

(ex) best friends dad!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: It's been 10 years since you got betrayed by your best friend, graduated high school, and left Austin. After a serendipitous run in with Joel, you decide to be friends.

tags: 18+, female reader, always write for woc in mind, but there are no descriptions so everyone is welcome to read. tlou AU, no outbreak au, modern au, Sarah sucks (sorry), age gap ~20 yrs, reader is 28, Joel is ~50, infidelity (in past), Tommy and Maria flirting, no smut yet!

a/n: my first planned series on this blog! I hope y'all like this! pls leave comments and feedback if you enjoy <3 chapter 1 loosely inspired by All I Really Wanna Do

w/c: 4k

It was too early on a Sunday morning in Texas for this many people to be at hot yoga. Whatever happened to going to church? It was a new hobby of yours, one your coworker, Maria, had been dragging you to ever since you moved back to Austin. You were finally in shavasana, feeling relatively relaxed after moving through power moves for the last 45 minutes in 98 degree humidity.

Once you had wrapped up and wiped down your mat, you and Maria were idly discussing which restaurant you can run to and grab a quick bite while you patiently waited for the crowd to clear away from the cubbies so you could grab your stuff and head out.

“There’s a diner down the block I haven’t tried,” Maria offered before nudging you with her elbow quickly. She leaned over to whisper in your ear as subtly as she could. “Don’t look now, but there’s a gorgeous man with dark, curly hair walking our way.”

You tried to play it cool for her sake. Maria swore this yoga studio was filled to the brim with attractive single men, but you weren’t sure if you were really interested at the moment. You had a lot to focus on with work and dating just for it to end in failure—again, was not ideal. You were determined to be a great wing woman, though.

The man quickly sidled up to Maria, asking her if she enjoyed the class and if she’d been coming here long before he introduced himself. You had kept your focus straight ahead, still waiting for everyone to clear away from the cubbies when you heard her introduce herself, and then you.

Turning to meet his gaze, your jaw couldn't help but drop. Staring back at you was Tommy Miller. Looking nearly the same as you remember from ten years ago. His hair was shorter than it used to be, no longer long enough for the bun he used to wear, but still jet black and tucked behind his ears.

You heard him say your name, almost in disbelief before he reached out and tugged you into a bone crushing hug. “Dang darlin’, you grew up on me!”

You forced out a smile, trying not to let on how awkward you were feeling. You could feel Maria’s questioning gaze on you and you were not looking forward to explaining how you knew Tommy to her later. Before you could choke out a response, you saw Tommy look just over your shoulder.

“Joel! Look who I just ran into.”

You and Maria both turned around and you were met with the brown eyed gaze of Joel Miller. He was exactly how you remembered ten years ago, broad shouldered, tanned skin, and brown hair, albeit he had a few more greys mixed in now then he did all those years ago. He looked just as shocked to see you as you felt.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you said sheepishly.

Maria looked wide eyed at the incredibly soft way you spoke to Joel, Tommy just laughed and Joel blanched slightly.

He cleared his throat at your shy endearment. “Just Joel’s fine now, darlin’.” He was vaguely aware there was someone else standing next to you, but his focus was solely focused on you. It’s been a decade since he’s seen you, and you looked the same as you did back then, just more… fully formed, he supposed. “You’re back in Austin?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, I’ve been back for about a month now,” you said shyly. “I’m working in the DA’s office. This is my friend Maria by the way,” you turned to introduce her but hadn’t noticed that she and Tommy had taken a few steps back and seemed to be in deep flirtatious conversation away from you and Joel.

“Didn’t take you for a hot yoga guy,” you said to Joel, trying not to gawk at his beefy arms.

He chuckled at that, letting his hand run over the salt and pepper scruff over his face. Was he always this attractive?

“Yeah, it’s something new,” he told you. “Sarah was getting onto me about not exercising enough and Tommy dragged me here because he swears it’s a good place to meet women.” He met your eyes closely and looked away before he allowed his gaze to get too intense. “Not that that’s what I’m doin’ here,” he offered softly.

“Oh,” you quickly shook your head with a quiet laugh. “No judgement!”

Everyone had finally cleared out ahead of you and you were finally able to grab your phone and keys from the cubby.

“A month, huh? Have you spoken to Sarah since you’ve been back?” he questioned.

You were happy you were facing away from him when he asked that, the answer was a definite no. But seeing Tommy and talking to Joel was nice and familiar, you didn’t want to ruin it, so you just grabbed Maria’s things along with yours before you turned around and gave him a polite smile. You quickly shoved her things into her hands, effectively cutting off her conversation with Tommy. “We’ve got reservations,” you responded. “Nice to see you both.” You gave them a wave and pulled Maria out of the studio by her hand and briskly walked as far away from the studio as quickly as you could.

The Miller brothers watched you and Maria power walk your way across downtown Austin.

“Well, she grew up,” Tommy said.

Joel nodded, unable to verbally respond. You sure did.

Maria barely waited until you had your first sip of coffee before she was grilling you about how you knew the Millers.

“You didn’t have a thing with either of them, did you?” she asked. Your jaw dropped at the question. “Please tell me it wasn’t Tommy!”

“Oh my God, are you into him?” you laughed.

“Answer the question,” she responded, quickly putting on her lawyer voice.

You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes. “No, I didn’t have a thing with either of them. It seemed like you and Tommy hit it off, though.”

Maria couldn’t resist the dreamy look that fell over her face. “You have no idea. He’s such a charmer.” You matched her smile, thrilled your friend had some romance on the horizon. “He asked me to get drinks tomorrow night!”

You squealed across the table with her. “That’s such good news! Honestly, Maria, he’s always been such a good guy. I think you’ll enjoy yourself.”

Maria nodded, taking a moment to push her excitement aside. “But how do you know them? Seriously, my mind is in the gutter.”

