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petit-etoile · 1 year

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in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

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‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends — He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink — ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m — Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are — Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you — to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone — ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion — ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can — ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest — yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but — I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic

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acourtofmenandthirst · 11 months

Text

Coming Home

Eris x Reader, taking care of him after battle

Warnings: Illusion to smut for one sentence, war but nondescript

Word Count: 3.1K (not proofread)

The kettle screamed in the kitchen, the hot water begging to be removed from the fire and poured alongside fresh herbs and chamomile. You quickly set your book aside, careful to tuck a corner of your soft blanket between the pages before pulling yourself from the warm corner of the sofa. Bitter cold nipped at your bare feet as you skipped across the uneven floorboards, creaking at each step. You crossed your arms across your chest, the thick brown sweater tucked between your arms and over your neck.

Your boyfriend had a tendency to wear turtlenecks, preferring to trade his formal jackets with stiff collars for the comfortable hand knitted sweaters. He also had a tendency to leave them at your house.

You smiled at the memory, how the male would reluctantly crawl from your bed, grumbling something about the cold weather, before retracing his steps from the previous night, plucking up each article of clothing you’d thrown somewhere across the room. He’d have a multitude of items, usually a soft linen shirt, followed by a more stiff white button down, a vest maybe, a sweater, then the final layer: a tailored coat. He would throw you the sweater - only the softest, thickest material for the High Lord’s son - after he’d seen you curl up in the fleece sheets, wrapping them around yourself as you sleepily gazed over at him. He’d always pair the action with a small smile or a wink, to which you couldn’t stifle your grin. It was a silent battle between the two of you: whether he’d ever leave your home with all of his clothes, but it was one that he would happily lose, especially if he got to spend the morning making you breakfast while you sat on the counter all curled up in his sweater - it was his favorite sight.

You poured the steaming water over the leaves and flowers, silencing the noise that pierced your small home. You’d gotten a few complaints from your neighbors, when you’d left the kettle over the fire just a bit too long this late into the evening. Sometimes you’d just be too enthralled in your book, unable to stop yourself in the middle of the paragraph to head to the kitchen. Other times, you abandoned the kettle, the mere thought of tea long forgotten as the male in your arms kissed all down your neck.

The steam swirled around the rim of the mug as you grabbed the handle and carefully trudged back to the couch. After setting the cup on the small table beside you, you sat back between the plush cushions and curled your legs into you, tucked safely under the thick fabric of the male’s sweater. You threw the blanket over yourself for good measure, picking up your book with the blanket inside, and continued reading.

It was late, but by no means early morning yet, and sleep had evaded you. Despite countless cups of tea and tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you couldn’t manage one minute of shut eye; so, you’d given up completely and ventured to the living room to finish your novel. It was a tale of romance, a forbidden love between a stable boy and the princess - cheesy, no doubt, but it was one that made a smile cross your lips, a glimpse into your own relationship, however the roles reversed. But your heart swelled, as true love always found a way, the feeling almost too similar to how your own relationship had persisted regardless of the many obstacles in your way.

A harsh sigh left your lips as your ears perked up at the sound outside your front door. The clatter of metal, more than likely a candle holder, accompanied by a knock - one that no doubt belonged to your old neighbor, Mrs. Brittel, who had to pay you a visit at the slightest of disturbances. You groaned as you heaved yourself from the sofa, once again placing your book on the soft cushions.

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the fireplace mantle: nearly half past eleven; not too late to be up, but a decent enough excuse to answer the door in such an unbecoming state. You turned the lock, opening the heavy wooden door just a crack before poking your head through. A prickly greeting was already positioned at your lips, but your jaw fell open at the sight you were met with.

The male was tall, looming over you as the door fell open, your hands dropping to your sides. His helmet covered his fiery hair, though tufts of dark red curled around the edges of the metal. Silver adorned his body, a scuffed breastplate and armor lining his arms and legs. Dark leather bound his body underneath, visible at all his joints and tucked into his boots. A heavy-looking silver sword hung at his hip, his hands, tucked away in dark gloves, were shaking.

“Eris,” you breathed, his name the only word your brain could form. He sighed, chapped lips parting at the sound of your voice. His eyes shined, red irises glinting as silver lined his bloodshot eyes. A few cuts and scrapes adorned his flushed cheeks, riddled with marks or dirt and grime.

The male before you usually didn’t knock. He’d simply sneak in, entering your small cabin and sweeping you off your feet all in one quick motion. But he stood before you, dressed in armor, fresh from battle, shell shocked in your doorway.

He breathed your name, nothing but a whisper on his lips, as he stepped forward and held you by the shoulders. Your bodies didn’t touch, nothing close to the hug you’d been expecting to pull you into. He held you at arms length, weapons clinging against the metal along his legs, scanning over your form. What would normally have him in a frenzy, seeing you in his clothes, sweater busy barely covering your curves, not daring to even cover your bare legs - you normally wouldn’t be able to pull him off of you.

But he was ferally in search of any injuries, anything that may have been off about your form. Your hands rose to his wrists and found purchase against the leather that bound his arms into the armor. You felt his skin burning through the layers, that no doubt the heat was leaching into the silver.

You couldn’t even imagine what he’d seen, what he’d returned from.

Whatever it was, the dead bodies, the torture that must have been inflicted upon him and his men… you were just glad he made it home.

“I’m okay, Eris,” you whispered, gaze locked to his. You saw him press his lips together and swallow harshly. “You’re okay,” you continued. He looked okay, at least. No blood, no missing limbs, a few cuts and scratches - hell, you’d patched up many worse wounds inflicted by his own father.

The slightest nod.

“It’s cold, let’s come inside.” You waited for another nod before you stepped backwards, retaining your grip on his arms, slowly pulling him with you. The cold Autumn air had overtaken the whole living room, in which you couldn’t even feel the fire in the small hearth.

He heaved a sigh, dropping your shoulders as he began to recognized the room around him, when he realized where he ended up. It felt like his body was on autopilot - without even thinking he’d winnowed himself to your front door.

Eris’s hands fell to his belt, unfastening the holster his sword was looped into, and let if fall to the ground with a heavy thud. He flinched, then, returning his shaking hands to the metal plates on his chest. Those red eyes burned into yours, begging apology at the disruptive noise. “It’s okay, Eris,” you noted calmly, raising your hands to his armor. You helped him remove the heavy shielding, pulling at the thick leather laces at his sides, unweaving the knots and pulling free the strings.

He was frozen for what felt like hours, watching you work diligently, not flinching at the dirt that clung to your fingers as you pulled at the leather. The only thing he could focus on was his ragged breathing, the burn in his chest at each breath he took. He snapped out of it once you grabbed hold of the chest plate and blew out a breath as you tried to lift it off his frame.

His hands rose up to pull it away from you, the contoured metal much heavier than you could’ve ever guessed. He set it down, leaning it against the trim beside the door behind him. A small gasp fell on his pointed ears when he turned around, to which he shot back up to see you with your hands covering your mouth.

You motioned for him to turn back around, grimacing once you touched the dent on the metal hanging off his back. He shrugged it off, groaning at not only the loss of weight, but at the ache in his back. The whole piece of armor was dented at his spine, from when they’d killed his horse and he’d fallen onto their barrier walls. He thought it a miracle that he could even walk after that, but not after an ache with every step. He wasn’t sure how many bones were broken or how long it would take them to heal, but by the gods he couldn’t wait another moment to see you.

He shook his head, begging you not to ask, and continued on removing the armor, then the leather bindings, then the outer layers of his clothing. Eris was left in just his trousers and linen long sleeved shirt, the once loose material had become matted to his body, brown with grime and sweat. You tried not to stare at the flecks of blood, wounds that had probably already begun healing over, or the tears, where no doubt enemy swords may have scratched or even penetrated through the gaps in his armor.

As the broken male stood before you, eyelids heavy and shoulders slumped, you picked up your hand and raised it up to his prominent cheekbone, running your thumb over the scar adorning his pale skin. He hummed at your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, as if his head was so heavy he could barely hold it up on his own.

He shut his eyes so, in fear he may fall asleep standing in your doorway, you tilted his chin up with your forefinger, and lifted his head up. He opened those bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times. “Can’t let you fall asleep so dirty, my love,” you whispered, running your thumb over his sharp jaw before you dropped your hand, only to grab his instead. “You’ll sleep much better if you’re clean.”

A small smile tugged at his lips at the sweet gesture of the female he loved as he followed you down the hall and into the bathing room.

The tea on the side table had been long forgotten.

You lit up the candles with your own fire power, the scent of maple and pine wafting around the room. Eris stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for you to guide him to the next step. He craned his neck in all directions, a low crack echoing off the walls. His shoulders ached, too sore to even move his arms, as he tried to roll out his shoulders. “None of that,” you stated over the sound of the copper tub filling with water. “Let me help.”

You grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, stuck against his abdomen, as you pulled it free from his lean muscle and pulled it over his head. He groaned, raising his arms only high enough for you to bunch up the material and slip it over his head. You repeated the action with his trousers, allowing him to step free of them and then into the water.

His skin was covered in bruises, some yellow, some still ripe and purple. His muscles were tense, you could see all the valleys of his toned legs and arms, the contour of each muscle that bound his bones. You touched his arm ever so lightly when it was time for him to step into the tub, adding a handful of soap into the stream of water.

Brown and red speckled along the surface of the water, the grime leaving his body as he nearly dropped himself into the water. He sighed, the water relaxing the ache in his bones. You grabbed the cloth and saturated it in soap, lifting his arm and dragging the soft material across his skin. A few minor cuts and scrapes, nothing that wouldn’t heal by the morning.

His eyes shut and his head fell against the edge of the tub as you worked your way across his body, stopping only to inspect the cuts adorning his skin. “Come on, Eris, wake up,” you murmured, leaning over from your spot at the edge of the tub. You lifted his head into your hands, scooping the water over his sweat-soaked locks. “Lavender or green apple?”

He hummed, opening his eyes only just a crack before responding. “Lavender.” His voice was low, so low that you almost didn’t hear it. The purple marks under his eyes were more prominent in the candle light - the male had been through hell and back, clearly, and needed nothing more than your gentle touch to heal him.

“Then you’ll no doubt fall asleep on me,” you hummed, lathering up the lavender soap in your hands before running your fingers through his hair. Your fingertips scratched at his scalp just the way he liked, running the sudsy soap through his long curls. If he weren’t so tired, he would have grabbed your arms and heaved you over the side of the tub, holding you over his lap while you washed his hair. He’d nip at your breasts as they’d fall right in his face, and maybe he’d tease the head of his cock through your folds as you bounced above him to clean the back of his head.

But he was so fucking tired.

And there was always tomorrow.

“Ok almost done,” you whispered, probably more to yourself than him, as you cleaned the soap from his hair. “You ready to get up? Or are you spending the evening in the tub?”

He smiled for the first time that evening, his lips pressed together with smile lines carved into his cheeks. His eyes had nearly fallen closed again, and although he did feel so comfortable in the warm water, he knew he ought to get up. He’d much rather spend the night in your warm bed wrapped in your arms than the water that was soon to grow cold.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he almost moaned, pressing his large hands to the sides of the tub and pushing himself up. The water moved around him, falling off his body in waves.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, wrapping a towel over his shoulders and beginning to wipe him dry as he stepped from the bathtub. You fetched some clean clothes for him - his stockpile he’d reserved for when he decided he needed to spend weeks at your house, not daining to leave even to winnow home for more clothes.

I’m not leaving you, (Y/N). I’ll just have to spend the week naked with you, he’d say. After that week, spent more in his arms than anywhere else, you’d forced him to fill your armoire with clothes for the next impromptu vacation.

You pushed over the bathroom stool, splaying your hands on his broad back and pushing him towards the chair. You opened up the expensive salve on your counter, swiping some with your fingers and spreading it over his cheeks. You rubbed the salve into his skin - your skin will go dry in the cold, you’d told him.

In truth, he loved being pampered. He was the High Lord’s son for gods’ sake. He’d been used to a lifetime of it; but his male-pride showed when he’d spend the first night at your house, grimacing as you attempted to put the product on his face. Only this once, he’d responded, giving in only when you’d jutted out your bottom lip in protest.

But he secretly loved it, and let you do whatever you wanted to him. Which is why he sat so still on that chair when you started to run your fingers through his hair, using the heat building up in your palms and fingers to heat up his hair, drying it quickly as you sifted through it.

Between the heat and your fingers pulling at his red locks, his head fell backwards and his eyes fell shut once more. You smiled down at the male, with the hard and rigid exterior, the no one can touch me god-like complex, melted and so soft under your touch.

Once his hair was dry enough where you knew he’d have no issues falling asleep in the cold air of your bedroom, you traced your fingers over his cheeks and down his neck, over his collar bones, then down the thick muscles of his arms. Your thumb drew circles over his hard muscles, still tense and no doubt sore.

He hummed, a groan deep in his throat, as he opened his eyes and held your wrists in his hands. “We done here?” He grumbled, knowing you’d like to pamper him much more, more serums and salves - and by the Cauldron he wasn’t one to refuse a good massage.

But you knew he was tired, you bit back the smile and nodded, allowing Eris to finally stand and guide you back to the bedroom. He made sure to get you into bed first, pulling back the covers that were already strewn about from when you’d tried to sleep earlier that evening. You crawled in first, pushing back the layers of covers before so you both could lay out under the blankets.

Eris followed you in, laying on his side, bending his legs so his feet didn’t hang off the edge. You curled up to his side, chest to chest, enveloped in his warmth. His arm fell across your back, holding you close to him, and you tangled your legs with his under the pile of blankets. Eris’s breathing fell steady - you knew he fell asleep the moment his head hit the soft pillow.

No matter how hard you’d try to sleep in, you knew you’d wake before him. He was in dire need of a night of undisturbed sleep, relaxation and healing the forefront of his exhausted body’s priorities at the moment. You knew that even if you tried to sneak out as slowly and quietly as you could, he’d hold you tight in his sleep, not even waking to wrap his arms tighter around you. So you’d lie awake in his arms, tracing the scars on his skin and counting the freckles adorning his cheeks.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you

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f14fun · 1 month

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f1 abba inspired series

hey everyone! i have an abba-song inspired series in the drafts (since i got back from vaca and i'm still in a summery-mood and i love abba songs). hopefully it will be about three-five parts, each part a story for a different driver. each part will also have a minimum of 10K words, so this will be a prose series!

let me know if you guys want to see anything in particular!

chapter list ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ 01: lay all your love on me - op81 02: our last summer - cl16 03: under attack - gr63 04: mamamia - ob38

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01: lay all your love on me - op81 📍santorini, greece

On a summer getaway to Santorini, Greece, Y/N finds herself staying in a charming Airbnb with her family, soaking in the breathtaking views and vibrant atmosphere of the island. However, what was supposed to be a peaceful vacation takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that they’ll be sharing the house with none other than Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, who’s also vacationing with his family.

At first, the arrangement feels awkward, the two worlds of celebrity racing and her relatively normal life as a collegiate student colliding in the most unforeseen way. But as the days go by, the initial surprise gives way to something deeper. As they explore the sun-drenched beaches, dine in quaint tavernas, and experience the lively nightlife of Santorini, Y/N and Oscar find themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn’t anticipated.

As the sun sets over the Aegean Sea, and the lively energy of the island comes alive at night, Y/N and Oscar find themselves spending more time together, entertwined in a steamy and fast-paced romance. The backdrop of Santorini's iconic white-washed buildings, azure waters, and the laid-back Greek lifestyle set the stage for a summer romance that's as unexpected as it is intense.

02: our last summer - cl16 📍monte carlo, monaco

In the summer of 2018, both Charles and Y/N are on the brink of adulthood, just shy of their 18th birthdays. As they savor their final summer as teenagers, they find themselves reminiscing in the familiar, sun-drenched streets of Monte Carlo, where memories of childhood and dreams for the future intertwine in the warmth of the Mediterranean air.

As the days drift by, Charles and Y/N find themselves caught between the nostalgia of their shared past and the anticipation of what lies ahead. Every corner of Monte Carlo holds a memory—childhood races down the Promenade, late-night talks under the stars, and the countless summers spent by the azure waters. Charles, with a wistful smile, often finds himself retracing their old routes, savoring the familiar sights and sounds as if trying to imprint them in his memory before they part ways. Y/N, equally pensive, clings to the simple joys of their last summer together, finding solace in the shared silences and quiet moments that speak volumes.

But now, the city feels different, charged with the weight of impending change. They both know this summer marks the end of an era, a farewell to the carefree days of youth. Yet, amid the bittersweetness, there's an unspoken promise that whatever the future holds, Monte Carlo will always be the place where their story began.

03: under attack - gr63 📍majorca, spain

Global popstar Y/N, overwhelmed by the relentless pressures of fame and reeling from the heartbreak of discovering her partner's infidelity, decides she needs a serious escape. Desperate to get away from the prying eyes of the media and the public, she books a quiet trip to Mallorca, Spain, hoping to find some solace and rediscover herself amidst the island's tranquil beauty. But fate has other plans. In a chance encounter at a lively club’s bar, Y/N finds herself in a series of awkward and unexpected mishaps that leave her feeling more exposed than ever.

Just when she thinks her night can’t get any worse, George Russell, a familiar face from the world of Formula One, steps in. Sensing her distress and the unwanted attention she's drawing, George quickly concocts a plan and pretends to be her boyfriend for the night. As they navigate the evening together, the line between pretense and reality begins to blur, leaving Y/N to wonder if this unexpected encounter could lead to something more than just a fleeting escape. He's broken down her defenses, and what can you say, maybe she's just under attack.

04: mamamia - ob38 📍skiathos, greece

A series of misunderstandings, white lies, and the relentless demands of their busy lives have driven Y/N and her boyfriend of three years, Oliver Bearman, apart. The once inseparable couple now finds themselves estranged, their relationship seemingly hanging by a thread. Despite their love for each other, the distance and unresolved tensions have led to a painful separation.

However, their close-knit group of friends refuses to give up on them. Convinced that Y/N and Ollie just need some quality time away from the pressures of their everyday lives, they hatch a plan to bring the two back together. The friends secretly arrange for Y/N and Ollie to vacation in a secluded villa in Skiathos, Greece, for two weeks. Surrounded by the island's serene beauty, where the turquoise waters meet golden sands, the hope is that the couple will have the chance to reconnect, confront their issues, and rekindle the spark that first brought them together.

As Y/N and Ollie navigate the awkwardness of being thrown back together in such an idyllic setting, the old feelings start to resurface, but so do the unresolved issues that tore them apart. Amidst the breathtaking views and the romantic allure of Greece, they must decide whether their love is strong enough to overcome the obstacles that have come between them.

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comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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evanchantingpeters · 5 months

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception.

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture.

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion.

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp.

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him.

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt.

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself.

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively.

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.”

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally).

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you.

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.”

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence.

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down.

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched.

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours.

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door.

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.”

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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smeddiemunson · 1 year

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No Upside Down AU + a platonic Stobin sleepover + buckingham and steddie referenced.

“So?” Robin asked.

Steve sucked his teeth. “Robin, we’ve only just started the sleepover, I’m not telling you yet!”

“I’m in my pyjamas! We have a movie on, we have popcorn! We built a blanket fort!” Robin pointed to each thing in turn as if to remind Steve that he knew exactly how long she had been waiting already. “If you make me wait any longer, I’ll kill you.”

Steve snorted. It was the most empty threat he’d ever heard in his life. If he died, by Robin’s hand or otherwise, she would follow him soon after. They were soul bonded at this point; one couldn’t exist without the other.

“Alright.” Robin slapped at his arm excitedly. “Alright! Stop hitting me!”

Robin stopped hitting him but left her hands on his arm, fingers pressing, urging against his skin.

“It was good.”

“Steve!” Robin moaned, throwing herself back against the pillows in truly dramatic fashion. “You can’t just give me that! I want all the details!”

“I don’t know, Rob!” Steve cried back. “I had fun. He’s really funny and sweet, and...” Steve bit his lip as a blush spread across his cheeks.

Robin picked up on it like a bloodhound. “At least tell me what film you watched?”

Steve turned his face away from her, focusing too intently on the movie. “I don’t really remember,” he mumbled.

Robin squealed. “Steven Harrington, you sly dog! I knew there were details!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “He had all these blankets and pillows in the back of his van, and he put fairly lights up, and we kinda couldn’t see the screen because we had to park further away for obvious reasons. But-“ Steve took a deep breath, then rushed out, “It might have been the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Eddie Munson, a romantic. Who would’ve thought? Certainly not me!”

Steve shoved at her.

“Well don’t stop there! I want the details!”

Steve groaned. “Do you really want the details?”

“Of course I do! If I can’t have my gay romance, then I want to live through yours!”

Steve lifted his arm to tuck Robin underneath it and pull her into his chest. He ignored the way she tried to struggle away. “You could still have your gay romance, Birdie. You just have to tell her.”

“You don’t know that!” Robin replied as she was finally able to get her arms free enough to push away from Steve.

“She’s friends with Eddie,” Steve reminded her. That should be all Robin needed to know to explain anything about former Queen of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham.

Robin slapped at him. “Just because she’s friends with a gay person doesn’t mean she is gay, dingus. That’s not how it works!”

Steve easily batted her hands away with a chuckle. “That’s how it worked with me!”

Robin groaned.

“I’m just saying, I would never have thought about being bi if you hadn’t said anything about being a lesbian. Maybe Chrissy is the same!”

Robin buried her face into her hands. “Okay,” She said, though it was muffled by her hands so much that Steve pulled them away from her face and kept her wrists in his hands.

“Okay. Say, by some miracle, she likes girls, what’s to say that she would like me?”

Steve made a noise of disagreement. “First of all, she would be crazy to not like you because you are amazing and beautiful and the bravest person I’ve ever met—”

Robin rolled her eyes but Steve merely rolled his back, shook her hands a little and carried on. They’d had this exact conversation before and Steve didn’t feel like retracing it because there were more important things to get to.

“But I am almost certain she does like you back. She definitely flirts with you all the time.”

“No she does not.”

“I think I know more about girls flirting that you do, Robin.”

“Why? Because you turn into a little school girl around Eddie and do the same thing?”

“No,” Steve said, though he did so through a blush that did nothing to defend him from the accusation. “I know because girls always flirt with me.”

“Oh shut up.”

“They do!” Steve finally let go of Robin’s wrists so he could push a frustrated hand through his hair— already floppy from his shower and lack of product. “They do and I know Chrissy is doing it to you.”

“Prove it.”

Steve grinned and began listing off his points on his fingers. “She always laughs at your jokes. She twirls her hair whenever she talks to you. She asked you to explain that fucking French movie you forced us to watch the other week and she listened.”

Robin whacked him again. “You told me you liked that film!”

“I fell asleep! Of course I liked it.” Steve huffed. “Do you need me to keep going about Chrissy?”

“Maybe not,” Robin muttered. Then she squarked as Steve scrambled over her and out of their blanket fort to where the phone was hooked into the wall. “What are you doing?”

Steve just grinned as he quickly clicked some numbers on the keypad.

Robin watched in confusion from her spot on the floor.

“Hello, this is Steven Harrington. I was wondering if I could speak to Chrissy?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Robin’s face turned white in a second. She scrambled to her feet, losing them under herself a couple of times, but she couldn’t reach Steve to slam the phone down for him before he started speaking again.

“Hi Chrissy, I have Robin here.” He thrust the phone at her chest, not giving Chrissy time to answer and mouthed, ask her.

Robin glared, hoping that Steve would let it go. But he was as stubborn as she was and Chrissy’s confused call of Robin meant she wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than him this time. She would get her revenge, he was sure of it.

“Chrissy. Hi. How’s things?” Robin stumbled when she finally put the phone up to her ear. She didn’t stop glaring at Steve though.

Steve only smiled in triumph.

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s good. Yeah.”

Steve jabbed Robin in the side to stop her from talking herself in circles. He gestured with his hands for her to get on with it.

“So, my reason for calling, and just, you know, stop me if this is at all weird and you don’t wanna hear it or if i’ve got the wrong idea. it’s Steve’s fault really--” He jabbed her again and pouted when she managed to land a meaty smack against his ribs. But it did get her to blurt out, “Do you wanna go to Benny’s with me? On Friday? As, like, a date?”

