#but then I started listening to my playlists
Text
does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller
pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU
summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n
a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess
main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist
The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.
Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.
And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.
But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.
Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.
And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?
Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.
Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.
But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.
Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”
Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.
The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.
Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.
“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.
Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.
“Hands where I can see ‘em.”
“Are you going to kill me, son?”
The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.
“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.
“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”
Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.
“Are you alone?” Joel asked.
“Not anymore,” the man answered.
“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”
“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”
“Take me to it.”
The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.
He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.
The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.
“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.
Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.
“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”
When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”
“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.
“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.
Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.
Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.
The man’s wife.
“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.
He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.
Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.
“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”
Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”
She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.
Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.
“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”
Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”
“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.
Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.
“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”
“Boston.”
“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”
Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.
“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”
Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.
You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.
The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.
“This is…” The man paused.
“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”
“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.
You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.
Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.
“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”
The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.
“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.
“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.
“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.
Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.
“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”
That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.
You.
You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.
After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”
“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.
“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”
Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.
So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.
The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.
When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.
A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.
It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”
Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.
“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.
The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.
“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.
That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.
“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”
Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.
“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.
His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.
“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.
“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.
“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.
“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”
Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.
“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.
Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?
You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.
You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.
When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.
“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.
Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.
He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.
With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.
“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.
Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”
“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.
Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.
You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.
The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.
“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.
“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.
“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.
Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.
In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”
Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.
“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”
“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.
“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”
Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.
“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.
“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.
“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.
“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.
Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.
The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.
Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.
A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.
“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.
Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.
“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”
“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.
“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”
Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.
Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.
Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”
Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.
Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.
Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.
“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.
The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.
“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”
Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.
“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”
Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.
“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.
“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”
“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.
“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.
“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”
Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.
“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”
Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”
“Well, how do you aim straight?”
“You learn to shoot.”
You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”
Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”
You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.
His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”
Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”
“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.
“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.
“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”
“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.
Cute.
“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.
He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.
“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”
“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”
Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.
“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.
“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.
Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”
He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.
“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.
“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”
This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.
“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”
“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”
Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.
“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.
“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”
“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.
Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.
“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”
“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”
“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.
Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”
Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.
“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”
Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.
“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.
“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.
If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.
He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.
After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.
“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”
Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”
Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.
You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.
An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.
“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”
“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.
“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.
“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”
“Shut up.”
The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.
Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.
On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.
His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.
You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.
“Joel.”
Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.
“Joel.”
The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.
Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.
And…
It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.
He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.
Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.
“Joel.”
In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.
As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.
The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.
Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.
“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.
His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.
His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.
“Fuck.”
Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.
How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–
Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.
The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.
His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.
“Shit.”
With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.
Fuck.
His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.
The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.
Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.
Finally, Joel could breathe.
i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#tlou smut#tlou fanfiction#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal
472 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I Lost You
Note - this fic was such a struggle for me but we’re here and we made it 😂 I know I haven’t uploaded in a really long time by my standards so I’d love to know what you guys think and also thank you to my besties for your help on this one, I couldn’t have done it without you 🩷
Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader
Word count - 7k
Warnings - angst and fluff
There was nothing Mason hated more than traffic. Traffic coupled with a later than usual training session was even worse
He’d been sat pretty much stationary for around 20 minutes now, slowly moving every couple of minutes but he hadn’t made it far. Eventually turning his playlist over to the radio so he could listen out for traffic updates but the flashing blue lights up ahead let him know what was happening.
He was right in the thick of it, no option to turn around and go another way, but not close enough to the front to be able to get around it yet and when a few more police cars came up to join the scene he realised it must have been a bad crash.
So he did the only thing he could do and waited. His mind wandering off to far away places that he tried not to visit too often and once he realised he was starting to spiral he quickly switched the radio back over to his playlist so he could distract himself.
It was only around 15 minutes later he’s made it to the front of the line, watching the traffic warden wave a few cars forward at a time to drive into the oncoming lane to get round and soon enough it was his turn.
He knew he shouldn’t have, but there was something making him want to look at the scene as he drove by. Head turning to the left of him to see how bad it was and the sight before him shocked him to the core.
The car was on its side, bonet crushed from hitting a lamppost and he could tell the windows had been broken to get whoever was inside free but after a few seconds the realisation that something was wrong slapped him in the face.
He knew that car. It was yours.
It was the colour that alerted him first. That specific shade of light blue he’d only ever known you to have but as he looked closer he could tell it was the same make and model as yours too. The panic rising up his chest until he thought he might have been sick but the sound of beeping horns shocked him out of his trance.
He couldn’t sit and wait and let himself process anything, the traffic officer waving him forward but it was like he was having an out of body experience. He wanted to get out and find you, the urge to scream your name was on the tip of his tongue but he did as he was told and drove forward, leaving the scene of the crime behind him but he felt too weird to carry on too much longer and pulled into a side street so he could park up and sort himself out.
There wasn’t much he could do, you hadn’t spoken in months and the only other person the pair of you had in common would no doubt tear him a new one if he called asking after you and he also didn’t want to worry everyone if it was nothing. He still needed to do something though and In the end he decided to text you in hopes you’d get back to him soon and settle his mind. You always had your phone in your hand so he knew this was the easiest way to grab your attention and hopefully speak to you.
The rest of the drive home, albeit short, was a nightmare. He couldn’t concentrate on anything and was constantly messing up but he made it back in one piece. Running inside so he could turn the news on immediately, hoping for any sign of what had happened whilst he sat and panicked. Not being able to think about anything other than knowing you were okay.
This was hell, and he hated it. But the way he was feeling for you right now was mostly his own doing.
You’d met Mason a few years ago at the after party for the final of their euros. Your best friend's brother was Rashy and she’d invited you along to watch the final, and although it had ended in heartbreak there was a certain brown eyed boy you and the rest of the world couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from.
You knew it was over for you when he came over to console Marcus, seeing how genuinely kind and concerned he was for his friend made your heart thump and when the pair of you were finally introduced you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered over you.
He couldn’t stick around too long, needing to get back to his family but you caught eyes a few times throughout the night and when you were at the bar alone he used that as his in to come and speak to you properly.
It was his smile that caught you first, but it was hard not to notice his big brown eyes and musical laugh. In the end standing and chatting until the night was pretty much over and you had to go your separate ways but he gave you his number and made you promise to message him as soon as possible.
You didn’t know what you were expecting from Mason, but what you got was a blossoming friendship and you were more than thankful he was in your life. With you living in Manchester and him in London it was hard to see each other, Mason constantly referring to you as pen pals but you took what you could with him. Going to watch him play at Wembley sometimes and seeing him in the summer or whenever he has some free time for a few days gave you something to look forward to and you loved getting to know him on a deeper level.
It was very much a will they won’t they type of relationship. As much as you adored Mason, you didn’t want things to change and you knew long distance would be hard until just over a year had passed and you decided to take the plunge. The pair of you in Greece with a big group of the other boys and their girlfriends and Mason confessed he hated the thought of maybe seeing you with someone else and was willing to put the work in for you if that’s what you wanted.
And you really did.
Being Mason's girlfriend was everything you thought it could be and more. He was still his cute charming self but you felt free being able to be with him in the way you’d secretly always wanted. Your first kiss being a little awkward but he kept you relaxed and let you go at your own pace. Kissing all over your face until you were ready to try again and now it seemed as if you couldn't get enough of him.
It did come with its own set of challenges though. Being away from each other a lot of the time took its toll and even though when you were together you always made it count, the goodbyes were getting harder and Mason couldn’t stand to see you cry everytime he had to leave again. Or your sad face on FaceTime when you spoke in the evenings when you were apart, wishing he could reach out and touch you but he was never able to give you the comfort he so desperately wanted to.
It was around March of 2023 when it all came crashing down. Mason had a lot on his plate with an injury that wouldn’t go away and Chelsea’s new owners not treating him the way he should have been. You could tell he was more down than usual and planned a trip to go stay with him for a week so he’d have someone to come home to and someone to cuddle after a long day but at first you felt like he didn’t want you there at all.
You still remember the night before he ended it all. It’s like he was back to your Mason for a bit as you made dinner and spoke on the sofa until the early hours until you went up to bed. It was like he held you extra tight that night and whilst you figured it was just because he’d missed you and he’d had a nice night you now wondered if there was more behind it. Maybe thinking he should hold you properly if it was the last time and then out of the blue, he turned your world upside down the next morning.
He tried to give you the usual spiel of it’s not you it’s me and you were about to cuss him out for being so ridiculous but one look at him and you could see how much he was struggling. Telling you he hated that he couldn’t give you what you needed at that it broke him seeing you so down when he already had so much on his plate. You knew he needed to lighten his load, you just hated that it was you that would be cut off.
You didn’t argue with him, it being clear that he couldn’t take it but you spent the rest of your day packing up your stuff into the early evening where he made you stay for one more night so you weren’t driving home in the dark.
You felt stupid, making sure he was okay even though you felt like you were dying inside but you loved Mason and even though this was hurting you more than you could possibly imagine, you kept on a brave face for him. Telling him you’d still be there if he needed you and not to hesitate calling if he needed someone to talk to.
Sleeping in the guest room that night hurt more than anything he’d said to you over the last 24 hours but you remember him coming into your room at around two am as your cries had kept him awake. Holding you and shushing you in hopes you’d get some sleep but it didn’t work and all you wanted was to go back in time and undo everything he’d said but you couldn’t. So you stayed awake and tried to remember what it felt like to hold him, what he smelt like and how his skin felt pressed up against yours.
‘Can we make a deal?’ He whispered all of a sudden and you nodded into his neck in hopes he’d feel it, knowing your voice wouldn’t hold up if you tried to speak. ‘I want you to live your life and forget about me, yeah? Like if you meet someone new I want you to go for it. But in five years time, if we’re both single, do you think we could try again?’
‘I’ll see’ you whispered, knowing he wasn’t happy with that answer by the way he kissed your hairline softly but he let it go. Knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on after what he was putting you through.
You left the next morning early, him giving you an emotional goodbye on his doorstep but you were ready to go home and be on your own now. Mason asking if you could still be friends and if he could text you and you stupidly agreed before getting away as fast as you could but you only made it one street away before you had to stop for a big cry. Wanting to get it all out before you began your drive home and after 15 minutes you set off again. Your phone going off every so often but you ignored it until you were back in the comfort of your flat and when you saw they were all from Mason you felt sadder than you expected to.
You were curious as to what he’d deleted but you didn’t have the energy to ask so you sent him a quick reply telling him you were fine and going to sleep before taking yourself straight to bed. Too tired to be upset or over think anything and when you woke up the next morning things still hurt but you’d resigned to your fate of being his friend again.
A friend.
So you spoke here and there for a while and even though you were broken it was a fairly easy split. You remained civil and on good terms and it broke you to see how unfairly he was being treated on the field and with his whole contract saga. He kept going though like the Mason you knew and loved but when the news hit he’d had surgery it felt like your world had tumbled upside down.
You felt useless, wanting to help him as much as you could but he was so far away and you’d already used up all your holiday so you did your usual and let him phone you when he needed a chat.
Not too long after his surgery everything seemed to fizzle out. Nothing happened as such but your texts and calls came few and far between until there was nothing and when the news broke he was moving to Manchester you felt too awkward to text him. Not wanting to give the wrong impression that you expected something from him now so you left it so he could come to you.
He never did though.
You weren’t sure why he didn’t, but Mason had his own reasons. Not wanting to drag you back into the mess of his life and the fact you’d stopped messaging him made him think you were done with him and he didn’t have the heart to face your rejection no matter how much you were on his mind.
So he moved to Manchester and didn’t reach out, even though he thought about it everyday, and tried to rebuild his life without you. He was doing well but you were always there in the back of his mind, even thinking he’d seen you a few times and his tummy jumped each time before he realised it wasn’t you. He’d wanted to message you more than anything but he didn’t have the guts, even though you’d both promised to stay friends the messages had become so few and far between and now there was nothing.
As soon as Mason was inside he ran to the living room to put the news on, pausing the TV as soon as it showed the aftermath of the accident so he could get a better look before playing again to where it was panning past what he thought was your car. He managed to stop it at a point to be able to examine it more carefully and he could feel the nerves rippling through him.
Same colour, same make and model, same sticker on the back window with where the car came from, different number plate…
Different number plate.
Mason let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t you. Someone was clearly hurt and that wasn’t good but he couldn’t deny he felt lighter at the fact it wasn’t you who was in harm's way. Falling back into the cushions of his sofa so he could take a few breaths to steady himself.
You were okay.
He felt a little silly now, panicking so much when you were clearly fine but as the minutes wore on he managed to talk himself back into a frazzled state.
He didn’t know what it was, not being able to settle and focus on anything but you. Now you were back on his mind, all he could see was your pretty eyes and perfect smile.
He knew nothing about you anymore. The only piece of information left being the address of your old flat and now he was getting to know the area he knew you weren’t too far away. But he didn’t know if you were there anymore and if he did turn up whatever the chances you would even want to see him?
What if you’d moved on? Surely Rashy would have told him but Mason couldn't stand the thought of turning up at your house and a random guy being there. No doubt he’d be taller than him and funnier and be able to make all the time in the world for you and the thought of seeing you with someone who’s everything Mason isn’t made him miserable.
It was like there was an itch in his brain that he couldn’t scratch, not able to settle as his mind came out with random questions to make him doubt what he already knew. He decided against messaging Rashy, presuming he wouldn’t have much of an idea either and he didn’t want to start worrying everyone unnecessarily if there really was nothing wrong.
Maybe he read it wrong and it was your number plate? Or maybe you’d changed your number plate and it was you all along? Why hadn’t you answered his texts yet either? Was there an innocent explanation or had he missed something and it really was you that was hurt?
The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t stay in and drive himself insane. Eventually coming to the conclusion that a run would clear his head so he quickly changed into some shorts and a hoodie before setting off. No particular place or destination in mind, just the need to let off some steam and clear his mind.
When the rain started to fall he cursed under his breath. Too far away from home to turn around and avoid it and also not done with his run as he was still feeling on edge so he grit his teeth and carried on. Weaving in and out of streets until he started to recognise where he was a bit more.
Maybe it was just a coincidence he ended up here, like in the back of his mind this is where he needed to end up to finally put his mind at rest but as he stopped to get his breath just outside of your building he only felt worse.
Your car which you always parked in the same spot was nowhere to be seen, and the flat he knew to be yours had all of the lights off but the curtains were open. Like you’d been out and not made it home yet to shut them and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought.
‘No no no no no’ he whispered under his breath, not understanding where your car was and it seemed like only the worst possible outcome was the right one.
He knew it was a bad decision to come here but he’d done it anyway and now his mind was spiralling more than he thought possible.