You shook your head. “Okay,” you sighed. “It’s nothing crazy, I just grew up with Joel’s daughter, Sarah. We were besties,” you said with a scoff.

Maria furrowed her brows, and noticed your tone. “And what? You guys had a falling out or something?”

You mumbled over the rim of your coffee cup. “That’s an understatement.”

“C’mon,” Maria whined. “Stop edging me. I need all the details.”

You rolled your eyes at her almost carnal need to gossip, but you couldn’t be too annoyed—you were the same way. It’s why she had become such a close friend over the short month since you’d known her.

So you told her all about you and Sarah. How your family moved to Austin when you were in sixth grade and you had never felt more lonely at leaving your old friends behind until you met Sarah Miller in homeroom. You became fast friends, inseparable in the way that only 11 year old girls can be, and soon you did everything together. She convinced you to join soccer with her, you convinced her to do debate club with you. There were countless sleepovers, infinite secrets shared and a multitude of tears spilt between you two. She told you about her mom leaving when she was little. You told her having one loving parent was better than two neglectful ones. She was more than just your best friend. She was your sister.

And then you started high school. The distance was uncomfortable for you at first. You quit soccer and joined drama club. She decided she was never really that into debate. You were still each other's closest friends, but now you both had other friends and hobbies that increased the ever growing chasm between you two.

When your parents finally stopped fighting and divorced, Sarah was there for you just like she was when you were 11. And so was Dylan, your boyfriend. You were happy in your little circle of three until the end of highschool with your best friend closer than ever and the cutest boy in school as your first everything. And then one day that spring, you got off the waitlist for Southern Methodist University. You got in. Dylan didn’t.

Sarah was unusually quiet during those last few months of highschool, always busy and rarely answering texts. You chalked it up to AP exams and the anxiety of leaving Joel behind. Dylan was being weird too, though. You knew he was jealous that you got into his dream school, but he was your boyfriend, he should be happy for you. And you knew you could make long distance work, you just needed to hash out the details with Sarah.

You figured you would just pop over to the Miller residence and bring Sarah her favorite cookies as a bribe so she would listen to you talk about your relationship drama. You let yourself in with the spare key, just like you always did and called out for her. You could hear her in the house, and it had never been an issue before, so you just made your way to her bedroom. You remember the hot tears falling down your face when you saw them. Sarah was your best friend, your sister. And she was fucking your boyfriend behind your back.

Maria’s jaw dropped. “You caught them?” she asked incredulously.

“Yup.” You were done with breakfast now and waiting for your server to drop off the checks.

“That is not where I thought this story was going.” Maria shook her head, mostly to herself and looked lost in thought. “So Tommy has a slutty niece?”

You bit back a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t call her a slut. Just a really bad fucking friend.”

As you dropped some cash in the checkbook you realized you weren’t done talking about them. “You wanna know the kicker? This all went down like two weeks before prom. And those assholes went together! I had my dress and everything but I ended up just skipping it and watched 13 Going on 30 with my mom.”

“That is fucking vile. Those two deserve some bad karma.”

You hummed in agreement. There wasn’t much left to say 10 years after the most devastating heartbreak you had ever experienced, but it was out there again. You figured if you should open up to anyone it should be Maria.

“You know what you should do?” she said with a smirk, not waiting for you to even say what? in response. “You should fuck her dad. Joel, right?”

You look horrified. Fuck Mr. Miller? “No way. Maria, he’s like 50.” You shake away the way too intrusive image of you and Mr. Miller together. “I’ve known him since I was a kid!”

“Not a kid,” she shrugs. “Just a teenager right?”

You nod and she just continues. “Was he ever, you know, weird with you?”

“God no!” Your eyes are wide and you can’t help the tingly feeling you get at the thought of you and Joel and how it won’t go away. “I barely saw the guy. He worked so much back then. Honestly, I was around Tommy way more than Joel.”

“So, he’s good with kids?” Maria practically beams at the mention of Tommy and you wish you could roll your eyes at her, but it’s actually pretty sweet how smitten she is with him already. She waves you away before you can answer. “Doesn’t matter. Look, Joel wasn’t looking at you like you were some kid that grew up with his daughter. He was totally checking you out. And it’s been a full 10 years since you’ve seen him? I doubt he sees you as a kid. And it’s hardly weird.”

You guess she’s right but still, you can’t help but grimace at the thought. Of course you thought Joel was attractive. You may have had a mild crush on both Miller brother’s when you were 17 but you chalked it up to the fact that your dad had just left and Dylan was being a childish asshole.

“Look, I’m not saying that you should literally have sex with the man, but how fucking horrified would Sarah be when she finds out you’re hanging around her dad? She fucked your high school boyfriend and you get to play step mom. It’s karma, babe.”

You thought about what Maria said for the rest of the day and well into the night. You weren’t a vengeful person, but if you were being honest, that deep, spiteful part of you that you tried to push down came alight at the simple idea of getting back at Sarah. You were over Dylan. Of course you were. It’s been 10 years of college and law school and jobs and boyfriends and it’s not like you really thought the two of you would end up together. But Sarah? She really broke your heart in a way that only a best friend could. It still hurts to think about.

Joel probably wouldn’t even be interested in me, you think to yourself. “What a dumb fuckin’ idea,” you mumble as you sit up in bed and open Facebook. You’re gonna look Joel Miller up and just see if he’s in a relationship, and then maybe if he’s single you’ll think about what Maria suggested a little more seriously.

And maybe it was a sign, something straight from the universe, that the first thing you saw when you opened Facebook was a bright red notification: Joel Miller sent you a message!

Monday morning in the DA’s office was nothing unusual. You were already two coffees deep at 10 AM and trying to focus on the research you were doing for an impending case when Maria perched herself on the edge of your desk.