Steve pumped his fist in the air. It may not have been the way he would have asked a girl out, but Robin had done it!

“Awesome. Yeah. Great. I’ll see you Friday then. I’ll pick you up. No, I won’t I can’t drive. Steve will drive us. But I’ll see you Friday? Yeah. Cool. Awesome. Bye Chrissy.”

Robin handed him the phone in a daze, eyes following his hand as he hooked it back on the wall.

“What the fuck?” She breathed.

“I think you just got yourself a date with a hot girl, Robin.”

#stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie #buckingham #my fic #i've been gone for two months oops #so posting drafts :)

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ummagumma1981 · 3 months

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My Devils minion theory for S3 (possible spoilers):

While Louis finds Lestat and Lestat tells his story then becomes a rock star, Armand and Daniel will resume their chase.

Daniel will run from Armand with the genuine intention to escape, but during this Daniel starts reliving the chase as he starts to remember.

Daniel will think he is running from city to city to escape Armand, but will realize that in each city he was in actuality subconsciously retracing his steps from the original chase in the 70’s. Armand will be following him at each turn and their romance will resume.

I think Daniel’s Turning during the events of QOTD will come true, but instead of Daniel dying from addiction it will be from Parkinson’s.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv spoilers #daniel molloy #vampire armand #devils minion #queen of the damned

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seafoamreadings · 3 months

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week of june 30th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: this week presents one of the most powerful possible times to change habits, thought patterns, trauma responses, or ancestral wounds. it would be a shame to let that go to waste. whatever comes up, be willing to work with it.

taurus: making a physical, pen-and-paper list of your goals and intentions is a good idea this week. grounding them in physical reality this way helps them materialize. local volunteering can also be very auspicious. it doesn't have to be organized or official, just picking up some loose trash or holding the door for people in sincere willingness to help is beneficial to you, too.

gemini: finding that someone has the wrong idea about you is usually jarring enough. in this case it's likely to be quite public; maybe a whole group of people you know or an entire demographic you relate to feels this way. it doesn't mean they're right. it's just information to process as you see fit.

cancerians: the yearly new moon in your sign has arrived. it is a sort of rebirth for you, at least if you want to be. you can hold on with your little crab claws to what you need to keep while the tide washes in and out with whatever you need to let it take away.

leo: although the new moon might have an almost tearful quality for you, the arrival of mercury in your sign this week will be refreshing. people are drawn to your words, written or spoken, and any trade you participate in. do a little gentle shadow work if you get the chance.

virgo: when neptune goes retrograde this week it may look like a snafu in your partnerships, but you'll need to trust that it's in your highest good even if you can't clearly see how. another ceres opposition can bring help from a friend or acquaintance. you might even start to see them as something more than that.

libra: this is a great time for anti-aging measures, or, preferably, graceful aging. you can't actually turn back time but you can live through it healthfully. saturn and venus conspire positively to keep you timeless, if you wish.

scorpio: neptune stations in pisces. combined with all the recent cancerian activity, this is a watery time and a powerful one for you. you may find yourself in some sort of slightly socially unacceptable or not-quite-recommended affair of the heart. guilt and shame are not the way to treat yourself about it, but always be sure to live with integrity and honesty as you go about whatever it is.

sagittarius: some echoes of the last month or two may recur this week. if you find yourself retracing your footsteps, know that you can take a different path if you want, or go on the same one and correct any mistakes or misconceptions from back then.

capricorn: your week features a big relationship/commitment new moon. it can be good to renew a vow, or make a new one. to a person, or to a purpose. it can also be a great time to start an entrepreneurial collaboration.

aquarius: this week - and maybe next too - try not to spend money or resources beyond what is strictly necessary. and when you must, try to do so wisely. in fact, opening up a spreadsheet and re-doing your whole budget is pretty auspicious with the new moon.

pisces: the new moon in cancer may bring you a new love or romance (or hobby. or some big time fertility.) but the station of neptune so close to the very end of your sign can come along with some deceit, confusion, or delusion. it's ok to do delulu, to some extent at least! if you manifest get to work on that now. but don't let it lead to anyone mistreating you.

#horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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sukisheadlights · 1 year

Note

hi there!! do you think you could write something about blaise bragging to his friends about being able to ask reader to the yule ball without being nervous but then when the actual day of the ball comes he's a pile of nerves, very unlike his usual calm self, and reader calms him down with a kiss??

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘐 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘐 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦! since any specific pronouns weren't mentioned I'll use gn pronouns :) 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

blaise zabini x gn!reader

A Yule ball tale of nerves and romance - Blaise Zabini.

You don't remember when exactly, but you have been crushing on this man for AGES

You've gotten really good at hiding it, your facade didn't even falter once you guys became 'friends.'

Little do you know, Blaise is absolutely mesmerized by you. Like, that man watches you like a HAWK; it's like he's constantly trying to memorize every little detail about you, down to the freckles scattered across your face and how you furrow your brows when you're struggling with math calculations.

That's why it was so easy for his friends to catch on. Everyone saw it but you two.

After ALOT of persuasion (and a few threats from Draco (Thanks buddy) ) Blaise finally agreed to ask you out.

As if the 'intervention' never happened, Blaise started pretending he was going to do that anyway, that he wasn't nervous in the slightest. All while you were entirely clueless on what was to happen soon.

FINALLY (much to Draco's relief), it was the day Blaise was supposed to ask you out.

The man followed you to the library even though he had no work there. (as always.)

You sat together, alone, at the table. Blaise was the only one aware of the tension between you, with your knees touching and you wearing his jacket. As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. He didn't know what you'd say, how you'd react, or maybe you'd just stop talking to him entirely, avoiding him in the hallways like you've been avoiding Seamus (long story)

He finally decided there was 'no time like the present' when you left to get a textbook. He quickly retraced your steps and found you at a bookshelf, more secluded than the others.

He saw you struggling and trying to reach some books. Hesitantly he went to help you, preparing himself with all the possible jokes he could make about your height.

He reached for the book and you turned around, ready to thank him when you realized how close you actually were. and how easy it would be to kiss him oh.my.god.

Finally, he wasn't the only one feeling the tension.

"hi" you breathed out, taking in the depth of his dark brown eyes and how he looked so handsome in his uniform that it was almost cruel.

He did the same, the light from the window beside the two of you made you look like the angel you were, and your eyes looked like pools of gold, lit up by the sun. He noted the messiness of your hair, that somehow only made you look prettier, he watched the way your eyelashes fluttered. And Finally, he prayed and hoped you didn't see the way he melted at the sight of you.

He didn't even realize when the words started spilling out "Can I ask you something?"

before you could reply he began talking again. you weren't sure he understood what he was saying either but you tried to make sense of the string of "uhm" "maybe it's a bad idea" "Seamus" "uhh" and other more 'colorful' vocabulary. You only realized what he was trying to do when you heard the words 'yule' and 'ball', in that order.

"Blaise." He instantly stopped talking, hating how much he loved the way his name rolled off your tongue.

And before either of you could realize it, your lips were on his. he pulled you close almost instantly (after the shock wore off) and the two of you moved in sync. It was the most natural thing ever as if being in his arms was second nature.

Reluctantly he pulled away, but any nervousness he had only washed away, butterflies taking their place. "Can I be your date to the yule ball?"

You nodded, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you went in to kiss him again. (And it only got better the second time around.)

You were the one to pull away now, giggling softly while he smiled brightly.

And neither of you stopped when Madam Irma Pince, the Hogwarts Librarian shushed you as she walked by, completely oblivious to what just happened.

#yule ball #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #harry potter x reader #dark academia romance #they're so precious #wow i wrote this #how did i do that #stunning #precious

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stellamalonesolaria · 26 days

Text

BTS JEON JUNGKOOK X READER FF | His Iris | one shot.

pairing: Brother’s bestfriend! jeon jungkook x college student! reader

genre: s2l, forbidden love au, college romance, fluff.

warning: mild swearing. mention of domestic abuse.

author’s note: this was exhausting to write, took me an entire day to write this. i’ve not proofread it so i apologise in advance for any grammatical and spelling errors. hope you enjoy this fic

word count: 9,862 words 53,694 characters

—————————————————————————

“There’s someone at the door”, your friend Mark yells, audible enough for you to proceed to the main entrance and unlatch the door. As you open the door, you’re greeted by two muscular men, one of them being your brother, Park Jimin.

Your brother is holding the other man, who appears to be half asleep, by his shoulders, supporting him in order for him to stand erect in front of you. His eyes are closed. The man looks wasted, as though he must’ve devoured gallons of booze.

“Brother, what are you doing at Mark’s place at this hour?”, You ask your brother as he looks at you agitated and in scrutiny. “What are YOU doing at Mark’s place at this hour, is my question exactly”, he retorts, evidently fuming because of your presence at a guy’s place during such an odd timing.

“Brother Jimin, I was here because Samantha, Mark’s girlfriend invited me over for a little freshers party for our university batch”, you chirp, trying to ease down the tense atmosphere created by your brother by emphasising on the fact that a girl invited you, not a guy. Your brother has always been over protective of you to say the least. He even used to masquerade himself as your husband whenever your childhood friend Namjoon insisted on playing house with you. No man has dared to approach you as your brother masked himself as the hooligan who chased those scoundrels away from his precious baby sister. You have always lead a sheltered life being Park Jimin’s inestimable sibling.

“Go back to your dorm, I will drive you.”, Jimin strictly instructs you. You reluctantly comply and walk towards his car parked in-front of the decorated porch. On the way, you notice, the drunken being has opened his eyes as he coughs violently, an indication to his hangover and presumably nausea. You quickly halt in your tracks as you retrace your steps back to the foyer, where both the men are still currently standing.

“He’s gonna vomit, let me guide him to the washroom before he ruins Mark’s vestibule.”, you say alarmingly. Your brother looks at you with a straight face with his tongue poking the inner side of the cheek. “No I’ll take him.”, your brother announces. The man is still coughing vigorously. You direct your brother to the bathroom area where the younger man can go and barf to his heart’s content.

You go to Mark’s kitchen and prepare lemon water for the latter for his hangover. You climb up the stairs to the room where the toilet is located. You look at your brother patting the stranger’s back, trying to calm him down, while he throws up. You hand over the lemonade to your brother who then leans down to make the man drink it as a cure for his drunkenness. You grab a mop to clean the toilet while the duo is still sat on the floor.

Your brother suddenly sits up straight. “I’m going to the kitchen to keep the glass in the sink. You clean up this washroom and then we’ll leave okay?” Your brother leaves the man unattended, that means, under your care and surveillance. You proceed to clean the floor with the mop and the toilet area on which there’s puke stains while the man sits down on the floor trying to rejuvenate and recover and sober up.

Once you’re done cleaning, you attempt to look at the man sitting on the floor with his eyes closed and his one hand rubbing his temples. You stare at his swoon worthy features, he’s gorgeous. His hair is a beautiful colour of burgundy accentuating his features which comprise of a well defined and sharp jawline, elevated cheekbones, a glowing forehead due to beads of sweat formed on it, his cherry pigmented plump and moist lips. His delicate facial characteristics encapsulate you in a void where no one exists except for the both of you. He’s such a beauty.

“Are you done staring”, the man states, you get pulled out of the trance as his deep yet very sexy voice resonates with you. He opens his eyes, revealing his orbs. His eyes are a beautiful shade of brown with a pearly glint to them which appear as glistening stars stolen from the transcendent universe. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”, you say embarrassed, your cheeks crimson. The man just grunts and groans in response, probably still in a lot of pain due to consumption of liquor.

“By the way, I’m Y/N, Park Jimin’s sister”, you introduce yourself trying to converse with him for some mystic reason. “Jungkook. Jeon jungkook.”, he says his name with his eyes glued to you, further flustering you. “Nice to meet you Jungkook”, you say coyly, he smirks in return, surprising you. “Is your headache okay?”, you try to continue this colloquial interaction. “You’re pretty”, he says, ignoring your question as you’re thrown aback by his statement. “Excuse me?”, you ask in disbelief unable to believe what you just heard. “I said you’re pretty”, he has a teasing grin on his face, as butterflies jitter in your stomach seeing him flash a smile. “Thank you”, you say genuinely.

Jungkook tries to stand up straight but is unable to do so, hence, you lend him a hand after witnessing his futile attempts to get up. “No i’m fine I do not need your help.” he spits, “You look like you need it.”, you jab at him after spotting his annoyance. He looks at your hand in front of him, contemplates a little before taking it to get up. You guide him to the wash basin where he splatters cold water on his face, some droplets cling onto you due to you being so close to him.

He looks at you while you try to wipe the few droplets on yourself, you look so pretty, almost as if, he feels like he’s witnessing an angel in heaven playing with the water gods. Droplets trickle down his face, seeing them fall down, you’re reminded of your brother whom you’d help cleaning up this way whenever he splashed his face with water, you grab a towel and instinctively start wiping his face, leaving him flustered this time. Realisation sinks in a while later when you’re almost done cleaning his face, you’re way too close to him, your front bodies almost touching, you’re almost feeling his buff chest through his tank top. You quickly retract from there, bowing your head to apologise for this sudden erratic behaviour, making him chuckle. You then look up as he towers over your figure, your lips almost touching his. Your heart skips a beat. He’s so beautiful. You pull yourself away from him and in the process you slip over the slippery freshly mopped surface. You’re prepared to fall when you suddenly feel a strong arm preventing your fall by holding you by your waist. You both stare into each other’s eyes. Minutes pass by, you both remain in this position but it changes when you hear footsteps approaching you. You become aware of your surroundings, you stand up alert, away from the muscular figure.

“Sorry for taking so much time, I met this weird guy ‘Mark’ who was all over me, questioning my roots?? Then I had to explain to him that I’m Y/N’s brother, like couldn’t he have guessed by just looking at me?”, Jimin says as he enters the washroom. You and Jungkook look at him and then at each other and laugh at your brother’s overdramatised rhetorics. “Well, the good news is that I’ve sobered up thanks to you and your little sister, which I had no clue about until today so thanks for that Park.”, Jungkook says sarcastically, “Now let’s leave this ‘weird guy’s washroom’ before he barges in and inspects my roots as well”, jungkook continues as he earns a laugh from your end.

You head to your brother’s end, feeling someone’s eyes over you. Jungkook is looking at you, for some reason, you’re so alluring to him.

He opens the car door for you, as you step inside, sitting right behind the passenger seat, the one which Jungkook has captured. Your brother buckles his seat belt as he gets ready to drive. You feel Jungkook pushing his seat back a little as your leg space gets cramped, annoying you. You spread your legs wide under his seat, almost touching his legs. He senses this and turns his head around to look at you as he subtly but gently kicks your leg back earning a small yelp from you. You never back down in a fight, especially silent wars like this. You not so gently kick his leg earning a shriek from him which grabs the attention of your brother who formerly was only focusing on driving. “What happened jungkook?”, he asks raising an eyebrow, Jungkook looks at you in discreet where you signal for him to keep his mouth shut. Jungkook looks at you smugly, intaking the fact that you’re absolutely terrified of your brother. He is about to speak when your petrified state says, “He wants to listen to Kim Namjoon’s new album”, your brother looks at you and then at him curiously, “Is that so?”, he raises an eyebrow again, this time directed at jungkook and you both. “Yes”, “No”—you and jungkook reply in unison confusing the older man. “The album Seven is way better”, Jungkook retorts, he earns a gasp from you. “No wayyy, Right place Wrong Person is the best.”, you argue. You and Jungkook keep going back and forth on this topic, tired by this Jimin intrudes in your skirmish with Jungkook. “Both of them suck, Muse is way better than both of them anyday.”. Jungkook and you look at him in absolute astonishment. “THAT ALBUM IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST, Oli London sings better than the artist who created ‘Muse’”, you both say in unison to which Jimin heaves showing he is so offended by that. “Get out of my car you both.”, he scolds. You and Jungkook just laugh at this.

As time goes, you get bored as you still sense eyes on you but the entire car is silent. You plug in your wireless ear phones, playing ‘Labyrinth by Taylor Swift’, one of your comfort songs. You look at Jungkook while the song plays in the background through the rear view mirror and you spot him, looking back at you, amusing you. “Pass me one of your ear buds as well”, Jungkook says, as he also insists on joining in your music playing jam. You hand him one of the ear buds and as you’re about to sit back on your seat again, he holds your hand, pulls you forward and takes your phone from your hand, switching the track from ‘Labyrinth’ to ‘the boy is mine’ by Ariana Grande. “Hey! I was listening to taylor swift”, you whine, Jungkook just half laughs, “Well now you’re listening to the boy is mine.”, he says while Jimin remains silent, his attention solely on the road, you roll your eyes, as you attempt to sit back on the seat.

You look out of the window of your brother’s car as you spot a flower vendor on the way. “STOP THE CAR!”, you yell/demand. Your brother immediately stops the car, “WHO THE FUCK DIED?”, he screams as you just look at him, “Nothing, I just wanted irises, there’s a flower vendor there on the road.”, you say casually as both Jimin and Jungkook shake their heads at you. “I’ll buy it for you.”, Jimin sighs as he opens the car door to get out but is interrupted by the young man sitting on the passenger seat,” No Hyung, let me go buy flowers for her, you already bought my today’s dose of alcohol for me.”, Jimin agrees as Jungkook gets out and purchases a bouquet of irises for you. Your heart thumps loudly, the background music shifts to play Labyrinth by Taylor Swift again, you see Jungkook approach your side of the window with his flowers for you, his iris that he bought for you. You lower down your window shuttle as he hands you the flowers while Taylor Swift in your ear bud sings out ‘Uh oh I’m falling in love’. You mouth a small thank you to him while he just flashes a gentle small smile to you.

The moonlight luminescent in the sky as you head out of the car after reaching your dorm. “Take care of yourself and no more of any late night rendezvous or parties from now on.”, Jimin says sternly, you nod and wish him goodnight by pecking his cheeks. The car stays still till you enter the frontier of your college dorm, you look back one last time, glancing at the man sitting beside your brother, flashing him a small smile as the hold on the bouquet gifted by him gets stronger, you bask in the sweet fragrance of the irises as you turn yourself away from the vehicle, as you do that, you notice a small slip hidden beneath the canopies of the flowers, you proceed to take it out. The note carrying nine digits belonging to the person who has a bunny like smile. You smile at the note which clearly flushed as you cannot wait to text him.

The following morning, you wake up and wash up for your classes in uni. You’re majoring in economics, planning to be a data analyst for finance companies. You put on your mascara while the events from last night flash in your mind, oh how a chance encounter blossomed exciting feelings within you. You haven’t texted Jungkook yet for some reason. Although the wait is tormenting you but you like this game which nuances your patience levels. You pick up your bag after you’re done caking your face with makeup.

You catch a public bus to reach your college from your dorm. You clutch your phone in your hands. You enter his digits inscribed on the note via your dial pad. You save his contact as Jungkook.

You send him a text after much contemplation as to what to message him. Your text reads, ‘Hi it’s Y/n, thanks for the flowers yesterday, how’s your hangover right now?”

You put your phone down, as you do that, you feel it vibrate, you’ve received a notification from the very person you just texted.

The message says, “Hey there pretty girl, I’m feeling a bit better thanks to someone’s lemonade.”, ‘so he noticed’, you think, you continue reading the message which states, “Hope you liked the flowers and the little gift I left with it”, he’s clearly being flirtatious, catching you off guard with his text, your cheeks flush a new shade of red. “I liked the flowers, although I cannot say the same for your ‘gift’”, you tease him on text. “You texting me right now is proof enough that you didn’t just like it, you loved it.” he replies to your text, unwaveringly. How is he able to make your heart flutter through text. Is he a professional flirt or what. These thoughts cross your mind as you blush profusely.

You depart the bus as you reach your destination. You plug in your earphones as you enter your university but are very shocked to see the person in-front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeon Jungkook has befriended your brother within the gates of this college. Jeon Jungkook is also pursuing bachelors in finance and is interning in one of the big shot companies hence the payment of the flowers was done by his hard earned money.

Jungkook looks at your tiny silhouette as he heads over to you. He immediately takes one of your ear pieces and inserts in his right ear. “the boy is mine? sweet, glad you picked up on my elite taste”, Jungkook remarks earning a glare from you as your cheeks heat up. “Not because of you, I just happened to like this song, it’s Ariana after all.”, you protest, more like lie, you’ve been unable to get Jungkook out of your mind ever since yesterday and this song draws you close to Jungkook’s tastes. “I’m surprised to see you here though like I didn’t know you attended the same college as my brother and I.”, you say truthfully to which Jungkook replies wittily, “How else was I able to afford those expensive irises if not for an internship in finance company due to this university?”, “Fair enough”, you say sighing.

Your hair comes undone as you walk along with Jungkook, he notices that and stops in his tracks, holding your wrist, stopping you as well. He comes near you, his breath fanning over your lips, he gently holds your cheek, as you close your eyes preparing for a kiss, but you feel him tugging your hair strand behind your ears, leaving you flushed once again. He should get a degree in making you flustered. He lets go of your hand and leans in to whisper, “Maybe next time, I’ll kiss you.” your stomach is doing a back flip as your heart stops beating all because of one person, Jeon Jungkook.

“Wanna bunk?”, Jungkook suggests as you hastily shake your head, “No noo, my brother will plunge a dagger through my heart if he ever finds out.”, Jungkook snorts at your statement, “Who’s gonna be telling him?”, he simply says, “I thought you were supposed to be his friend?”, you ask, “I am but sometimes, he can be unreasonably strict especially towards you, you’re allowed to have fun too you know.”, he says softly, “the only thing unreasonable is bunking.” you state, he rolls his eyes, “one day of skipping class would not hurt anyone, judging by the bag you’re carrying, you look too diligent, you’ll be able to cover up the missed class syllabus in no time, plus i’ll help as well.”, he says to which you agree as you look at his chocolatey eyes.

Jungkook pulls up with your brother’s car from the previous day. You look at him with widened eyes, “What if brother notices that his car is missing and then he finds out I’m ditching class?”, you panic while Jungkook just laughs, he indicates for you to get in. You hastily become his passenger princess as you sit on the seat beside him while he buckles his seatbelt and sets out to drive.

Jungkook shows you a text which is seemingly acknowledged by your brother as it reads, “Ditching class. Taking your car for a ride.”, you just keep your eyes widened in shock, “He let you skip?”, you ask still amazed, “He can’t stop me sweetheart”, jungkook replies smugly.

Jungkook parks the car in the parking lot, as he steps out, he comes to your side of the car and opens the door like a gentleman, impressed by his actions, you get out of the car and bow to him as a way of showing your appreciation towards his very considerate behaviour. You both head to a coffee shop as he orders a chocolate mocha for you and chocolate shake with condensed banana milk for him. You take a note of his liking towards banana milk as he specifically requests for banana milk along with his chocolate shake.

“Are we going to sit down for our drinks?”, you ask, “Is that what you want?”, Jungkook asks in return, “I mean what do you plan to do now?”, you ask as you hold your chocolate mocha in one hand sipping on the drink while he devours his banana milk chocolate shake. “How about we go shopping?”, he offers, you agree. You love shopping for clothes, you usually come alone or with your brother or sometimes with your dorm mates but this would be the first time you’d go shopping with a guy, this would be special. “Let’s go shopping for clothes!”, you chirp making Jungkook smile.

You enter this shopping outlet with Jungkook, you both unknowingly link your arms as you scroll through the columns where the dresses were hung.

“Will this purple suit you?”, you ask trying to imagine him in a purple shirt, “I hate purple”, he immediately remarks, you sigh as you say, “hate is a strong feeling, maybe say purple doesn’t suit you?”, jungkook rolls his eyes, his expression on his face darkening, becoming more serious, “I hate it.”, he states coldly, fearing you with his eccentric reply, you don’t coax him further with this entire ‘purple’ topic.

While looking for T-shirts for him, you stumble upon the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen. A floral printed skirt with a white vest embedded with buttons in the middle. A classic dress. Jungkook notices you admiring the beautiful work done by the creator of the dress. “We should buy this white floral dress”, he remarks, you look at him and shake your head, “No, it’s too costly plus I’m not carrying a lot of money with me.”, you say, “It’s okay, this dress is on me”, Jungkook says offering to pay for the ethereal dress, “No Jeon, it’s okay but thanks for the offer though.”, Your eyes brim with sincerity moving Jungkook.