He thought about going home but the need to see that you were fine with his own two eyes outweighed everything else and before he knew it he was running up the path and standing outside your front door with his hand poised to knock.
What am I supposed to say? He thought. I thought you were dead so I came to check you were alright? No, he couldn’t but he knocked before he had a chance to think of anything else. Waiting anxiously as he heard a few noises from behind the door but if you were there then you were taking forever to answer.
As soon as you opened the door he felt his body flood with relief. Your hair was pointing up in all different directions and he could clearly see the pillow marks on your cheek. A shocked and confused expression painted your features as you realised who was standing in front of you but he just felt his heart swell before his face crumpled as he tried to hold the tears back.
‘Mase? Mase what’s wrong?’ You asked, reaching forward to touch him in some way but you second guessed yourself before you got there. Not knowing if he wanted you to touch him but he looked distraught so you pushed your thoughts to the side and pulled him into the doorway. ‘Mase, you’re soaked. Come inside, it’s okay’
‘I’m sorry’ he told you, his voice wobbling as you shut the door and the feeling of warmth engulfed him immediately. He felt self here.
This feels like home, he thought. The place was unchanged from when he was last here and he stood awkwardly in the hall as you shut the door before leading him into the living room just around the corner.
‘Sorry, you've caught me at a bit of a bad time’ you laughed as you tidied the blankets off of the sofa and reset the cushions so you both had a place to sit. Flustered that he’d turned up so randomly and in the back of your mind you wondered if it might have happened one day but you chalked it off as being a silly daydream in the end.
‘Danger nap?’ He asked and you felt your face flush at the way he’d caught on so quickly. ‘Don’t worry, I remember them well’
‘Well I’ve been having them a bit more frequently since I’ve got no one to tell me off anymore’ you joked but you saw his face drop ever so slightly. ‘Take a seat, you want a drink or anything?’
‘I’m fine, thanks’
‘You sure? I’ll get you a tea you look like you need warming up’ you told him softly before scurrying over to the kitchen and he felt his chest warm with how kind you were to him. Hearing the kettle flick down before you came back to close the curtains and then run over to the cupboard under the stairs. ‘Take your hoodie off Mase, you’ll catch a chill. I’ve got you a towel and I’ll turn the heating up’
‘Sorry, this is probably the last thing you needed tonight’ he sighed, grabbing the towel to run over his hair once he’d taken his hoodie off but the shoulders of his top were still wet and now he was sitting here waiting for you he felt silly.
‘No don’t worry about that, I know we haven’t spoken for a while but I always said I’m here if you need me’ you told him shyly. Sitting down next to him so you could place his tea on the table before sending him a reassuring smile
‘I know’ he huffed. ‘I just feel a bit dramatic now that’s all’ he told you, trying to laugh it off but you knew him and you knew something was on his mind.
‘What’s going on? Why are you here?’ You pushed gently, trying to get him to open up a little bit more and when his eyes fell to his lap you weren’t sure if he was about to tell you or not. Thankfully he did after a few moments but you weren’t prepared for the words that were about to tumble from his lips.
‘There’s um… well there’s been this big accident on the main road out of Manchester. It’s all over the news and I was stuck in traffic for like 45 minutes until I could get round it’ he told you but you were unsure as to why he was updating you on the traffic when you’d asked what he was so upset about.
‘Okay?’
‘The car that crashed… well I thought it was yours’ he told you, his voice wobbling at the end and you felt your heart shatter as you realised what was wrong now. ‘It’s the same colour and make and everything and I… well I was out of my mind worrying that… i don’t know that you were hurt or something-‘
‘Oh Mase’ you breathed, cutting him off as his voice got more and more emotional and all you wanted was to pull him into a hug but you weren’t sure if that was what he wanted. In the end you just reached for his hand and you were surprised at how tightly he gripped onto you.
‘Sorry I bet I sound insane’ he laughed, wiping his eyes with his free hand and you felt your heart break for him.
‘No no it’s okay’ you reassured him, placing your other around your already clasped ones. Hoping he’d keep on talking but you let him take his time as he was clearly overwhelmed and upset by everything that had happened tonight.
‘It was on the news and I saw it wasn’t your number plate so I thought you were fine but then i managed to talk myself out of thinking that and I tried to text you, but i didn’t hear anything back but I guess you were asleep’ he smiled, squeezing your hand gently and you smiled sadly back at him.
‘I never got a text from you, I don’t think I did anyway’ you told him. ‘I was only asleep for like ten minutes. I did see some texts but it was a number I didn’t recognise and I thought it was a scam thing so I didn’t bother looking properly cause the number wasn’t saved’
‘A scam?’
‘Yeah I keep getting those texts like Evri has your parcel but it’s damaged and the details are lost. Please send your address, bank details and blood type so we can attempt a redelivery’ you joked and you felt your tummy flip when he let out a little laugh.
‘No it’s my fault, my personal number got leaked a little while back and when I moved up here I thought it would be a good idea to get a new number. I texted most people but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me so I just kept your number in my contacts. I completely forgot you wouldn’t have it saved’
‘You know that makes a lot of sense actually’ you smiled, watching his eyebrows pinch together in confusion and you thought his expression was adorable. ‘I sort of texted you last week. You know, after your goal? I didn’t hear back from you’
‘Shit, I’m so sorry’ he sighed, his free hand dragging down his face and you could tell he was annoyed with himself as he rolled his eyes.
‘No it’s alright-‘
‘No cause you probably thought I was ignoring you and I wasn’t’ he told you, almost pleading with you to make you believe him but you already did and when you sent him a soft smile he let out a big sigh he’d been holding in. ‘Where’s your car? It's not parked out the front?’
‘Chrissy upstairs moved out and I was next on the list for a spot in the underground car park so I park it down there now’ you explained, releasing how shaken he must have been and still was to know you might have been hurt and when one of your hands let go to touch his shoulder, his eyes snapped up to yours. ‘Are you alright, mase?’
‘No’ he whispered quietly, his glossy eyes looking back down to his lap and as much as you wanted to push him you also didn’t want to scare him off so you sat waited for him to come clean and tell you what was going on in his head. ‘I know it’s stupid but like… I realised if I lost you then… well it felt like my world was ending in all honesty’ he confessed, laughing slightly but you could tell there was no humour in it l. ‘I know that’s dramatic but all I could think about was everything I’d never told you, all the things I’d never be able to say to you again, you know? Never be able to hold you or kiss you…’
‘Kiss me?’ You whispered. Unsure as to why he’d said that at the end as you’d been broken up for almost a year now but you couldn’t deny his confession made your heart jump. If truth be told it hurt more than you thought it would when he didn’t reply to you a week ago and seeing him so heartbroken on your doorsteps just now was a shock. But the words falling from his lips right now were even more of a shock.
‘Sorry’ he mumbled, his voice thick with tears as he shook his head but you didn’t want him to shut down on you now. You wanted him to keep talking, to see if he’d say the things you’d been waiting a year for him to admit so you carried on stroking his skin and letting him get himself together.
‘No no it’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it’ you laughed, looking up at him to thankfully looking back at you with a small smile on his face. ‘Now’s your chance Mase, what do you wanna tell me’ you whispered, wondering if he’d say anything at all but ever the unexpected he said the last thing you thought he would.
‘I love you’ he whispered instantly. The words sending a tingle down your spine and you almost lost your breath. ‘I’m still so fucking in love with you and the though of you not being around anymore hurt more than I could tell you. Not that I’ve tried, but I can’t love anyone else like I loved you. Like I still love you, y/n’
‘Mase-‘
‘I know it’s been a while and you won’t feel the same but-‘
‘Mase stop’ you whispered, your eyes stinging at the thought of what he might be doing but the sincerity in his eyes kept a spark of hope alive. ‘Are you sure? I think you’re in shock a bit, you may want this now but what about in a month's time? Or two? I can’t go through feeling like that again’
‘I’m sure, i promise’ he nodded, dropping his eyes to his lap before taking a deep breath and you knew he had more to say. ‘I know we said if we were both single in five years we’d come back to each other but that’s too far away for me and I don’t wanna give anyone else the opportunity to have you. People like us, we’re meant to meet in a few years time when we both know who we are and what we want for ourselves but I don’t wanna do that. I want us to work through it all and grow together, you know?’
‘Mase-’
‘I pushed you away when I should have held onto you tighter. I think about you… all the fucking time and I can’t be without you’ he sniffled. ‘I know it’s incredibly selfish of me but I don’t want you to be just a chapter in my life when you’re the whole damn book baby’
You couldn’t help but laugh at his last line, your chuckles seeming to break the tension a little bit as he smiled at you and you could feel your heart in your throat at all the sweet words he’d spilled to you tonight.
‘Sorry I know it’s a lot but I just needed you to know’
‘Well thank you, and you know I care about you so much Mase-‘
‘Oh’ he sighed, trying to remove his hand from yours as you hadn’t told you him loved him back and he felt a bit embarrassed but that wasn’t your intention.
‘No Mase, wait I just… look it’s a lot to think about’ you laughed, squeezing his hand tighter so he couldn’t move away. ‘Just give me some time to take it in, yeah?’
‘Sorry’
‘No please don’t be sorry’ you told him before a quietness settled over you for a moment. Not really sure what you were wanting to say and knowing Mason had said enough for a lifetime tonight so you went back to what you thought you did best. Looking after him. ‘Listen, have you eaten? I’ve got a pasta bake to put in the oven and you know I always cook for about five people’
‘I haven’t eaten’ he laughed ‘Too busy worrying that you'd been flattened’ he joked, rolling his eyes and you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at his attempt at humour.
‘Well let me make us something to eat, And we can hang out a bit and catch up, yeah?’ You asked hopefully and thankfully he nodded in agreement.
So you made the pair of you some dinner before getting settled on the sofa. Keeping the tv volume on minimum so you could talk and it was like having the Mason you fell for back with you. But your heart broke even further when he explained to you how hard the last year had been for him, from being sold to the constant injuries and feeling pretty lonely up here some nights when it was just him and his family and friends had to go home.
Soon enough your plates had been discarded to the coffee table as it was your turn to open up. Not that you had as much to say but he was interested all the same in hearing about your life and getting up to date with all the people you used to talk about together. Updating him on your job and all the changes that had been made before he commented on how even with all the changes your flat was still the same and it made him feel happy.
‘Hey Mase?’ You asked quietly when you saw him try to suppress a yawn and you knew he’d realised you’d seen when the bridge of his nose turned red like you used to love.
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you wanna stay here tonight?’ You asked, his eyebrows shooting up in shock as he clearly hadn’t expected you to ask anything like that but now you had him back here you didn’t want to let him go.
‘W-what?’ He mumbled, scratching the back of his head like he did whenever he got nervous but you send him a reassuring smile in hopes that would help.
‘I mean you don’t have to, but it’s late now and I won’t be having you walking home or paying for an Uber. Unless you want me to drive you home-‘
‘No you can’t drive me, I don’t want you driving back on your own’ he argued back but you were both smiling so you let out a little laugh before being a bit firmer with him.
‘So you’ll stay then? And I’ll drop you home on my way to work?’
‘I think that could work’ he nodded but you knew he was shy about it even though he had no need to be.
‘Okay perfect’
‘Do you still keep that blanket in the cupboard?’ He asked and you felt a wave of disappointment flood you.
‘Oh I um…’ you trailed off, realising he’d got the wrong end of the stick and you knew you needed to set him straight no matter how awkward it might get.
‘What’s up?’
‘Well I thought you might want to sleep in my bed? You know like… with me?’ You explained, his face a mask of shock as the words left your lips but you knew you needed to put the idea out there.
‘Oh’
‘Sorry I’m being silly’
‘No I want to, I just didn’t wanna push it you know? I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted’
‘I do’ you smiled. Holding your hand out for him to take and you felt your heart give a squeeze and he gently took it in his. ‘And I think it might be what you need’
‘I think so too,’ he laughed. A shy look on his face as you walked him through and into your bedroom and once you were inside you sent him a reassuring smile. ‘Get in, I’m just gonna use the bathroom and I’ll be with you’
You left him to sort himself out, quickly applying your skincare and trying to keep calm before returning to your room. Seeing Mason was already in bed and that he was still in his T-shirt but he’d stripped down to his boxers on the bottom half and you caught a cheeky flash of his thighs as you lifted the covers up.
You knew what you wanted, and what he probably wanted too so when you got yourself under the covers you turned away from him as you shuffled up close. Your back against his chest before taking his arm so you could wrap it around your body and you could tell from how stiff he was that he wasn’t expecting it but it only took a second for him to settle down and nuzzle into your neck.
‘I don’t think I need to wait until the morning’ you suddenly heard him whisper after a few moments and you felt your heart begin to pound. ‘I never ended things with you because I didn’t like you or I didn’t see us going anywhere. It was more that I didn't like myself. You’ve been the right person for me this whole time and I knew it long before we were friends, like it had always been my plan to make you mine and then when I finally got you I let you go’
‘Well you know what they say, Mase’ you whispered, holding him to you tighter and you felt him lightly kiss your shoulder. ‘If you love something you should set it free. And if it’s yours it’ll come back’
‘Will you come back to me then?’ He asked, his voice sounding more vulnerable than he intended it to. ‘Cause I’ll always come back to you’
‘I think we can work something out’ you whispered and you felt him stiffen before moving back so he could roll you over to face him. His eyes wide and glossy as he looked at you and you could tell you’d taken him by surprise.
‘Really? You’d wanna try again?’ He asked. Lip wobbling and it all became too much for him so you reached out to stroke his cheek and catch a few of the stray tears.
‘It just wasn’t our time back then, Mase. I get that now and yeah it sucked but if it’s really what you want then it’s what I’ve wanted since things ended’ you told him softly. Kissing the end of his nose as he shut his eyes softly. ‘I’ve been yours from the second you looked at me’
‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want this, or if you were seeing someone else’
‘Well lucky for you, you don’t have to worry about any of that’ you told him and you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face. ‘Things will be easier now we're closer okay? We can see each other more and all the things that drove us apart won’t be a problem’
‘You really think it’ll be that simple?’ He whispered, the hope in his eyes made you want to reassure him even further.
‘I think so, yeah. You said earlier you still loved me right?’
‘I did’ he laughed, not meeting your eyes as he blushed and you thought he was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.
‘I still love you too’ you whispered, so quietly you thought he might now have heard you but from his reaction you knew he did. Letting out a shuddery breath before he hid his face. Giving you room to kiss all over his cheek until he had the courage to look at you again. ‘Shall we go to sleep?’ You offered, noticing how exhausted he was after a long evening and once he’d nodded you turned back onto your side and let him hold you close. Smiling at the way he was kissing your shoulder softly and nuzzled into your neck.