“Stop frowning so much, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

You dropped your hand from your head and gave her the widest, fake smile you could muster before dropping it with an eye roll.

“It’s too early in the day for all that attitude.”

You frowned at her comment. “Look, sorry, but I’m trying to focus on work. It’s my first case here and I need to be prepared. Not trying to have an attitude,” you mumbled at the end.

Maria tuts at you, nodding in mock sympathy that makes you want to roll your eyes and walk away from her. She wants something, you realize.

“You’re stressed,” she notes, as if this is something she just noticed. “Let’s get a drink after work.”

A low unease curled in your stomach. Why did the offer of getting drinks after work seem weighted? You didn’t know Maria that well, but your friendship had been steadily developing. One thing you knew for sure about her though? She was meddlesome. Always conspiring and persistent when she wanted to be. Toeing the line between annoying and clever. It was what made her a great attorney, but you weren’t sure if you liked being on the receiving end of her attention.

“What are you up to?” you questioned.

Maria raised her brows at you, silently daring you to figure her out. “Nothing. I want to go to this new bar after work.”

“What bar?”

“Mean Eyed Cat.”

You ticked your jaw at that. “Right.” You’d never been but you knew that bar and you knew two regulars who mentioned it pretty often 10 years ago. “You want to go to Tommy and Joel’s favorite bar? Why? Just to see if you can run into them again?”

Maria’s grin was massive as she looked down at you. She was practically buzzing with excitement now that you’d practically figured her out.

“Tommy invited me to meet him around 6,” she started. “And then I suggested he bring Joel and I bring you…”

“What?” you couldn’t control the volume of your voice as you snapped at her. “Maria, please tell me you’re joking? I-I can’t go on a double date with Joel and Tommy Miller.”

She was completely unaffected by your reaction and just pushed herself off the corner of your desk. Standing fully, she looked at you a beat too long. “You can, and you will. C’mon, you don’t want Joel to be a third wheel, do you?”

Your day was pretty much shot to hell after Maria told, not asked, that you were going to get drinks with her, Tommy and Joel after work. You were feeling incredibly uneasy about the whole situation and you wondered what Joel was thinking, and if Tommy had a similar approach to drag him to the bar. Wait, does he feel like he’s being dragged here? Or is he excited to see me?

The bar was only a 10 minute walk from your office and you and Maria decided fresh air would be good before you went to the bar. She was talking idly beside you, something about one of her more challenging clients, when you saw him. He was getting out of the passenger side of Tommy’s truck. Tall and familiar, that bronzed skin you’d been thinking about since yesterday on display under his grey t-shirt, veiny forearms on view as he slid his phone in his jeans pocket. You almost smiled at the tight line his mouth was in, frowning down at the sidewalk like it personally offended him before he looked up, undoubtedly feeling your eyes on him. His face softened just a bit when he saw you and you offered him a weak smile in return.

Tommy and Maria immediately floated to each other on the sidewalk and fell into easy conversation. If you didn’t know any better, you would think they’d known each other for much longer than a day. You let Joel pull you in for an awkward side hug and let his woodsy scent comfort you. You closed your eyes for a second and just let yourself take it all in; the warm, balmy Texas night, the firm embrace of Joel, the leathery musk that floated to your nose at his nearness. It all gave you a sense of relief. This whole situation would be fine, you realized. It was just Joel, and while you definitely didn’t know the man, you knew he was kind and trustworthy and probably feeling just as awkward as you were to be grabbing drinks with his daughter's friend from high school.

Everything was going incredibly smoothly. Tommy and Maria were getting married, you had decided. Watching their easy banter and the wide-eyed way they were looking at each other during everyone’s first round just confirmed it. Conversations on first dates had never been that easy for you, and you were happy you were able to witness it, at least. They pretty much dominated the discussion at the table, you and Joel laughing with them and contributing occasionally, but mostly just taking a back seat. It was so easy, and you realized maybe Maria wanted you here for moral support, it being her first date after getting over her breakup and all. You decided you wouldn’t kill her for forcing you to come here.

After one particularly longing stare, Tommy cleared his throat and looked down at the mostly empty glasses. “Can I get everyone another round?” he asked.

You were tempted to leave and call it a night, but a quick thigh squeeze from Maria deterred you. “I’ll do one more,” you offered with a not so subtle eye roll to her.

Joel grunted in acknowledgement as Maria offered herself to help carry the glasses back. And just like that, they were off, leaving you and Joel alone in the booth.

“Well, they’re gettin’ on like a house on fire.”

You smiled at that. “They are. Tommy’s always been great and she deserves a good guy. It’s funny to see him all smitten so quickly.”

Joel meets your gaze and you can’t help but stutter out a shallow breath at how attentive he looks when you’re speaking.

“I sent you a message on Facebook,” he says, leaning forward across the booth.

You look in his eyes softly. “I saw.”

“You didn’t respond.”

You shrug and shake your head. “No, I didn’t.”

The question is there, but he doesn’t have to ask it before you speak again. “Didn’t open it. Was scared, I guess.”

At this, Joel laughs, leaning away from you. “Nothin’ scary in that message, darlin’.” He pauses, and then nervously scratches at that grey and brown scruff of his. “It was just nice seeing you yesterday, is all.”

Joel’s back looking at you again, that intense gaze he seems to fall into quickly making you shiver. “It was nice seeing you too.”

“Yeah?” a small smile breaks across his face. “You ran off pretty quick.”

It makes you ache, looking at how relaxed he looks with a smile. You kinda feel bad for running off so quickly now that you know it bothered him. Joel and Tommy are harsh reminders of Sarah and that time back in high school when she betrayed you, but you’re an adult now. Your new best friend is probably going to start dating Tommy and you know he and Joel are a package deal, the same way you and Maria are. You can’t hold your distaste of Sarah over Joel’s head, and honestly, you don’t want to. Joel is kind and earnest, and you feel a sense of peace around him now that those awkward initial interactions are out of the way. You decide right then, you won’t fuck him to get back at Sarah or whatever cockamamie scheme Maria had been cooking up. You will move on, be a big girl and develop your own friendship with Joel and Tommy.