Jungkook asks you to get him coffee while he has to buy something, you comply, as you go to the café, today’s fun all because of one person’s presence.

You sit down after taking what you ordered for Jungkook as you wait for him to arrive. He comes with a shopping bag. He sits down right beside you, his face only a few centimetres away from you. Accelerating your beating heart, you try to move away but he grabs your wrist yet once again and pulls you closer to him. He holds your cheek while his other hand pulls out something in front of you, as it turns out, it is the same shopping bag he was carrying when he entered the café.

“What about this?”, you ask him looking at his hand carrying the shopping bag in front of your face. “This is for you.”, he says softly, his eyes piercing through yours, “You didn’t need to-“, you say flustered, “Shh, consider it a gift from my end.”, he immediately cuts you short, as your heart flips.

You take the bag from his hand, blushing. You thank him for his gift. He waves for you to unpack the ‘gift’. The gift turns out to be the expensive dress you laid your eyes on. Your mouth falls, wide agape, you look at him, half happy, half cranky, “Jeon why-“, you ask, “Just thought it’d look good on you.”, he states truthfully. You peck his cheeks as your token of thanks. His cheeks now visibly turning pink. He clears his throat as he says, “Wear this tomorrow okay?”, “Tomorrow why?”, you look at him as you ask this, “Don’t you want to cover your missed syllabus? I’ll help you tomorrow over a cup of coffee after classes.”, you smile at him as he says this and nod your head.

“Also Jeon, please take your classes seriously, try not to skip them much.”, you request him, more like advise him as you stare into his honey glazed eyes. He nods his head and promises you to take care of his college academic life. You smile at him as he reciprocates your smile.

The next evening, you look at yourself in the mirror where you’re adorned by jewellery which goes along with the outfit bought by Jungkook. You apply blush on your cheeks and a rose tint on your lips to accentuate their shade. You comb your hair and tie your hair in a sleek pony.

You walk towards the doorway of your dorm, opening your camera app, looking at yourself for the last time before Jungkook pulls up with Jimin’s car. Jimin is out of town for his internship for the time being, creating a lot of time for you to meet Jungkook for your little study session.

Jungkook has parked Jimin’s car in front of the entrance of your dorm. He slowly lowers down his window shuttle. You proceed forward towards the car, growing closer to him. He looks at you, completely and utterly mesmerised by the beguiling beauty in front of him. Your soft features becoming more prominent due to the addition of the jewellery.

Jungkook steps out of the car after basking in your lavender scent, he holds your hand, leads you to your side of the car, opens the door for you to sit inside the vehicle. He has a bunny like smile plastered on his face as he gazes the pulchritudinous lady admiringly.

He’s pulled out of this artistic trance set up by angels when you snap your fingers in front of him. He blinks his eyes, as he gets onto the driver’s seat. He hands you an iris lovingly before setting out to drive you both to a café.

You both reach the café, Jungkook is scanning the menu while you plop out the study material of the lecture you missed that you borrowed from your dorm roommate. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows as he looks at you, “We’re going to start studying right away?”, he questions astonished, “Yes, I have to maintain my CGPA, to land an impressive internship for a great experience.”, you reply, he sighs as he keeps the menus aside, “I guess we will order coffee in a while.”, he says while you laugh.

“Jungkook you know, the colour purple that you seemingly detest is the colour of the irises I love. Isn’t that a bizarre coincidence?” You say while Jungkook just remains silent, his face blank yet tears pooling near his eyes, “Y/n, you know I used to love the colour purple once but as it turns out your likes and dislikes alter as you grow up so now tada I hate purple.”, he says. You witness the evident façade he’s establishing to suppress his real emotions but you don’t want to be a pushover hence you try to change the topic, “What about your hobbies? What do you like aside from banana milk?”, he notices how you mention banana milk as he raises an eyebrow enchanted by your attention to detail, “You”, he simply replies, ruffling you, your heart flittering, “I’m serious, stop kidding.”, you say, your cheeks turning a scarlet shade of red. “You can say I like tutoring the one I like, I like playing video games and driving a damsel around to a café.”, he says, jitters in your stomach, this man is so coquettish, you hit his toned chest as he’s just sitting beside you hence giving you an easy access to touching his body, “Stop joking Jeon.”, you say even though you want him to continue his flirting whilst still wanting to learn about his likes and dislikes. “You can say I like over watch.”, he says trying to quench your curiosity about him, “Like the video game or the hentai?”, you tease, he widens his eyes, his ears turning crimson red, “You know what hentai is?”, he asks in return, shocked by your knowledge, “Oh I’m a woman of many secrets.,”, you say trying to continue this witty interaction where you’ve the upper hand, “Oh I see, can’t wait to uncover all the secrets this woman might be hiding.”, Jungkook smirks as he says that. You both laugh and have a gala time during this electrifying tutoring session provided by him only exclusive to you.

Hours pass by, you’re almost done being taught by him, you’ve covered up the necessary topics. You love how you both can bond over studies as well now. “I guess we’re done for today.”, Jungkook says looking unpleasant, his face is like an empty canvas which articulates every emotion in his palette whenever he feels them. “You don’t want me to go yet?”, you say, surprised by how bold you’ve become in a few days because of this gentleman, you let out a small squeal, “Yes, in fact how did you even know?”, Jungkook laughs, himself astonished by the change in your behaviour. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning for college, let’s go together, what say?”, he proposes, “Yes a hundred times yes.”, you approve.

The following morning, you spot him with his car, more like your brother’s car which has become his now for the time being, you clutch onto your bag pack as you see him step out and open the car gate for you to get in, his passenger queen.

He gets in the vehicle as well. He starts the engine and before he starts driving, he pulls out the midnight album by Taylor Swift, for which he got up extra early so that you could listen to Labyrinth with him in the car to the way to your institute. “You like Taylor Swift now?”, you say flustered, and impressed both by how considerate he has become of your tastes, but the truth is, he’s growing fond of you as you are of him, he’s taking a liking to your tastes, you’re changing him in ways that he doesn’t realise but he knows it’s for the best, as he’s becoming gentler day by day and the due reason and cause of this is you, “Yes apparently so, Labyrinth is a beautiful song.”, he replies to you. Labyrinth plays while you both just enjoy a comfortable yet very exciting car ride with each other.

Uh Oh I’m Falling in love.

Uh OH I’m falling in love.

These lyrics deeply resonating with you two as days go by with each other. It’s so easy being around each other. It’s like the time stops when you’re both with each other.

Days go by, as you keep on spending time with Jungkook, as you get to know him little by little, as a piece of your heart slowly starts eroding away to him little by little. He also feels the same for you, he finds your presence very alluring and comforting, you’re the soothing rhythm of his life who accelerates the pace of his heartbeat. Your existence has started to become his sole reason of ecstasy. You both have reformed into positive and better souls just because of each other’s company.

One eventful morning, as you enter the university gates, someone pulls you by your bag, your back clashes into a well built chest, you immediately recognise who this chest belongs to, Jeon Jungkook. He hands you an iris as he says, “You know I hate purple, yet a small part of me, yearns for irises, I resent purple, but maybe, this time, because of you, I can make an exception to irises.”, he says with a soulful smile while you just encapsulate him in a small embrace as you feel happy for him and you.

Theese days seem the most precious to you because of a certain someone who in such a short while has become your everything. Your heart is prancing out of sheer euphoria yet your gut, your intuition is screaming that something sorrowful might happen, you turn a blind eye to your perplexes, deep down knowing, Jungkook is concealing something from you, that, he’d never be entirely yours if he has to someday, if he keeps on desolating his darkest regions, or perhaps, the reason why he seemingly hates the shade of purple.

Your intuition has stood corrected. Jungkook hasn’t contacted you ever since he told you about how he could make an exception to liking purple irises. He isn’t even been showing up to the university anymore. You’ve been texting him about his whereabouts, you’re concerned about his well being. 100 missed calls, that’s how many times you’ve called him but received no answer. Is this what love bombing is? Bombarding you with love before your beloved goes all ghost mode on you. Your brother has returned back from his internship tour as well. He has met with you, you have had to resist yourself from asking about Jungkook to him countless times as you can’t risk exposing your true feelings to your brother, fearing his reaction.

You feel empty, as if someone has shot your soul with bullets but the blood isn’t oozing out. You’re entrapped in a melancholic state as the one who made your world colourful, even for a little while, has left you without any reasoning. You’ve lost count of how many overthinking sessions you have indulged yourself in till date. This is tormenting, even soul crushing. You don’t feel energetic enough to attend your classes hence you’ve been skipping your classes. His absence has sucked the soul and life out of you. This is unhealthy, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your brother. He worries for you as he sees you spiral down into doldrum, he has asked you many a times as to why you were like this, but you couldn’t tell him, even if you wanted to, he’s helpless. He’s suffering because he cannot see you in such a devastating state and his best friend isn’t replying to his texts and calls either.

One mighty evening, as if the almighty has heard your silent prayers and cries, you stumble upon Jimin talking to someone, you continue overhearing as the person on the other end of the call turns out to be Jungkook, your heart thumping loudly, breath shortening, eye sight becoming hazy, your ears becoming more attentive to the call. You feel relieved, he’s alive and breathing, but you grow more distraught as the call continues, “Jungkook-ah, where the fuck have you been?”, Jimin says, his call on speaker inadvertently. “My mother is in ICU-“, Jungkook’s voice breaks, -“they say..she-she doesn’t have a long time to live.”, Jungkook cries, Jimin falls down on the ground, “Jungkook oh my fucking god, I’m visiting you right now.”, Jimin says, which Jungkook immediately declines, “No hyung, don’t, your graduation is nearing, you’ve important finals, attend them, they’re more important than this, I’ll be okay here.”, Jimin sighs, “Let me know if I can do anything for you, I’ll be available for you 24/7, I’ll pray for Mrs. Jeon.”, Jimin says sadly as Jungkook just acknowledges that and cries on call with him. You fall down to the floor as you hear their conversation, you gain whatever strength you’ve left within you to pick yourself piece by piece as you go to your room, yes you are staying with your brother for the mean time as he has noticed your saddened state, so you enter your room, you cry to your heart’s content, then you look at yourself in the mirror, as you promise yourself and Jungkook, “I’m coming Jeon, I’ll be there for you through this.”, you prepare yourself mentally as you’ve to be the one now supporting him.

You’ve booked a ticket for a train to busan to visit Jungkook, you heard about the hospital’s name and his whereabouts via the call between your brother and your beloved.

On the way to the hospital, as you hail a cab, you buy a beautiful bouquet of irises.

You reach the hospital, you pay the fare of the cab journey to the cab driver, he thanks you for the payment.

You rush inside the hospital and go up to the receptionist to ask about Mrs. Jeon. “What’s your relationship with her?”, the receptionist inquires, “Daughter in law.”, you say adamant to see her son. “Room 408, this way ma’am”, the receptionist guides you to an elevator where you reach the fourth floor. You search for room number eight. You find the room and before you push open the door to the room as you’re meeting with her during visiting hours, you once again, mentally ready yourself before the grandeur meeting.

Shuffling through the door knob, an asleep Jungkook wakes up, his mouth agape, tears escaping his eyes as he looks at the figure in front of him. You look as beautiful as ever, just weaker due to all those skipped meals because you missed him terribly and he looks sick as well like he hasn’t slept and eaten properly in days, the dark circles beneath his eyes, a clear indication of him crying for days straight.

The first thing you do when you see him, is run forward to hug him, he doesn’t believe his eyes yet, even if you’re in his arms, he cannot believe that you’re here, with him, for him. Tears pool near his eyes, as he cries on your shoulder while hugging you tightly, as if he’ll never let you go ever again. The hug is a mixture of regret for not talking to you, melancholy because of his mother and a lot of love because he missed you, missed your affection and missed being near you. He melts in your hug, crying his eyes out, you pat and rub his back to comfort him, “Everything will be fine Jungkook.”, you whisper softly into his ears, your own voice cracking because of your tears, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “I’m so-sorry Y/n.”, he cries, “Shh, I’m here now, it’s okay.”, you coo in his ears, gently rubbing his back.

You both separate from each other, he leans forward to kiss your forehead, “What are you doing here, how’d you find out about all this? I’m so sorry for leaving without any texts. I should’ve reached out to you, it’s just that I didn’t want you to see me in such a vulnerable state.”, he says hastily as the emotions he’s feeling right now are indescribable. A combination of happiness and sadness followed by a wave of nostalgia after seeing you, he’s in denial that you’re standing in front of him. “Jungkook, how could I ever leave you at this time, I eavesdropped on yours and Jimin’s conversation and as soon as I heard about your mother, I knew I had to come in, the truth is I’m in love with you Jungkook, even if you don’t feel the same way it’s okay, but i’ve promised myself that as long as I exist, I’ll be standing next to you, through thick and thin till I take my last breath. I’ll even walk through fire with you. It would be you and I against this damned world. We will fight through this together. I’ll never ever leave you alone ever. I promise, I love you and I’m sorry for being this late to this.”, you genuinely spill every aching feeling you’ve felt throughout the entirety of the time you’ve spent with and without him. The next thing he does, surprises you, he captures your lips with his own, kissing them ever so gently, pouring all his love through that gesture, the taste of his lips mixed with his tears, provide a bittersweet and emotional venture of love to you and him both. “Thank you so much for just existing, I love you too that even words cannot articulate the gravity of the feelings I harbour for you.”, sincerity brimming his eyes, you continue kissing him.

You’re sitting with him near his mother on bedrest. You give him the bouquet of irises you bought as a token of support. He looks at you and smiles softly and sadly. “The reason I hate purple is because of my parents, my parents co-owned this company, ‘Everything Purple’, where they sold literally every item in the shade of purple, I’ve grown up with this colour surrounding me. Purple represents independence, which my mother hoped for from her in laws as, if she was the one earning, she wouldn’t have to endure patriarchal abuse, but purple also represents ambition and turns out ambition for earning money and exercising authority over your wife is greater than any love you can have for her, so my father got jealous of my successful mother so he used to beat her almost everyday in-front of me, transferring all her shares to his name, which led to my paternal parents also ostracising her and performing atrocities against her.”, You look at him, he has been through so much, You hold his hand as he continues, his grip on your hand becoming stronger, as he is asking for remnant strength to overcome his trauma and speak freely about his tragedies to you, he takes a deep breath before saying, “One d-day, I saw her almost lifeless on the floor of my house as I was returning from my school, my dad had hit her too much that her bruises turned blue-, Y/n-ah, I-i c-called the ambulance, they took her, they-they said she was in a critical condition that she won’t survive the hit- they put IV tubes in her, they resuscitated her, all kudos to the almighty, but she got into coma and had a weak heart herein onwards- my bastard of a dad remarried and started a family out somewhere else and I used up her savings for my education to get into this college. Ever since that day my mother has been in coma and a few days earlier, the doctors called me that her condition has destabilised- I only have her as my family. I can’t lose her Y/n-…” Jungkook’s voice croaks, You hug him hard, your tears falling down because of him, “Jungkook, you wont lose her, she will always be by your side. She’s your mother, the last thing she wants is for you to cry over her. She must’ve wanted you to let go of this painful past as it’s hurting you.”, you say trying to comfort him, sharing his pain, providing him with a shoulder to lean on, “How do you know that Y/n”, Jungkook asks like a baby, “You know why I like irises so much, they were my grandmother’s favorite, she was a florist. She d-died a few years ago, she died an excruciatingly painful death, before she took her last breath, she told me, ‘Y/n, whatever happens, never cry over me, rejoice all the memories you’ve with me, celebrate that I existed in this world because I will always celebrate that I had an adorable grand daughter I could cater to, I only want to see you grow and become happy, I do not wish to see you lose your soul just because I departed to another destination, death is a part of life, you need to embrace this beautiful process and let go of me’, I cried a lot that day but I had to move on as life goes on, you cannot hold onto their passing forever or your tragedies for life as life is constantly in motion hence we need to match its fluidity, she also told me that irises represent hope and purple represents peace, Jungkook, I promise you, tranquility will soon arrive in your life, I promise to take my last breath devoted to making you happy because you matter and because that is also what your mother would have wanted, don’t hate purple, these purple irises symbolise hope, keep your hopes up, and as the saying goes ‘Even the darkest hour will end and the sun will rise’”, You say, your words moving mountains, deeply impacting Jungkook as he slowly lets go of his resentment towards the colour purple, “Thank you Y/n for everything, you know what, you came into my life and altered every parts of it, I was a broken man but you’re healing me, You’re my hope sweetheart, you keep me going, I vow to never ever leave your side either. I love you.”, he says as you hug him hearing his sincere words.

You come visit jungkook almost everyday as soon as your classes end, you’ve told your brother that you’d be staying at the dorm again, hence, all these short trips are unbeknownst to him, Jimin has visited Jungkook a few times, whenever he got time, they both are the best of buddies, hence Jungkook feels really grateful for the existence of both the siblings.

As time goes on, his mothers starts recovering, small steps at a time, the medication starts working well for her, Jungkook can see the light at the end of the tunnel and he can also see the one holding the light for him, guiding him to the brightest of places through the darkest of paths, the person is you, you’re his hope, his eternal sunshine, he has come to love you a lot, he can never imagine his life without you now. He even is ready to marry you after his futile attempts of hating on marriages and colour purple. He can finally see his life getting back on track with the invigorating nature of his mother’s treatment and your sole existence.

Months pass by, he has returned to college after stabilising his mother, they’ve had a mother-son talk and he has learnt to let go of the resentment he holds for his dad, thanks to you and his mother, Jimin has been giving him unwavering love and support, which he appreciates a lot. He has his academics on track, the only issue is, you both haven’t had a single romantic moment or a date after the kiss you shared in the hospital, although you both have been meeting regularly but only for vulnerable talks, to help reform each other, to help each other study and get each other’s life back on tracks.

Jungkook is planning to ask you out as his prom date, it’s his excuse to properly address and confess his feelings for you, an excuse for a romantic date accompanied by salsa/tango with you.

You’re standing near your locker, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. You feel a tap on your shoulder, you turn around hoping to see Jungkook but are disappointed when you’re met with Mark’s face, “Hey Y/n, long time.”, Mark says cheerfully, you greet him as well, “So do you have a partner for this dance thingy- i guess you could call it college prom yet?”, he asks, this question hurt your ego, you have jungkook but he hasn’t asked you out for prom yet, how inconsiderate of him. “No I’m date repellent as it seems, no one has asked me out for prom yet.”, you say honestly, annoyance evident in your tone, “Oh that’s sad, I’m going with Samantha, apparently she has a brother as well, who hasn’t found his date yet, do you want me to set you up with him?”, Mark offers, you’re about to reply to him but are cut short by Jungkook’s curt reply, “No, she’s going out with me, not anyone else.”, a small smile forms on your face as you look at him but you quickly mask it with a frown as you remember he hasn’t asked you out yet he’s announcing to the world that you’re his date, the audacity angers you. Jungkook notices the look plastered on your face, he comes near you, giving you a bouquet of irises with a slip hiding within the bouquet, reminding you of your first meeting with him. You smile softly at the fond memories of him, “Will you go out with me Y/n?”, Jungkook asks, as he kneels down on one knee while Mark watches you both in awe, “Yes!”, you immediately nod your head and hug him, while Mark cheers for you both, “I ship you both so much, get married and have kids.”, he hoots as you both laugh at him.

Prom night is today evening. You’re hastily getting your hair done while you iron your purple dress which you and Jungkook hand piqued together. You’re freaking out over your makeup as you apply purple glitter to your eyes like they showed in euphoria, you straighten your hair, while on call with Jungkook, amidst his preparation to get ready for the prom as well.

Your escort for the night is your brother, whom you’ve still not told about your little boyfriend and prom date. This is eating you up as you hate keeping secrets from him and you know the inevitable will happen one day, he will find out about you and Jungkook eventually but you’re hoping that day is not today.

Your brother drives you to the banquet where this event is held, you link arms with him as you walk across the red carpet with your beloved brother. You make an extravagant entrance but your breath and spot light is taken away by the sight of a very handsome man in a suit, he looks gorgeous, from head to toe while he holds a bouquet of purple irises, He’s wearing a black suit, with black trousers and a white shirt underneath tied together with a purple tie and purple cuff links you gifted him. You smile at him, your boyfriend, who looks at you as if the world has stopped moving, for him, you’re his miss universe, the prettiest girl to ever exist. He loves you a lot. This little encounter doesn’t go unwitnessed by your brother who so ever graciously brought you here yet he chooses to ignore it as he thinks nothing of it but just two fellow comrades exchanging smiles but little does he know how madly both you and Jungkok are in love with each other.

Jimin leaves you to get a punch for both you and him. Jungkook approaches you as he watches Jimin leave you at a table. “You look beautiful my gorgeous lady.”, Jungkook compliments you as you plant a small peck on his cheek while he hands you the bouquet. “Thank you my knight in shining armour, you look very elegant yourself.”, you compliment him back. You both smile at each other.

The drink spills on the floor ruining Jungkook’s shoes. Your eyes widen as you look at the person who has dropped his drink causing for Jungkook’s shoes to get dirty, it’s your brother Jimin, who’s looking at the both of you with an expression you cannot quite decipher but if you were to break it down; it would only indicate his wrath, his fury, his rage and his disappointment in you for breaking his trust.

Jimin furiously comes to you, while Jungkook just looks at him with a shocked expression on his face, he grabs your hand as he pulls you out of the hall and away from Jungkook.

“JIMIN! STOP YOU’RE HURTING HER!”, Jungkook yells, while Jimin ignores him and rushes out of the prom room with you in his hold. His grip tightens on your wrist as he sees Jungkook approaching you. “Brother, I-i- can explain”, you look down and cry unable to meet his eyes, “EXPLAIN WHAT HUH? that MY best-friend and my sister were having an affair behind my back????? You’ve broken my trust Y/n, how dare you date him. I’ll never approve of you two!”, Jimin screams at you earning a yelp from you as you’re scared of him.

Jungkook catches up to the both of you, “don’t get near me you traitor, you asshole, how dare you lay your filthy hands on my little sister, the only one who mattered to me, there were billions of people you could’ve fucked around with yet you had to choose my fucking sister, whom I didn’t let astray with anyone else, out of everyone??”, Jimin yells at his now former best-friend who has deeply hurt him.

“No one has betrayed you Hyung. She is a person as well, a person who is allowed to fall in love, love is not a sin, and I know you’re protective of her but I mean no harm man, trust my word, I genuinely love her, this is not me fucking around, I’m serious about her, serious enough to put a ring on her finger, even right now, if she consents to it.”, this moves you to the core as you look up to meet Jungkook’s eyes, his assurance of marrying you brims tears of happiness in your eyes. “FUCK THIS! fuck you! Do you think I’m gonna believe any man when it comes to my little sister? All men want is sex, I know this because I’m myself a man! I can’t let anyone near her, she’s too precious and naïve for our manipulative breed. I feel disgusted by this breed. I’d rather have her unmarried and stay with me forever than have her marry off to a sly pig known as a man”, Jimin yells and continues while you look down tears falling down your eyes, “She has broken my trust, she dated behind my back, she didn’t even think about letting me know about her little affair, I considered you as my best friend, yet you turned your back on me as well by dating the only person I forbade you from even looking at, you could’ve at least come clean to me about it before I found out on my own. It’s useless talking to you and her about it. I’ll ensure you’ll never see her again in your life.”, Jimin’s chest swells up with anger while Jungkook falls on his knees as he hears those words, “Please Hyung; don’t do this, we both cannot be without each other, can’t you see your possessiveness is hurting her. she’s not a child hyung, let her make her own decisions, you cannot be so anti men and because of that curb her happiness, you’re the one who is breaking her heart, making her feel guilty for this while if you were generous enough to talk to her about being cautious instead of being so over protective then maybe she would’ve come talked to you about our relationship but she knew you’d never approve of us and because she didn’t want to disrupt her relationship with the only person she loves the most in this world, she decided to hide it, she will only do what you want as long as you live and that’s the truth, even you know that, she places you over everyone but right now, you need to let go of your selfishness to keep her and let her grow, whether it may be with or without me but she deserves her independence and freedom, stop making her feel like she’s the one sabotaging her relationship with you because she’s hanging out with boys, instead tell her about your worries and concerns regarding this world and she’ll understand your insights but that is as long as you understand her point of view as well, sure she has fallen in love with me but that doesn’t mean you are of any less importance to her anymore, you’ll always be her brother so stop being so selfish because at one point it isn’t just about her safety, it’s about your selfishness to only be her number one priority in her life as well. sorry if i went overboard but i really do love her and i would say shit to you that she cannot say to you.”, Jungkook goes on a rampage making Jimin halt in his tracks while you fall down to the ground as well crying, Jimin towers over you, as you look up to him, things you’ve wanted to say to him but were afraid to do so because you thought Jimin would leave you or hate you, you finally have the courage to say the things in your heart all because of Jungkook and his resilience to all this as he wants to fight for the both of you and your relationship.