‘Hey Mase? Can I ask you something before we go to sleep?’
‘Anything’ he whispered, and the sound of his voice made your heart jump. Knowing he really would answer absolutely answer anything you asked him and this was something that had been plaguing your mind for a year.
‘That day I left to come home and you texted me the whole way, what did the message say that you deleted?’
You felt him let out a small chuckle, squeezing you a little before huffing and you knew it was something he probably never wanted to admit. You didn’t want to push him if that was the case but after a moment you felt his lips on your shoulder again as he began to speak.
‘It said, I think I’ve made a mistake. Can you come back and we’ll talk’ he told you quietly and you felt your heart pound at his confession. ‘I gave it ten minutes and said to myself if you hadn’t replied in that time then it wasn’t meant to be’
‘Mase’ you whispered, your eyes full of tears as a wave of regret from not checking your phone washed over you but he was quick to reassure you everything was fine.
‘It's okay, I’m glad you missed it’ he laughed. ‘It would have only made things worse probably. I needed that time to go through whatever was going on and realise how much I actually need you. Cause I really do’
‘I’m here’ you mumbled, turning you head to look at him and his whole face lit up as he looked down at you.
‘So am I. And I’m never going anywhere again okay?’
‘Me too’ you told him firmly before he finally lent down and placed the softest kiss to your lips. A feeling you’d waited almost a year for and when he pulled back to look at you, you almost felt disappointed but you could tell he was greedy for seconds. Diving right back in but with a bit more force this time and you let him do as he wished thankful the universe had brought him back to you.
#mason mount#mason mount blurb#mason mount one shot#mason mount fanfic#mason mount fluff#mason mount smut#mason mount imagine#mason mount imagines#mason mount angst#mason mount scenarios#mason mount drabble#mason mount story#mason mount fic#mason mount fan fiction#mason mount fan fic#mason mount x reader#mason mount x y/n#footballer x reader#footballer x y/n#footballer imagines#footballer imagine#footballer fan fiction#footballer fanfic
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
so, since the Drake v Kendrick beef has shown how many people on tumblr are missing out on black music (as well as a lot of people still thinking that black music is “just [this one racist stereotype]”) I’ve put together an inconclusive playlist of black music covering loads of different genres, styles and eras as a brief introduction to what you could be listening to!
You want emo? Listen to Jhariah! You want punk? Listen to The Muslims! You want beautiful piano pieces? Listen to Alexis Ffrench! You want Belgian music in a range of different styles all rolled into one? Listen to Stromae! You want exclusively queer rap by a queer indie artist? Listen to RealXMan! You want 70s music? You got it! You want hip hop? You got it! You want rock? You got it! You want rap? You got it!
Go forth and have fun! And keep in mind that this is definitely not even scratching the surface, so by all means, here’s your starting point to start researching further and finding new artists. I found a few new amazing songs/artists just from making this playlist, and re-remembered songs I hadn’t heard in years (does anyone else remember Dynamite by Taio Cruz? That was my self-proclaimed favourite song from the ages of 7–11 lol).
And if anyone wants to recommend anything else to add to the playlist, please do! I’m still building up my own knowledge of black music, and I definitely wasn’t able to cover every genre, so any recommendations are much appreciated!
#music#black music#hip hop#rap#rock#punk#kendrick lamar#playlist#music recs#songs#black songs#black artists#Spotify
184 notes
·
View notes
Text
how i managed to shift 62 times
This is my go to method that I use most times I shift. I shift using sleep paralysis about 4 times a week and successfully. I like this method because it puts me in the thoughtless state which allows me to shift and allows me to focus. You don’t need to focus to shift but when I don’t I tend to just not want to shift anymore because I’m so consumed with other thoughts. This is not the void, however. I first shifted with this about four years ago, and have shifted with this method about 62 times that I consciously remember.
Step one: I can’t focus at all when I close my eyes and even if I do it in the day I take a nap. So for whatever reason I put my feet up on the wall. And I shifted the first time I tried. This helps me because even when I do nod off I wake up not long after. And I can actually focus on where I want to go. So I put my feet up usually with a blanket covering my legs and feet. It doesn’t have to be super high up where you’re uncomfortable. Just something even slightly raised helped me lots. I usually stay still because it puts my body to sleep and calms me. But you don’t have to if it’s too uncomfortable.
Step two: Oh, I’m usually listening to a playlist that reminds me of the place I’m shifting to or a moment or memory from my dr. That way I’m not scared by the silence when the sleep paralysis kicks in. Play it quietly so you don’t get annoyed and pick songs that aren’t too distracting. It should just kind of blend in the background. Then I start thinking about memories of my dr and moments. Usually in first person unless I’m looking at photos in my memories. If I nod off, I usually wake up from the unusual position and begin affirming naturally.
Step three: I usually forget I’m affirming and just shift immediately. I open my eyes and then I’m there. Or I get sleep paralysis where I affirm and think I’m there. And I wake up in my dr pretty soon after.
I’ve never failed with this method because I think it just fits well with me. It’s loosely structured and hits all my strengths in visualization, affirmations and so on. So I’d try this for three nights and if it doesn’t work. Apply what did and drop what didn’t. Anyways I’m so excited to shift for the summer to Okinawa. I think this one is just going to be a solo adventure with me and my five dogs. I might permashift from there but I don’t know yet. Does anyone else like to shift for holidays?
Happy shifting lovelies, you got this!
#shiftblr#shifting#shifting community#shifting antis dni#sucess story#shifting realities#reality shifting#shifters#shifting blog#shifting motivation
129 notes
·
View notes
Text
Doing Too Much. | House Call
logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.
[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth
[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.
portion; 4.8k
possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)
After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me
Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.
When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.
It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.
‘Connections
Puzzle #342’
Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,
‘Morning’
Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,
‘Good morning!’
‘Connections
Puzzle #342’
And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,
‘Fuck you.’
Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.
Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.
And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.
Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—
Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,
‘How’s reworking the menu going?’
‘Hard to say’
‘Ask me tomorrow’
God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.
Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?
While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”
There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.
Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.
Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.
‘Are you busy?’
‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’
You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.
‘Are you fucking firing me????’
‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’
While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.
Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”
Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”
“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”
“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”
“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”
“…He what?”
You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”
Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”
“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”
“Yessir.”
“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”
They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”
You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.
Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”
You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”
When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”
“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.
“What floor?”
“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”
“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”
What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?
“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.
“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.
He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”
“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”
He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”
You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”
“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”
“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”
“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”
“I did.”
“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...
“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”
“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”
“Mhm.”
“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”
He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”
“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”
“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.
“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.
Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.
You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.
“Yeah?”
She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”
Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?
You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”
She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”
She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”
You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”
“What for?”
“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”
You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”
He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”
He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”
Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.
“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”
Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”
“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”
The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.
So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!
You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.
But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning. Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.
“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.
“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.
Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”
“But?”
“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.
He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”
“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.
“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.
Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”
No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?
“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”
Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?
“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”
You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”
“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”
“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”
“That sounds fucking disgusting.”
“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.
Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.
Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?
You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”
“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.
“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”
“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”
She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”
You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”
“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”
“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”
Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”
She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.
Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.
Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”
Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.
“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”
Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”
“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”
Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”
“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”
“What are you actually dragging me out for?”
“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”
“Oh?”
You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.
“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”
She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”
“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.
“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”
She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”
“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”
“Doing too much.”
She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”
“I can cook like Michelin—”
“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”
She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”
She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”
“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”
She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”
You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”
“More like coach.”
“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”
When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”
“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”
“Jeans on a bookshelf?”
You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”
“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”
“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”
“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.
You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”
As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.
You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.
You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’
Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.
You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”
She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.
Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.
Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”
“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.
Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?
“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.
“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”
“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.
You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”
She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.
It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”
She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”
“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”
“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”
“Then what’s the point!?”
Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.
When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.
Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…
You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.
‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’
You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.
‘Thank you’
‘For helping Syd’
‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’
‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.
‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.
‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’
‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’
Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.
“Are we going?”
“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.
You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”
You almost brake check the guy behind you.
“How do you fuckin’ do that!?”
the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.
Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.
Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.
The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.
Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.
We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.
I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.
As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear#the bear fx#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto x female reader
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
Be Around Me
Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series
Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs
Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.
Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER
Word Count: 4.4k
Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)
A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!
FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3
“It's obvious she's so out of reach
And I'm finding it hard 'cause
She makes me feel, makes me feel
Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard”
—Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer
On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.
Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.
As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.
What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.
He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.
Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.
One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room.
Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.
It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you.
After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?
Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon.
Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.
So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.
It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.
When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.
“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”
“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”
“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”
“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.
“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”
Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”
“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”
“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”
“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”
“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”
“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”
“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”
“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”
You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”
“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”
“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.
“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.
—————-
Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.
He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.
In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.
Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind.
You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.
That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.
If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.
“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”
“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”
“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”
“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?
Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.
For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.
“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”
“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.
“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”
That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.
“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.
“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”
“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”
“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.
“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.
At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?
By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.
He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.
“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”
“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”
Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension.
“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”
“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”
“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”
“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”
“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”
“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”
“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.
Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”
“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”
“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.
“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”
Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”
“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”
He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”
“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”
“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”
“No.”
“Do you even like basketball?”
“...No.”
“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”
—————-
As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he��s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him.
They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested.
That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.
Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.
He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.
“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence.
“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid.
At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.
“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.”
He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.
Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”
“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”
He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”
“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”
“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.
Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie.
“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”
“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent.
“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”
“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.
“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”
This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.”
—————-
While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.
“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.”
“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends.
One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.
“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.
“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.”
“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.
“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.
“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.
“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”
“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”
He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?
Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life.
“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.
By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.
“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”
“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.
“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.
Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.
“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”
Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed.
Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours.
“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”
“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”
“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”
The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?
“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”
If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.”
Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”
Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.
“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”
“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”
“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.
“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.
“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”
“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”
“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.
Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.
—————-
Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice
#zb1#zerobaseone#zerobaseone imagines#zerobaseone reactions#zerobaseone drabbles#zerobaseone scenarios#zb1 imagines#zb1 reactions#zb1 drabbles#zb1 scenarios#kim gyuvin#gyuvin imagines#zerobaseone x reader#zb1 x reader#gyuvin x reader#gyuvin fluff#gyuvin angst#gyuvin smut#zb1 gyuvin#zerobaseone gyuvin#zb1 crack#gyuvin crack#ricky x reader#haobin#ricky angst
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 6)
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader
Word Count: 15.1k
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Unprotected Sex.
Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify
A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.
A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We had the absolute best time at our shows. We plotted and schemed most of the week and there really is quite a bit of exciting new things on the horizon, so keep your eyes peeled.
"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."
PARIS, FRANCE
JAKE POV
The sound of the heat kicking on wakes you from your sleep, your heavy eyelids forcing themselves open to a blur of darkness. You drag your hand over your face, rubbing at your tired eyes as you turn to your side ready to pull her close, only to find the bed empty. You blink away the blurriness quickly, finding the place she once was, cold.
You snap your head to the side to glance at the clock, finding it to be a little earlier than you expected. Where did she go? Had she left? You look around the room and see that her things are gone, snatching your phone from the nightstand when you realize she really did leave. You quickly unlock the screen seeing a myriad of messages and missed calls from Isla, but much to your dismay, there was nothing from Y/N.
Your mind immediately starts to race. Did she sneak out? Did Sam’s drunken rambling scare her away? You curse yourself for even letting him into the room in the first place. You throw yourself back down onto the pillows, your brain frantically searching for some kind of answer. Your thumb taps on Josh’s contact, the line ringing out before you even knew what was happening.
“Hello?” he answers, sounding far too chipper for the early hour.
“Hey,” you pause, “You busy?”
“Hmmm…Not at the moment,” he answers, sounding intrigued.
“Come to my room,” you ask, your voice still tired.
You hear him huff a laugh from the other end of the phone, “Be there in a sec.”
You end the call and toss your phone onto the nightstand as you stand to pull yourself out of bed. You dig through your suitcase for a pair of sweats, pulling them over your legs just as you hear a knock at the door.
You blow out a breath as you walk to the door, shaking your head as you twist the lock. As you pull it open you see Josh leaning on the wall across from the door, pushing off as you wave him inside.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning chat?” he asks smugly.
“I just need to you to sit down and listen to me and tell me I didn’t fuck this up,” you say, pointing to the bed. He raises his eyebrows at your assertiveness, quickly complying and taking a seat on the edge of your bed.
“Oh, did you tell her finally?” he asks, crossing his leg over his knee.
“No, I mean, I didn’t say anything but– Sam and his big fucking mouth…He barged in here last night drunk as fuck, rambling on about Lyla and shit, asking about Isla and what was going on there, meanwhile I had Y/N in here, and since we haven’t really told anyone what we are doing I kinda… made her hide in the bathroom. I tried to get Sam out of here but he wouldn’t stop talking, and fuck I just got know she heard all the shit he said,” you pause, pacing around the room. “After he left she asked me if there was something I needed to tell her.”
“And you said?”
“I– I panicked, I don’t know! I said no! I said it was just work stuff…I know I should have told her, but we had just had the most amazing–”
“You said no?!” he shouts.
You furrow your brows in shame as you look at him, “Yeah…”
“Jake, you massive fuck up,” he scolds, shaking his head. “So not only did you hide her in the bathroom, you also lied to her face.”
“Well it sounds really fucking bad when you say it like that,” you counter, throwing your hands into the air.
“Okay, well which part of it is untrue, Jacob?”
“This is bullshit,” you growl, kicking your foot against the floor.
“You thought she would be totally cool hiding in the bathroom? You didn’t think she was going to get a little bit suspicious? I know I'm the smarter twin but you can’t honestly be that stupid, right?”
“What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let Sam see her without it causing a whole new shit storm with Isla! I did everything I could to get him out of here, but he just kept talking. Thank god he didn’t mention Isla by name, but Y/N is smart and I know she picked up on everything he was saying. I could see it all over her face. She stayed after but, I just woke up and she was gone,” you continue.
He nods his head as he takes in everything you’re saying, a redness in his cheeks as his underlying anger bubbles to the surface. Your phone begins to buzz on the nightstand, snapping both of your attention. You rush over to it to see if it’s Y/N, but again, it’s Isla. You silence the call and toss it back to the nightstand returning to stand in front of Josh.
“Let me guess, it’s Isla?”
“She won’t fucking stop,” you answer nodding.
“I told you to tell her a fucking week ago, Jake,” he snaps.