You finish the last dregs of your lukewarm beer and offer Joel a sheepish smile. “You’re right, I did run off. Kinda rude, huh?”

He clears his throat and pins you with an easy look. “Nah, not rude. Just made me feel bad. Like I made you uncomfortable or somethin’.”

He looks down at his own glass and you see the contemplative furrow of his brow. It makes you feel terrible. You frown and without thinking, reach for his hand. “It wasn’t you, or Tommy. It was just… Sarah.” You let your hand rest over his for just a moment longer, letting the heat radiating off of it comfort you before you removed it.

Joel swallows nervously, pinning his stare at his now lonely hand. “My Sarah?”

You nodded. “She… Just seeing y’all and hearing her name brought up some not so good memories. That’s why I ran off so quickly.”

Joel looks confused at that. He supposes he did know you two had some sort of fight towards the end of Sarah’s senior year. He remembered when Dylan showed up to take her to prom and you weren’t there, and how you were also missing at her graduation party a few weeks later. She wouldn’t open up to him though and eventually, he guesses you just slipped his mind.

“What happened between the two of you?”

Your mouth parts a bit in surprise. “She never told you?”

“No,” he says quickly.

You swallow and Joel notes how contemplative you look now. Nothing like the easy grin you had a few moments ago. Whatever happened, he realized, is still a sore subject for you.

You look up and pin him with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You should ask her.”

Before Joel can ask any follow up questions, Maria and Tommy slide back into the booth and drop off your second round. You feel incredibly at ease, much more relaxed than you were when you had first arrived. You fall into conversation with the group a bit easier, and you try to act normal when you look at Joel and see him staring back at you.

Tommy all but insists you two hop in the backseat of his pickup so you don’t have to walk back to your office so late. You’re fairly certain he just wants to extend his time with Maria, but you express gratitude at the fact you don’t have to walk 10 minutes in heels again.

Once you are back at the District Attorney's office, you and Joel allow Tommy and Maria some space as he walks her to her car. Joel is quiet, but it’s nice and peaceful, not uncomfortable.

Joel clears his throat and you look up at him, just to once again, see him staring back at you. “Can I take you to lunch sometime this week?”

Your head is spinning and you swear your mind goes blank. Lunch? With Mr. Miller? You’re spiraling as your steps slow down to an almost stop, like your brain can’t compute what Joel is asking and how to walk at the same time.

“Just as friends,” he offers, clearly trying to tread lightly based on your lack of reaction.

“You want to take me to lunch?” you ask. “With Tommy and Maria?”

Joel smirks, a little maddening considering how flustered you are just thinking about lunch.

“Nah, just us.”

You noticed the heated stare he’s giving you, the way he subtly licks his bottom lip and the magnetic pull as he inches closer to you. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You realize then, that Joel Miller is a liar. Just friends? Yeah right.

“Okay,” you muster all of your confidence and give him the flirtiest smile you can muster. “Let’s get lunch. But Joel?”

Joel hums, a cheeky grin on his face while he waits for you to continue speaking. His smile falters slightly when you take a tiny step closer to him and press onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He can feel your warm breath like a caress on the side of his neck. He can smell the citrus and amber from your perfume. You’re overtaking his senses completely and when he hears you speak again, he swears his heart skips a beat.

“We’re not gonna be friends.”

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #older!Joel miller #bfd! joel #fic: all I really wanna do #flawssy fic recs #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction

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compress1repress · 2 days ago

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procrastinating so here are some ramblings about sci-fi/horror tropes I would link the challengers trio with

art - I actually think art being a werewolf would be very thematically interesting to me, because he's all about repression and passivity I think it would be fun if every full moon he literally can't control himself so all his passivity is thrown out the window and he becomes a wretched aggressive beast and he would feel so much shame about it <3 also he would love to be self pitying over it too. he already walks around like ughhh im so doomed due to my curse #mycurse ... and so this would just exaggerate that (some of this stuff could work with a vampire thing and i know a lot of people talk about vampire art but I just think werewolf art would be more interesting even just visually, like his obsession with shaving takes on a whole new meaning. and also he's more about 'loyalty' than isolation I think. he's always latching on to someone).

patrick - ok this one is kind of obvious but patrick is SO haunted I can't help but make it literal. patrick + ghosts = yayyy <3 i just think he holds onto the past and has never in his life moved on, so that manifesting as him seeing an actual ghost (or ghosts) would be fun!! especially bc on the surface he's egotistical, selfish, self-centred etc but underneath he holds onto everything so tightly, and the guilt clings onto him, and he can't just shake it off, and the feelings won't go away and he is deeply (almost gothically) romantic in this sense. also thematically it's an interesting look at his flaws, his impulsiveness and sense that he can do whatever he wants bc nothing matters, whilst surrounded by these lingering reminders of pain that prove things do matter, and then he realises that in some ways the ghosts reflect himself!! just stuck in this miserable limbo with unfinished business, and without the tools to fix anything and move on. except he does have the tools but he still won't actually make any meaningful change (him seeing Tashi through the window in Atlanta and she's engaged now and Art is doing better than ever at tennis and Patrick is just stood there in the same outfit that Tashi last saw him in... he genuinely could've been a ghost at that point!!). i enjoy the ghosts as representing him BEING haunted yet also him DOING the haunting bc he has become a ghost himself essentially. he has to hurry up and DO something while he's still got life in him. change something (make the throuple happen yay)