“Brother, just tell me one thing? Is falling in love with a man a crime? I know you’re overprotective of me, you’ve always been ever since I was a child, You didn’t let me play house with Namjoon, didn’t let me enjoy my high school dating life, i wanted to live like a normal teenager as well but because of your no men rule I was unable to do so, I only complied because I didn’t want to lose you and your love, But brother, I really love Jungkook, I really wanna be with him, but at the same time, no one comes over you, If I will date Jungkook, that would be now only when I receive your approval, I wanna marry him too but with your blessing over my head, two people matter to me now, just because I started loving Jungkook doesn’t mean I stopped loving you as my brother, That’s a very twisted view of love. Love is supposed to be gentle and it cannot be measured nor can you designate your love to only one person. I’ll always love you, mom and dad but now I also love Jungkook and I really want you to welcome him not just as your best friend anymore but also as your brother in law now, we three can love each other, plus I love your best friend, the only person you were able to trust out of your family so isn’t it a nice thing? you know him personally as well, you know he’d never hurt me and he cannot even think of hurting me ever, i know you know this deep within you, so please reconsider us Brother, I love and respect you a lot!”, you cry as you hug your brother.

Jimin hugs you back, which surprises you, “I guess I’ve been a bad brother all along huh? I guess I was not being protective of you, I was being selfish and greedy, Sorry Jungkook and Y/n, I should have never objected from the start, Although you both partially have my blessings, but I guess it will take some time before I unravel this and accept it, hope you both can understand, I’m sorry. Y/n, Go live your way with him, I will always love and support you, go enjoy your prom.”, Jimin says as he silently cries re-evaluating his actions which have hurt you along the way. You go in for a hug and say, “you may not be the most perfect brother in the world, but you’ll always be the best brother for me.”, Jimin smiles at you as you say that and kisses your forehead endearingly. Jungkook joins you both in the hug, “Sorry hyung, I promise I’ll never hurt her or even think of hurting her.”, Jungkook says to which Jimin replies, “the day you even think of hurting her, I’ll bury you alive.”, the three of you laugh.

Later that evening, after you’re done dancing with your brother, he gently hands you over to Jungkook for a slow dance.

Jungkook looks at you while your bodies move in a similar rhythm to beautiful soulful melodies. You both are grateful to have met each other and it shows as you both gaze lovingly in each other’s eyes.

“I love you Jungkook, you’re my world”, you say gently, “I love you Y/n, you’re my everything, my iris.”, he gives you this nickname, your heart flutters hearing this, you gently take his lips into yours, kissing him as he kisses you back, pouring his adoration for you. He gushes over how you’re all his. He would love to call you his wife one day but till then and forever…

You’ll always remain ‘his iris’

—————————————————————————

the end

#bts x you #jungkook x oc #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #bts ff #jungkook ff #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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www-jungwon · 1 year

Text

between the lines . yjw

[fall_ing for the cute guy who works at the bookstore]

pairing ! jungwon x bookworm!gn!reader

1/7 of elena’s autumn enhypen series !

genre ! strangers to lovers, bookstore trope, mainly just fluff

summary ! the love story between you, a bookworm, and jungwon, the cashier at your local bookstore. (it starts with a book recommendation)

tw ! mentions of drinks (coffee), addictions (only to caffeine), money, jungwon actually being the cutest thing ever

wc ! 3k

ft. coworker heeseung

୨♡୧

the guy behind the desk is unfairly pretty. he must be new; you’ve never seen him working at the bookstore before and you definitely would’ve remembered the way the autumn light highlights the details of his face, teeth sliding over his plump lower lip. his elbow rests on the wooden desk, silver cash register gleaming to the right. he leans his chin on his fist, head tilted forward interestedly as he reads his book on the desk. you watch him flip the page, delicately resting his fingers on the side with less pages to hold it open. he reads something that makes him smile softly, eyes round and innocent, and you wonder how someone can look so ethereal just reading a book.

turning back to the new releases shelf with your heart racing slightly, you scan the rows of books. this past month has been one of the worst months of new releases you’ve seen since you started coming to this bookstore. against your will, your hand hovers over the shelf, sliding off a romance book. you can’t talk to him without a book, right? that would be weird. you pretend to read the back even though you already did when you came here last week, eyes retracing the same dull words. you drag your thumb over the paperback cover, sneaking a glance at the desk again.

he’s talking to a customer now, smile soft and easy on his lips as he hands them their book.

you swallow, trying to look away as he opens his book again, the customer leaving out the windowed door. he settles back into the same position with his chin resting in his fist, following the words like a cat chasing a laser pointer, eyes big and focused in a way that makes you want to scream into your hand. taking a deep breath, you walk over to the desk, weaving through the large number of people squeezed into the bookstore and gently place the book onto the counter in front of him.

he looks up, eyebrows raising naturally and you try not to smile at how cute he looks.

“oh, sorry, would you like to buy this?”

“yes, please,”

he nods, sliding the book over the scanner and your eyes fall onto his nametag. jungwon, it reads, handwritten letters traced on. it matches him, you decide, the way he writes, the way the script slants to the left and how the thin lines that indicated the way he didn’t pick up his pen drag between the letters.

“is that everything for you today?”

you startle out of your thoughts slightly, “oh, um, yes, thank you.”

“it’s, um, a good choice.”

“sorry?”

“it’s a good choice.” he nods at the book. “i liked that one.”

“oh,” you say, “oh, um, really?” it’s confusing, the way he makes your thoughts mix, in thrall of him, but it’s also the most lovely feeling you’ve ever experienced.

his smile envelopes you in softness. “yeah, it was really good. i liked the character dynamic and…yeah.”

the back of the book described the main character to sound stupid and unlikable, but you nod anyway.

leaving the store with your unwanted purchase, you step into the fall-kissed street, swipes of red and orange littering the tops of the trees. as a leaf falls through your view, softly swaying from side to side in the breeze, you think of him, a smile falling onto your lips almost involuntarily, except you want to smile, thinking of him.

୨♡୧

you didn’t read the book. in fact, you came back to return the book, which was bought under duress. sure, the duress happened to be wanting an excuse to talk to the prettiest person you’ve ever seen, but duress is duress, right? it’s not until you see the aforementioned pretty cashier from last time that you realize it’s a thursday. his shift day. this is not good.

“oh, um, hi again,” he smiles.

your eyes flick down to your book bag, which is holding the book. the one he liked. the one he said was a good choice.

“hi,” you smile.

“did….did you like the book?”

“oh, uh, yeah, i- i did. i really liked it. the character dynamic was really good, like you said.”

you hear a snicker, gaze shifting over to his coworker, who grins at jungwon teasingly and then turns to look at you.

“sorry, just ignore me.”

jungwon’s gaze snaps over to him, glaring.

“heeseung, don’t you have to go restock one of the fantasy shelves?” he narrows his eyes.

you and heeseung look back at the fantasy section simultaneously, which is completely full.

heeseung laughs, furrowing his brow in fake concern,“definitely, yeah, no, totally. i mean, how could i forget? gotta restock the fantasy shelves because they’re so empty.” he strolls off to the shelves, grinning at you as he leaves.

“um, sorry about him, so, how can i help you?”

you open your mouth, and your lips stay parted for a few seconds as you realize you don’t need help with anything.

“oh, uh…could you give me a recommendation?”

“sure! so,” he pauses, blinking. “you liked that book?”

“um, yeah, i- did,”

he pauses, thinking about something.

“well, the author has written a lot of other books that are kind of similar-”

absolutely not. “oh, i was looking for something a little different, just because i’ve kind of been reading a lot of books like that recently.”

“well, in that case, this is my favorite book, which i recommend to everyone, but it’s almost incomparable to that, uh, book.”

“oh, that’s totally fine. how much is it?”

he opens his mouth, then pauses. “oh, uh, we’re- we’re actually sold out…but you can have my copy…”

he holds out a worn paperback to you, golden lines stretching over the cover.

“sorry, i know it's kind of old..it’s okay if you don’t want it, but i thought i would offer it to you. we’re getting another shipment next week.”

“oh, i can’t take your copy, that’s-thats yours-”

“no, it’s totally fine, i have other editions, but this one i was just rereading at work, ‘cause i like to read my notes.”

great. so he’s smart and pretty. not a big deal or anything.

his fingers fidget with the pages as he pushes it closer to you.

heeseung walks back behind the desk at that moment, freezing when he sees the book on the countertop.

“jungwon?” he asks, tone incredulous.

“what?” jungwon sighs.

“is that- your copy?”

“obviously?” he raises his eyebrows exasperatedly.

heeseung gapes, laughing slightly in shock, gaze sliding over to you. you shrink slightly in embarrassment, although you’re not sure of what.

“go. away.” jungwon hisses.

“what do you want me to do, restock the sci-fi section?” he grins, and you glance back at the sci-fi section, packed full of people.

“shut up,” jungwon slides his hand over his face and heeseung holds his hands up, turning and going into the back of the store.

“sorry about him. again.” jungwon slides the book towards you again.

“oh, i-” you hesitate, knowing how sacred your own books are to you, but your fingers close around the edges. “thanks, i’ll- when do you want it back?”

“oh, you can just bring it back whenever.”

you smile, and it isn't until you’re long out of the store that you realize he remembered you, out of the huge crowd of people from last time and the specific book you bought. and that today was the last day for returns, so you just wasted 10 dollars. but talking to jungwon is worth it, to you.

୨♡୧

you haven’t stopped thinking about his book the entire week, or him.

you watch him blow hair out of his eyes, lower lip folding over the upper one. he curls his fingers into his cheek, chin resting in his palm as he serenely reads another book on the counter.

you read his book in one sitting, curled into your couch for three hours as you pored over his little annotations, thoughtful notes penned into the margins in his perfectly messy handwriting. there was something so personal about seeing his notes on his favorite book, like a piece of his soul, and they make you want to protect him with your whole being. they were so intelligent, your mind keeps drifting back to your first encounter, imprinted in your brain.

“i liked the character dynamic and….yeah.”

odd, for someone who wrote about the symbolism of the wind in specific contexts for each chapter and small hints of foreshadowing that built throughout the novel, but maybe it’s harder for him to say his thoughts then write them.

you set the book down on his counter, watching the way he blinks cutely in surprise as he looks up, being taken out of his book.

“oh, hi,”

you smile, “i brought your book back,”

his eyes widen in excitement, although he tries to mask it, “did you like it?”

you take a deep breath, the power of the book consuming you. “i need a moment.”

he laughs at your dramatics, putting his chin back into his hand so he’s looking through his lashes at you.

“you liked it, then?”

you nod wordlessly, watching his eyes light up.

“oh my god. finally. i’ve been trying to get my friends to read it forever but they won’t because it’s so long. it's so good, right?”

you laugh at his excitement, something about it seeming so precious, “i read it in one sitting.”

he grins. “me, too, the first time i read it.”

you rest your hands on the counter, becoming enraptured by your conversation, ranting over your shared opinions and the absolute crime it was for the author to kill off that one character. you’re not sure how you end up sitting behind the counter next to him, talking in between him checking out customers’ books.

he laughs at your sarcasm over details of the book, grinning so cutely when you become passionate about the decisions of certain characters, and you watch the way his eyes light up when he talks about the genius moves of the author. at some point the conversation shifts, and you talk about everything. your hobbies (aside from reading of course), how autumn is both of your favorite seasons, why the author absolutely needs to release the sequel sooner than the scheduled date, and you’re so swept away by the conversation that you don’t notice the time.

you’re not sure how long you’ve spent talking to him when you leave, the sky having dimmed into the glow of dusk.

୨♡୧

you step into the bookstore, eyes landing on jungwon sitting at the counter, watching as he flips through a book again, looking up at the sound of the door clicking behind you. he makes eye contact, catching you staring at him and you turn away quickly, hiding behind the new releases shelf again. you don’t actually have any books you want to buy, you’re really not sure why you even came to the bookstore today. you definitely didn’t go out of your way to make sure you could go on a thursday, his shift day, and you’re only holding the coffee that he mentioned he wanted to try last week because you were going to the coffee shop anyway. but now that you’re in the bookstore, you can’t even get a book off the shelf because you’ve got both hands holding coffees, so you shyly step around the shelves, walking over to the counter.

“i was, um, i was gonna get a book- well, i brought you coffee, and now i can’t get a book because, my hands are, um, full,” you set down his coffee on the desk.

he gasps, “pumpkin spice latte! you remembered!” he looks up at you, eyes big and innocent and precious. “i have a gift for you, too,” he pulls out a new copy of his (and your newly) favorite book from under the desk, “we got the restock, and they tend to sell out pretty fast, so i saved you a copy.”

you blink, “oh my gosh, thank you so much,” you reach for your bag.

“oh, i- um, already paid for it.” he pushes the book towards you and you look at him incredulously.

“let me pay you back!”

“no, it’s okay, you bought me coffee,”

you shake your head at him resignedly, watching his softly cheeky grin expand. “now i have to buy you coffee, like, every day, though,”

“i mean, it’s only actually worth, like, two coffees-”

“books are worth ten coffees, especially books that someone saves you when he thinks they might sell out, those are worth at least twenty.”

he grins at you, “it’s okay, i promise! you’re going to get me addicted to caffeine,”

“how are you not already?”

୨♡୧

you stretch up to the top of the shelf, fingers grasping at the book, but you can’t pull it off, letting your hand drop to your side as you lean back onto the ground off your toes.

you feel a warm arm wrapping around your waist, fingers tightening into your hip securely, causing you to fall back into the figure behind you in surprise. you look up to see an arm effortlessly sliding a book off the highest shelf. your book. you turn around, gaze falling on the nametag in front of you, and it’s jungwon, the one handing you the book. he smiles shyly.

“hi,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing slightly.

you swallow, “hi,” you say, breathless. his face is so close to yours you can feel his breath falling over your lips.

his arm slips off your waist like an afterthought, his proximity lingering on your mind the rest of the week.

୨♡୧

“you weren’t, um, here last week,” he closes his book softly, your eyes drifting distractedly to his fingers slipping off the edge of the cover.

“oh, um…” you snap back to him, “oh, yeah, i was sick,” you had tried to go but you literally couldn’t get out of bed, and when your friend came over she looked at you like you were crazy when you said that you wanted to go to the bookstore, insisting that you were much sicker than you actually were because there was no way you in your right mind you would want to go to the bookstore while ill.

recently you can't be sure whether you're even coming to the bookstore for books anymore.

he nods at you. “well, i’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

you nod, “thanks, it was kind of a rough week.”

he nods, swallowing and then looks down at the counter. he fidgets with his book, running his finger over the edge of the pages. “i, um, i was wondering-” he looks back up at you, licking his lips.

“god, finally!”

you jump slightly, looking over at heeseung. “i’ve been waiting for this moment this whole month. it was so annoying, hearing him go on about you every single shift. and last week he was so worried-”

“heeseung!” jungwon hisses.

“wha-oh,” heeseung says, seeing your confused expression. “sorry, i only heard the first part of your sentence and got excited. go on,”

jungwon glares at him until he leaves, slipping into a crowd of customers.

“um, what were you gonna say?” you ask.

“oh, um, i was wondering,” he pauses, “i mean- i actually really hated that book.”

“what?” you squint slightly in confusion.

“the romance one. when you first came in, i just wanted to talk to you. i really hated the character dynamic, but for some reason it was the first thing i could think of to compliment” he blurts, “and- and heeseung was making fun of me for giving my book to you, because i guard it with my life, i won’t even let him touch it, and i- i just gave it to you, which is kind of crazy, i’d only talked to you once before but i memorized your eyes and your smile and then i just gave it to you, and i think you’re really pretty and i really, i’ve really enjoyed our conversations? and i was, wondering if you- if you maybe wanted to go out with me? maybe to a cafe? or something?”

butterflies rush into your stomach, warmth enveloping you comfortingly.

“i would love to,”

he smiles, wide and genuine, and you melt, drowning in him, in the eyes of the pretty guy behind the desk.

end.

୨♡୧

a/n ! OMGGGG i stayed up late so many nights to write this and now i'm sleep deprived so if no one reads this i will shed actual tears also i think im in love with bookstore trope jungwon/this readerwon dynamic 😭😭😭😭

this fic is part of my enhypen autumn collection ! send an ask or comment to be added to the taglist <3

taglist :

@mrchweeee @aureliaxuuu @miyseung

#🍂 FALLing for you : by elena !#jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #jungwon x fem!reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #yang jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen #jungwon #enhypen jungwon

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kylobith · 7 months

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The Languages and Linguistics of Middle Earth

Gin suilannon!

In the context of my minor programme in Celtic studies and languages, I am following a course called From Táin to Tolkien and Beyond, and today, we had a guest lecture about the languages of Middle Earth, more particularly Sindarin. Since it might be useful to some of you (out of curiosity or for your fanfictions), I thought I would share my notes and my conversations with the guest lecturer here. This was a very linguistics-driven lecture, so I will try to add explanations where I can and, hopefully, make the information more accessible. If you have any questions, you can react to this post or DM me! And beware, this is a very long post. So, without further ado, here is what I learnt.

✽ Notes on Historical Linguistics, Manuscript Tradition and the Languages of Tolkien's Middle Earth by Dr. Aaron Griffith

✣ Shared histories of languages and manuscripts are often visualised with tree diagrams to see the evolution and how they branch out

✣ Little material was published about Middle-Earth and the Elves during Tolkien's lifetime -> Most of it is part of the Legendarium -> Main periods of writing (here we only mentioned the writing processes or when a project was finished, not when they were published): - The Lost Tales (1916-1926): infancy of the Elvish languages - Sketch of The Silmarillion (1926-1930): revision of The Lost Tales and some changes brought to Elvish - Quenta Noldorinna (1930): further reworking and significant expansion of the sketch - The Hobbit (1933): originally intended as an unrelated story - Quenta Silmarillion (1937): fullest expansion of The Lost Tales and significant refinement of the languages - The Lord of the Rings (1950s): use of the mythology of all the earlier writings as a basis, reworking of the languages and massive changes in their interrelations - The Silmarillion (post-1948): based on Quenta Silmarillion, which was heavily revised after The Lord of the Rings

✣ Tolkien rarely dated his works and compositions, so it is difficult to establish a precise creative process or linear chronology of the changes brought to Middle Earth. However, he did leave us some clues: - Absolute Dating -> occasionally, Tolkien did attach dates to his manuscripts, but it remained a rare occurrence - Relative Chronology -> some compositions are dependent on changes to earlier works, so a logical chronology can be estimated (this can also be made possible by the scrap papers from Tolkien's personal records and drafts) - Handwriting -> can be misleading, but it can be a helpful tool to date pieces of distinctly different chronological layers - Nomenclature -> Tolkien frequently changed character names, so particular names can be matched with letters and extracts in which they appear - Christopher Tolkien -> his manuscript order from the twelve-volume The History of Middle-Earth series

✣ Critical asymmetry -> languages frequently split into dialects and other languages of their own, but when manuscripts are retraced according to their version of the same text (think of Arthurian romances and oral tradition being recorded at different points in time and therefore presenting different themes or characters), narratives (stories) cannot be regrouped as easily -> However, there are 2 relations between stories and languages: 1. How changes can propagate in a language system or narrative tradition 2. The relations of language families in real- (at the time of composition) or book-time (time as it passes in the stories)

✣ In natural language, change moves forward in time. This is a trend which also applies for errors in manuscript copies (irregularities in tropes, character changes, etc.)

✣ In stories, a plot development can be carried forward just like a sound can evolve in a language. However, change can occur backwards, too. For example, if a character's ancestry is modified, this can change the whole manuscript history of the story being written (by this, understand that the story must be readapted to fit the new information to maintain some consistency).

✣ Historical linguistics is concerned with the study of language change and the formation of language families (Romance languages, Germanic languages, Slavic languages, etc.). It does so by examining and comparing systems from different languages to see if they can be retraced to an original, common system (Welsh and Irish stemming from Proto-Celtic, for instance).

✣ Some of Tolkien's languages were intended to be related. The following languages and dialects are related in a clear, 'historical' structure, which mimics the way that languages evolve in our world: - Quenya - Sindarin - Lindarin - Noldorin - Telerin - Doriathrin - Ilkorin

✣ Elvish languages were constantly revised by Tolkien, making it challenging to determine a single 'history' (or creative process) of Elvish tongues. In their case, it is more accurate to speak of a series of histories or continua, which refer to the times at which Tolkien brought significant changes (often 1916, 1937 and post-1948). A tree diagram is thus no longer fitting to visualise them all. The diagrams overlap in a three-dimensional visualisation instead, with each layer representing the changes of each major revision.

✣ Some changes were brought solely for aesthetic purposes. Tolkien found the phonetics of Welsh and Finnish particularly pleasing to the ear and, therefore, based Sindarin and Quenya on their structures. As you probably already know, these are the two most-developed languages in the lore of Middle Earth, but he fleshed out at least four other Elvish languages (Telerin, Ilkorin, Doriathrin and Danian). There were generally more changes in Quenya (abbreviated Q).

✣ What was originally Noldorin (abbreviated N) in the 1916 and 1937 versions is now Sindarin (abbreviated S). After 1948, Noldorin became a dialect of its own, and its place in the language tree shifted. The terms and grammar remained rather consistent from one version to the next. -> example: 1916: N Balrog 'fire demon' (bal- 'anguish' + -róg 'strong') 1937: N Balrog 'fire demon' (bal- 'torment' + rhaug 'demon') 1948: S Balrog 'demon of might' (bal- 'might' + raug 'demon')

✣ Such modifications reflected the major changes brought to the stories (especially to what we now know as The Silmarillion), but they also mirror the natural linguistics evolution of real-life languages. This causes a problem, namely in the emergence of 'linguistic orphans', or words whose etymology was no longer valid because the linguistic or sound laws that birthed them in the first place were removed. -> example: Eärendil (Q 'lover of the sea', ayar- 'sea' + -ndil 'lover') 1916: eären was the genitive form (or possessive form) of eär, so the compound made sense. 1937: eäron replaced eären, but Tolkien remained particularly attached to the previous version because of the Old English éarendel -> this created a disruption in etymology, so he declared that eär/eären meant 'sea'

✣ Major sound changes introduced with The Lord of the Rings

✣ Tolkien introduced lenition in some grammatical cases. In Celtic languages, it is a rather common occurrence. It consists in the softening of a consonant at the start of a word according to certain rules. For example, the sound [p] is softened into a [b]. My knowledge of Irish is non-existent, but it is something which happens in Middle Welsh (c.1100-c.1400) and Modern Welsh. -> example: before 1972, Tolkien suggested that the name Gil-Galad ('star of brilliance', 'brilliant star') was lenited, which means that the second component of the name stems from the word calad (lenition causes the c to soften into a g). -> However, he stated in a letter in 1972 that lenition no longer occurred if 'the second noun functions as an uninflected genitive' (in other words, that the possessive is not marked with an apostrophe, 'of the', or any other marker that applied in Sindarin). This explains the merging of ost 'start' + giliath 'fortress' into Osgiliath 'fortress of the start'. If giliath was lenited, the name would instead be Osiliath or Ostiliath (when lenited, g disappears at the head of the noun). -> There is one noted inconsistency regarding the 'rule' above, and it is the case of Eryn Vorn 'Dark Forest'/'Forest of Darkness'. Eryn is a plural form of oron 'tree' and morn acts as a noun (but it is usually the adjective for 'black, dark' and morne is the noun referring to 'darkness, blackness'). Due to Welsh vowel change rules in certain plural forms, morn becomes myrn, and this very same plural form should accompany eryn (both adjective and noun adopt a plural form). Instead, we find a singular form of morn which is lenited (m becomes v). This is possibly an error accidentally left in by Tolkien.