“How the fuck do you tell someone that? Like, ‘hey, I have a crazy ex who blows up my phone day and night, but oh, also she lives in my house and even though I have broken it off with her several times she keeps clawing her way back into my life and thinks we are still together’? Yeah, I’m not doing all of that.”
“No, that’s exactly what you do. You lay every single nitty gritty detail out on the line for her, and you tell her that you have baggage, and that you are trying to deal with it as gently as possible. You leave the decision in her hands. You don’t lie to her and tell her it’s nothing, when it very much is something,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Well, it’s a little late for that now dont you think?” you snap, “How do I fix it, now.”
“Have you heard from her?” he asks, pushing himself up off the bed.
“No,” you answer quietly. “I didn’t even know she left.”
“Fuck, Jake…” he sighs, running his fingers over his chin as he thinks.
“I think you have two options,” he pauses, giving you a serious look. “You either do what I told you to do a long time ago, or you play it off like absolutely nothing is wrong.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting the second option. “Yeah? You think…you think that would work?”
He sighs and shakes his head, “I think it’s a terrible idea, but yeah I think it could work. Though my vote is for the first option.”
“I just feel like it’s not her business to know about the shit with Isla,” you counter.
“If you are sleeping with her, it’s her business Jake, goddamn.”
“I would disagree,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
He shakes his head and purses his lips in anger, “You know what? I think you just wanted me to tell you what you want to hear to patch up your wounded ego. I don’t think you have any interest in doing the right thing at all, do you Jake?” he pauses, walking over to the door. “You need to get your shit straight, man. If I were you, I would take my advice and do the right thing before this all blows up in your face.”
He slams the door behind himself as you stand staring at it, anger pouring off of you. You know he’s right, no matter how hard of a pill it is to swallow. You could see the disappointment in his eyes, the look cutting you to your core. You turn and head into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the bathroom. You knew you fucked up, not only was she mad at you, but so was Josh, and right now you couldn’t think of anything worse.
You walk back into the room, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and seeing Isla’s missed call. You let out a sigh as you swipe past it, hitting Y/N’s contact instead. The call rings for a few seconds before going to her voicemail and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. You decide a text might be better and quickly type and retype your message until you’re happy with it. In that moment you make the choice to pretend like nothing is wrong, going against Josh’s advice yet again.
You
9:19AM: Where did you run off to this morning?
You toss the phone onto the bed and strip out of your clothes, knowing that the shower is hot and waiting for you and wondering if the plans the two of you made for the day still stand.
—
HER POV
Earlier That Morning
You’d spent the first hour of your morning in complete darkness, refusing to open the heavy curtains of your hotel room until you were ready to be gone. You’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as you fought the thoughts that plagued your mind. It didn’t help that Jake’s phone had been going off all night long, illuminating the dark room with a pale blue tint after each vibrate you heard.
Someone really wanted to talk to him.
You could still hear Sam’s words replaying in your mind, your stomach dropping as each fleeting memory makes its way to the forefront of your mind to throw more confusion into the mix. It feels impossible to stifle them. You step out of a particularly hot shower, still proud of the fact that you’d managed to sneak out of Jake’s bed this morning without waking him.
You run a towel through your hair as you wipe off the fogged mirror, unable to truly look at your own reflection without feeling a fucked up sense of shame. Jake didn’t deserve a formal goodbye after what happened last night. Your gut is screaming at you, heeding warnings that something isn’t right… so you stand firm in your decision to leave him alone in his bed this morning.
You hadn’t even bothered to look at your phone yet, knowing that today is a free day, and you likely will have little to no obligations. You wrap your hair up in the fluffy towel and make your way back out to your suitcase to grab your phone charger. As it powers back to life from its dangerously low battery, you notice a singular text from just a little while ago.
Paul
6:06AM: Hey! Call when you wake up, no hurry
The clock is nearing 8, so you stay wrapped up in your towel, falling under the covers as you listen to his tone ring out.
“Goodmorning!” Paul’s chipper greeting almost irks you.
“Morning!” you respond with a fake lilt.
“Hey, got a little assignment for you today, it isn’t much and shouldn’t take you very long, but the job itself might be a little bit of a pain in the ass. Crew is already running low on water, so I had some ordered and need you to go and pick it up,” he explains.
Your face contorts up at the thought of having to load multiple cases of bottled water into whatever vehicle you’re provided with.
“I know it’s an off day, but Murph is going to go with you… I know it will be a lot of heavy lifting so I figured he would be the best man for the job,” Paul went on, referencing Murph’s rather toned and muscular stature.
Fuck. A solo assignment with just Murph? Enough to make you want to skip out on breakfast…
“Oh, okay! I can do that, no big deal. Are you sure Murph isn’t too busy? I could ask one of the others–”
“No, I’ve already spoken with him. He should be ready and waiting for you about ten o’clock,” Paul goes on. “Just load it back into the craft supply truck when you guys get back. Thanks again, Y/N! I’ll text you the address of the place.”
“Will do. Talk to you later.” You hang up the phone and pull the heavy blankets over your head, feeling ten thousand emotions flood you at once. Murph gives you a nervous energy, something about being in his presence makes your body swell with childlike giddiness. And on the other hand, the tumultuous pool of uncertainty that you’ve been thrust into with Jake has left you feeling drained and disheartened, and you don’t even have any explanation yet.
You’re miffed at him. Miffed as fuck. His own brother drunkenly asked him how he was handling being away for this long. You’re no scientist, but you know how to pick up on cues and connect dots, and you absolutely know when someone is lying to you. The more time you spend stewing, the more angry you become. This is most definitely not what you need right now.
You stay buried under the covers for a long while, your hair still piled and wrapped in the damp towel on your head. You close your eyes, thinking over everything again, vowing to stay right here in bed until the last possible second before you have to leave. A quiet knock on your door startles you from your cozy cave, and you know for a fact that Jake has come to your room since you decided to sneak out this morning. You whip the blankets back, quietly rushing to the peephole to prepare yourself to pretend you aren’t in the room.
But it isn’t Jake.
It’s Murph.
A surge of nerves overtake your half-clothed body, and you mumble a silent ‘oh my gooooooddddd’ as you decide what to do. You flick your hand out as your eyes pace around the room, one hand clutching the towel between your breasts. What would Ruth do?
Ruth would answer the door.
Your hand turns the heavy metal lever, pulling the door open only six inches or so. You’re met with a completely surprised Murph, leaning his head away and covering his eyes when he realizes he’s almost caught you in your birthday suit.
“Shit! I’m sorry, I was just coming by to make sure… I–I can wait for you downstairs–” he scrambles, and you witness his normal tough exterior fall all to pieces as his cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.
“No no! I’m sorry!” you cry, pulling the door closed just a little bit. “It’s no big deal…”
He grins hard as he runs a hand over his face, approaching the door again and leaning one hand on the frame. “I just… came by to make sure Paul had talked with you, didn’t want you to oversleep or…” his hand nervously falls to his hip as he regains his composure, his body obviously wracked with uneasiness. He’s cute this way…
You take a page from Ruth’s book again, pulling the towel that sat on top of your head off, letting your wet hair flow over your shoulders. His eyes grow ten times in size, but only for a second.
“Yes, Paul called. And I’m awake,” you reply sheepishly, lowering your head to look at him through your lashes.
“Okay, yeah. Good. I’ll uh, meet you downstairs at ten?” he asks through an anxious breath and swallow.
You bite your cheeks in and nod, twirling a piece of wet hair around your finger. “Mhmm, I’ll be there…” You watch his eyes as he tries his best to avoid eye contact with you, or more yet, your half-naked body.
“Okay, good. I’ll–I’ll see you then,” he says as he quickly turns and makes his way back down to the elevator.
You rush back to climb under the warmth of the covers as you giddily kick your feet underneath them, knowing all too well that you just managed to get a big burly security guard flustered by hardly doing anything at all. God, he looked good already today. A black shirt and dark wash jeans, a heavy canvas zip-up jacket and his signature backwards ballcap. And he had some type of cologne on… you couldn’t quite place it, but it was familiar while also unlike anything you’d ever smelled before.
You let yourself relish in the feeling for just a little bit, and like clockwork, your phone buzzes with Jake’s contact ringing across your screen. You stare at it as it inches its way across the table, until it stops ringing completely. Nah. Not yet. Only seconds after the phone stops ringing, you see a text from him bubble up on your notifications, but you ignore that too. You need some time to think. And, you have work to do.
You finally pull yourself from the comfort of the bed and get dressed for the day. As you grab up your purse and heavy winter coat to head off in search of coffee, you feel the pull to hash out your feelings with Ruth. After five or six rings, you hear her tired voice come over the speaker.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I know it’s hella early and shit but I need to vent…” you say as you let your hotel room door close behind you.
“Oh my god, you okay? What’s going on?” she replies, seemingly awake now.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Listen… so last night after the show, me and Jake… ya know. Yeah. Everything was beautiful and perfect and everything until after, we’re sitting there literally naked and his brother Sam knocked on our door, and Jake hid me in the fucking bathroom.” You try to keep your voice low and close to the phone, just in case someone happens to be nearby.
You swear you can hear her scoff from across the ocean. “HUH?!” she squeals. “Hid you?! The fuck?”
“I know, I know… like, I get it, finding us that way wouldn’t have been the best of circumstances but, that’s not even the worst part.” You press the button in the elevator to the ground floor as you finally find a little solace in being alone. “I was trying to get dressed in the dark bathroom, and here comes Sam, needing to pee. So I jump into the shower as quietly as I can and try not to breathe while they keep talking. And, get this Ruth… Sam starts talking about how he’s having problems with his own girlfriend, saying she’s acting really weird and off lately. So Jake says maybe she’s having trouble with the time difference and missing home or some bullshit. So Sam is like ‘Yeah, maybe so…’ Then he asks Jake ‘how you two are handling that’… and that he ‘hasn’t seen Jake on his phone a lot lately…’ I dunno. Then Sam said he knows that Jake has been going through this shit for a while. Like what shit? What could he possibly be having to deal with right now?” You realize that you’re rambling again, a quality that you’ve started to take notice of in your personality as of late.
“What the fuck…” Ruth trails off, trying to run over everything you’d just said. “So, do you think he has someone back home, and just never told you about it?” Her words hit you like a dagger, and hearing your suspicious thoughts be spoken out loud nearly makes you feel sick. You step off the elevator and into the crowded lobby of people in search of breakfast.
“I don’t know, Ruth. Maybe? But also, he would have told me, I think. Ugh, it feels so fucked up. We have plans today and tonight, too. I kind of want to blow him off…”
“Shit, you’re pissed, aren't you? I definitely think something is going on, did you ask him once Sam left?” she presses.
You finally spot the coffee bar across the hallway, making a beeline. “Yes, and I swear it felt like he was leaving some gaps in his explanation.”
She huffs. “Trust your gut, babe. You know him better than I would.”
“What should I do?” you ask, watching as a packet of sugar crystals trail into your paper coffee cup.
“Let him come to you. I wouldn’t give him the time of day until he decides to be honest with you, ya know? You deserve at least that much…” she says, and you can hear her figuratively putting her foot down.
You let out a long sigh. “You’re right, I already ignored his call this morning. I need some time to think…”
“I agree with you. Maybe step back a little,” she says, yawning heavily.
You press the plastic lid down onto your coffee and saunter over to a plush couch in a hidden corner of the lobby, ready to drown yourself in emails and this stout dark roast. “You’re right, I think I will. Thanks Ruthie, go back to sleep.”
“Already halfway there, call me later, babe,” she says quietly. “Oh, hey, do you mind if I…do a little research, if you know what I mean?”
Your brows furrow as you contemplate. “Research…”
“Yes. You know exactly what I mean.”
“Oh,” you finally understand. “I mean, I’m not gonna stop you. As long as you report back with your findings.”
“Babe, duh. I’ll talk to you later,” she says.
“Byeeeeee.” You press the red button on your phone, pressing the end of it to your forehead a few times before slouching down onto the couch. Ten o’clock will be here before you know it, and you feel a zap of excited electricity at knowing you get to spend the morning with none other than the flustered security guard.
—
Needless to say you were more than a little surprised to see Murph standing outside of the hotel doors leaning on a truck, his arms crossed across his chest as he scrolls on his phone. His eyes flick up, catching yours as you step outside into the cold air. You make your way towards him, pulling your jacket closed tightly across your chest. The wind is unforgiving as you get closer, blowing your hair across your face. You watch him spring into action, quickly running around to the door to open it for you.
“Thanks,” you smile, jumping into the warm cab. He nods his head and runs around the opposite side of the truck, sliding in next to you. He turns the knob for the heat and you instantly start to warm up.
“How’d you manage to finesse a truck in another country?” you laugh, placing your bag on the floorboard.
“Ahh, been here a few times now, feel pretty good on the roads. That and I’m not letting someone drive me around. I’m perfectly capable, so I made a few calls,” he grins, shifting the truck into drive.
“Do you know where we’re even going?” you ask, pulling your phone from your purse.
“I think so, but why don’t you just tell me anyway,” he smirks, pulling out into traffic. The traffic patterns are foreign to you, but he seems to be handling them with ease, and that alone has you able to relax a bit.
“Okay, so per Paul, it looks like we are heading to a bulk grocer, and the address is 47 Rue Saint-Jacques,” you answer. “The order has already been placed, we’re just picking it up.”
He taps on his phone screen a few times as he types in the address, nodding his head as he previews the route. “Looks like we’ve got about twenty minutes ahead of us.”
“That’s not bad at all, maybe this will be a quick trip after all,” you smile towards him.
He huffs a laugh as he readjusts his hat on his head, “Maybe so.”
—
Murph takes the lead loading the cases of water into the truck bed, insisting he will do all of it. You feel bad as you just stand by watching, but he seems like the type of guy to bear the burden of most things with no regrets. He swipes his hand across his brow and fixes his hat, letting out a breath as he closes the truck bed.
“That all of it?”
“I think so!” you pause, “Thanks for doing all of that, I feel kind of useless.”
“Nah, not at all,” he smirks, nodding towards the truck. You both get into the warm cab and as you reach for your phone, you find the screen filled with notifications from Ruth. For the past twenty minutes your phone had been ringing and numerous texts had come through, the last one reading ‘SOS’.
Your heart drops into your stomach as you consider that something bad has happened, your hands shaking as you tap her contact and listen to the call ring. She doesn’t answer and the sick feeling in your stomach grows. You shakily type a message to her, hoping she will see it.
You
10:49AM: WHAT IS HAPPENING
10:49AM: I’M ON A WORK THING WITH MURPH AND I DIDNT SEE MY PHONE
You lock your screen as your knee bounces nervously, picking at your nails with your fingers.