tashi - ok she is why I made this post in the first place so it may be long but omggg Tashi and the clone/double/doppelganger trope would be sooooo interesting. I think identity is such an important theme with tashi, and also something she is very aware of. she knows she has to present in a certain way, and probably self-polices a lot, to the point where in some ways it does feel like there are two of her, the version she knows, and the version presented in society (shout out w.e.b du bois double consciousness), so to physically and literally manifest that in the form of a clone would be fascinating. also through a disability lens there is a certain sense that becoming disabled feels like having a new body, and (at least from my perspective) there can sometimes be an out of body type experience with that as you adjust to a different body physically, and a different self too (just to add, i am not saying this is necessarily negative either). so again tashi's link with versions of the self make the idea of a double sound so interesting. clone narratives often brings up the question of who is the 'real' version and who is the copy, or a fear of being replaced by a copy, which are all questions about the self and identity, what makes us ourselves, and which parts are the most important. I imagine tashi ruminates on this sort of thing quite often, especially post injury with the readjusting of her identity after that. how she has to create another version of herself essentially bc the sport she formed her identity around will no longer accommodate her. tennis won't change to fit her new shape (:/) so she must find a way to change her shape so that she can still participate somehow (creating another self = clone moment)... anyway I think a clone would be a point of anxiety and fear yet also could be very cathartic for her. the end.

#idk... is this something?#mostly this is just an exercise in thinking about their characters for me... bc I've analysed so much horror at uni 😭#so im just picturing ok what if patrick was in a ghost story. what would I think it means.. what essay am i writing #i was thinking about tashi which is why i created this post but also yeah that atlanta scene with patrick is so... he's literally a ghost!!#there was more to say about clone tashi but im partially including it in a fic so i won't spoil it now #there isn't going to be an actual clone or anything. just some thoughts in tashi's head that are devastating kind of. i won't share for now #we jump to patrick as a werewolf bc he's hairy i guess but narratively I don't find it interesting bc I think he wouldn't be that bothered #patrick would be like “so the full moon comes out and i become a feral hairy beast... sounds like a typical friday night to me ;)”#but art would get INSANE.#and art's character is so much more about toxic masculinity and control and restraint so #making him a werewolf would give him so many mental issues yay #going to write an essay on clones soon so may come back with more thoughts after that

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bluespiritshonour · 18 hours ago

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I'm not sure if you've mentioned it before, but do you have any good Zuko x Mai fanfic recommendations???? It's hard to find one that's not one-sided or just set in the past.

Also just wanted to say, I adore your art <3

Oh! Hello. I was late replying to this ask because work + trying to remember the kind of fics you suggested because otherwise I'd just have plugged in a bunch of favs here and called it a day 😅

I do hope by one-sided you meant it feels like Mai's putting in all the work because if you meant it being Zuko (which I doubt) then that's not what this list is gonna be.

You're good though. Maiko feeling one-sided it one of my gripes too and I do always try to find fics where Zuko's a yearner.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

This three parter series by @loopy777. I think when I'm old and gray, Black and Blue would still be not only one of my favourite fics, but one of my favourite stories. It's hard for me to find the kind of stuff I like in romance (which is why I usually avoid the genre but Black and Blue with it's flipping of tropes on it's heads was just the kind of thing I liked. Flowers For Mai has yearner Zuko. He's so earnest there—I think Zuko was canonically very earnest so I like him being written like that. And Making It Legal, I like it because wow, adult maiko acting like actual adults from all the life lessons they've learned and all they've learned about being with each other after all these years? They are acting mature and healthy and not like angsty teenagers? Sign me up! Even now, when I feel down thinking about toxic maiko I go and skim through this fic to make myself feel better. Maiko can be mature and healthy together, okay? Plus, I like character progression. Static characters aren't fun—and while all these fics can be read as stand alone, if you read them serially you'd find character development that is allowed to stick. Also, Black and Blue would forever be my favourite, I wish it was food so I could eat it.

For Better and For Worse (also by Loopy): they both confront their fears about each other and their relationship in this one. But most of all: this is the non-traditional, adventurous wedding maiko (and especially Mai) deserves!!! You know, from a meta textual perspective. They are not normies! There are plenty of normies out there but maiko aren't it! The narrative owes it to them not to make them normies! Jsvdwkwjwj!

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

i love you, don't act so surprised by @calliopieces : this is another fic I read when I feel down in the dumps and maiko's the reason 😅 (I touch grass I swear, it's still not enough sometimes) This fic makes me feel a whole lot better about The Boiling Rock. I like Zuko acknowledging Mai's sacrifice for him and accepting it and swearing to do better by her instead of being all "i don't deserve her waaaa." I find the later attitude cowardice.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

Keeping It Quite by @headhedgehog : so. The thing about maiko feeling unequal, right? This fic satisfied my urge for good boyfriend Zuko. He's so accommodating of Mai in this fic! Look, I'm not a writer and while I can tell a good story when I see one, I can't generate ideas for it! I always keep complaining I want Zuko to do something grand for Mai like she did in TBR. He doesn't do anything grand here, but all the little things he does are so convincing, you know. I was on the verge of dropping out of the fandom when I found this fic and it made me stay. This fic has Aunt Mura say a line I'll always want to hear when it comes to maiko.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

I hope you're okay with AUs 'cause Mirelle's ( @flameohotfamily ) an AU bender and Zuko in her stuff cares visibly for Mai.

i wish tomorrow never happened is a Hunger Games AU. And oh—when I first read it oh. I don't have words. Zuko's sooooooo! 🥹😭 He was Mai's mentor in the Hunger Games. I have it filed under my "Zuko does stuff for Mai" folder. Warning: it's sad.

the damaged flowers is a Victoria AU. Although this is more "Mai does things for Zuko", don't mistake it: Zuko's earnest like a puppy here when it comes to her. He's smitten. The way he is for most of this fic reminds me of his happy face in the finale when maiko are reunited. And Mai is very in character with the cartoon. Also, fair warning: it gets sad! Very sad.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