✣ The nature of Noldorin/Sindarin makes Elvish languages rather realistic in their evolution compared to real-life languages, because irregularities occur. Dr. Griffith argues that languages naturally show irregularity because of gradual changes and borrowed words, but he acknowledges that accidents are sometimes just that. Accidents.

✽ Notes on the lecture by Dr. Aaron Griffith

✣ A general interest in creating new languages emerged in the 19th century. It was believed to be a tool which could help resolve political conflicts by creating a sense of cohesion and avoiding miscommunication. This is evident in the creation of Esperanto.

✣ In most cases of invented languages, the language was invented first, and the world or context they belonged to was formed from there. Tolkien worked exactly the other way around.

✣ Tolkien aimed to create an English myth, because he considered that England lacked its own mythology. King Arthur is generally considered Celtic in essence (possibly Welsh) and therefore could not apply as an English myth. This could explain why he retained the Gregorian calendar throughout The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It served as a familiar bridge between Middle Earth and England/the real world.

✣ In original maps of Beleriand, there used to be land west of Ered Luin (the Blue Mountains northwest of the Shire). This was changed in later maps, which Tolkien designed and drew himself. Often, Arda was depicted as a globe with several continents. Afterwards, Tolkien decided that Arda was, in fact, flat.

✣ Backstory of the Elves (I have no knowledge of The Silmarillion, so if I did not use the right terms or names, please feel free to correct me!): - Elves first came into existence in Cuiviénen and were invited by the Valar to join them in Valinor, meaning that they had to cross the continent and the ocean - Not all Elves made it to Valinor, however. Some decided to separate from the main group and settled in different areas of Middle Earth, like in Greenwood (later known as Mirkwood). This caused the language they spoke to evolve into different dialects and, sometimes, completely separate languages - Elves returned to Middle Earth after the war against Morgoth (S; Q Melkor), aided by Númenorians - The West was physically separated from the rest of Arda by a 'cut' through the ocean. The gods then shaped Arda into a globe, but once past the portal to the Undying Lands, it was flat again.

✣ Most often, Tolkien did not provide translations of the phrases he peppered into his works, mostly because he believed that nobody would be interested in them. Once he received enthusiastic letters from readers, he decided to attach them to later versions. He did regret publishing the appendices of The Lord of the Rings, however, because the changes felt too 'final' and he felt as though he took away his own liberty to make further revisions to the material (once it's published, you cannot go back).

✣ Tolkien created quite a lot of poetry to match the phonological aesthetics of Sindarin and Quenya.

✣ Outside The Lord of the Rings, the longest source we have in Sindarin is The King's Letter, which was originally supposed to be part of the epilogue in The Return of the King but was not in the final version because he wrote it in the 1970s. In this letter written entirely in Sindarin, Aragorn (then King Elessar) invites Sam, Rosie, and their children to visit him and Arwen in Minas Tirith.

✣ Sindarin grammar is tricky to reconstruct because of the lack of sources on the matter and the complicated grammar revisions that Tolkien brought. However, we do know that it is loosely based on Welsh, which he confirmed in 'English and Welsh' in The Monsters and the Critics (published posthumously in 1983). He aimed to recreate the same 'pleasant' sounds that he found in Welsh for Sindarin. If the reader knows how to pronounce the Welsh alphabet, then they can easily pronounce Sindarin.

✣ Secondary sources on Sindarin: - A Gateway to Sindarin by David Salo. Salo worked as a language consultant on the films, but his book has been criticised by Tolkien scholars because it tends to ignore the changes between 1937 and 1948 and it treats Noldorin as a dialect of Sindarin, which is no longer the case from 1948 onwards. - The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-Earth by Ruth S. Noel

✣ Primary sources are very incomplete, but the main ones we can use to observe the language are the following publications: - The Lord of the Rings - The Lost Road and Other Writings - The War of the Jewels - The Peoples of Middle-Earth

✣ As established in the previous section, Sindarin follows some of the grammatical rules present in Welsh and pre-modern Welsh. We encounter mutations, especially lenition (also called 'soft mutation' because of the sounds becoming softer, e.g. p becoming b), and they play a crucial role in the structure of Sindarin. Below is a comparison of soft mutation/lenition in the context of Welsh and then in Sindarin. -> Welsh: dyn 'man' + teg 'attractive' = dyn teg 'attractive man' merch 'girl' + teg 'attractive' = merch deg 'attractive girl' -> soft mutation after a feminine noun, t is softened into a d -> Sindarin: Perhael 'Samwise' (literally 'half-wise') Berhael 'Samwise' -> lenition when used as a direct object in a clause, p softened into a b Carm Dum 'Red Valley' (capital of Angmar) -> uses tum 'valley', but it is lenited when acting as an adjective or an adverb, t softened into a d

✣ Other forms of mutations exist in Sindarin, but this part of the lecture is quite technical and does require a basic knowledge of Welsh or Middle Welsh to be comprehensible. Feel free to message me if you wish to know more about them.

✣ Mutations arose from sound changes that affected phrases (intonational units). In other words, they are groups of words that have a single principal accent (or stress) to fluidify the manner of speech and convey a sense of emphasis. For instance, not every word is stressed separately in the sentence 'I am going to the supermarket'. The stress is applied by the speaker to highlight their meaning. Is 'I' emphasised to insist that it is 'I' who is going to the supermarket? Is 'supermarket' stressed to insist that it is the supermarket that I am going to, and not another location?

✣ Mutations are inherited from Welsh and its earlier forms. The same is true between Pre-Sindarin (or what Tolkien then referred to as Noldorin) and Sindarin. -> Welsh: atar evolved into adar 'bird' (lenition of t into a d) -> Sindarin: atar evolved into adar 'father' (same pattern)

✣ No cases in Sindarin verbs, unlike in Quenya. This means that there is no Nominative, Genitive, Dative or Accusative.

✣ Like in Welsh, again, some plural forms of nouns involve what we call a vowel change. This means that according to a regular pattern, the vowels contained within a noun are not the same between their singular and their plural forms. In Sindarin, the vowel change and suffixes help to mark plurals. As far as I'm aware, the changes are identical in Welsh, so if you wish to use Sindarin in your own work, have a look at the vowel changes rules and you should be able to form your own plurals. Please note that it occurs with both non-final and final syllables. -> examples: - adan 'man' -> edain 'men' - certh 'rune' -> cirth 'runes' - annon 'gate' -> ennyn 'gates' - amon 'hill' -> emyn 'hills' - mellon 'friend' -> mellyn 'friends' - Dúnadan 'Man of the West' -> Dúnedain (u is not affected)

✣ Suffixes are another way to mark plurals. -> examples: - harad 'south' + rim 'multitude' = Haradrim 'Southrons, Men of the South' - hadhod 'dwarf' + rim 'multitude' = Hadhodrim 'Dwarves (as a race)'

✣ Compounds are common as well. -> example: - morne 'darkness, blackness'/morn 'dark, black' + ia 'pit, gulf' = Moria

✽ Questions I asked Dr. Griffith directly and his answers

✣ Q: In your article and in the PowerPoint presentation, you sometimes mark terms with an asterisk first (e.g. *rokko-khēru-rimbe when you discuss the origin of the term 'Rohirrim'). What does this notation refer to? ✣ A: An asterisk before a form means that it is not actually found anywhere, but we assume it must have existed. In this case, *rokko-khēru-rimbe is the form of Rohirrim as it would have been pronounced in Old Sindarin, but we don't actually have the word anywhere in a written text

✣ Q: For Rohirric/Rohanese, we know that the language that Tolkien based it on was Old English and that terms were directly borrowed from it (e.g. grīma 'mask' or þeoden 'lord, prince, king'), or that names and phrases from Beowulf have been peppered in the lore of Rohan (e.g. Éomer is a character mentioned once, and the first line sung by Miranda Otto in the 'Lament for Théodred' is a line from Beowulf as well). Unfortunately, it seems that the sources on the languages are few, but do we know his reasoning or process in tweaking and applying Old English to create Rohirric/Rohanese? Do we know, perhaps, how the grammar differed from Old English? ✣ A: We don't really know anything about the language of the Rohirrim. Tolkien chose Old English as a sort of cipher. What I mean is: the language of Middle Earth is called Westron, and the Rohirrim spoke a very archaic dialect of it. Tolkien represented this by having them use Old English/archaic forms. He talks about this in one of the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, though I don't remember which one.

✣ Q: In your opinion, is it realistic to compose texts in Quenya or Sindarin, considering that we do not really have a cultural context behind them that is fully explicit? By this, I mean that since idioms and certain concepts are intrinsically tied to their cultural context, is it possible to actually use the Elvish languages to compose new texts altogether? ✣ A: It is possible to compose texts in Quenya and Sindarin. People do it. Obviously, some things are simply impossible to know: how would you say 'computer' or 'shopping mall'? And for other things, we cannot really know since only Tolkien really had the 'true understanding' of Elvish languages and cultures necessary for some text production. That said, people do do it. I don't know much about it, though, I'm afraid.

For those who are interested, I have Dr. Griffith's article, the PowerPoint presentation with sources and vocabulary on it, as well as a handout with Noldorin and Old Noldorin. Dr. Griffith also sent me some extra sources, let me know if you want me to send them to you! If you have questions, I can always try to contact Dr. Griffith again, he is the coordinator of my Middle Welsh course, so I'm bound to bump into him again, and he is genuinely excited to discuss all things Tolkien :) @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @lucifers-legions @emmanuellececchi @hippodameia

#Tolkien #Elvish #Elvish languages #Sindarin #Quenya #Noldorin #linguistics #Middle Earth #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Tolkien's linguistics #masterpost #reference #lotr ref

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i-smoke-chapstick · 7 months

Text

'COME ON EILEEN!, [PART ONE]

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You're not used to being seen, especially not by Jim Gordan. And especially not by Don Carmine Falcone.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! This is a 4 part fic. LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is still in highschool). Some gore in the beginning. Takes a while for reader to meet Victor. Can I write a gotham fic without Victor being obsessive? Victor ends up getting REALLY protective later on. But also, eventual really soft Victor. Like, you're his world. Set during season 1.

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR,

Special thanks to @adalwolfgang for giving me the courage to write this teehee

♫ “You are far too young and clever.” Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Your life had been strange. Ever since you moved to this goddamn city. You're parents thought it would be such a grand idea; move to the city of innovation. With WayneTech and a good classy old fashioned vibe. More like the city of crime, you think. This place is an absolute shit hole!

Well, sometimes it's a shit hole. Other times you understand the strange appeal. The school wasn't half bad, aside from the weird drug dealers you saw counting money in the hallways.

You made plenty of acquaintances, but not enough, really. All of the gothamite students kind of stuck to their own. Rich cliques and street trash. You didn't really fit in as a new comer.

Everything got even more complicated one day after class. You decided to stay late at the library, brushing up on whatever homework you had. Apparently you stayed later than you thought you had, because once you were done, the night had clouded over into a cool darkness.

You knew you shouldn't be by yourself at night in gotham. It was the biggest rule to living in this city. So, you quickly packed your shit and left.

Coming outside, the parking lot was damn near empty. You gripped the straps of your book bag and centered yourself. It would be a small walk home. No harm no foul.

Well, your false confidence quickly died out when you heard a man wailing from behind you. You wanted to keep walking, but you couldn't. Damn you and your moral compass.

You made the decision to sneak a peak behind you. Just behind the overarching brick wall of Gotham high, laid a student. And another man hanging over him. With a bloody baseball bat.

Your ears began to ring as you saw the face of the student, practically decimated and beaten inwards. You could only make out the vague words of "Help me!" and "This will teach you to bring me my money on time." Their voices overlapped, and the sound of metal hitting skin in a loud ca-thunk and a crunch. The man getting beat looked at you for help; well, with what was left of his face.

You immediately knew this was a weird drug deal altercation, and also none of your business. You turned on your heel and bolted, running for your life. The sound of the baseball and the sight of your fellow student beaten bloody haunted you the whole way home.

The next morning, it was all over the news. Well, not all over the news. Front page scoops were reserved for "Maroni's new take over! What's next for Gotham's Underground?" and "Wayne Enterprises launches new aerospace tech!" But if you looked hard enough and switched a few channels, you'd see the headline clear as day.

"Gotham High Student Found Beaten To Death on Campus"

You couldn't eat your breakfast that morning. A few bites an you needed to throw it up. You couldn't erase the memory. You did nothing.

You mustered up the strength to go to school though, knowing you would have too, or your mom would kill you. You felt sick the whole time getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and closing the door. What's worse was the walk to school, seeing your steps retraced from the night before. The city seemed awfully more cheery in the daylight.

When you finally made it to the campus, your heart dropped. At least 3 cop cars pulled up, caution tape and flashing camera lights. The body of the man was in the same spot you'd seen him in.

A cop was instructing wandering and gossiping students to get a move on to class and to stop staring. You heard them whispering. But you stayed stuck, unable to move. The memories played in your head.

You could hear the muffled yelling of the cop telling you to move, but you didn't seem to register it. Neither could you register the gruff voice of a man telling the cop to wait a minute.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around in a spasm, coming face to face with Jim fucking Gordan.

You'd seen him on the TV before. He'd been the cities hero as of late. Took out the balloon man. Red hood gang. Even the Wayne killer. Tons of others. You swallowed.

In a surprisingly gentle movement, he firmly grasped your shoulder and guided you to a more private area, away from the judgey glances of other students and cops who merely rolled their eyes at him. One in particular, which you knew to be his partner, Harvey Bullock, let out an obnoxious groan while taking a bite of a Sandwich.

"Hello. My name is Jim Gordan." He spoke to you softly.

"I know who you are." The words came out more defensive than you intended them too. He backed up a little bit, mouth open and nodding. He politely removed his hand from your shoulder.

He flashed a small, awkward smile. It made you furrow your brows.

"Did you see anything that happened here last night? Anything at all." His voice lowered to a whisper. Something about his voice was gentle, charismatic. His words illicited the memory of the student in a pool of his own blood.

Jim studied you and your every movement, and when you flinched, his eyes lit up. But he kept the same serious and soft expression.

"You did, didn't you?" He urged, bending down just a tad to be at your level. You backed up. "Listen, I need you to tell me what you saw."

You stayed silent. He inhaled through his nose.

"No one is going to hurt you. I promise. Just tell me your name, give me a statement." His tone is more firm this time, and nods in the far off direction of his partner. "I don't want to have to drag you down to the station."

You mulled over what he said, before sighing.

You bit your lip, and spilled your guts.

He took note of everything you said eagerly. And when he was done, he gave you a small thank-you. You nodded, and assumed that would be the end of things.

Hah! You were wrong.

Almost half the student body had seen you and Jim Gordan talking. Before long, you were the talk of the town. The newbie in town was privy to a case with Jim Gordan.

When Gordan caught the culprit? Now that was front page news. One of Maroni's men caught in the act of beating an underage student half to death over a few milligrams of coke. Selling it to minors actively. It reflected poorly on the entirety of his underground empire. Apparently even criminals had a conscious.

And in a strange way, you also got to reap some benefits. You made a lot of new friends now, on both sides of the school. The rich cliques applauded you for helping rid the city of cretins and return it to its former glory. Some rumors had spread, and now the street trash students thought you were some badass who gave Gordan a tough time before helping him. It was all bullshit- you thought. You just helped with a stupid case.

But now, it seemed you were the only one with a hand in both pools of water. And god, it was a lot of connections. You knew about every murder cover-up the rich kids parents paid for. You knew about every ATM robbery and drug deal the street kids made. Every creepy teacher sleeping with a student. Every staff member who faked their taxes. You were a walking encyclopedia of all the crimes in Gotham committed by students and adults alike.

You didn't ask for it. But...you were glad you could help, in away. None of your friends were really real. No, the only real friend you had was Jim Gordan.

He'd made it a point to come to you for almost everything now. Figured you made a better information source than penguin. Plus, you didn't ask for anything in return. You were just thankful for the company.

He'd come down and meet you in the library when he needed you, after school, away from prying eyes. He'd sneak the both of you into a storage closet, before asking for your help.

You'd asked him a few times if you could get involved more; first hand. You thought you could do more than just being a reference. But he always just gave you that awkward smile. "Next time." He'd promised. Next time never came.

You were getting tired of your role as an informant. And you weren't the only one who noticed.

You damn near kicked and clawed. You woke up one day, blindfolded and strapped to a leather chair. Light leaked through the blindfold, and you went to scream. But there was tape covering your mouth

You knew you shouldn't have told Jim Gordan any of this shit. God, were you a snitch?!? A rat for the GCPD. Of course some gang was going to tie you up and kill you at one point!

You felt your chest heave as you struggled against your restraints.

A voice boomed, and it shut up your struggling.

"Miss L/N." It was a mans voice. Much older. "Forgive me for shocking you."

The blindfold was taken off your eyes by another figure behind you. You squinted as the light hit your retinas, and you stood face to face with Don Carmine Falcone.

You were rendered speechless.

"Let me give you some context here," He continued, and you felt your heart drop. "I have a proposition, of sorts."

You breathed against the tape on your mouth, deathly silent. A proposition. What the hell did that mean? Were you going to get to choose the way you died?

"See, I admire those who have methodical approaches. Good work ethic. You seem to have both." He circled you, standing up. "I heard whispers of a young girl that seemed to have wormed her way into the GCPD."

He paused, looking you directly in the eye.

"You are an incredibly useful asset, Miss L/N. Does Gordan tell you that enough?" The man urged. You felt your heart rate settle; and your mind do flips. No, you thought. He really doesn't.

"...I propose, you do a job for me. A small one, I assure you." He put his hand up. "You attend school with a student whose father is deep into Maroni's operation. I assume you know who I'm speaking of."

You do.

"I also assume you know all about where said man resides, with the rest of his crew. I want you to tell me where exactly that is. And, I want you to go there with Victor."

The words coming out of his mouth were terrifying. Victor...Victor, Victor, Victor. You repeated the name over and over. And then it clicked.

Victor Zsasz.

Oh god, this couldn't be happening. A million questions rushed through out your head. Jim had told you about his incident with him.

You managed to turn to look over your shoulder in the direction Falcone nodded too. Sure enough, there the man stood.

Victor looked at you stoically, leather hand coming up to wave at you, like this was a joke. A frightening smile played on his lips as he took in your shaking form.

You looked back to Falcone, and he gently tore off the tape covering your mouth, and undid the restraints on your right hand. You breathed shakily.

"Why do you want me to go with Zsasz? I get being an informant- why do you want me to go kill a bunch of guys?!?" Your voice sounded strained. You meant for it to be more confident. You flexed your wrist where the restraints had been.

Falcone nodded. "That's for me to know." He stated bluntly, obviously not further elaborating. "Do we have a deal?"

"And If I say no?" You wavered, watching the Don stretch out a hand to shake on it. Falcone merely pursed his lips and frowned.

In a swift movement, he motioned back to Victor who stared you down intently. Victor mouthed the words, "I'm gonna stab you." With a stabbing gesture of his hand.

You swallowed.

And then you shook Falcone's hand.

#x reader #gotham #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #batman x reader #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #dc comics #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz headcanons #gotham victor zsasz #victor zsasz gotham

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theetherealbloom · 2 years

Text

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 6

Chapter Six: I Swear A Million Times To Hold You Just The Way You Like

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

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER AHH, (besties wrap it up!) Lowkey this chapter was poorly edited so sorry! Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk! (MINORS, please run away :,)

Word Count: 17.3k (I hope this makes up for the delay my bad)

A/N: HELLAUR HOOMANS! Thank you again for all the love and support you have given me for this series! I truly appreciate you all for being here <3 This chapter and episode feels a little bit personal to write since I am someone who also has PTSD, so when I watched Pedro’s performance during those difficult panic attack scenes, I truly felt represented and seen. For me, my PTSD is subtle and not overly loud or noticeable at first glance, so when I saw it being portrayed that way I started ugly crying pls--

Song: Sweet Disaster by Oh Wonder

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD – 2023

THREE MONTHS LATER…

WYOMING WILDERNESS, HEADING WEST – DAY

It’s been three months since the incident, and neither of you spoke about what happened that morning in Kansas City. The past few months of walking West have proven a challenge as the seasons begin to change. As you suspected, you noticed Joel slowly let Ellie in; he taught her how to look for tracks and how to properly keep watch the first time he fell asleep. Her questioning, her loving attitude, her nasty language, everything entered his heart gradually. He hadn't planned on it, but he now cares for her. You, on the other hand, were already fond of her, you taught her the more “fun” activities. Like looking for more constellations as time passes by, continuing educating her ASL, and teaching a few of your favorite songs from your original reality.

You occasionally hummed as the seasons changed, trying to fill the silence and somber with music. Joel and Ellie didn’t seem to mind, you asked if they were bothered or annoyed but Joel grunted, “Better than Ellie asking a million more questions.” You simply chuckled while Ellie protested and began to defend herself. And then there were the moments you couldn’t quite label. Small touches between you and Joel, providing each other comfort now and then, knowing how bad the loneliness can get to anyone. A squeeze on your shoulder, the brushing of fingers, and if you were lucky, you’d get to hold his hand for a period of time as you trekked through the terrain. You swore there were times you felt his gaze roaming every mile of skin you had, but every time you turned to look he was already busy doing something else.

The branches have exchanged their leaves for white sleeves and all warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe. As gentle as feathers, the snow piles high, this world gets rewritten and retraced every time. After seeing Cody crawling with infected, you three headed out to the large forest to find out if Tommy is still alive and in hiding. Even Ellie tried to point out that there was a possibility he didn’t make it, but as Joel had said before, he was persistent.

You came across a cozy cabin hidden in the forest. Realizing you had no other options, you had to ask for directions to where you were at the moment. A quiet and nice old lady, named Florence had resided and mentioned she was with her husband, Marlon. After making the soup she told three of you that her husband wouldn’t be happy they were in their home. You peeked past the curtains and out the window you saw he husband returning from hunting in the forest, hanging out two white rabbits by the door. Marlon walked inside his home to find her wife sitting upon the rocking chair, her gaze slowly moving towards Joel, him with his revolver out while you and Ellie are upstairs, quietly watching from the mezzanine.

Marlon reluctantly places his bow and arrows on the side entry table, removes his gloves, and unzips his outer jacket, while Joel grumbles out, “And the gun.” Marlon grunts, “Who the hell are you?” Joel walks a bit closer while demanding for him to cooperate, he says, “Just someone passing through. Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it out of reach.” The senior does as he’s told and places it on the other table and asks his wife who was quietly watching the interaction, “Why didn’t you shoot him?” She continues rocking back and forth, “The gun’s all the way over there. He didn’t hurt me by the way.”

“Yeah, I got eyes.” He nonchalantly replies and spots the empty soup bowl on the wooden living room table, “You made him soup?” Florence gives his husband an obvious answer, "Yeah, I did. It’s cold out.” He simply shakes his head and sits down on his own chair. “I’m looking for my brother.” Joel states and the other man replies and removes his cap, “Well, I ain’t seen him.” Your cowboy shakes his head, “I haven’t told you what he looks like.”

“He look anything like you?” He asks and Joel tilts his head, “A bit.”

Ellie taps your arm and whispers to you, “It’s you and Joel from the future.” You frown and shake your head as you whisper back to her, “No.” The young girl rolls her eyes, “Whatever, you should see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.” You blink at her, and you’re seemingly left speechless.

“Then I ain’t seen him,” He says, “He’s got a girl and his wife with him.” You hear Florence say and you nearly choke on air in surprise. Joel turns to look at her, pissed, and confused, and didn’t even bother to correct her. Ellie yells next to you, “Can I come down?” Joel raises his voice at her, “No! Ellie!” You couldn’t stop her as she excitedly runs downstairs, and you have no choice but to follow her.

The elderly couple laughs knowingly, Joel looks at you and Ellie, “What did I just say?” And you give him an apologetic look and Ellie replies, “Joel, come on. They’re like a thousand.” Marlon questions aloud, “Who’s this little psycho and her mother?” Your mouth slightly parted open, about to inform him that you weren’t married to Joel and you weren’t her mother but Joel dismissed it, “Never mind them. I need you to tell us where we are.” He went to the middle of the living room, shoving the map in his direction, cheekily the man throws back, “If you got a map, why you lost?” Ellie’s lips turn downwards as she replies sarcastically, “Must’ve missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.”