“You okay?” he asks, turning to look at you.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, just missed an important call that's all,” you say, trying not to go into too much detail. “Tell me about you, distract me,” you beg.
“About me?” he asks, “Uhh, what do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, anything, something. Tell me…tell me how you got into this business.”
“How I got into this business… My that's kind of a loaded first question,” he laughs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, I’ve always sort of just…protected people. Done it my whole life. Kind of like instinct I guess. Got a little older and realized it’s what I was meant to do. Joined the military when I turned seventeen, stayed in for a long time. Did a few tours, saw some wild shit, and now I’m on reserves. I joined a little group of guys who also weren’t ready to stop and now we do close range protection. Got a call one day I’d been hired to watch over these guys and now here I am hauling water into the back of a truck and driving around a pretty girl.”
Your heart flutters in your chest at his admission. Shit.
“You never wanted to do anything else?” you ask.
“No. I feel my best when I am protecting others,” he says, his face stern and serious. “It’s in my blood.”
“That's very…admirable,” you say, feeling yourself swooning over the man next to you.
“Ahh, that’s not why I do it, though it does feel good to hear you say it,” he winks.
You feel your cheeks grow warm when he winks at you, and you quickly face forward before he notices. He smiles softly as he whips the truck through the streets, chewing his gum casually.
Your phone starts to buzz in your lap, instantly zapping your attention.
Ruth
11:02AM: CODE RED
11:02AM: SOS
11:02AM: ANSWER MEEEEEEEE
You
11:03AM: WHAT! I’m here!!!
The next message that comes through is a photo, and not one you expected to see. It’s Jake and another woman looking awfully cozy on a porch swing. She’s pretty, gorgeous even. Way prettier than you are. It's a screenshot of an Instagram profile, the date of the photo showing it was posted almost a year ago. Your heart sinks again as you look at it, seeing Jake’s arm wrapped around her as her hand rests on his thigh. The caption reads ‘forever’. You swallow back the lump in your throat as you go back to your texts with Ruth.
You
11:05AM: Holy fuck, where did you find that?
Ruth
11:06AM: On her profile, there's tons, babe. Some are…recent. Like very recent.
You
11:07AM: So he lied? He has a girlfriend?
11:07AM: Oh shit am I a homewrecker? Oh my god and his phone was blowing up all night. I am totally a homewrecker bitch.
11:08AM: HE LIEEEDDDD TO ME
11:08AM: RUTH WHAT DO I DO HELP ME
Ruth
11:09AM: I don’t know for sure if they are together or not, the last post of the two of them was almost 6 months ago.
11:10AM: I wish I knew what to tell you, but I don’t know this guy at all and I can’t get a good read on her just from her socials. If they aren’t together now they definitely were recently. She used to post about him a lot and now she has slacked off a good bit.
You
11:11AM: How did you even find her?
Ruth
11:12AM: Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. ( I had to make a whole ass fake profile )
You
11:13AM: RUTHIE
Ruth
11:14AM: What?! I did what had to be done. I have no regrets, and all it took was a quick search of a tagged photo of the bassists girlfriend to find her. Did you know they do pilates together? Rich bitches. So anyways now my name is Cassandra and I also take Pilates classes at Well Body Pilates. 💅🏻
You
11:15AM: You found her through Sam’s girlfriend?!
Ruth
11:16AM: My mind is an intricate and beautiful web of deception and mischief
You
11:17AM: Yeah, it’s also sick and twisted. Keep digging. I need to know what I’m dealing with here. I still haven't spoken to Jake.
11:17AM: Well, not really. He added a song to the playlist and I replied to it. I don’t know what I’m doing Ruth…
Ruth
11:18AM: Oh trust me, I’m digging and I don’t blame you for not answering him. I wouldn’t speak to him either.
11:18AM: Little RAT
You
11:19AM: Ruth…
Ruth
11:20AM: 😇
Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the photo again. He looks happy. You feel your heart twist a little at the thought of him being in a relationship and cheating. You really didn’t think he was that kind of guy. You swallow the lump in your throat just as Murph turns to look at you.
“Hey, uh, are you hungry?” he asks.
You blink away your emotions, nodding your head. “Yeah, actually… I am.” you answer, knowing that you were supposed to spend the day with Jake, but now you can hardly stomach the thought.
“You like pizza?” he smirks, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course! Who doesn’t like pizza?”
He laughs a hearty laugh and tosses his head back a bit, “Good, that’s good, I know just the place.”
Your phone buzzes once more in your lap, and you flip it over to see another text from Ruth.
Ruth
11:22AM: Ps, who is Murph?
You smirk as you realize you haven’t gone into much detail about this new addition to the crew, yet. As he pays heavy attention to traffic and stoplights, you twist your phone in your lap to snap the sneakiest picture of him to send to Ruth.
You
11:23AM: *Attachment*
New security guard. CUTE security guard. 😊
Ruth
11:24AM: Well HELLO THERE sir!!
11:24AM: Bitch if you don’t flirt with him, I’m flying across the ocean to do it myself
11:25AM: Jake who?????
You
11:25AM: I’m at work, Ruthie. Remember.
11:26AM: But yeah we be flirting a little😛
You lock your phone to turn your attention back to professionalism, listening to the light music coming from the radio station Murph had chosen.
JAKE POV
You stay close behind Josh and Ty as you meander the back alleyways of the city, taking in the beauty of the architecture and old-world style of the storefronts. Monty has tagged along today, hanging back and taking phone calls as the three of you walk. It’s cold, but not as cold as what you’d been enduring the past few days. Typically, you’d spend these free days by yourself, either hiding away in the hotel room or finding something private to partake in. Or, as of late, you would have spent it with Y/N, but after multiple texts and a phone call went ignored this morning, you decided to focus your attention elsewhere.
“Odd of you to tag along with us, brother. Need to stretch your legs today?” Josh asks, pulling back from Ty a little. You know the tension is still high from your argument this morning, but you can tell that Josh is trying to brush it off to keep a cool head in front of Ty.
“Yeah, well. If you remember, I had plans today, but. They kind of fell through…” you answer him, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, with Y/N,” he acts like he only just remembered.
You nod, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, but she kind of blew me off. Hasn’t answered me all morning, still.”
“Ah,” Josh says with a slightly sarcastic tone. “Probably because Paul sent her out to get something for the crew, and Murph went with her.”
Wait, Murph?
“Murph went with her? Why? Where did she have to go?” you have a million questions, and you aren’t sure which ones to ask first.
Josh bites his tongue as he decides what to say. “I think they had to go get water for the crew or something, was gonna be a big job, so Murph volunteered to go and help her get it,” he explains. “They should be back later, though. Isn’t she coming up to the Tower with us later?”
You feel yourself seething. “Yeah. Well, was supposed to. Was supposed to hang out right now, too, but. We see how that ended up.”
“It’s not her fault, Jake, shit. Paul sent her on an assignment…”Josh defends her with a shrug. “I can tell you’re pissed for some reason. And I know it’s just not at me from this morning…”
“I’m not…pissed about that, I’m pissed she's actively ignoring me after what happened last night with–” You cut yourself off, truly not wanting to go into detail about Sam’s unexpected visit and what happened thereafter in front of Ty.
“With Sam…? Yeah. I see you still haven’t heeded my advice…” he says with a snarl, whispering away from earshot of Ty. He shakes his head at you as you stay silent. He turns and stops you in your tracks, forming the illusion of an explosion with his fingers and hands, right in front of your face. “Ka-boom!” he whispers before turning away again.
You know he’s right. This is all going to blow up in your face.
Josh and Ty skip on ahead of you, slipping into a pub or something, you don’t know. You pull your phone from your pocket, seeing that she still hasn’t sent a thing. You swipe through a few notifications from Isla, knowing that those can be dealt with later, and bring up your music app to see if adding another song will get something out of her.
What to add…
You file through your extensive library, finally landing on a song that’s a little out of your realm of normal listening, but will still catch her attention. You click the song, ‘While I’m Waiting Here’ by Billy Strings, selecting the three dots and adding it to the playlist. You hope she will see it and know that you’re still thinking about her, wanting to make this work, but at the same time you know you have buried yourself deep inside a hole that is lined with explosives, and all you can do is wait for the spark to ignite them.
Should you have listened to Josh? Yes, absolutely. He’s right, you know he is. Josh is the angel on your shoulder whispering in your ear to err on the side of reason and honesty. But the devil on the other shoulder is standing firm in the fact that it’s truly none of Y/N’s business to know the details about your past with Isla; as far as you’re concerned, that part of your life is done.
…But it’s not. It’s far from done. She still lives with you. The little devil is just spouting the words that you want to hear, weaving lies and deceit into his corrupt advice, and making you believe it to be justified.
You shove your phone back into your pocket as you slip inside the hidden pub door behind Ty and Josh, feeling the need for a beer the size of your head to take this fucking edge off. It’s truly pissing you off how hung up you are on this girl, and you’re even more pissed that she’s spending her day with a man that you know for a fact was able to make you extremely jealous.
You take a barstool next to Josh as he orders three of the same whatever, and you slump down onto your elbows as you stare at the intricate mosaic artwork that adorns the short bartop. Your finger glides along the multicolored tiles, tracing the grout between them as you let your mind wander. Maybe you should just tell her. Tell her everything.
Suddenly a giant glass stein of beer is firmly plopped in front of your sullen face as Josh nudges his elbow into your shoulder. “Wake up, Eeyore. Time to take advantage of our day,” he heeds, so you slowly sit up. You truly must be presenting yourself like a heartbroken asshole.
You give him the evil eye as you lift the mug to your lips, letting the foam graze across your mustache. For the first time in a while, the instant jolt of alcohol hitting your system isn’t as much welcomed as it is irritating, but you decide to get past it, because what the fuck else are you gonna do?
You suddenly feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mood instantly lightens. You rip it out quickly, tapping the screen to see that finally, she has made contact.
‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’
The song she chose nearly made your heart fall straight into the hardwood floor beneath you. ‘Suspicious Minds’ by Elvis Presley.
Fuck. Fuck fuck.
Could this truly get any fucking worse? And better yet, how in the hell are you going to fix it in such a way that you get a happy ending? You decide to grasp on to the fleeting second, opening your text thread with her to make contact even further.
You
11:48AM: We still on for later?
Your heart rate spikes as you watch your phone in anticipation, feeling completely stupid for being this giddy and also somehow even more confused than before. You know she knows something is up, now. Suspicious is the absolute last thing you want her to be, but… she is a smart person. And you’ve been the idiot.
Her text bubble pops up, typing for a very long time.
Finally you receive a wordless text, a ‘👍🏼’ her only response. Okay, so it’s not a thumbs down, at least? But still, you were expecting at least a Yes. You decide to cut your losses, taking the contact as a tiny win, but knowing that the gut feeling of dread is only going to get worse as this beer in your hand empties.
—
The day passes without another word from her, and you know because you spent a large majority of the day checking your phone. You now find yourself pacing around your hotel room as you wait to hear about your evening plans, wondering if she would be involved in them.
You
7:56PM: What's the plan
Sam
7:57PM: Aren’t we going to the towa
Josh
7:58PM: Yeah, I think we are meeting everyone downstairs at 8:30
You
7:58PM: Who all is going?
Josh
7:59PM: Everyone, it’s a crew outing
You
7:59PM: Great.
Josh
8:00PM: Suck it up Jake
Daniel
8:01PM: Yeah Jake 😋
You lock your phone and toss it on your bed, still a disheveled mess from this morning. You continue to pace around your room as your mind swirls with thoughts. You wonder why you hadn’t heard from her, even after her confirmation earlier. You wonder if she spent the whole day with Murph and what they did together. You grit your teeth together at the thought, snatching your phone off of the bed and deciding that if this is how she wants to do things, you too could play that game.
As everyone assembles down in the lobby you find yourself looking for her, wanting just a glimpse of her to prove your wandering thoughts wrong. You groan inwardly when you find she isn’t around, and not shockingly, neither is Murph. As everyone loads into the vans you check your phone again, and still you have nothing from her. You find yourself getting a little pissed off at this game she is playing and again you tell yourself you can play it too, your desire growing by the second.
The ride to the tower is short, your knee bouncing the entire ride as you stare out the window. It's not long before you’re all piling out and breaking into groups, waiting for the last few stragglers to arrive. In the distance you see two people rushing towards you, laughing and smiling as they approach. You suck your teeth when you realize it's Y/N and Murph, definitely running late from what appears to be their day off spent together.
You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to Josh, raising your eyebrows in question. He peers over your shoulder and catches sight of them, shrugging his shoulders before turning his attention back to Ty. Right.
The two of them regain their composure quickly, but you can tell that Y/N has been drinking. Her cheeks are pink and a smile hasn’t left her face since she stepped up to the group. She hasn’t made eye contact with you yet, and you wonder if she even will. You turn to face them, giving her no choice but to acknowledge you, and when her eyes finally meet yours it's only for a split second before she tears them away.
Okay, what the fuck.
Murph steps away to talk to Dean, and you finally get a second alone with her, hoping she will give you the time of day.
“And where have you been all day?” you ask playfully, raising a brow.
She raises her own and purses her lips, “Running errands for you and your crew.”
“Is that right? I thought you were off today?”
“I thought so too, apparently there was no water left and I couldn’t get it all on my own,” she answers, an edge of confrontation in her voice. Murph steps back over towards her, catching the tail end of the conversation.
“I could have gone with you, you know.”
“No need man, I took good care of her,” Murph smiles, patting you on the back.
You do your best to stifle back the scoff begging to rattle from your chest, nodding your head at him. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
The tour guide speaks up before he can answer, grabbing your attention to lead the group towards the entrance to the tower. You turn to look at Y/N, her eyes already on you as you meet them and you can tell there is something she wants to say. Instead, she walks ahead letting Murph trail behind her.
—
Most of the tour is spent casting glances at each other, speaking with your eyes instead of your words. There is tension between the two of you, you can feel its cold grip around your neck with every meeting of your eyes. You were supposed to do this with her. You were supposed to bring her here. Just the two of you. Had she forgotten? Did she change her mind overnight? It would explain a lot.
As you stare out into the twinkling city beneath you, the cold wind blows your scarf around. You find yourself wishing it was just the two of you, pointing out monuments and landmarks as you held her close to keep her warm. You turn around to look for her, deciding that you had to say something. Just get some kind of answer.
You find her hanging out with Josh and Ty, the three of them smiling and laughing as Murph patrols the area for any potential threats. Josh notices you and breaks away from them, meeting you where you were instead of letting you join them.