Evidence by LizBee: I love all of LizBee's fics because of their characterisation of Mai (and Toph too!) Also, non-traditional Mai!!! [Claps hands] This particular one is Mai centric where she's badass! She's Zuko's spymaster and what stuck out to me, personally, in this fic was how it manages to nail to balance between showing Zuko worrying for Mai's safety while also not shutting her out or trying to restrict her. It's a conflict I'm, frankly, not a fan of. It's neither "she doesn't need protection so i'mma just chill and make it look like I don't care about her safety" nor "oh my god! Mai, I forbid you to be my spymaster it's dangerous™". It's neither and I loved how simple it was! You can tell they've been married for years by now with the dynamic that's established between them! There's also the suggestion that Zuko would very much start another war for Mai and Mai's like yeah, that's why he's surrounded by people like Aang and Iroh who'd keep him from it! Another balance here, managing to show Zuko being a loverboy who'd be willing to go to such lengths for Mai while establishing a safety net that'd make sure he'd actually not go full Vlad Dracula Tepes.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

Deep Ravine by Alabaster86 : Summary reads, After the birth of her first child, Mai falls into a depression.

I had never hoped to find something like postpartum depression handled so well in a fanfic but here we are. I love how throughout the whole ordeal, Mai has a support system. And the ending is hopeful. Zuko's a great husband in this one, although he doesn't appear as much. But that's not the point I suppose, it's about Mai and her struggles. It's also got some awesome Michi and Mai not exactly reconciling, but learning to see eye to eye. Although Michi is Akira here, so it's probably an old fic from before Michi was named. I love pre-rennaissance maiko fics ngl. The characterisation in them tends to be [chef's kiss]

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

If you want some modern AU college maiko DisasterFem's The Only Exception got you covered! Maiko here is equal (I say as I cry, fic writers really do keep us afloat, don't they?) and Zuko's side of maiko gets it's due. They're both trying so hard to move on and are still hung up on each other. It's a softer Mai, one that I think she would be after friends and therapy. Come on, we know she needs both. It's ongoing.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

So, I guess that wraps it up, eh. That was a ride and I've yet to read maiko week fics. Apart from Black and Blue (which I promise would be worth your time despite being set in the past) most of it is maiko being adults and acting like adults. (Fuck you, Gene Yang). Sorry. I'm not sorry.

And after this much labour, I wouldn't be surprised if you've read most of these fics 🥹

#anonymous letters #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #mai #maiko #fic rec

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kettleinusefornow · 3 days ago

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Rough ride..MDNI

PART 2

CHAPTER 13: Long day ahead

Sae Itoshi X Reader fic

Contains breakup and miscommunication

Revenge sex

Iceskater!reader

eventual happy ending </3

teenage love

ALOT of angst

CHP1 CHP LIST

CHAPTER 13: Long day ahead

Y/N got up, the sunlight barely peeking through the messy closed curtains beside her bed, she got up just in time to not be late. Opening the curtains to take in the view of the silent neighbourhood was a must do part of her routine.

‘I should start looking for places to live..’

She went downstairs, greeting her mother who was still making breakfast. She took out her phone and started scrolling through it. Checking up on messages and other stuff. That’s when she saw a message at the top of her chats. Rin.

——————————

rinrin: why is he back here

Y/N🤤🤤: so you see..

rinrin: fym so u see

rinrin: what typa stupid shit are u pulling now

——————————

‘Yeah.. I’m not gonna tell him anything, anytime soon.’

Y/N silently put her phone face down. She hoped that Rin wouldn’t read too much into being left on delivered. Now what she had to do was get ready for certain marked event in her calendar. With a side of hoping Rin isn’t standing right outside her house.

The normal mundane days finally started to have some sort of flavor, but she couldn’t fully give in just yet. She had to be nonchalant and have an idgaf attitude to show that she doesn’t really care.

She had some small talk with her mother before getting up to go shower. She stood in the grey marble bathroom which enclosed the whole place, soaking in the lavender/rose body wash because she read somewhere that leaving the soap on her skin can make the scent stay longer. She wanted to smell good throughout the day for a special something(someone).

Y/N turned on her shower, letting the foam run down. She didn’t wash her hair since it wouldn’t have time to dry in time. She had her washday yesterday for maximum benefits.

She stepped out of the warm shower and was violently hit by cold air. Even though the heater was on, the difference in temperature between inside and outside the bathroom was a little too drastic.

She was greeted by the freshly put out set of clothes that she had kept there, the night before. Eager much?

After a long daunting journey of getting ready she was finally done. She wore a white top which slipped off one shoulder, which was decorated slightly with a black ribbon and necklace. The bottoms were a pair of straight line jeans which were mainly light blue, with hues of greenish yellow. She held a white bag with a ruffled handle.

She gave her bangs one last look and left the house. She took her usual white puffer jacket hung on the coat hanger near the house, slipping on some uggs. She left the house, walking through the front yard as she thought of what would happen today.

In front of the house stood the two brothers.. So alike but so different. The pink one carried an air of boredom with a hint of nervousness. The other one? Emitting pure displease and displaying a frown.

Y/N inhaled the air as it dried her airways. Sae stood there with a bouquet of white roses. The snow pushed to the sides of the street reminded her of January where it all unfolded. Now it’s November already. His red Porsche 911 Cannera stood behind him. She took in his outfit. A turtle neck with a long coat.

‘Aren’t those funeral flowers..?’

Rin crossed his arms as Y/N approached. Before she could greet them with a smile a voice broke through.

“Didn’t Nee-san say that she never wants to see it again?”

His voice glazed in mockery and irritation.

“Well your Nee-san said she’ll give me a second chance.”

Rin’s eyes widened as his mouth opened to throw another rude remark before Y/N stepped in.