Marlon whistles out, “Holy.” And Florence chuckles, still enjoying the excitement that they haven’t had in years. Joel sighs and points out on the map, “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.” Marlon glances back at his wife, “Did you tell him the truth?” She nods, “Yeah.” He raises an eyebrow at her, “Are you telling me the truth?” She doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah.” He lets out a deep exhale as he leans over, pointing where you all were currently.

Joel places his revolver back in his holster, his eyebrows are furrowed and he sighs in frustration, “Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” He sits down and you sit right next to him and Ellie mimics you both. “Hide? Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody.” Marlon replied as his wife gives her input, “I didn’t want to.” He grumpily waves her off and you lean next to Ellie, “Okay, there’s some truth in what you said.” She gives you a smirk in response.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother but if you’ve come this far, then you know what’s out there. You seen Cody?” Marlon asked while Joel clenches his jaw, and Ellie replies, “Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with Infected.” He hums in agreement, “Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation. Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.” Joel doesn’t give up and asks, “So you haven’t heard the name, ‘Tommy’?”

“Nope.” He simply says and Ellie questions, “What about the Fireflies?” Florence replies this time, “We get those in the summer.” The young girl frowns, “Not the bugs, the people.” Cluelessly the woman asks, “There are firefly people?” Her husband chuckles and Joel's frown grows deeper, creating harsh lines on his forehead, “You got any advice on the best way west?” The senior man doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah. Go east. But you never go past the river here.” He then points to a specific location on the map, the blue stream that flows across the paper, “Ever.”

“What’s past the river?” Ellie asked, brave and a little naive, the kind wise Florence replies, “Death. We never see who’s out there but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some infected, some not.” She turns to look at Joel, “If your brother is west of the river, he’s gone.” You lift your eyes to the man next to you, Joel has his eyebrows pinched, his gaze distant, and the lines by the side of his mouth are evident. Your heart sinks at the chance that the elderly couple might be right. “You’re not gonna scare us,” Ellie softly says and the woman answers, “Scared him.” Her husband chuckles and Joel scrambles to get out of there, not saying a single word, he’s grabbing the map and packs up the rest of his things.

You and Ellie are quick to follow after him as she comments, “You don’t seriously believe them.” Joel’s footsteps are loud with every crunch of snow, “They’ve lived here a long time.” He turns and you do too to see Ellie grab a rabbit, “Put that back.” Ellie doesn’t listen and swings the dead rabbit behind her back, “They don’t know anything. Never heard of the fireflies.” Joel unexpectedly stops walking, and you can hear his breathing become labored as he places his hand on the wooden fence, you angle your head to the right in confusion and concern.

Joel only hears muffled echoes as the ringing in his ears overpowers his senses, “Joel? Are you okay?” You softly ask and there is no response, you hear Ellie begin to worry as well and lines begin to form across your forehead. “Shut up.” His voice was barely audible as he places his hand on his chest. You jerk back, but you try to decode what was happening. Ellie then asks him, “Holy shit. Are you dying?” He shakes his head in response, “I’m okay.” But the world seems to spin around him, his vision feels blurry and the weightlessness he feels is unsettling, unable to process the news he had just heard and the possible chance his brother is no longer alive. The further he goes West, the more his paternal empathy is starting to merge Ellie and Sarah into one.

Yours and Ellie’s voices merge into one large echo as you both try and make sure he’s alright. “I’m fine.” You both don’t buy it, “No, no, but are you? Because just a reminder that if you’re dead, we’re fucked.” Ellie said, referring to both of you, which seemingly brings Joel grounded remembering he is now a caretaker and guardian to the both of you, he turns to you as he assures, “I said I’m fine. It’s just the… cold air all of a sudden.”

You don’t buy it one bit but you don’t want to diagnose him immediately so you keep silent and listen to Ellie speak as she marches on forward while ducking under the wooden fence, “All right, uh… let’s go and find Tommy and, and the Fireflies.” Joel grunts and looks at you and you avert your eyes from him, quickly following Ellie.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie said, stumbling a little but marching on, “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

All the bruises seem to surface like mud beneath the snow, your feet dug into the snow, a small thin path of footprints lay behind me, telling me where you have come from, but not where you are going. The winds were cold, almost freezing your skin with a simple touch. The icy winds blew against your jacket, the fabric keeping you warm, enough to feel comfortable but not to keep your cold thoughts away. You knew about Jackson, but you weren’t entirely sure where exactly the town was. You silently hope Tommy was fine and nothing had changed.

You gazed around the land, nothing but unending snow and ice, almost a hint that this land had gotten incredibly secluded through the years. After the trees reached the sky, children laughed and played, and the sounds of birds chirping in the woods woke me up from my long rest. It was almost as if the world itself was a part of you, but now that everything has turned frigid and awful, you hardly recognize it.

You see a river stream to your left, Ellie stops to look at it and rolls her eyes as she sarcastically says, “The River of Death. Scary.” Joel sighs, “Don’t start. It’s too close to dark. There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.” Ellie smiles, “Good. I’m starving. Should’ve stolen two rabbits.” You ruffle her hair a little bit and Joel replies, “We can get our own rabbits.”

Ellie excitedly asks as she looks up at Joel, “You gonna teach me how? You taught Birdie.” You bite back a smile from the memory, his entire firm body was behind you, hands on either side of you, the ghost of his breath as he whispered instructions creating a trail of goosebumps. If you were being honest, you were very close to kissing him, but you were too afraid to mess it all up, to ask if he felt it too, and continued to wait for him to be ready. “Just keep movin’.” Joel dismisses her and the girl sighs in frustration and exhaustion. You look to Joel, your eyes gazing into his brown ones, hoping that if you stare long enough you could magically read his mind, then turned to trail after Ellie.

WYOMING WILDERNESS, CAVE – NIGHT

Your campfire appeared to echo the starlight and bounced off the walls of the small cave as if the flames so close and so distant had so very much to say to one another. It crackled and spat before hissing into life. Its lambent light stole away the velvet-black shadows dancing on the wall. As that dry, withered stump slowly releases years and years of energy soaked up from the sun, the air, and the ground around it, outcome bright lights, whispering hisses, sizzling pops, and a thick, intoxicating smell of musky smoke and pine needles.

You sit atop a large rock by the edge with Ellie, both of your heads are tilted up, black heavens are the perfect stage upon which the brightest of hues dance. You could watch the aurora lights for infinity and always see that it is new, a unique moment and beauty in all of existence. Rays of light fall from the sky, making drapes that stretch across the sky. And they are reminiscent of fluttering drapes or curtains in the wind. There is also a violet and a crimson trim at the bottom and top ends. Sometimes the hues are blended together and braided into one another. New beams of light streaming down from space cause the curtains to vanish and reappear.

Joel looks up to find you both whispering and giggling, you are pointing up at the sky and moving excitedly as you explained the glow from the stars and the infinite rays of light creating waves in the cold midnight sky. He watches Ellie lean her head on your shoulder and you gently rub her back, eventually giving her a light squeeze as a form of a side hug. He brings his fingers to his lips, and a shrill attention-grabbing pierces through the air, both of you swiftly turn your attention to Joel who says, “Come down from there. You’re both gonna break your necks.”

You and Ellie make your way down the high rock, and both of you walk to Joel who was sipping from his flask. Ellie curiously asks Joel, “Ahh… Can I have some?” He shakes his head at her, “No.” The fourteen-year-old whines, “What? Just to warm up. C’mon.” Joel looks at you, and you were surprised he wanted your input or permission. You simply nodded, letting him give the metal flask to Ellie which she receives with a bright smile, she raises it in thanks and takes a large sip. Her face twists into a sour expression, her eyes shut for a brief moment while her eyebrows meet in the middle, “Yep… still gross.” Ellie hands it back to Joel and he asks if you want some to which you respond with a shake of your head. She lets out a little cough and Joel quietly sips from his flask.

“So, I’ve been thinking. Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works, they draw my blood and put it through some of their fancy machines and make a cure.” Ellie says and you watch Joel shift his eyes a bit, trying to figure out where this is heading, “Okay?” Ellie raises her eyebrows as she asks aloud, “Then what? Like, what do we do?” Joel raises his defenses, trying to keep the invisible bricks intact steady, “Oh, it’s ‘we’?” Unintentionally you sigh loudly in exasperation, looking at Joel with your eyelids heavy, you nervously lick the bottom of your lip and cling to your patience as it slowly slips through your fingers like sand. Ellie also sighs and reforms her question, “Okay, fine. Whatever. You. Her. You both can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

Joel clears his throat, “It’s never been an option. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land… a ranch.” Ellie encourages him to continue, “Cool. What kind?” He replies while he smugly looks at Ellie “Sheep. I would raise sheep. They’re quiet… do what they’re told.” Ellie rolls her eyes and nods, “Yeah, yeah. Okay. So, just you and a buncha sheep. Romantic.” You smile at the thought of him living a domesticated life, no more danger or violence, just simple and safe. Joel hesitates a little before asking Ellie, “And what about you? Where are you gonna go?”

She raises her head high, looking up at the full midnight moon glimmering bright along with the twinkling stars, “It’s probably cause I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there’s ocean, and ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?” You create creases beneath your eyes as you smile widely, having a pretty good guess as to who. You and Joel say the same thing at the same time, “Sally Ride.” Ellie grins, “Sally fuckin’ Ride! Best astronaut name ever. How about you Birdie?” You blink twice, “What?” She raises an eyebrow, “What are you gonna do when after I save the world? Are you gonna try to go back to your world or whatever?”

You've trusted and refused every compass you've followed, and the same is true of an ever-changing concept of right. You wrap your arms around your middle, and your shoulders rise and fall as you breathe, “Um… I actually haven’t thought about that. I don’t know.” She looks at you with confusion and questions “Don’t you want to go back home?” Her inquiry causes you to shrink into yourself a little more, not wanting to answer, craving to distance yourself from Joel and Ellie’s gaze. You swallow nervously and look down at your worn-out boots, “I… Maybe. It might take a long time before I could figure out something. But to be honest Ellie, I never felt… at home there. So many things that I had before, but they don't matter to me now.”

Then it becomes quiet for a bit, you watch Ellie blink a couple of times, the crackling bright glow of the orange fire illuminating on side of her face, as she begins to question the future before her, she couldn’t help but wonder, “It’ll work, right? The vaccine?” Joel looks down unsure, “It’s a little late to start wonderin’.”

“I tried, with Sam,” Ellie says as she doesn’t bring her eyes to either of you, your eyes soften at her admittance, none of you have talked about what had happened, not wanting to dwell on the past too much, but to hear her finally bring it up giving you a sense of pride, for her to have the courage to speak about something so traumatic. Joel continued the conversation by asking her what she meant, “Tried what?” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at either of you, choosing to gaze into the campfire, “I knew he was infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite. I know, I know, it was stupid. But I… I wanted to save him.” Joel softly says, the wind carrying his words into the night, “Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she’s a lotta things, but… she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.” Ellie doesn’t say anything as she nods and he takes a large gulp from his flask, throwing his head back as he does.

The fire crackles loudly, but Ellie’s voice could be heard as she asked, “You wanna take first watch or second?” Joel grunts out, “I’ll do both. Get some sleep.” You opened your mouth to dispute him, saying that you could do the first watch but he doesn’t let you get a single syllable in as he narrows his eyes at you, “No.” You huff in annoyance and say nothing. You and Ellie get up to go deeper into the cave as Joel says to the both of you while grabbing his rifle, “Dream of… going home to sheep ranches on the moon.” Ellie gives him another nod, “I will.”

WYOMING WILDERNESS, CAVE – EARLY MORNING

The snow forest feels to the rest of the world like a gift waiting to be opened. Upon the ascent of the daylight, the wilderness is so bitter cold. It exudes a clean aura that invites the soul to pause for a minute and allow the sight to permeate the soul. You live in the moment, the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future you dream of even in the cold. The last of the morning stars were blinking out tragically above you. They glowed like bling-silver grains of sand in the early sky. It was a sight to see as their bejeweled splendor faded into nothingness. A ghostly, orb-white winter moon lingered there, eerily similar to a faint strobe light. A halo of brilliant golden encircled its waning brilliance. The sky around it was a vast sheet of grate-grey, with a plum-purple hue near the horizon.

You woke up a bit earlier than usual, and you found Joel passed out, laying on his side and using his jacket as a pillow. You could hear the birds squawking from above the trees, and see the campfire had dimmed. Quietly, you pushed yourself up and grabbed the rifle he had left beside him. You did the usual checks to ensure the safety of everyone, and to see if there were any tracks or unwanted animals lurking around. So far, luckily, you three were safe for the time being.

You made your way back to the cave, finding Ellie alert and awake. She looks at Joel and then back at you, and you raise your finger to your lips, indicating that she should let Joel rest and be quiet. The young girl nods in understanding, silently walking towards you, the both of you taking watch. You let Ellie practice what Joel had taught her and let her hold the rifle in the meantime. And she did everything perfectly.

As time passed and the sun began to rise from the east, you hear Joel mumble in his sleep. You tuned your ears to his whimpers and mumbling, catching the words, “Supposed to be me… Supposed to…” You frown in understanding and worry, you had your fair share of nightmares fueled by guilt. Joel startles awake, gasping for air as he pushes himself up frantically searching for his rifle, only to find you and Ellie standing guard. Ellie couldn’t help herself as she quips, “Still mumbling in your sleep. Birdie and I woke up early. You were passed out, so we both took second watch.”

Joel’s fury sprang to life as he stood up, “You gotta wake me up if that happens. Both of you can’t do things like this.” You felt a flash of irritation as you say to him, “But we can… ‘cause we just did.” He’s quiet for a moment, caught off guard by your reaction, then he speaks, “I’m responsible for both of you, okay?” Ellie is quick to throw back, “Then don’t fall asleep.” She began to recount detail and instruction Joel had given her before when he taught her while you proudly smirk at him, “What can I say, man? I’m a natural.” Joel grouchily nods, “Uh-huh.” And gestures to her to give him back the rifle, he nods at her in approval this time, “You wake me up next time.” Ellie rolls her eyes and smiles sarcastically, “Yes, sir. But you should know that Birdie woke up before me.”

Your eyes widen at her, “Ellie, don’t throw me under the bus!” She chuckles at you as Joel gives you a pointed look and you raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to try and argue, instead he just shakes his head, “Let’s get goin’.”

The cold air stung your cheeks and you pulled your scarf up closer to your face. As you looked around you took notice of the white blanket of snow covering the trees, ground, and mountains. The smell of damp pine trees made the air feel fresh and clean. The world around you was frozen in a glaring white quiet. Nothing made a sound, nothing moved, nothing sang. Winter's slavering teeth have vanished. Its piercing winds had stripped the trees of their final leaves, leaving them naked and brooding in a harsh world. They were groaning beneath the weight of the snow, encased in their medical coats. A great limb would occasionally groan, shatter, and collapse. It sounded like an explosion went off in the jungle. Apart from that, the woodland was engulfed in an eerie stillness. There was no morning chorus, sound symphony, or avian orchestra. The entire globe was encased in a dome of quiet. Winter's lethal grasp has strangled and suffocated all life on the planet. Snowflakes fluttered down on the three of you, sylph-like in their airy quiet. They glinted like crushed diamond dust as they landed. A shimmering winter scape of white and silver.

The sudden gunshot disrupted the peace of the forest, and the startled geese began to honk and fly off into the distance, Joel waits for a bit to ensure it was safe to cross the bridge, Ellie observes, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does, “The River of Death. Still no people.” Joel grumbles out, “Fine.” Then proceeds to stand up, and walk to the entrance of the bridge as you and Ellie closely follow him from behind.

As you continue to make your way across the bridge, Ellie tries to whistle like Joel, however, no high pitch sound comes out, just puffs of air. Joel turns around in confusion, and Ellie’s reply is muffled by her fingers, “I’m learning how to whistle.” And Joel looks at her incredulously, “You don’t know how to whistle?” She retorts, “Does it sound like I know how to whistle?” He says the obvious, “No.” You laugh, letting yourself enjoy the little moments of peace with the two. “Seriously, though, how the fuck do you do that?” Ellie asks walking a little bit ahead and you walking side-by-side with Joel, he harrumphs, “Talent.” And you lightly smack his arm at his response, and you swore you saw him give you a small smile, Ellie mutters, “Whatever. You should teach me how to hunt.”

“Huh.” Joel states, and Ellie mocks him, “‘Huh’. Like. ‘She’s a girl. She can’t handle it.’” Joel speaks as he trudges through the snow, “You can handle the shootin’. Not so sure about the dressin’.” Ellie sighs, “What’s the dressin’?” You and Joel walk a little bit past her and he replies, “The part where you take the guts out.” And your nose scrunches up at the thought while Ellie says, “Oh, yeah. Why do they call it dressing? It’s like you should call it undressing ‘cause it is. It’s like… undressing from the inside.” She paused for a bit to catch her breath before saying, “Still interested, though.”

The sound of water rushing fills your ears as you waddled through the snow, stumbling upon a large structure. Dams were mechanical temples that harnessed the victorious powers of water, power, and terrestrial fertility for human advantage. “Dam.” Ellie said, and you rolled your eyes in amusement while Joel tells her, “You’re no Will Livingston.” She quickly throws back at him, “Yeah, yeah, but who is? So that made electricity?” Referencing the Dam in front of them, Joel mutters, “Yeah. Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.” Ellie laughs, “You know, you could’ve just made something up. I would’ve believed you.” Joel answers, “Ask Birdie, she’s practically a walking encyclopedia.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or amazed at the fact you know what an encyclopedia is.” You quip at him with a smirk and his lip quirks up in a small smirk at you, and his eyes twinkle with mischief and desire as his pupils slightly darken, “Smartass.” You winked at him, “You like it.”

“Damn right.” He said with his eyes unwavering from yours, and you felt every atom in your body spark to life. Joel’s heavy breathing stirred the tiny hairs on your neck, sending a shiver into every cell of your body. Ellie disrupted you both as she makes a disgusted groan, “If the two of you are done flirting can we please keep moving?” The heat of embarrassment rushed into your face, leaving you speechless as you decide to break away from his stare and keep marching forward.

“Look at that river. It’s crazy blue.” Ellie said then was immediately quiet after, somewhere between then and now irony slipped its way into her vocabulary, laughter became an anecdote for guilt, sacrifice grew to be a band name for shame and unnecessary death became a nightmare that rode her piggyback. At this point, the thought suddenly struck her, “Hey, Joel, Birdie… what if this is the River of Death?”

Joel grabs the map from his jacket pocket and unfolds it, checking to see if Ellie was right. The cold wind harshly bit into your skin as you three stared at the crystal blue river. At first, you couldn’t see them, but you could hear them—the snapping of twigs, the crunch of snow, and the clopping sound of horse hoofs. There were more than one, more than three, and they were closing in. Joel tried to grab you and Ellie to run, but they were too quick, and organized, and had you surrounded in seconds with their guns and rifles pointed at you. “Get behind me,” Joel said, slightly pushing both of you behind his tall frame. You all raised your hands up, and showed no sign of aggression, Joel shouts, “We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble. We’re just passin’ through.”

“Drop the gun,” the harsh voice ordered in front of you, Joel does as he’s told and so do you. “Both of you… take five steps back.” the man says, and Joel tries to reason with him, “How ‘bout we just talk this through?” And the unknown man unrelentingly replies, “How ‘bout you shut the fuck up?” Joel's shoulders tense, “Okay, easy.” He turns to both of you, Ellie has her eyes wide open and mouth slightly parted, her hands slightly quivering and you trying to steady your breathing, “You’ll both be okay.”

You follow the orders given to you and take five steps back and you hear the man ask, “You been near Infected?” And Joel replies, “There’s no Infected out here.” He doesn’t buy it one bit and retorts, “The hell there ain’t.” He whistles and you hear a short, abrupt vocalization, relatively loud and high-pitched, changes in frequency, the bark of an excited dog, “Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”

The black large dog continues to bark and its handler removes his leash, he prances over to Joel, sniffing him up and down, jumps up to place his paws on his stomach, looks at him then whines, not finding any indication of the virus. The dog walks back over to his handler for a treat while Joel’s Texan accent becomes heavy, “Like I said… we’ll just move on.” The man still has his rifle pointed at you as he sits atop his horse, he nods over in your and Ellie’s direction, “Now both of them.”

Your heart drops, and you hear Ellie’s breathing become shaky. The flip in your stomach takes over all of your senses, you are frozen and unmoving as you watch the dog crouch lowly and growl at you and Ellie. Joel turns back to glance at you both and you’re worriedly looking at him. He turns around, not bringing himself to watch, the world becomes quiet, the silent ringing returns, and his lungs are clawing for air. It brings him back to that moment when the world took her away, his Sarah, the powerlessness and helplessness feeling that had followed him over the past twenty years. The weight of the world was placed on his shoulders that faithful day.

The sound of a high-pitched bark brings him back to the present, he hears you and Ellie giggle and turns to find you and her completely fine, happily rubbing and petting the dog as the creature licks and wags its tail. The man whistles and the dog is called away, you and Ellie stand up from the snow and hear the leader say, “You just bought yourself ten more seconds. What are you doin’ out here?” Joel quickly replies, “I’m just lookin’ for my brother. That’s all, nothin’ more.” A beautiful woman, whose skin was as rich and deep as any stately home mahogany, exclaims, “Ho!” And walks her horse forward, “What’s your name?” He answers breathlessly, “Joel.” And his name became the key, the password, and the answer, for them to escort you into their town.

You three were given and allowed to ride your own horses, the cold wind rushing past me. The sun’s rays of light are covered by the darkness of the clouds. Hooves, galloping along the plush white snow, the loud clopping and crunch fill your ears as you hold onto the reins. In the distance, you see a large wooden wall with a giant gate, men and women stationed on top, ready to shoot any intruders. One of the men raises a red bandana, a signal to one of the guards on watch.

The large gate opens for all of you, the horses begin to trot at a normal pace as you take in the sight of Jackson. Underneath you are fluffy, cold snow. The sounds of slush fill your ears. You watch as the misty fog escapes your mouth anytime you take a breath. Every time you inhale a frigid prickle enters your lungs and every time you exhale the heat from your breath warms your lips. Around you are naked trees covered in powder-white snow, glistening in the daylight. The town is neatly arranged, and it felt comfortable and safe. You spot the Tipsy Bison on the right, a location you recognized, then bring your eyes to observe the people around you. A thriving and collaborative community, stable enough to provide and care for the elderly and children.

You continue on forward, spotting Tommy on top of the scaffolding, helping with construction work. You angle your head to look at Joel as he shouts at the top of his lungs, “Tommy!” His brother stops what he’s doing to look at Joel, then he proceeds to run down the steps leading up to the scaffolding, Joel urgently dismounts from his horse, and the people around town watch as the two brothers reunite, a large impactful hug from the both of them, secure and firm. Their shoulders move up and down as the two laugh loudly, finally, all of the pieces align and the balance is clearly defined, he sighs and settles down for the first time.

Tommy smiles as he asks his older brother, “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Joel looks at you and Ellie for a second before back to Tommy, replying, “I came here to save you.” Joel begins to laugh again, his chuckle a melody you’ve rarely heard before, a sound you keep in your back pocket just in case.

You bring your gaze to Ellie, whose expression is mixed and jealous, sensing that she’s now a bit less important in Joel’s life. You look back at the two brothers, turning down the volume of your heart, the massive table of countless dominos, all lined up and weaving in and out of each other, every relationship and decision in every piece of domino, subconsciously shrinking the row of dominos the best you can. Eliminating your opinions or wants and desires, convincing yourself that this will be simple by just focusing on the needs of everyone else but yourself. The only form of control you’ve had looks like empathy to understand all sides.