“First, fix your face. If you’re trying to sell the ‘nothing is wrong’ bit you’re doing a miserable job,” he says, placing his hand on his hip.
You roll your eyes in response, flashing him a faux smile as you push him out of the way and head over towards her. Her eyes meet yours, her lips parting in surprise as you hear your name called from behind you. You look over your shoulder to find a woman with a longing look and a twinkle in her eye, nervously approaching.
Murph rushes up behind her, giving you a look to let you know he will escort her away if you want him to. You quickly shake your head no, knowing that you can use this interaction to your advantage.
“Hi, how are you?” you smile, greeting the woman excitedly. She's about your age, maybe a year or two younger, with striking eyes.
“Hi Jake! I don’t mean to bother you, I was just wondering if I could take a picture with you? My friend and I?” she asks, motioning her equally as attractive friend toward her.
“Hi there, nice to meet you,” you say, motioning them both in for a hug. You pull them in close, posing for a few photos as Y/N stands by watching. If you are right, and if you know her like you think you do, this will set her off.
You can feel her eyes on you as you continue to talk and interact with the fans, all the while your mind filled with thoughts of her and the dark pink shade that has taken over her cheeks.
You say goodbye to the fans, sending them off with a wave, turning on your heel to join Josh, Ty, and Y/N at the opposite end of the tower.
“How they hell do they find us all the way up here?” Josh laughs, elbowing your arm.
“No problem to take a photo or two with some pretty girls,” you quip, raising a brow at him.
“Never is, is it Jake?” he laughs, and as you nod your head you flash a smile right to Y/N, knowing that your plan worked perfectly.
—
You all load into the vans, making your way back towards the hotel. Y/N rides with Paul and Wes, and you know she is positively stewing with jealousy over your impromptu meet and greet. She would talk to you now, you were sure of it. You just had to wait.
As the vans drop you off at the hotel lobby you all meander inside, some of you opting for the hotel bar, while others headed up to their rooms. You stood off to the side, waiting to see what Y/N was going to do, and you think she was planning to do the same, that is, until Murph stepped up to her.
“I can walk you up to your room if you want,” he offers, causing a scoff to leave your lips. You step up to the both of them with your hands in your pockets.
“Why don’t I walk her up so that you can do your job and watch those idiots heading into the bar.”
He gives you a surprised look and nods his head. He bites his lips as he turns to Y/N, telling her a quick goodnight before disappearing into the hotel bar. Just when you think you’ve got her, Ty swoops in.
“Actually, I’m walking her. Let’s go Y/N,” Ty says, linking arms with her and dragging her into the elevator with him. She shoots you a snarky look as the doors close, leaving you standing in the lobby empty handed, yet again.
As you make your way up to your room, you start to think that your plan has backfired, and that not only have you made her mad, you’ve made her unnecessarily jealous too. You consider texting her as your door shuts behind you, but decide to leave the ball in her court and see if she reaches out.
You take a quick shower, and wander back into your room, hearing your phone buzz on the nightstand. Your head instantly snaps over to look at it, hoping to see a message from her. As you snatch it off the small nightstand your cheeks instantly heat seeing the notification on your screen.
‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’
You immediately tap the banner, watching as the playlist populates before your eyes. Your breath is stolen away as you see her addition, a smile pulling across your lips. ‘Need You Tonight’ by INXS was added two minutes ago.
You realize what she is saying, and you consider responding with a song but you decide to up the ante and call her directly. The line rings only twice before she answers.
“Hello?”
“Well, well, well,” you start, quickly getting cut off before you can finish your sentence.
“Shut up, come to my room,” she snaps.
“A little feisty this evening?” you taunt.
“Are you coming or not,” she whines.
“Oh, so now you want to talk to me? It was the girls, wasn’t it, baby…”
“Have any of the girls ever told you that you have a big head?” she gripes.
“No, but they’ve told me I have a massive di–” you start, hearing the chime as the call ends. She got you there.
You quickly change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, leaving your phone on the nightstand and swiping your room key as you rush out the door in search of her room without a second thought.
—
You rap your knuckles against her door, stepping back as you wait for her to open it. Your nerves are swirling around in your body and you feel like you’re positively vibrating. You know you need to talk to her, but right now she wants you and you would never deny her that.
The door swings open, revealing her barely there silky pajama set hanging haphazardly from her shoulders. She ushers you inside, shutting the door behind you.
“I thought you’d come,” she quips.
“Had to. First I’ve heard from you all day…” you taunt. “You forget about me?”
She pulls you by your hand into the room, sitting the two of you on the edge of the bed.
“No, didn’t forget at all, actually. Was just…preoccupied.”
“Mhmm, thought we had plans,” you say, brushing the hair away from her shoulder.
“We did, but…”
“But what?” you ask, running your fingers down her arm.
“But I had to do my job. You know the thing I’m here to do…” she grins.
“I could have gone with you, you know.”
“Yeah, you could have but Murph offered.” she continues.
“Yeah, did you two have fun on your little date?” you ask.
“Date? Who said it was a date?” she questions.
“Did you spend the entire day together? Did you show up to the tower a little tipsy or was that just my imagination?” you prompt.
“You seem a little bit jealous, Jacob,” she says, resting her hand on your thigh.
“Why’d you blow me off for him?”
“I was just doing my job and so was he,” she answers, feigning ignorance.
You cup her cheek in your hand, letting your thumb rest on her lips, “Lie to me again.”
“Was just work.”
You pull her into your lap, connecting your lips to hers in a desperate, needy kiss. Her arms wrap around your neck as your hands settle on her hips, pulling her down to yours.
“You need a reminder of why I’m here and he’s not?”
She parts her lips from yours, glossy and wet, “It’s not too late…”
A growl leaves your chest as you flip her over onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head with your hands.
“Why are you being so ornery this evening, hm?” you ask, pressing your lips to her neck.
“Why are you being so jealous?” she counters.
“M’not jealous sweetheart,” you offer, sliding the straps of her top over her shoulders.
“You’re surely acting it,” she says, letting you pull the top over her chest.
“Just like you weren’t jealous of those girls tonight? I know that's why you called me here, baby.”
You press your lips to her chest, sucking a dark pink mark into her skin as her hands weave into your hair.
“We never set any boundaries Jake. I’m not yours.”
You press your finger into the pink mark on her chest, blooming purple beneath your touch, “This would beg to differ.”
“We’re just sleeping together, Jake.”
“I’m well aware,” you say, dusting your thumb over her hardened nipple.
“So do what you’re here for…”
“Oh, you think you call the shots now? I have bad news for you, baby,” you say, tugging her shorts over her hips.
“You think you’re in charge here?” she asks, shimming her hips to kick off the silky shorts.
“I know I am,” you answer, pulling your shirt over your head.
“You would like to think that wouldn’t you,” she counters, watching you push your sweats down your legs.
“You better watch it sweetheart, you’ve got me a little pissed off as it is,” you warn.
“Me? What could I have done?” she smirks.
“You know exactly what you did,” you answer.
She flashes you a knowing grin, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling your lips down to hers connecting your mouths in a fiery kiss. Her tongue slides across your lips just as you part them, letting your tongue tangle with hers. She tastes of wine and mint, her tongue hot on your own. Your hand grips into her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin on your fingers.
You feel her hand snake between the two of you, grabbing your length and stroking you as her lips continue to explore yours. She pulls your body down to hers, swiping your tip through her wet center. You suck in a deep breath feeling her arousal coating you, and you realize that this game of cat and mouse has you more worked up than you thought.
You push her hand away, taking back control, grabbing your dick as you continue to tease her. She is squirming beneath you, as desperate for you as you are for her. Her eyes are dark, her hair splayed across the pillow beneath her head as she looks at you. Her chest is heaving as she watches, the dim lighting in the room casting the perfect shadow against her body.
You lick your lips as you press yourself to her entrance, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as you push forward into her. You sink in easily, her body ready and willing to accept every inch of you as if it had been waiting for you. You settle yourself on your elbow above her, letting your free hand fall to her throat. You can feel her pulse beneath your fingers, rapid and pounding as her body adjusts to you. The darkness in her eyes grows as your grip on her neck tightens.
“Yeah? You want more?” you ask, letting your fingertips dig into her skin. She nods her head quickly, biting her bottom lip.
“Fuck,” you breathe, tightening the grip across her trachea just a little harder, forcing the breath from her lungs and her eyes to close shut. You take the initiative and pull yourself from her, thrusting back in almost as hard as you can, pausing there as you loosen your grip.
Her eyes flash open as she inhales, a pitiful whine falling from her chest. “Fuck, Jake, just go…please, keep going…” she breathes, digging her nails into the skin of your back.
“Feeling needy now, baby? What switched, huh?” you pant, feeling her squeeze herself around you. You pull out slowly, completely disconnecting yourself from her. Your hand is still balanced across her throat, waiting again for the opportune moment. “Ignore me all damn day, fuck…”
She bites her lips in as you hover above her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being fucked at her will. She stays quiet.
“Nothing to say now?” You ask, gliding your tip along her wetness as you hear her breath hitch.
“You’re the one who should have something to say, Jacob,” she bites, giving you a stern look of defiance.
You huff in discernment, knowing exactly what she means, but still unable to go through with any conversation. She raises an eyebrow, her fingers still digging into your muscles. You're absolutely throbbing, your body begging you to get back to the task at hand.
“It’s okay, I know you were preoccupied all day, watching my texts come over your phone… I was alone all day, wondering why you were the one to leave me high and dry this time…” you squeeze your fingers around her neck again as you thrust forward into her with a devilish grin, watching her face contort. You pick up the pace now, using your free hand to balance above her.
Still yet though, she stays silent, leaving the room open for you to speak on what has been clouding both of your minds since Sam walked out the door last night.
You can’t. You just fucking can’t.
You continue pounding into her, the sound of your skin slapping together bouncing off the hotel room walls, uncaring of who could hear as they passed by in the hallway. Her whines become more desperate as your grip on her neck tightens, but you need her to know you’re serious about this, about how she blew you off without hardly a word.
You pull yourself from her, standing onto the floor and reaching to turn her body around to lie on her stomach. You grip her ankles, yanking her down to stand on the floor with you before you press her top half down onto the bed, effectively bending her in half.
You re-enter her from behind, gripping a hand in her hair as you turn her head to the side. Her cheeks are pink and puffy, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. Your thrusts feel unhinged and sloppy as you feel the sweat pooling between your eyebrows and across your chest.
“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N…” you lean down, growling in her ear. “Say this is more than just sleeping together…”
She takes a sharp inhale as you drive yourself particularly deep. “I’m not yours, Jacob…that’s the thing. You—you never told me you wanted something m-more than this…” she breathes.
You grit your teeth as you realize she’s right yet again. I’m not yours…
When you don’t answer her, she speaks up again. “D-do you want to be…mine?” She coos, almost a whisper that stands out against the loud obscenities happening in the room.
Fuck… there it is, the fourth wall, broken.
You open your mouth to answer her, yes, yes! I want to be yours, I want you to be mine… but only air escapes your lips. Suddenly when you look down at the beautiful woman you’re having sex with, all you can see is Isla.
All you can feel is guilt. All you can experience is remorse, and regret, and wrongfulness…
You feel like a shell of yourself. This isn’t right, you and Isla are done. Over with. You can’t stand the thought of being with anyone else except Y/N even if you tried.
But there, the image of the gorgeous face of your first love is burying itself deep into the fibers of your being.
You don’t love Isla anymore. Your subconscious is just telling you you need to make this right.
“Jake…” her voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Guess I’ll take that as a no…”
You pull her hair again, lifting her body back to stand with yours, back to chest. “You take that as no one else can fuck you like I do…no one else can make you feel like I can, isn’t that right, baby?” you crow, avoiding the subject altogether. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
You continue fucking into her, her hands reaching back behind you to twist into your hair as you feel her getting closer; your words making her come unraveled. “Tell me I’m right, tell me it’s just me…”
She keeps quiet as she steps one knee followed by the other onto the bed, arching her back and stepping her knees apart for you to sink more deeply into her. Fuck, this view…
“God damnit baby, you don’t know what you do to me…” you purr, grabbing her asscheeks with both hands as your thrusts become erratic and jagged, you almost forget that she didn’t answer you.
Her cries become deafeningly high as your fingers dig into her, unbridled and vicious, both of you searching for that high you are so close to reaching.
“Ja-aaake…” she cries, her legs shaking and jerking as you feel her muscles fluttering around you as she unravels, and you aren't far behind. You pull out, sending your streams across her back as your vision blinds you with white light.
You both stay in that position for a minute or so as you catch your breath, skin hot and dripping as you feel the weight of the situation come down over you. You slip to the bathroom to get her a warm cloth, returning back to the room to get her cleaned up.
As the two of you lay spent and sweaty on the sheets you hear her phone buzz on the dresser and realize you left yours in your room. You roll towards her as she reaches for it, swiping away a calendar notification with a gentle sigh. You press a kiss to her bare shoulder, watching her eyes blink slowly as she looks at the screen. You want to talk to her. You want to tell her everything that happened between you and Isla. Everything that is still happening. But again, you fear ruining what feels like such a perfect moment with something so dark and twisted.
“Early day tomorrow,” she says, her voice tired.
“Yeah, I think we have a few interviews before soundcheck,” you confirm. “Though, I don’t know what time. I left my phone in my room.”
“How come?”
“Oh, um, no reason. Just didn’t need it. You’re the only person I wanted to talk to I suppose,” you answer.
“You should probably check, you might have to be up early too,” she grins.
“I guess I could go grab it,” you smile back, feeling a warmth in your chest that she doesn't want you to leave.
You stand up from the bed, pulling your sweats back on and your shirt over your head. You pull your room key from your pocket and just as you are about to speak she stops you.
“I’ll see you in the morning?”
Oh. Oh you got this all wrong.
Fuck.
You clear your throat in surprise, “Oh um. Yeah, yeah I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Jake…”
“Night, beautiful,” you answer, walking towards her door. You step through the doorway feeling more confused than you ever had. After the sex, what she said, everything in between, her actions were not meeting up with her words.
You spend the entire walk back to your room thinking about it. You just got booty called and kicked to the curb. While this is typically something that wouldn’t bother you, tonight it did. It stings a little, mostly because it was her. You try not to think too much more about it as your door shuts behind you, and as you step over to find your phone right where you left it, you see a missed call from Isla, only driving in the knife in your chest a little deeper.
—
HER POV
As you rip the plastic covering off a veggie tray, you hear the green room door squeak open, revealing the smiling face of Murph popping inside.
“Hey, you all good in here?” he asks, glancing around to find you alone and busy. “Need a hand with anything?”