“I didn’t say another chance! I gave him a chance to explain himself over a period of one week. Also Rin, turn that frown upside down!”

Rin scoffed loudly before turning around to go back inside their house. Y/N was just about to let out a sigh, when Rin stopped right outside the gate.

“Don’t come to me crying again.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Rin’s back. He would probably still be there even if she did in fact come crying. He’s just a 16 year old with so many unspoken emotions and thoughts.

“Okay Rinrin!!”

Her cheerful tone broke the tension between the three of them. It was almost like the good old times. Almost.

As Rin grumbled his way back in, Sae stood there not saying anything for awhile before he opened his mouth.

“Let’s go-“

“Just because I dismissed Rin’s thoughts on this doesn’t mean I don’t think the same as him. Don’t get too excited about this. You don’t have a high chance of succession.”

She didn’t look at him while saying it. She looked straight ahead to wear Rin was earlier.

Y/N got into the passenger seat and buckled herself. Sae didn’t reply. He silently got in too.

‘Was I too harsh..! No Y/N, a asshole needs to be treated with assholenes-‘

“High chance doesn’t mean zero.”

Y/N looked at him as he still had that same blunt expression on him. She bit her lips ever so slightly as she looked away into the passing scenery.

‘Must he always be like this? And… Why hasn’t he given me the flowers? Are they even for me?’

She scanned the backseat through the rearview mirror. It just sat there in silence since Sae chucked it in the back without much care.

The car ride was burdened with heavy silence and awkwardness. Y/N kept glancing at his arms as he drove in the snow with only a hand on the steering wheel. Her eyes dragged across his arm and it landed on the only skin shown. There it was. That stupid silver bracelet that had the initials I.S and L/N.Y/N.

Y/N froze as she glanced back at his face. She felt a familiar heat rise up to her cheeks.

‘I’m cooked..’

Nihao chat, dw abt yn being a lil too nice cuz SAE WILL SUFFER. Rin unrequited love is everywhere <3 Have a nice day!!

©kettleinuse4now | please do not translate, repost, refer without permission | don’t steal and say it’s your own (ahole behavior)

@pinkymangacaps @realrintaro @syleepy @shidoushair @kaiserismywaifu @randomhumans-blog @evxelisy @mwezieclipze @hihi5649 @swagkittybear @i-eve-i (More to be added lol)

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adoreasellie · 2 days ago

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Title: Minor Injuries, Major Distractions

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ellie’s carefully crafted playlist sets the mood while she literally eats—

Tags: sexual tension, slow burn, nurse!Reader, patient!Ellie, soft flirting, smut, oral receiving, teasing, quiet connection, emotional buildup, mutual desire

Men and minors DNI

Previous - currently reading - next

Hi babes, I hope you’re doing well. Have you watched yesterday’s ep ? Idk how I’ll survive without seing my pookies for such a long time.

Anyways here is part 3 of this series and I’d like to say i’m proud of myself. I think i’ll go for part 4 and 5 before getting to an end. Sending you dolls kisses mwah.

—————————————————————————

The CD hums softly in the background, a low whisper filling the room as Ellie and you sit side by side on your couch. The soft click of the stereo turning between tracks is the only thing keeping pace with the quiet thrum of your hearts.

She’s nervous. You can see it in the way she fiddles with her fingers, eyes fixed somewhere between your knees and the floor.

Camila Cabello’s voice drips through the speakers.

Can friends kiss? Touch each other like this?

You glance at her, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“That one feels a little on the nose,” you tease, voice just above a whisper.

Ellie scoffs softly, blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Shut up.”

But there’s no heat in it. Only that bashful grin she always tries to hide.

Next comes The Weeknd. How do I make you love me.

How do I make you love me...How do I make you fall for me?

Your fingers brush hers, light and casual at first. Then slower. More intentional. She doesn’t pull away. You trace gentle lines against her palm, and she finally turns to meet your eyes.

Something shifts.

The air thickens with something sweet and sharp and totally unspoken. But instead of bursting, it lingers—electrified and fragile.

You talk. About your patients, the exhaustion, the small moments that still make it worth it. You make fun of the grumpy nurse who replaced you. Ellie laughs, real one, head falling back against the couch for a second. You swear you never heard something prettier.

Ellie opens up too. Tells you about her shop. Her father Joel, who lives in Jackson and doesn’t call much. Her voice grows soft when she mentions him, a little distant.

You both keep stealing glances. You, at the way her mouth curls when she talks. Her, at the bare stretch of your thigh where the oversized shirt doesn’t quite cover.

Neither of you says what you’re really thinking.

She wants to kiss you. You can feel it.

But Ellie Williams is a coward. And so, instead, she just sits there, heart in her throat.

Ellie talks about her shop—finally relaxing into the rhythm of your conversation.

“It’s a mix of stuff,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“A vintage boutique, mostly clothes. Some vinyl, old books, handmade jewelry. I restore denim jackets when I’ve got the time.”

You picture her hunched over a work table, hands stained with dye, focused and meticulous. It fits her.

“I wanted it to feel like a little time capsule,” she adds, then shrugs.

“Something that looks like me, y’know?”

It does. Quietly rebellious. A little messy. Full of soul.

Then the song changes. Billie Eilish’s voice slips into the room like smoke:

I could eat that girl for lunch as she dances on my tongue...

The silence between you sharpens.

You raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk.

“Are you hungry?” you tease, eyes glinting.

Ellie chokes on a breath.

Her eyes dart to your thighs again—bare, warm, right there—and she immediately looks away like she’s been caught doing something criminal.

Her cheeks go up in flames. So do the tips of her ears.

She doesn’t answer.

You let the moment stretch, the silence taut like wire. Then you tilt your head, voice low, testing her courage.

“Are you going to stare forever,” you whisper,

“or are you going to do something about it?”