MESS HALL, JACKSON COUNTY, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The mess hall was large, warm, and inviting. The indistinct chatter fills the giant wooden cabin, lightbulbs twinkling from above, and dining tables lined up neatly. Ellie was sat in between you and Joel, she is scarfing down her food, eagerly eating everything that was on her plate and so was Joel. You were meekly eating, trying to not draw attention to yourself, as you quietly chewed on your potatoes. “There’s more if you need it.” And you soon come to realize that this must be Maria, the way Tommy’s body language is drawn and pulled close to her, you smile when you hear Joel reply politely, “Thank you, ma’am.” And you also offer your thanks to her and she nods in your direction in acknowledgment. Joel cuts into his food as he says, “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.” Ellie pipes in, “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal. This is fuckin’ amazing.” You wince in second-hand embarrassment and so does Joel, he turns to Maria, “Sorry. Ellie… let’s mind our manners.” Tommy smirks knowingly. At one moment, another girl furtively looks at Ellie, until Ellie loudly says “What?!” and scares her off. Joel’s lips turn down and his eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What’s wrong with you?” Ellie doesn’t relent, “What about her manners?”

“She was just curious. Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.” Maria points out and Ellie nods, “Right… well, maybe I’ll teach them. And I want my gun back.” Maria shakes her head, “They also aren’t armed.” The young brave girl glares at her in response, Tommy decides to step in, “You know what? Uh… I think maybe ya’ll got a little off on the wrong foot.” Ellie raises her tone and points out, “She was gonna have our guys kill us.” Joel gives her a pointed look, an indication for her to stop being disrespectful but Tommy calmly responds, “Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. But it’s all bark. We’re just trying to scare off those who might wanna try us is all.” Ellie nonchalantly says, “Well you got a couple of ninety-year-olds who shitting themselves out there.” You and Joel chastise her quickly, “Ellie.” But she doesn’t care, “They say that you leave dead bodies around?” Maria doesn’t deny the ugly truth, “Those are the people who tried us.” Tommy adds, “A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad.” Maria narrows her eyes at Joel as she comments, “Not always, at least.” You feel your anger flare up from your chest as you grip your knife tighter, glaring at Maria for suggesting such a thing.

Joel swallows down his food and his shame, “Ma’am… we’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.” You place an elbow on the table, using your hand to hide your face in embarrassment as you squirm in your chair, you hear Tommy clear his throat, “Well um…” You peek past your hand and watch him grab Maria’s hand, spotting the wedding band on his left ring finger, “Maria is family, actually.” Ellie blinks in surprise as she says, “Oh, shit! Congrats.” You bring your eyes to Joel’s unmoving figure, frozen in shock from the sudden news as his breathing becomes unsteady, Ellie softly whispers to him, “Joel, say congrats.” The all-too-familiar cold tone is unmistakable as he grits his teeth to say, “Congrats.” There’s an awkward silence between the two parties, and you take a large gulp of your water and Tommy offers, “How ‘bout a tour.” You nod as you’re the first one to get up from your chair, not liking the possibility of conflict between the two brothers, “Yes, please.”

JACKSON, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The town had a large plaza, and a giant vibrant Christmas tree in the center, Maria spoke as she walked, and the rest of you followed, “We settled here about seven years ago. Just a handful of us back then.” She points out a section of the town, “That section was already a gated community, so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.” Joel warily looks around, “And you said Infected?” Tommy nods, “Yeah, but usually in smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out there… it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope. Sub MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from half a mile out.”

“Can you teach me how?” Ellie asks and Joel is quick to respond for him, “No, he can’t. How do you keep this place quiet?” Maria replies, “Carefully. Being in the middle of nowhere helps. Not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.” Joel stares at his brother and Tommy shrinks away from his pointed look, you listen to Maria as she explains the purpose of each building, “House of worship, multifaith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as a jail, not that we’ve needed it.” Joel looks to one of the electric poles, “And you draw power from the dam?” Maria confirms his suspicion, nodding, “Got that workin’ a couple years ago. After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters… lights.” Ellie shakes her head, seemingly impressed, “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

The group makes their way to the farm, and a herd of sheep passes by, and Ellie points it out as she smiles at him, “Hey, Joel, check it. Baa.” Ellie playfully swings her arms back and forth as she asks Maria, “Are you, like, in charge?” She looks at Tommy for a bit before replying, “No one person’s in charge. I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting.” Tommy picks off where she left off, “Everything you see in our town… greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership,” to which Joel replies, "So, uh, communism." Tommy's knee-jerk reaction is, "Nah. Nah, it ain't like that." His discomfort with the term pulls from over a century of distortion of the fundamental principles of communism. “It is that, literally. This is a commune. We're communists," Maria states modestly, to which Tommy’s discomfort at the thought causes him to stagger a bit, to which you offer, “I can try and explain it later.” Tommy nods in thanks and you give him a reassuring smile.

“No way!” Ellie exclaims as she makes her way to the stables, Maria trails behind her and you follow the two ladies, “That’s our newest one. Couple months old. You wanna pet her?” Ellie’s smile is as bright as the sun and her teeth as white as the snow beneath you, wide and happy, “Yeah, what’s her name?” Ellie asks to which Maria replies, “Shimmer.” Your smile falters a bit, recognizing the name from the second game, but you shake it off, not wanting to keep looking into the future. “Shimmer you’re so beautiful,” Ellie says as she pets the pony gently, completely enamored by her beauty and gentle grace. Maria turns to Tommy and discusses the possible sleeping arrangement, “Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower, some new clothes. We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.” Her husband nods in agreement, “Yeah. It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since the ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.” Ellie carelessly remarks, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

Joel has his eyes narrowed and annoyed, “We’ve been doin’ fine.” You get the slight feeling he’s being defensive, and Maria looks at you and Ellie, and tells her husband, “Well I’ll take her and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up.” Tommy then looks to his older brother for approval and Joel nods, “Yeah. Okay.” You and Ellie whip your head to face Joel, slightly unnerved and fearful of the unknown, and potentially Joel pushing you both away. “Joel.” Ellie says and he brushes her off as he walks away, “You’ll be fine.” Maria asks the both of you, “Shall we?” And having no choice but to follow her you both nod, “Uh, yeah.”

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – AFTERNOON

The warm hot shower soothes your skin as you wash off the grime and dirt of the last few months. At some point, you had decided to sit down in the bathtub of the shower, letting the water hit your skin freely, your eyes distant and gaze unsteady as you watch the steam of the shower move to the light. You hug your knees close to your chest, rest your chin on your knees, and finally let yourself go.

The haze takes over your vision, a sculpture of water and unsettled dust, and your exhausted mind only wants to be carried home. So you fight with the concept of grace while attempting to hold everything in place. You were so full of life that you could barely hold it in. You were amateurs at war, strangers to suffering. Your questions ricochet like broken satellites. How did your bodies, born to heal, become so prone to die? Your nights have grown so long and now you beg for sound advice, time has been ruthless and unkind, every turn in the corner of the maze only to be faced with a dead end, the trapdoors you couldn’t see, and the lives that were lost to your journey to Jackson. You felt so vulnerable and fragile, the fact that the foundation of society was shaken to its core due to the pandemic, governments, families, and lives as you know them, will never be the same again. As life replayed, you hear the voice in the back of your mind proclaim, to let the brokenness be felt until you reach the other side.

The sting in your eyes as the tears escape from your eyes, allows for the cold embrace of the depression you’ve kept hidden and at bay for so long. Sometimes you pretend you are evergreen and keep your cards close to your chest. But this time you allow yourself the reprieve, as you quietly sob into your hands and gasp for air now and then, letting every little fracture of you shatter out loud. Wondering if your messes mattered and if all the chaos counted as you felt empty-handed. You had set sail along the universe's ocean of the unknown with cheap wood and tried to patch up every leak that you could until the blame grew too heavy.

You reflected on the world that you were unintentionally placed in, presenting the world through a different lens, a world that turned hostile and dangerous. But a story that explored how nevertheless you can still find love and meaning, the longing for human connections, and how willing you are to sacrifice everything to safeguard the people you love.

You hadn’t planned on it, the greater weight of the truth settling inside of you. Fundamental resilience and a built-in resistance, and against your judgment, prevent you from completely surrendering yourself from truly giving up on being human. You open your eyes and slowly rise to your feet, placing your palm on the wall, you blink and try to look past the undefined and fragile promise at the light at the end of the tunnel. You nod, shakily you breathe, and whisper to no one in particular, “I guess that’s how it goes.”

After the mental breakdown in the shower, you stepped out of the bathroom fresh and felt a little bit lighter. You lift your chin a little higher and open your eyes a little wider despite the puffiness in your eyes. You are wrapped in a towel, and as you make your way to the foot of the bed, you find fresh clean clothes to wear and a menstrual cup. You smile at the thoughtful gift and find a note, that reads ‘I’m just across the street. Come by when you’re done.’

You get dressed and make your way down the hall to Ellie’s room, you knock on her door and call for her, “Ellie? You there?” When no reply came, you slowly opened the door to find her gone and after investigating a little bit, you see a similar note from Maria. You figured she had already gone over. You leave her room and walk across the street to Maria’s house, knocking on the door and Ellie opening the door for you. You smile at her as you walk inside, appreciating the warmth already provided by the fireplace.

You take a good look at the living room, yellow curtains by the window, a messy coffee table with an unsolved crossword, and a large cozy couch facing the fireplace as it crackles and roars. Your eyes catch the small blackboard sitting on top of the fireplace with two candles on each side. Ellie walks over to it and you follow closely behind her as she stares up at the two names. Kevin and Sarah, with the dates, that they were born and taken away too soon from this world.

You let out an uneven exhale and feel your frown deepen, as the flashbacks of Joel’s life come back to you in a blur. The scream for mercy, watching him tear apart with each cry and wail from his hoarse voice. The day the world ended was the same day his world ended. Something broken that cannot be fixed. You both turn your heads to the sound of the back door opening, Maria enters bringing the cold wind with her until she closes the door behind her, “Oh, good. Just traded for these two. Go ahead, try it on.” She hands Ellie a deep purple long coat while yours is A sophisticated medium gray with the barest hint of violet. The young girl comments as she wears her purple puffer coat, “It’s, uh, super fuckin’ purple.” You bend down a little to help Ellie with her coat, fixing the collar and the lining, Maria nods, “Eggplant. It fits?” Ellie replies, “Yeah.” Maria continues to fuss over her as you put on your coat, “Shoes aren’t too big?” She answers, “Uh, no. Where’s our other stuff?” Maria lifts her shoulders, “Rag pile. Did you both get the thing I left you?” You merely nod while Ellie bluntly replies, “Yeah. Weirdest gift ever.” Maria nods in agreement but says, “But useful. Who’s been cutting your hair?”

“Uh, world-class salons,” Ellie says plainly and it earns a laugh from you and Maria, “Let me get my scissors.” Ellie’s mouth opens to protest but Maria doesn’t let her argue, “Trim. That’s all. Just the ends, I promise. And her too, she’ll go first so you can see that you have nothing to worry about.” Referring to you as she walks to the kitchen. You ruffle Ellie’s hair and whisper to her, “Just let her,” to which she sighs and takes a seat on one of the dining table chairs.

The trim was much needed. Maria had cut your hair in the style you wanted with such precision and skill. You happily thanked her with a polite smile, sat down on one of the other chairs, and let Ellie go next, of course, Ellie being the curious kid she is, begins to interrogate Maria, “So, this was, like, your job back then or something?” The sharp snips of scissors fill the silence for a bit before she answers, “No, I was an Assitant District Attorney out of Omaha, Nebraska. I put the bad guys in jail. I always liked doing hair though. Maybe it was a mom thing.”

“Damn, that’s pretty impressive.” You said and she gives you her thanks and asks, “What did you do for work?” Your smile falters, “Um, I used to be a researcher, a Quantum physicist.” The quiet was nice for a moment before she comments, “You both were looking at the little memorial Tommy made?” Ellie answers for the both of you, “Uh, yeah.” She stumbles on her words, “I’m- I’m sorry about your kids.” Your nails dig into your palm and listen to Maria reply, “It’s okay. And kid. Just Kevin. Sarah was Joel’s daughter.”The heavy silence that follows tells Maria that Ellie didn’t know that before, and you find it harder to breathe, “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess that explains him a little,” Ellie says and she brings her eyes to you, “Did you know?” You squirm, the feeling of deja vu from when you first heard those words from Joel, the accusatory glance, and the betrayal in her eyes. “Yes,” You said and she scoffs at you, “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?” You pull back and raise your eyebrows at her, “You and I both know that was never my story to tell or share. No amount of knowledge will ever excuse the fact that I can never talk about what happened without Joel’s explicit consent.” Ellie resigns from her lashing out and nods at you with understanding, and you simply sighed. Maria chimes in, “Look, I’m not gonna ask you what you both are doing with him.”

“Good.” You and Ellie say at the same time, quickly protective of Joel but Maria continues with her statement, “But there are clearly things you both don’t know about Joel.” You glare at Maria while the teen remains typically testy, “Oh, like how he used to kill people? We know about that.” Ellie rebukes with vigor and impresses Maria with it somewhat, “So then you understand my concern.” Ellie’s anger flares, “He doesn’t do that anymore.” And Maria is quick to question, “He stopped killing people?”

“Innocent ones. And Tommy did it, too. Are you worried about him?” she asks to which Maria’s lips form a thin line, “Tommy was following Joel. The way you both are.” Seemingly sees Joel as a bad influence, someone who pulls people into his orbit and leaves harm in his wake. “Well, maybe, we’re smarter than Tommy. No offense.” Ellie states and you sense distrust in Maria, “You are definitely smart. Both of you. You would have made a hell of a lawyer, Ellie.” The woman says as she puts away her scissors and stands in front of you and Ellie, “There’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.” None of you answer, to which Maria nods, “Good. Therein lies the point. Be careful who you put your faith in,” she warns you and Ellie. “The only people who can betray us… are the ones we trust.” Ellie clearly resents the advice and Maria’s distrust of Joel, perhaps because she senses there’s a good reason for it and none of you want to admit it.

“You understand?” Maria asks and you both hum in acknowledgment. “Now come on.” She says as she walks to remove the towel around Ellie’s shoulders, “Grab your super fuckin’ eggplant coat.” You allow yourself to laugh at the callback and get up from your own seat, shuffling to put on your gray coat to which you hear Ellie ask, “Where are we going?” Maria smiles, “The movies.” Ellie sighs and ties her hair back, while you say, “I’m actually gonna go for a walk. Get familiar with the surroundings. You okay to go by yourself, Ellie?” The brave teen nods, “Mhm. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Tell me what you think of the movies later, okay?” You say and she smiles and agrees, “Okay.” You tuck your hands in the pockets of your coat, yelling a thank you and goodbye to Maria as you headed outside to the cold winter of Jackson.

MAIN STREET

JACKSON, WYOMING – SUNSET

You tried your best to help around as much as you could with the stables and the children, doing some work to pass the time. The clouds collected again around sunset, bringing an earlier night, and the snow began to fall straight and slowly from a sky devoid of wind, in a gentle universal dispersion more perplexing than the morning's blasts. It appeared to be a part of the growing darkness, the cold night itself falling on you layer by layer.

The amber glow of the string lights, the burn barrels doing their best to keep parts of the area warm, the steam following the wind but the bright glow of the fire emitting from inside shine through. Most people at this hour have already decided to go to the dining hall to watch the rest of the movie, but you continued to wander around the empty main street of Jackson.

The world is an outline of shapes you used to know, hidden in plain sight. The drapes suddenly pulled back slowly, as though pulling a ribbon. You've been distracted, but you're no longer trapped in the static. Despite the fact that your hands are prone to trial and error, you cross your fingers for anything to hold. Here in the shadows of letting go, you can't help but wish for a brighter future. You spot Ellie from a distance, her figure crouched down as she eavesdrops through the door of a nearby workshop. You tilt your head and quietly walk towards her, to which she still turns her head to you, lifting her finger on her lips indicating to be quiet. You decide to follow her request and crouch next to her, hearing Tommy and Joel quietly conversing with each other.

Joel started, “It was Marlene. She hired us to smuggle her to some Fireflies. It went bad. Tess got bit. She made me swear to take the kid. It was her dyin’ wish. What the hell was I supposed to do? We made it as far as K.C., and then… You know she saved my life there… from another kid. Birdie got hurt too… Five years ago, I would’ve destroyed him. But she had to shoot him to save me. Fourteen years old. Because I was too slow and too fuckin’ deaf to hear him comin’.” You shudder at the reminder and the two of you listened as Joel broke, bit by bit, his voice started to quiver, “And Birdie had to protect Ellie 'cause I asked her to… and she didn’t even have the experience or skill that I had… I saw… I saw a man kill his own brother… to save her, while I just watched. And today I thought that dog was gonna tear both of ‘em apart because it smelled somethin’ on them.”

“And all I did was stand there. I couldn’t… move. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just… I was so afraid.” Joel’s breathing was ragged as he spoke, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios, “You think I can handle things, but… I’m not who I was. I’m weak.” He believes he bears little resemblance to the man he once was or could become. No action hero, he admits to being far less capable of recognizing and reacting to threats than he used to be, and to sometimes being paralyzed by fear. You slowly start to feel your eyes sting again as you hear the tremble in his voice, the brokenness you’re all too familiar with, “Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere, and… my heart… feels like it’s stopped. And I have dreams. Every night.”

“What kinda dreams?” Tommy asks, and you listen to the triggered tripwire every time he breathes, the tremble in his voice gives you that he was beginning to cry, “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I just know that when I wake up… I’ve lost somethin’.” You allow your own tears to fall, covering your mouth to cover your whimpers as you listen to him admit, “I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail them again and again.” Tommy states, “You want me to take them.” And Joel continues to cry as he says, “I’m just gonna get them killed. I know it. I have to leave them.” Tommy tries to call his name to calm him, “Joel.”

“I mean, it’s why you took off on me, right? To make up for the things we did?” Joel asks with a clear glaze in his eyes, he begs his younger brother, “Well, here’s your chance to bring your kid into a better world. You’re younger than me. You’re still strong. You said it yourself, you’ll come back. You have to take her. You have to give Birdie… that sweet, smark, and kind girl, a chance to live a life here. A normal life here. Please.”

You take Tommy’s silence as agreement and the tears fall from your cheeks as you try to muffle your cries. Joel breathes, “And you can’t tell anyone, not even Maria. Tommy, you’re the only one I trust. If anyone else sees those bites on her, on them both, what’s under their skin… they’ll shoot them. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you. I swear.”

“I’ll take her out at dawn.” You hear Tommy say and Joel sigh of relief. You feel Ellie tug your coat sleeve, indicating you need to leave before they realized you had heard the entire conversation.

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – NIGHT

None of you spoke as the two of you walk into the night, heading back to the temporary house that they had provided. You opened the door for Ellie and she ran straight up to her room, while you walked up the steps to the master bedroom. You quietly shut your door sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, you sniffed and try to will yourself to stop crying. You stared blankly at the floor as you swung your feet, patiently waiting and deciding what to do next.

The options you had were limited to figuring out how to get back to your previous observable universe or facing the truth about how you felt for Joel and your fondness for Ellie as if she were your own daughter. This meant admitting that you also needed to discuss what you wanted with Joel. To wake up and wage war with this gravity that has been holding you back for almost all of your life, the epiphany of finding so much worth fighting for, and either way all the lines of dominos will fall and cascade.

You were too in your head to hear the shouting from across the hall, the argument between Joel and Ellie, a crucial turning point in the central relationship. You hear the bits and pieces of their yelling and arguing, “You have no idea what loss is,” is a pretty awful thing for him to say. And in both, she tells him that everyone she’s ever cared about has either died or left her, “Everyone—fucking except for you. So don’t tell me that I would be safer with someone else because the truth is that I would just be more scared.” Joel’s painful response, “You’re right, you’re not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad.” You flinch at that, “Now, come dawn… we’re goin’ our separate ways.” Then you hear the loud slamming of the door of Ellie’s room, and your own frown deepens, you feel your heart race, as if you feel the climb of the track of the rollercoaster, building you up and then taking you back. It’s a while before Joel decides to go to the bedroom, he had decided to sit in the living room to remember Sarah one last time before letting her go.

You anticipate Joel’s footsteps, the thud of each step, and hear your door open. Joel finds you sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over, your hands shaking in your lap as you try and hold yourself together. The quiet dim glow of the yellow lamp by the bedside table illuminates your features. You don’t look at him as he calls your name, you choose to look at the floor, he tries again, softer, “Birdie…” You only blink in response, the only indication that you heard him at all, you hear him step a little closer to you, “How much did you hear?” In a barely audible response, you shakily whisper, “All of it.”

Joel began, “Birdie… it’s for the best if we–” You cut him off before he could even finish, sharply turning your head at him as you stood up, “Joel I can’t… I can’t keep doing this.” He feels breathless as he registers what you said, “What?” You blink back the tears and try to look him in the eye, a little more alive as you let the scale tip and feel all of it rushing through you like a restless river stream, you feel your chest expand as you breathe and say, “If you don’t want me… if you don’t feel anything for me. Just say it and tell me now and I’ll figure out how to get back home on my own. ‘Cause I can’t keep going like this… dancing around you and pretending I don’t have feelings for you.”

You shake your head, “I’ve spent my whole life asking and searching for the impossible and none of it made any sense to me… And then I… I found you and Ellie. For the first time, I felt whole.” Your hand clenches near your chest as you utter, “Was I just delusional or imagining things? ‘Cause all of this… push and pull is hurting me. Do you even want me?” Joel steps a little closer as he says, “Yes.” And you look up at him and take one step back, “Then… why? And don’t you fucking dare make it an age-gap excuse or I will kick you in the balls Miller.”

He stumbles over his words, “I’m afraid. I’m so, so, afraid Birdie. That I could fail to protect you, Sweet Girl. The light that you give, the kindness you’ve shown, I’m scared I might taint it. Take away something so good in this world. You deserve so much more than what I could give.” Your face pinches in frustration and tears fall down your face, your cheeks warm and eyes puffy from all the sobbing, “Don’t I get a say?” And he’s quick to tell you, “Of course you do.” You scoff and angrily wipe your eyes. You pause and take a good look at the man in front of you, it's a fire and a goddamn blaze in the dark and he started it, you say from across the room, “Then let me choose you, Joel. Please, please, don’t leave me here.” He’s quiet as he takes in your words, and you continue, it’s uncomfortable but right, you say, “I don’t care about what was written about in your history. In the end, I want more than the life that I choose, and I want it to be with you.”

The silence that fills the room is one of heaviness and anticipation. The churning fear that pours out of you, and the inheritance you did not seek or ask for. You watch as Joel breathes heavily at your confession, taking his time to process what you said and felt for him. Someone who he deemed no longer worthy of receiving love. Slowly, you show him who he is and who he could be, and try to initiate the heart, bringing himself to let it open up properly. All of a sudden, you changed his mind and pulled back the curtains a little at a time.

You were on a frequency, the perfect opposite of him. Though he never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you. He can't keep his head from spinning out of control, but he will try to breathe ‘til it becomes muscle memory. He’s only steady on his knees, but maybe with you, he’ll one day stand on his own two feet. To struggle gracefully and let the scaffolding inside of him be strong enough to hold his tired body up once more.

He licks his bottom lip out of nervousness, and directly looks you in the eye, “I want you, Birdie.” You feel the rush of heat through your body, and stutter, “W-What?” His gaze darkens as he looks at you with need and desire, seemingly made up his mind to just give in, to let himself want and need you. “I said, I want you Birdie. Will you be mine?” He takes a step closer to you and you stay frozen, eventually, he’s towering over your frame, his eyes so dark you can no longer see the honey-brown eyes you were familiar with. You can’t help it. You’re drawn in by the force and pressure of the tempest building in those damnable eyes. Your heart is loud as a drumline, the thumping noise and heat in your ears as you feel the magnetic pull into his warmth, you feel his breath against your lips as you whisper, “Yes.”

That’s all it took, and with slow deliberation looks at you up and down. His inspection seems to last for hours, though it must take only seconds. The air between you crackles, and you want to move toward him, to close the gap between you. But you stay rooted to the spot, waiting for him. He lingers for a moment on your lips before finally lifting his head to meet your eyes, and his lips meet yours. You didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yins and yangs. You kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into your inhale. You could have survived underwater or outer space, breathing only the breath you traded.

You felt his warm rough large hands bring one hand to your waist and the other to cup the side of your cheek as he kissed you. You felt the tickle of his facial hair on your cheek, and each breath and groan vibrated throughout your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers rhythmically through his salt-and-pepper hair. Happily sighing breathlessly as he continues to kiss you dizzy. Like a whiskey, you can feel it he hits so strong but tastes so sweet.