You grin and shake your head side to side. “No, I’m all good, thanks. You not busy rushing around chasing after those four?”
He bites his upper lip. “Um, yes. I am. Just wanted to say hello.” His hand slaps the wooden door as you give him a thankful smile, and it swings closed as he leaves you alone again.
Just wanted to say hello, huh?
Your chest feels warm at his little sentiment, as careless as it was. The morning spent with him was nothing short of a mental reset, seeing as how the life you’ve been living with Jake now feels like a rollercoaster that’s about to break apart at the highest point. You’d spent your morning laughing and sharing stories with Murph as he expertly navigated the streets of Paris, your mind effortlessly drifting away from the impending drama that Ruth had discovered. Murph took your mind off it without even trying.
You hear your text notification ding on your phone as you finalize the craft table, and you pull it out to see a text from Ruth.
Ruth
4:59PM: You’re still ignoring him, right? Not giving him the time of fucking day, RIGHT?
You
5:00PM: Well, yes and no…
Ruth
5:00PM: BITCH? What do you mean????
You dust your hands off and take a seat on the couch, crossing your legs and remembering that someone could invade your privacy at any given minute.
You
5:01PM: We kinda… hooked up again last night?
Ruth
5:02PM: ALKSJFLSKGFHLKSDJFBNL
5:02PM: Please tell me you’re fucking joking…
You
5:03PM: 😬
Ruth
5:03PM: Oh my fucking goddddd Y/N okay. Okay! It’s fine. I hate you, what the fuck?
You
5:04PM: I DONT KNOW! Listen. I was trying to give him an opportunity to talk to me. And he didn’t. If it’s any consolation, he tried to act all big and bad about hooking up, and I didn’t play into it AT ALL. In fact I kicked him out promptly after.
Ruth
5:06PM: I’m screaming into the void.
5:06PM: So what now?
You
5:06PM: Now nothing. I’m back to avoiding him.
Ruth
5:06PM: Ok slay I guess.
You
5:07PM: And I guess that we will go out tonight after the show.
Ruth
5:02PM: Just the two of you? Or is Hottie McSexy coming along too?
You
5:03PM: Everyone usually goes. And seeing as how it’s his job to be up their asses, I’m positive McSexy will be there too.
Ruth
5:04PM: Okay and maybe The Rat will take this opportunity to explain to you that he has a female counterpart waiting for him at home, yes? Since he didn’t do it before FUCKING YOU last night?
You
5:05PM: I’m hoping. Until then, I ignore him harder.
Ruth
5:05PM: That’s my boo thang. Lmk how it goes.
You scroll up in your texts with Ruth, seeing the dreaded screenshots of Jake with her, sitting comfortably together on what you imagine to be their porch swing. She’s so fucking pretty… he’d be stupid to let her go?
You take a deep breath, the reminder of it all making you build your wall up even higher. You glance at his backpack sitting in the corner where he always tends to leave it, making the decision that tonight, you won’t fulfill his request for grabbing his wine. Honestly, he can figure something else out. There are plenty of options in the refrigerator. Fuck it.
—
You stay absent when they take the stage, requesting that Paul hand them their drinks tonight, as you have a “female emergency” to attend to in the restroom. Complete lie, but he doesn’t ask questions. You hide away in the restroom as you envision Jake’s confusion when Paul doesn’t have a drink to hand him. Paul normally doesn’t have much to do during the actual shows, so grabbing a drink or two for Jake shouldn’t be an issue.
After about ten minutes of hiding you rejoin Paul, noticing that he had grabbed a few seltzers for Jake and lined them up beside his amp. Ha ha. Watching the show alone from side stage feels strange tonight as Ty, Mia, and Lyla have decided to stand on Sam’s side. You hang back in the wings a bit, distracting yourself from watching Jake try his best to get your attention for the entirety of the show. But you don’t let him get the best of you, intentionally ripping your eyes away from him each and every time eye contact is made.
After the encore, you energetically hand Josh, Danny, and Sam their towels, showing little to no emotion in the act of handing Jake his, at all. You have to let him know you’re upset. And if he doesn’t pick up on your body language and lack of communication, he will at least notice your blatant ignorance of his existence.
You fall into the middle of the group as everyone exits backstage toward the green room. “Hey, Y/N, talk to me…” you hear him say from behind you as he grabs your hand, pulling you back from following everyone else down the dimly lit hallway. “What’s going on?” he asks when you finally turn, his eyes full of heavy sorrow.
You rip your hand from his grasp, his touch feeling like a foreign stranger. “Nothing, Jake,” you lie, biting your tongue and turning to walk away.
“Hey, please, talk to me…” he begs, his hand raking across your back as you turn away. “I know I… we need to talk, I think…” his voice is strained over the loud sound of the exit song.
“You think?” you bark back, making harsh eye contact with him for the first time all night. He’s left speechless as Murph makes his way up behind you, pulling you away from the moment. He shines his flashlight onto the ground in front of Jake, ushering him along.
“Come on Jake, let’s get you out of here…” Murph pushes without even giving you a passing glance.
Jake gives him a quick look of distaste before giving you an up down, and following behind Murph as they make their way down the remainder of the hallway. You’re left standing alone in the darkness under the high metal beams of the stage, feeling more conflicted than ever. And not to mention, still seething with anger.
—
Your hands feel shaky as you busy yourself with cleaning up the food and drinks in the green room, your face flushed and your hearing muddled as the anger courses its way through your veins. It’s hot and loud, the guys all still amped up on post-show adrenaline and wanting to continue on their highs for the night.
“Where are we headed, guys?” Mia asks as she sits herself down on the couch.
“Ah, me Jake and Ty found a quiet little place earlier today, it was tiny and tucked away, we could go back there?” Josh speaks up, still clad in his shiny jumpsuit. You try your best to tune them out, pressing play on your phone to listen to whatever music was playing on your singular earbud.
“Doooooo they have… cheap beer?” Sam sings.
“I don't know about cheap, but they have beer…” Ty replies through a laugh.
“Perfect!” Sam yells as he stands from his seat. “Let us go!”
You notice how quiet Jake has stayed, a switch from his normal partaking in the rambunctiousness of post-show excitement with his brothers. You hear them all begin to get themselves together and file out. You know one of them is going to ask if you’re coming along, they always do. So you muster up the courage to make a decision, when all you really want to do is retreat back to your hotel room bed for the night.
But no. You know what?
“Y/N! You coming?” you hear Ty’s voice bellow over the group. You turn and catch his eyes as you watch him wink at you. He nods his head in a ‘come on’ motion. Ty always knows.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Jake pause, waiting for your answer.
“Yeah, I could use a drink tonight!” you say. “I’ll finish up here and be right behind you. Send me the address?”
“Sure thing, see you in a bit,” Ty responds. “It’s literally right around the corner.”
—--
You saunter confidently into the pub, finding your whole group to have taken up the majority of the place, it’s so small. Just like always, your eyes immediately click with Jake’s first, and when he doesn’t break the contact, you pull yourself away, latching on to Ty and Josh at the other end of the bar.
Just like in the green room, the air is heavy and hazy and loud, everyone still riding their highs and letting the drinks flow. You decide on something a little heavier tonight, knowing that you abso-fucking-lutely deserve it after the day you’d endured.
You catch sight of Murph posted in a corner booth, chewing on a toothpick as his head stays on a swivel. He catches you looking, giving you a tiny smile before letting his eyes scan the room again.
You make yourself at home on a barstool, and just before lifting a round of shots into the air with Ty and Josh, you feel Jake’s presence behind you again, interrupting you. You meet him with a questioning look, obviously perturbed at the feeling of his hand on your back as you try to celebrate with his twin.
“Go ahead,” he concedes, motioning for you to take the shot. So you do, never looking away from him as you let the liquor flow down your throat, urging yourself to not make a face as you swallow it down.
“Can I help you with something?” you ask, your voice sounding a little more vengeful than you’d meant to. The liquor is definitely already working. His face pulls back, shocked at your words. He almost looks hurt.
“Shit, I guess not…” he says. “I’ve just been–”
“Jake! Come here!” you hear Danny yell from a few tables away. “Hurry!”
Jake looks at Danny and back at you, and you raise your eyebrows toward him, urging him to go on. You can’t talk here. Not in this environment. And honestly, you’re having way too much fun getting drunk and ignoring him while you steal passing glances with Murph from across the room.
After a little while, Murph comes and sits at the barstool beside you, talking to Josh while you sit between them. They’re discussing something work-related, but Murph is purposefully leaning in to you, his toned torso brushing heavily into your shoulder. You’re not really listening to them, as your mind has gone absolutely fuzzy at the feeling of him touching you. What the fuckkkkkk. The tequila lining your veins most definitely isn’t helping the fact that you are wholeheartedly loving this, knowing that Jake is standing three feet away, watching it all unfold. And the best part is, you’re locked into your bar stool, unable to get up if you wanted to. They’ve caged you in.
“Isn’t that right, Y/N?” you hear Murph’s silky smooth drawl interrupt your thoughts.
“What? What?” you perk up.
“The twenty cases of water we loaded will most likely be gone in a week and a half, yeah?” he says, rolling the toothpick between his teeth as his eyes stay bouncing around the room.
“Oh! Yeah, actually, probably so, with the way the crew drinks it,” you agree, not really caring about the subject as Josh laughs it off.
“Murph, you know you’re horrible at paying attention to conversations?” you say without a shadow of a filter.
“What?” he asks through a smile.
“Your eyes. You never stop looking around. You hardly ever look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you…” you go on explaining. Josh has now abandoned the conversation, turning back to Ty.
You feel Murph lean in even closer to you, his mouth only inches from your ear. “I’m trained to watch, Y/N. Trained to always be aware, all of the time. But, I can assure you, when I’m not on the job, my attention is 100% focused on who I’m spending my time with.”
His words make your stomach swirl. “Mmm, I’d have to see it to believe it.”
He pulls back, his neck still twisting right to left to right again. “Maybe you will sometime.”
Just then, you feel your phone buzz in your lap, and you lift it to see a notification through the blurriness of your intoxicated vision.
‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’
Your stomach drops as you know he is watching you see the notification. You open the playlist, scrolling to the bottom to see what in the hell he could have added right now.
Of course, ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ by the Beatles.
You scoff, feeling like if anyone is being let down, it’s you. You let your phone fall back into your lap before turning your attention back to your drink and to your conversation with Murph. You know Jake is watching, still, and you know that seeing you ignore him was only pissing him off more.
And for some reason, it gets you hot.
Stop it, Y/N, fuck. The horrid and ridiculous thoughts of Jake being jealous of you and the man sitting beside you has your stomach in excited knots, and you know it’s just the alcohol, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t absolutely turn you on, similarly to what had happened last night.
You feel the energy in the room shift as everyone begins to make moves to leave. You feel a little sad, realizing that your intoxication has only just hit its peak. “Aw, we leaving already?” you ask no one in particular.
“Looks that way…” Murph says as he stands from his stool. You catch sight of Jake sticking close to Josh and Danny as they make their way to the exit.
“Murph, my friend, why don’t you take the rest of the night off?” Dean says as he comes up behind you, laying a hand on Murph’s shoulder. “Monty and Sasha and I have got this, not a far walk back.”
“Oh, no no, it’s okay. I’m good…” he argues.
“Ah, come on, Murph! Stayyyyyy…” you beg playfully, giving him yearning eyes. But they were for good reason, you want him to stay.
“You’ve had a long day, kid. Rest of us relaxed while you loaded water. Stay. Have a beer or three…” Dean gives him no choice as he makes a quick exit, ushering the rest of the group out the door. Jake never even turns around.
“Well! Uh, that’s never happened before!” Murph says as he anxiously rubs his hands over his pants. “Guess uh, guess I’m off the clock?”
“Ha, ha! Guess you are!” you say confidently, sipping from your skinny straw. “Sir, this gentleman will have your largest pils,” you motion to the bartender, earning a nod.
“Oh, you ordering for me now?” Murph laughs, turning sideways in his stool to face you.
“Yeah, got a problem?” you say, bumping your shoulder into him and feeling more confident now that you aren’t under the watchful eye of everyone else.
The bartender sets the beer on a coaster in front of Murph, and he reaches for a salt shaker, sprinkling a little onto the foamy head of the draft. “Nah, no problem at all, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?!” you exclaim. “Aren’t I a little young to be referred to as that?” you ask.
He shakes his head as he takes a drink. “No, where I’m from, everyone of equal age or older is referred to as ma’am, or sir. ‘S just how I was raised, not meant to be offensive.”
“Oh,” you say, still surprised. “Of equal age, how do you know how old I am?” you press.
He sets his beer down, rubbing his hands against each other. You catch sight of his calloused palms and gritted fingernails, being instantly attracted that he works with his hands. “Well, I know you’re over twenty-three, twenty-four because, obviously, you have no problem holding your liquor… you’re not over thirty-five, because you just called a beer a Pils. You have experience in your profession and you hold yourself well, and you got really excited and knew all the words when that Nickelback song randomly came on the radio in the truck this morning.”
Oh, my god? He… pays attention…
“Sooo…” you mutter.
“So, I’m going to guess… twenty-six.”
Your jaw falls open. “Holy shit.”
He smiles smugly as he takes a large drink of his beer, reaching his hand up to pat himself on the back.
“How did you do that?” you ask, stunned.
He shrugs. “It’s a gift, I’m also trained to read people.” He leans in, giving you a playfully suspicious glare.
“Okay, so read something else,” you urge, sitting up taller in your seat.
You feel the skin on your chest turn red as you try to hold your confidence. He takes a deep breath, scanning his eyes all over you. “Something is bothering you tonight. You don’t normally drink tequila, only when you’re trying to forget about something, distract yourself. You keep checking your phone but you’re keeping it face-down, so you don’t get caught off guard by a notification. You’re choosing when you let yourself look at it, telling me you like to be in control of situations. And, if I had to guess, what’s bothering you has something to do with that important call you missed this morning.”
Holy shit…again. What the…
“Alright, alright, you can stop now,” you wave him off, turning away and sipping from your straw again.
You hear him laugh through his nose. “Told you, it’s a gift.”
“Yeah well, you– you’re too good,” you bark.
His hand gently sits on your arm, the warmth emanating off his palm. “Hey, just forget about it, whatever it is. We’re here to have some fun, huh?”
His words are friendly and reassuring as you feel that same swirl erupt in your stomach again. “Yeah, you’re right,” you concede. “Fun. Actually, ever since they left, your eyes haven’t scanned the room even once.”