Ellie’s lips part, but the words get stuck. She stares at you like you’re made of starlight. Like she’s never wanted anything so badly and still doesn’t believe she’s allowed to have it.

“I want to,” she murmurs.

“I… I do, but—”

She falters. Can’t finish. Her eyes are glassy, locked on yours, then flickering downward. Over your lips. Your jaw. Your thighs.

“You’re so—fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she breathes, barely audible.

“I don’t even know how this is real.”

You smile, slow and patient. Then, gently, you reach for her hand.

You guide it down, place it softly on your bare thigh. Her fingers tremble against your skin.

“Then stop thinking,” you whisper.

“Just do it.”

Ellie doesn’t speak.

She just looks at you. Mouth parted. Eyes blown wide with something close to worship.

Her hand is still on your thigh. And when you guide it higher, she lets out the softest sound — more breath than voice — and follows your lead like it’s the only thing she knows how to do.

You lie back slowly, the couch dipping under your weight. Ellie watches, mesmerized, before she shifts forward, knees pressing into the cushions, one hand bracing near your hip.

You don’t look away. Neither does she.

She kisses you first—her lips warm and soft, slightly moist, pressing against yours with a gentle, almost fragile tenderness. But beneath that softness lies a raw hunger, a deep desire that makes every touch tremble with intensity.

Her kisses trail down your neck, light and shaky, as if she’s afraid to break you even as she burns you with each breath.

When she reaches your collarbones, her lips grow even more delicate, almost reverent, but her quickening breath betrays the urgency simmering beneath the tenderness.

As she moves down your stomach, her kisses slow and hesitant, sometimes clumsy—but every press of her lips carries the quiet violence of her craving, a silent promise that this is only the beginning.

Like she’s asking permission with every touch.

Like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Her fingers curl around the waistband of your underwear.

You nod once. That’s all she needs.

She pulls them down with care — so slow it’s torturous — then pushes your knees apart gently, like unwrapping a gift she’s dreamt of but never thought she’d get.

She lowers herself between your thighs.

And when her mouth finally finds you — warm, wet, and trembling — it steals the air from your lungs.

She groans against you, the sound low and wrecked. Her tongue glides through the slick mess between your thighs and she pulls back just enough to murmur, breathless,

“All this for me?”

Her voice is thick with disbelief, like she’s drunk on the taste of you. She licks her lips, eyes dark and glazed over.

“Fuck,” she whispers, dragging her mouth over you again. “You’re so wet I could drown.”

And then she dives back in — hungrier, messier, like she’s starving and you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted to devour.

She holds your hips, firm but not greedy, anchoring herself while her mouth moves in slow, deliberate strokes.

You can barely breathe.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, and she moans softly when you tug, the vibration sending another shockwave through you.

She’s focused. Devoted. Every movement purposeful, like she’s trying to memorize what makes you fall apart.

You whisper her name. She tells you how good you taste.

She looks up, lashes fluttering, lips slick and eyes dark with hunger.

Then she dives back in.

You’re close. So close it feels like your body might come apart at the seams. And just when you’re about to fall—

A loud knock on your door.

You barely register it.

Ellie pauses but doesn’t move.

Then—

“Dude! Are you home? I brought snacks and trauma in need to share!”

“Dina—don’t you DARE—!”

Too late.

She walks into the living room mid-step, rambling:

“I swear to God if I have to talk to one more entitled—”

She stops.

Sees Ellie.

Between your legs.

You. Breathless. Half-naked. Hands in her hair.

“OH MY ACTUAL FUCKING GOD!!”

Ellie’s head jerks up like she’s been electrocuted.

You fling a throw pillow somewhere between your body and dignity.

“DINA GET OUT!” you shout, voice cracked and hysterical.

“I DIDN’T MEAN—OH MY GOD—WHY ARE YOU NAKED—WHY IS SHE—”

“I LIVE HERE!” you shout again, trying to cover yourself while Ellie trips off the couch like she’s just committed a war crime.

“I’M SCARRED,” Dina wails, shielding her face with a tote bag.

“I JUST WANTED POPCORN AND A BREAKDOWN!”

You bury your face in your hands.

Dina backs out of the room, bumping into a chair, still muttering

“Jesus, I knew you were gay but I didn’t need proof.”

You’re both still catching your breath when the door slams shut behind Dina, her shriek of

“I didn’t see anything!” echoing in the hallway.

Ellie climbs on the couch, her face flushed, her hair a mess, looking like someone who just barely escaped being arrested.

You squeeze the pillow to cover yourself a little more, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter between giggles.

“I think I just died. I literally flatlined.”

Ellie buries her face on your neck, hand over her face.

“You? I thought I was gonna pass out when she screamed. I think my soul left my body.”

You both start laughing again, this time quieter, breathier—still tangled in adrenaline and whatever was about to happen before Dina busted in.

Then it gets quiet again. Still. Your heart’s slowing down but your chest is still tight, heavy with everything unsaid.

You glance over at her.

“You know I’m gonna have to explain this to her, right?”

Ellie tilts her head.

“This?”

You gesture between the two of you.

“Yeah. This. Whatever’s going on between us.”

She’s silent for a second, and then her arm snakes around your waist again. She tugs you closer until your thigh presses against hers.

“Well,” she murmurs, lips brushing your ear,

“I guess that depends.”

You turn to her, eyebrow raised.

“On what?”

She gives you that lopsided smirk you’re starting to recognize as dangerous.

“On whether or not you’ll let me finish what I started.”

You blink.

“Ellie—”

“Because,” she adds, voice dropping as her hand slides back to your hip,

“I was really enjoying the appetizer.”

You groan and bury your face in her neck.

“You’re the worst.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist! @wwefan2002 @jtoddsangel @vahnilla

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #lgbtq #wlw #wlw yearning #loser ellie

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