The rush and thrill consumed you, the slick wetness between your thighs and his hands moving to cup and grab at your ass causing you to gasp in pleasure, to which Joel decides to pull your bodies closer ‘til no space lies in between. His presence was too powerful, his scent too all-consuming. It crowded your lungs, filling them with clean earthiness and rich spices. When you were around him, it was easy to lose myself, no matter how upset you were.

When he carefully dropped himself to the ground, the movement was both proud and obedient. His breath brushed over your skin. “Do you want this?” His fingers ran down the back of your leg, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Your thoughts were jumbled, but you had enough sense to realize this wasn't about sex. It was all about being vulnerable. It was a landmark event disguised as insignificant and distilled into one phrase. “Yes.” That was both demand and submission, a groan and a gasp. Joel exhaled. He carried you to the plush bed in the center of the room, appreciating everything you could give him. Clothes were quickly removed, and he stripped you down to your barest form while he kept his boxers on, an evident hard-on showing but choosing to take care of you first.

His palms burned as they parted your thighs. He’d barely touched you, and you were already on fire. You tipped your head back, drowning in arousal, heat, and lust and the reverence of his touch as he kissed his way up your thigh. His stubble rasped against your skin and sent tiny shocks of pleasure down your spine. As he separated your thighs, his palms seared. He hadn't even touched you yet, but you were still immediately burning. As he nibbled his way up your thigh, you threw your head back, reveling in pleasure, heat, lust, and the devotion of his touch.

“I'm sorry I offended you…” A gentle kiss at the fine line where your thigh meets your leg and persistent heat. “For attempting to drive you away…” Your underwear was removed and tossed to the side as he softly stroked your clit with his tongue. When he dragged your clit into his lips and sucked, his abrasive words mingled with your scream. Your body arched away from the bed. He began to worship you with his lips, hands, and tongue as your hands dug into his hair and you could barely hang on. Joel was rigid but beckoning. Delicate but sinful. You felt a new rush of pure sensation with every movement. Your chest and the base of your spine are both under pressure at the same time. You were soaring high solely on passion and desire, out of breath. He backed away and lightly touched your delicate clit with his teeth. He inserted two fingers into you and plunged and curled them as you wilted carelessly.

Your body was familiar to him. Knew precisely what you wanted, how to operate it like a well-tuned guitar, and even what buttons to press and where to press them. He stroked your G-spot while simultaneously pressing his thumb into your clit. When Joel stood up, his chest heaving, the strain was dizzying as your orgasms ripped through you and your moans were still echoing in the air. He gently kissed your lips as he leaned forward on top of you, bracing his hands on each side of your head.

When you kissed him and cherished the flavor of the kiss, leisurely threads of need twisted inside you. Like desperation flavored with desire and soothed with compassion, robust and rich. You explored and licked the inside of his mouth as you panted. He moaned in hunger and want, “Birdie…” Your hands roamed, your hearts pounding in sync and your kisses growing in intensity until the heat became too much to bear.

He took off his boxers and you flipped both of you over with the help of gravity, and you gradually sank into him, taking him in, inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of you. Hitting deeper, and tasting sweeter. You rocked against Joel as his hands held onto your hips. A delightful pressure swelled inside of you, rising higher and higher until your head was distorted with lust. Sweat misted your skin. Moans filled the air. He was certainly straining to hold back, but he made no move to take control as you both experienced toe-curling orgasms at the same time. When Joel brought you down for a kiss, the second, smaller climax that the overpowering intimacy of the moment had triggered was still reverberating through you.

Your eyes are half-lidded as you pull away from the kiss and look at Joel, who’s heavily panting, breathless, and in awe of you. Joel flips you both over, and your back hits the mattress. He kisses you again, still, inside of you, you are still sensitive from your previous orgasm and cry out, “I can’t…” He pants and groans, “Yes you can sweet girl. You can do it. One more for me Birdie.” He’s hitting deeper and quicker as you try to squirm away from him but all he does is pin you down, grabbing your hands to lock them above your head, causing you to scream and cry out in pleasure. “You’re doing so well. You’re such a good girl.” He praises, and everything feels and sounds amplified, every thrust his hips make, the sounds of slick wet skin slapping together, each grunt and moan mixing and blending between you both finally brings you and him over the edge. He pulls out and paints your stomach while you clench and moan throughout your release.

He folds over atop you, his weight is a welcoming feeling, like a large protective blanket. You’re running your fingers through his hair as he continues to catch his breath and you hum happily, “You good cowboy or do you need a wheelchair?” He grunts, “Haven’t done that in a while. Cut the man some slack.” You laugh loudly and kiss the side of his forehead and he sighs with contentment. After a while, he rolls off of you, pulling you closer to his side, peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, “I’m goin’ to get a clean towel to clean us up.” You nod as he gets up, walks over to the bathroom, comes back with a clean rag, and wipes off the slick between your thighs and stomach.

He sets the cloth aside and climbs back in bed with you, tossing the blanket over both of your bodies, gripping your hips, and pulling you close. You kiss him again, just because you can and both of you are smiling widely at each other. You take a deep breath and close your eyes as you place your forehead on top of his, and Joel grumbles, “I should have pulled out earlier.” To which you yawn, “I have an IUD, it’ll expire in ten years.” Joel’s mouth opens, “You have a… oh right.” You laugh, “Yep. So I can keep riding you, my cowboy.” He smacks your ass and kisses you again as you yelp in surprise, “Keep talkin’ like that and we’re not gonna get any sleep tonight.” You roll your eyes in response but smile up at him.

The quiet between you two is comforting and allows you to rest your eyes, no awkwardness, just a blistering moment of peace. The night sky once ruled your imagination and you used to turn the dials with careful calculation. After a while, you thought you'd never find him and convinced yourself that you would never find him.

Then suddenly, he saw you through telescopes and calculations, the far was pulled so near. You opened your eyes to find yourself under his warm gaze, trying to memorize every feature as if you were constellations in the night sky. But the looming threat that hangs over you makes an appearance in the dark corner of the back of your mind, you whisper, “Joel.” He hums in acknowledgment and you continue, “You should give Ellie a choice. She also has every right to choose too.” He’s quiet for a moment before he sighs agreeing, “Yeah… Been thinking about it a while ago before you jumped my bones.” You smack his shoulder, “I did not!” To which he kisses you breathlessly, “I’ll give her the choice tomorrow.” You nod and cup the side of his face and he says to you so quietly, “We have a long way to go.” To which your eyes softened and kissed the tip of his nose, “Yes, but look how far we’ve come.”

THE RANCH, MASTER BEDROOM

JACKSON, WYOMING – EARLY MORNING

In the morning you don’t say it as both of you wake up to your bodies closely tangled with each other. His heavy arms are wrapped around your waist and his legs are inserted with yours as he kisses the back of your neck. Continuing to worship your entire being. You both had woken up early, sharing the water in the shower, to which you had both agreed you needed to save water, but it was just an excuse to keep touching each other.

By the time you both got out of the hot shower, you both got dressed and made your way to the stables. The chirping of birds brings you to smile at yourself as you brush your horse, preparing to leave. “You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks the both of you, causing you to look away from the task and tilt your head and smirk as Joel replies, “No. We came here to steal the horses and go.” To which Tommy says, “I woulda given you them.” And Joel replies with, “I know,” He sniffs and walks to Ellie before continuing, “Anyway… that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess… you deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy…” It’s no surprise that Ellie shoves her bag at Joel, “Let’s go.” He blinks and you laugh as he answers, “Okay.”

Both of you exit the stables with your horses, Joel helps Ellie mount his horse and you mount your own horse. “General direction?” Joel asks his brother, “Head southeast til you hit I-25. It’s right off the interstate. Shouldn’t be hard to miss.” He nods at Tommy before they both pull each other into a hug. They pull away and Tommy says, “There’s a place for you here… All three of you.” Joel gruffly says, “Countin’ on it.” And he spots Tommy’s rifle swung across his shoulder, “Can I borrow that?” Tommy nods, “Yeah.” But Joel continues to talk, “‘Cause Maria took mine.” Tommy throws him a look, “I already said yes, Joel. Adios, big brother.”

The large wooden gate’s latch is lifted open as your two horses trot through the snow. Exiting the safe, gated, community of Jackson. Your journey continues through the wilderness of Wyoming. The cold chilly air creates goosebumps at the back of your neck as you ride your horse past the tall emerald-green trees.

After a couple of hours of riding, Joel decides to teach Ellie how to shoot with the rifle. The sound of loud gunshots rings out as Ellie misses the main target. She sighs and Joel comments, “Wide right. You’re flinchin’.” You stand behind the two, enjoying the view of Joel and Ellie having some time together. Ellie shakes her head at him, denying, “The target’s too small.” Joel harrumphs at her, “I made it bigger than I should’ve. Eject the cartridge.” She does as she is told, and said, “I am not flinching.” Joel hums, “Mm-mhm.” Ellie doesn’t let up, “The rifle just sucks.”

“Okay, give it,” Joel said and Ellie gives it to him and whines, “It doesn’t aim right.” Joel only hums again, “Mm-hmm.” And Ellie frowns as she lifts her binoculars, “You’ll see.” They swap places and Joel grunts as he adjusts the rifle, “A deep breath in, slow breath out.” The girl sighs and Joel glances behind him to look at you, “You squeeze the trigger like you love it.” Your face warms at the memory of what happened last night and what he could be insinuating. You try to hide your smile, he winks at you and then looks to the scope, his voice getting deeper, “Gentle… steady… nice and slow.” Ellie drops her binoculars and groans, “You gonna shoot this thing or get Birdie pregnant? ‘Cause holy shit you guys were loud.” You choke on air at the same time Joel looks at Ellie shamelessly before looking back at the scope with his finger on the trigger. Ellie shakes her head, continuing to be in denial, “It isn’t gonna work. It doesn’t aim right.” A gunshot rings out, and it's a perfect headshot. “You dick.” Ellie says while Joel just smirks smugly and turns to look at you, “Birdie would know.” You throw your head and hands up in exasperation, “I fuckin’ can’t with you two.”

Wind bustled through the branches of the trees, making the leaves howl in their symphony. The horses trot through the snow, as the three of you make your way to the University of Eastern Colorado. The silence is no longer present, only filled by Ellie’s questions and Joel's answers. You occasionally input your own thoughts and ideas, correcting Joel when needed, but otherwise, you let yourself watch them form a connection that Joel was so afraid of.

“So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was how things used to be?” Ellie asked, and Joel replies, “No. The country was too big for that. Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything. And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.” Ellie hums, “Which one were you?” And you hear Joel reply, “Neither. I just did my job.” To which you chuckled, knowing that Joel has always tried to stay neutral in anything, it’s more efficient that way.

“Which was… building?” Ellie asks, and Joel confirms her guess, “That’s right. Houses, stores, that kinda thing. We were called ‘contractors’.” The teen mocks his voice, trying to deepen it, “The contractor. That’s pretty cool.” Joel smiles, his lips quirking a bit to the right, “Yeah. We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.” You rolled your eyes at Joel, letting him off the hook and not wanting to correct him at all.

The days go by and you three have been closer than ever. Joel and Ellie discuss the basics and rules of football while you hum to yourself the new song stuck in your head. Enjoying the sight of Joel and Ellie laughing and smiling over mundane topics, feeling your heart more full than ever before. A part of you that had been missing so long, a family you didn’t even know existed, a family you now found.

Further down the road, you pass by the sign indicating to take the I-25. “Well, how ‘bout that? Made it in five days.” Ellie adds, “Easy days. I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.” Joel’s mouth curls downwards, “Still time to find out.” To which Ellie mimics his baritone voice, “Still time to find out,” she then creepily whispers, “The Contractorrrr.”

The horses snort and huff as its hooves clop and trot on the pavement of the road. You make your way to the entrance of the deserted university, Ellie says aloud, “Home of the Big Horns. What does that mean?” And you answer, “It was their team mascot. It’s a kind of sheep.” Ellie smiles up at Joel, “Oh, see? One step closer to your dream. Don’t see any Fireflies, though.” He forms a hypothesis, “They’re probably in the middle. Safer.” He nods and leads, “This way.”

Joel has his rifle ready with one hand on the reins. The campus is eerily empty and quiet as your horses trot on the grounds. “So these places… people would live here and, like, what? Got to classes and stuff?” And you nod, “Yup. Sometimes even do research, like me.” She points out, “Even though they were adults.” Yours and Joel’s voices blended together as he answered, “Sort of adults.” While you said, “They were fake adulting.”

“I think it was just as much about partying and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else. Figuring what they wanted to do with their lives.” Joel plainly puts, and Ellie chuckles, “What they wanted to do with their lives.” To your happy surprise, your ears perk up when Joel says, “So I’ve been thinkin’.” You and Ellie urge him to continue, “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is I can do anything?” And Ellie nods, “That’s the deal.” He faces the road ahead with a gaze so soft you barely recognized him, “Well… when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.” Ellie laughs while you smile widely at him, teeth showing and cheeks pinched upwards, the kid says, “Shut up.” While you say, “Come on Cowboy, let’s hear it. Serenade me.”

“No, you’re both already laughin’.” He grumpily replies, his eyebrows knitted together, and both you and Ellie protest, “Well, you’re singing for me later. I’m gonna save the fuckin’ world, man. It’s the least you could do for me.” Joel relents, “Fair enough. Birdie, what about you? Have you changed your dream yet?”

You smiled at the two people you’d gotten close with over the past few months, the unlikely bond you now were a part of, “I have everything I need right here, what else would I need to dream about?” you said. The two of them looked at you, wide-eyed and breathless at your statement. How funny it is to think, we only notice light when darkness crashes against it. The melody you carry is the strength while they come undone and the aftermath that makes them new.

Content with your answer, you trot forward with your horse and you three stumble upon a troop of monkeys that presumably escaped from a lab, Ellie exclaims excitedly, “Are those monkeys?” The troop proceeds to run away as Joel says, “Must be from the old labs.” The young girl laughs, “Look at them go.” Joel glances at her and asks, “First time seein’ a monkey?” Ellie parrots as a reply, “First time seein’ a monkey.”

“Lookit.” Joel points out to spot a Firefly symbol, “Here we go.” Ellie says, and your head in the direction of the research lab. As you arrive at what looks to be the entrance to the lab, “Guard stations.” Ellie states and Joel hums, “Mhm. No guards.” Ellie is unnerved and wary, she asks to take out her gun, and Joel allows it.

You dismount your horse and tie it to the tree, Joel and Ellie do the same. You arm yourselves as you walk inside the lab. The sound of your footsteps echoes in the deserted building, you look to the ground to see documents and masks littering the concrete floor. “There were definitely doctors here,” Ellie says looking at the test tubes and you spot a brown file on top of the metal trolly. You lift the cover of the folder, peeking at the papers, your eyes skimming over the words while lifting up the yellow sheet of paper, “This is a packing list. They moved out of here.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow, “They just left?”

And on cue you hear the sound of metal clanging from upstairs, your heads whip up in the direction of the noise, and Ellie remarks, “Maybe not all of them.” Joel takes the lead as you make your way up the stairs, hearing the clanging sound getting louder. Joel finds the specific door to where the noises were coming from, and he readies his pistol, slowly pushing the door open, slightly creaking as it does, to be followed by a high-pitched screech.

Two monkeys hop out of the room through the window, screeching at you for disturbing them. You all lower your weapons and survey the area. You snort at the fact it was so anti-climactic for nothing, Joel utters, “Well… at least it ain’t Clickers.” And Ellie mumbles, “Yeah, no Fireflies either. Maybe in all that research, they turned into fuckin’ monkeys.” You and Joel sense her disappointment, her need for reformation, and ways she could be better in her mind.

You look through the medical equipment and research notes, trying to look for clues to where the group of researchers transferred. Joel approaches the large wooden corkboard, a map of the United States is on display along with notes pasted on the side. You and Ellie walk up next to Joel to analyze the pins pushed in the lines that trace along the roads leading to the center. “That’s where they went?” Ellie said, pointing out St. Mary's Hospital, located in Salt Lake City, Utah. Joel nods, “All the pins lead there. Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather… better facilities? I don’t know.” The joy in you vanishes against your will. The light goes out and your heart goes still, and just like that, you believe in ghosts.

But then, the trio hears voices. Looking out the window, Joel sees four men armed with weapons, they were raiders. You were weighed down by dread, the flutter of fear in your stomach causes your palms to sweat and tremble. You needed to get out of here and fast. Joel quietly tells you both, “Out the back.” You run down the steps and find the back door, your guns are drawn as you stealthily make it back to your horses, staying ever vigilant. You’re a few steps away from your horses, Joel turns to you both asking in a hushed tone, “Ready?” And you both nod, “Yeah.”

You run to your own horse while Ellie and Joel untie theirs. Something caught your eye in your peripheral vision, a blur of a shadow, and you turn to see a man carrying a baseball bat, lifting it while running at Joel. Ellie screams his name out while you ran towards the attacker, the baseball bat breaks as he tries to hit you but instead strikes a tree. You didn’t think, you just acted, protecting the two people who kept you safe for the majority of your journey. Shoving him with as much force as you could, the raider hits the tree, and Joel comes to your aid, grabbing the raider to break the man’s neck.

You didn’t even realize it until Joel had turned around, in the struggle, the sharp wooden hilt of the bat is stuck inside his abdomen, blood seeping out through the jacket. Ellie’s eyes grow wide in horror and Joel looks down, and grunts as he pulls out the sharp hilt of the bat, you scream, “No, don’t!” But you were too late, and Ellie yells your name, “Birdie you’re also bleeding!” You look down at your own abdomen to find a large slash across it, the maroon blood dripping on the freshly fallen snow, you direct Ellie, “Get Joel on the horse now. We need to leave before…” You hear yelling from a distance and you aim and shoot at the raiders with one hand as the other clutches your stomach while Ellie helps Joel up and back onto the horse.

You use all the strength that you have and pull yourself up to your horse, following Ellie as she shoots them back with you, she yells, “Get back!” And you three were in time to get away from all the other raiders coming. After a few minutes, you three have managed to make it to a safe distance from the attackers, “They’re not following us, I think we’re safe.” Joel doesn’t reply, and Ellie voices her concern as her voice rises as she says yours and Joel’s name.

He’s the first one to collapse from his horse, and you go toppling down as well. You feel the plush landing of the pile of snow, Ellie immediately comes both to your sides, and she says in distress, “Fuck! Shit, no, no no.” The cold weather mixed with the blood loss you were both dealing with were not the best conditions for either of you. “Joel, Birdie, open your eyes come on.” You bring your tired eyes to the girls and cough out to Ellie, “Place pressure on his abdomen and drag him using his sleeping bag, the rope, and the horse Leave me here and find someplace warm.” Ellie can feel her eyes sting and her vision goes blurry, it feels like bittersweet poetry. You softly grab your hand, “Listen to me. Ellie.” She tries to shake her head but you gritted your teeth, the adrenaline had begun to fade and you were beginning to feel the sharp pain across your stomach, you grunt and squeeze her soft small hands, “Ellie, remember what I asked you to promise? Go. Please, save him.”

It had been a campfire night out in the woods at the university and Joel had fallen asleep again during watch. You had both been talking about mundane things, to your hobbies and what you missed about home, to ask about what her life was like in FEDRA school, at one point you realized that there would be a difficult decision to make and that you needed to prepare her just in case it might occur. You didn’t memorize everything from the game, but you knew damn well there would be a possibility that you and Joel might get injured and Ellie would have to choose.

You grab her hand, abruptly stopping her from her previous sentence, and look her in the eye, “Ellie. There will be a time when you have to choose between me and Joel. In the event we both get badly injured, you need to save Joel, no questions asked.” The teen tries to protest but you silence her, leaving no room for argument, “Joel will protect you better than I ever could, we both know that. You need him more than me, I’ve been alone for almost all of my life… this is nothing new, but you… you are something so special. You must choose Joel for your sake, do you understand?” Ellie’s lips form a thin line, and stubbornly she shakes her head, “No. I’ll save you both. Just you watch.” Your eyes soften at her naiveness and hope, “You can’t save everyone, Ellie. So, I know it’s unfair to ask you this, but I need you to promise me to save him when it comes down to it.” Her eyes begin to water as she reluctantly tells you, “Okay.”

In a voice so broken and vulnerable, you hear Ellie whisper into the cold air as she puts pressure on Joel’s wound and looks at both of you, “I can’t fuckin’ do this without you. I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, what the fuck I’m gonna do. Joel, Birdie.” You give her a small smile, “Ellie, sometimes, just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent. Keep going, Ellie.” She sniffs and she lets tears slip down her cheeks, you keep smiling as you use the rest of your strength to lift your hand to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears, “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ellie. This was where I was meant to be. Thank you, Ellie, remember that you are loved.”

You feel your vision begins to fade and drop your hand from Ellie’s cheek, letting your head rest on the plush snow, no longer looking at the teen, you tearily look up to feel the snowflakes gently fall on your face. You distantly hear Ellie drag Joel and tie him up on the sleeping bag as a makeshift sled. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and start to droop, you turn your head to see Joel struggling to open his eyes, seeing your freezing, bleeding-out body staining the white cold snow. Joel cries out your name, pleading, “Birdie. Wait. No. Please…”

You look up at the bright gray sky, blinking and slowly beginning to only hear muffled sounds. Your horse decides to rest next to you, knowing what was about to happen, cuddling your bleeding-out body, and staying with you til the end. You decide that this was the best way to go, protecting and shielding the people you loved as much as you could. So you hum carols softly, as sweet as you know, a prayer that our burdens will lift as you go.

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

END NOTES:

AGAIN MY BAD FOR THE HUGGGEEE DELAY – I 1000% blame the jet lag since I just flew out to somewhere on the East Coast! Sorry, ya’ll! T^T (Also the fuckin 5 hours of sleep, I am running on fumes rn)

YAY YOU KISSED AND SLEPT TOGETHER WOW GOOD JOB

UR OFFICIALLY HIS GIRL *confetti*

Holy fucking shit that was sO HARD TO WRITE

OKAY NOT BECAUSE I WAS UNCOMFY WRITING IT CHILL– its um, cuz, miss gorl here has never been properly kissed or um had a boyfriend lol so take a freaking guess to why

So writing a romance scene reALLY REALLY TESTED MY KNOWLEDGE, PATIENCE, AND HECKING ALL THE ROMANCE BOOKS I’VE READ PLEASE I WAS CLAWING MY WAY THROUGH THE ENTIRE TIME

I hope it wasn’t too awful or unrealistic :,))

HORRAY FOR FINALLY FACING YOUR FEAR AND VOICING OUT UR NEEDS AND WANTS GOOD JOB HERE HAVE A COOKIE

FUCK JOEL GOT STABBED MF

YOU ALSO GOT INJURED?? AGAIN?? WTF IS WRONG WITH U *bonk* ARE U DEAD OH NO? WTH!?!?1

ALSO MF PEDRO PASCAL IF I EVER MEET YOU I MIGHT HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN IN FRONT OF YOU AFTER YOU DESCRIBED PTSD SO WELL WTF– ahem, I have PTSD and I’ve never seen me represented properly in any television series or movies. It’s always (usually) war veterans yk (CALM DOWN— CHILL PRETTY VALID AND PRETTY DAMN FUCKIN TRAUMATIC) But as someone who has PTSD and yk hasn’t been to a literal war it’s a bit harder to connect or relate to it (im not fucking whining, I’m just telling you my experience with PTSD) But the way Pedro showed it— fuck man. It was like staring at a mirror. My own brokeness represented in one episode. I felt so seen for the first time.

BUT THIS ONE, MF PEDRO U DESERVE ALL THE AWARDS

yay for Maria and Tommy! Such cuties congrats on the baby!!

someone should probably help me find a boyfriend— idk i Need research for smut :DD (this is a joke please don’t)

This chapter was wAYYYU more personal and intimate to write about. I just needed to do this right for my sake and others.

Sorry for the delay! The smut part was a little bit intimidating to write since yk I have zero experience with it LMAO

Thank you for sticking with me and I look forward to all of your comments and feedback! It gives me an idea if im doing this right and opportunity to connect with all of you! I LOVE YOU GUYS SOSOS MUCH AND OFF TO EP 7 I GO AHHHHH

Grace

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