He blushes. “I can relax, Y/N, if given the opportunity.” His eyes fall to your lips, and you watch as he sucks in a tight breath, feeling no embarrassment that you caught him in the act. You reach your tongue to swipe across your bottom lip, taking the entirety of him in with your eyes, too. Suddenly visions of you and Jake last night come flying back into your memory, but you push them away, knowing that it’s only your subconscious telling you you’re about to make a rash decision. But you go against your gut, knowing that you had given Jake more than enough chances to make things right. And he had taken exactly zero of them.
You place a hand on the edge of your stool, leaning in closer to him. “Are you enjoying your opportunity?” you whisper.
You feel the unfamiliar but welcome graze of his light touch on your thigh, his hand barely ghosting up from your knee. “Very, very much so…”
There’s a heavy pause in the conversation as the two of you inch in closer, so close that you can feel his exhales hitting your lips. His eyes are darting quickly across your face as you feel his breathing pick up a little, the warmth of his body physically pouring itself on to you. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly stand it, and the anticipation of his proximity is making you more dizzy than the tequila did.
You breathe in heavily through your nose, the smell of his cologne finally making sense in your mind. Pine. He smells like pine.
As your lips barely ghost his, a zap of electricity courses through your body, and Jake is the absolute furthest thing from your mind. All you can think about is Murph. All you can feel is him, he’s surrounding you, clouding up your mind entirely…
His breath hitches at the tiniest bit of contact that’s made and you take a second to press into him a little further.
“Murph…” you whisper against him. “What’s your real name?”
You can tell he’s holding himself back, letting you be the one to make the attempt to finally connect the two of you. Your eyes flutter closed as your ears go almost completely deaf, taking in the feeling of the softness of his lips as they smile sweetly against yours.
“Ezra… Ezra Murphy,” he breathes.
“Ezra…” you repeat, kissing into his mouth with the utmost caution while letting all of your insecurities tumble down around you. Suddenly there’s no sound, there’s no light, there’s no air left in your lungs… just him, only him, and the tightness of his hand on your thigh as he kisses you back. You lean into him, opening your mouth just a little bit more to let him in. His thick mustache is rough on your skin, but you couldn’t care less. You feel his tongue barely press through before pulling back again… the tiny breaths going in and out through his nose only adding to the sweet taste of him. His other hand finds your cheek, his thumb drifting across your chin as his fingertips gently grip at your skull. Fuck, he feels good… he feels really, really fucking good…
You exhale hard as you disconnect the fairly quick kiss, a stunned and surprised look of intrigue taking over both your haughty expressions. “Wow…” you mutter.
“Yeah, wow…” he parrots. “I’ve wanted to do that all night…”
“Uh-uhm…” you hear someone behind him clear their throat. You both disconnect contact as you turn around, finding none other than Josh holding his credit card between his two fingers, tapping its edge on the bar. “Sorry to uh, interrupt…” he says, forcing a fake smile. “Forgot my card.”
Fuck. Shiiiiiit. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
“Oh, no big deal, man. You uh, you need me to walk you back?” Murph collects himself, turning directly back into work mode.
“No no, stay here. Monty’s outside,” Josh responds, looking directly at you. “You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Josh walks away and disappears through the door as you’re left completely stunned, unable to form a thought. Murph spins back around to face you, a little bit taken aback himself. “That was kinda awkward…” he laughs.
“You think?” you try to laugh along, all the while feeling an overwhelming wave of emotions.
Embarrassed, confused, pissed, turned on…
“Um. You uh, you ready to go back?” Murph asks, wiping his fingers across his lips as he throws some money down onto the bar.
“Think that’s probably best,” you agree, standing to grab your jacket off the back of the stool.
As you and Murph walk silently back to the hotel, the alcohol hits you a little differently, adding heavier emotions than you could bear to carry. You want to reach out and grab his hand, let him steady you as you stumble your way back home, but you know that’s not in your best interest, right now. He gives you tiny smiles and offers to open the lobby doors, letting you walk inside before him to the elevator doors.
You both climb inside as the doors close behind you. “You want me to walk you the rest of the way up?” he asks, knowing he is getting off a few floors before you.
You lean your back against the wall of the elevator, crossing your arms across your chest. “No, I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.” Your voice feels heavier as the elevator ascends.
Finally, the elevator stops and the doors open to his floor. “Wait, Murph…” you stop him. He turns back to face you, his hand stopping the doors from closing. “I uh, I had fun with you, tonight.”
His lips curl up into a small smile. “Me too, Y/N. Thanks for helping me relax, I’m actually a little sad it got cut short…” he says.
“Me, too,” you agree with a nod, and he steps back from the sliding doors, offering you a wave of goodnight before the doors enclose you and your thoughts completely.
As you walk back into your hotel room ready to strip down and let the warmth of the covers envelop you again, you somehow wish you could take it all back. Wish you would have never been seated next to Jake on that very first flight. Wish you would have never followed him into that random bar bathroom…
Your mind is so fuzzed up it almost feels blank. You like Jake, you really do. But the longer he waits to tell you the truth, the more resentment you hold toward him. The last thing you want to be is someone who destroys a home. The shame you feel for even texting him last night is one of the heaviest you’ve ever felt in your life.
And Murph, his protection… blissfully unaware of the entire situation at all, being a gentleman and treating you with open kindness. Fuck. It’s all so fucked.
You’re feeling your eyelids start to droop as you hear your phone buzz beside you, the light blinking you awake.
It’s not a text, though…it’s an instagram notification.
There in the center of your screen is a request from Jake’s partner herself.
Ms. Isla J. Whitman would like to be your friend.
Isla…
.
.
.
.
.
.
Join the Taglist Here
Taglist: @britney-gvf @gretavanmoon @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet smut#greta van smut#greta van fic#jake kiszka#jacob thomas kiszka#greta van fluff#gvf smut#gvf fic#gvf series#jake gvf#gvf#jake kiszka smut#jacob kiszka#gretavangroupie#jtk x reader#gretavanfluff#gretavanmoon#greta van angst#greta van fleet fic#jake kiskza x reader#Jacob Kiszka#josh kiszka#Daniel wagner#sam kiszka#the ripe and the ruin
38 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii noticed ur asks were open and wanted to say i adore ur work, it's super fluid and dynamic and it makes my day to see it! both writing and artwork!
i wanted to share a doodle i made of diego when reading Reprogrammed for the first time, before i realized there was an official design by you (i read the fic before finding ur tumblr) ^_^
+ a wip of something i drew while reading Reprogrammed, (i did start tearing up and this was while i was listening to your playlist for it,) that i don't know if i'll ever finish, but since I made it with your fic in mind, i thought it would be nice to share:
once more, thank you so much for your work in general, you're a great artist and author and not only am i excited to see more of your work, but i'm also excited to just generally see how you're doing and wish you the best in life :)
THESE ARE SO COOL I LOVE THEM WHAT THE HELL!!!!!
oughh I love how similar your Diego drawing is to his actual design despite not having seen it yet
and thank you so much oAHDASDH YOU'RE SO NICE!!!!! RAHHH!!!! PUTTING YOU IN A SNOW GLOBE AND SHAKING VIGOROUSLY!!!!!! /AFF
#wild kratts#littlecrittereli#wk reprogrammed au#reprogrammed au#asks#wild kratts au#REPROGRAMMED FANART FEEDS ME#I JUST OUGRRRR R R R R R R R R BARK BARK BARK BARK#it makes me so happy#thank you *incoherent sobbing noises*
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
— like we were before
Track 07: downtown lights 𓆩♡𓆪
୨♡୧ I got the dice concept from 5SOS and 4NEMO's positions from DAY6.
୨♡୧ Kazuha influenced Y/N's music taste. They got into music because of him and when they started dating, Y/N used to post the songs they heard from him. It's why their account is a bit popular— because people started liking the recommendations. They stopped doing it when they broke up.
୨♡୧ Lumine is protective and petty, that's all I can say.
It's my favorite chapter so far and I was listening to Fade Into You by Mazzy Star the whole time I was doing it. The indirect dedication of songs was something— you know the feeling of posting a song on your story, hoping they'd bother checking out the lyrics. If you want to listen to the LWWB playlist, here is the link.
🔖taglist: @swivi @whipped-for-fictionals
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
#genshin impact#genshin smau#genshin imagines#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#genshin kazuha#kazuha x reader#kazuha x y/n#kazuha x you#kaedehara kazuha#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kaedehara kazuha x y/n#kaedehara kazuha x you#genshin#smau#like we were before
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hopefully you can find it, I dont think there's many playlists on spotify called "Bard Scar". I hope you don't mind me using your art for the cover, I'll change it immediately if you do mind!
And please let me know what you think of the song selection 0v0
I FOUND IT. AND LISTENED TO THEM ALL (and using the art is fine!!!!!!!!!! <3)
gfjdkgjfdkg ok hmmmmmm
i really like "burn butcher burn" on this. because at the start i was like "this is to the secret keeper". but it's not. it's to his former self. he wants to burn that "persona" because he's someone different now. and if that person ever comes back he'll ruin everything. that's what i think now and it gave me chills hehe
"city of stars" but it's the city of boatem gkfdjgkf some place where they all wanted to make it big, but it just didn't work out that way... and they found home in each other instead. and maybe they can work with that!!!!! for a while...
"don't you dare" is so interesting because. objectively this should be a thing. but i don't think he sees grian this way!!!! he genuinely wants to get closer to this lit fuse of a guy kgjfdkgjf he doesn't care about getting hurt very much. though this could be a thing after he's spilled his secrets and thinks he's lost his partner because of it kgjfdkgj anyway i like it hehe
"noel's lament" is interesting because i like the over-all sentiment kgjfdkgj "i choose to burn out rather than fade away" nods nods nods this bard desperately wants to mean something
"everything i ever thought" is so GOOD gfdkjgkfdg "i wonder who i am" nfgdskjjsfkg baaaaaaaah idk what to say very very good also a good bard song in general i think hehe
BATTLE CRYYYYY,,,,,,, shakes you!!!!!!!! this is the answer to "i wonder who i am", the "i choose to burn out rather than fade away"!!!!!! it's all coming together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's going to give it his all because that's who he is!!!!!! i keep thinking about laudna from critical role campaign 3 saying something like "the worst thing that'll ever happen to me has already happened" and i think scar has a similar mindset to that. his world has already fallen apart in the strangest way so he'd better try his best as a whole new person!!!!! and he loves his guys very very much
"allies or enemies" hehe are we fighting i guess we're fighting gkfjdgkf it's honestly just a matter of time before things fall apart between all of them (not just with grian) gkfjdkg they have very different goals and mindsets and backgrounds and even though they all care about each other they are very guarded. so i. i really like this one mhm
i'm not entirely sure why pike trickfoot is there but i super love pike so YAY
"ashes" is such a good tavern song i can totally see him performing it in between his merry repertoire and the whole tavern going quiet for it... because yeah... there's more to this free-spirited bard than meets the eye huh fjdkgjfd it's so interesting i really like it
TAVERN BRAWL GJFDKGJFDK YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES i wanna say this one is just for me i love vox machina gfjdkgjkf but YO this is such a good bard battle song in particular yes i love it
also i wanna say the amount of "can't help falling in love" is really funny because yes to me this man is a hopeless romantic in every sense of the word, not just romantic love. he has a romantic sentiment towards the world in general!!!!
SO YEAH. WHAT AN ESSAY I APOLOGIZE KGJFKDJG I HOPE YOU CAN SEE THAT I LOVE IT???? :D :D :D THANK YOU FOR THIS PLAYLIST AHHH IT'S SO FUN THANK YOU I HOPE YOU LIKE MY THOUGHTS TOO /sweats
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm here to VENT. mayor warnings about SA
As days goes by i keep hurting. i've been kinda boycotting Lose My Breath and i say kinda bc i didn't report posts nor playlists but just shared info about why it is so hard for some of us to listen to the collab, the gen0cide going on and the fact that man is a r@pe apologist and a zion!st. I am a SA survivor myself and its hard for me to see the boys supporting and promoting this song so much. I detached from their music since the collab dropped cuz i couldn't block it on my spotify for some damned reason and i was terrified to hear him or this song.
Today after what i feel was a long long time Cover Me came on shuffle and i started to cry right then and there bc i missed my boys so fucking much and i felt like i was losing them. I don't know what to do about my feelings anymore and idk if im the only one feeling this way. Please just help me.
#skz stay#stray kids#skz#kpop#stay skz#stray kids stays#bang chan#christopher bang#lee know#lee felix#lee minho#hyunjin#changbin#han jisung#skz jisung#skz felix#seungmin#i.n#jeongin
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
i love creating my playlist for the day and by that i mean putting my cds in the order i want to listen to them in. i will start off the day with “carmen” by george bizet, and if i get through that i will listen to some kendrick lamar, and if i get through that i will listen to some mongolian folk music, and if i get through that i will listen to some korn, and i probably won’t have time after that so i haven’t decided for sure but after that i’ll either listen to some experimental 80s electronic music or the greatest hits of kool and the gang
#genuinely so excited for this lineup#first of all the library’s only lamar cd was finally back on the shelf this week so i’m excited for that#and secondly i’m dipping my toe back into opera for the first time since high school!! i got carmen and figaro and we’ll go from there#ryddles
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Me: Okay guys, I gotta lot of different things I want to write, I'm gonna take a little break from Touch to work on them.
Also me: *opens word doc* Touch, Chapter 18....
#Arvandus rambles#bruh I dunno what happened#I woke up H word for Barbatos this morning#but then I started listening to my playlists#and I started thinking about Them#and now here we are#I still plan to do the other stuff too *cough*Inumaki arranged marriage*cough*#but mannnn#truly my comfort character/fic
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
#I hope a lot of people see this#poll#music#metal#Im genuinely just so curious about how people build their music taste#I’d say I most often find an artist on a Spotify generated playlist or in my recommendations#and I’ll listen to their top songs then start going through their albums#but I do love using gnoosic and obscurify#I also love finding small playlists#esp ones made by musicians#huge fan of the aggrotech attack playlist#I like pride myself on having extremely obscure taste in music lol#I love showing people cool small bands they’ve never heard of before#on that note check out My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult#and Xorcist
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
IM GOING TO GET YOUUUUUU IM GOING TO GET YOU BEBER
I may have made some questionable life decisions
#i almost choke on my food when rabbit hole started playing#I didn’t even have it in my playlist I was listening to some random songs on YouTube#my art#yes I’m putting it in the tag#goodnight
528 notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel very strongly about keiths music taste.
#my art#vld#voltron#voltron legendary defender#comic#hunk garrett#lance mcclain#pidge holt#keith kogane#this was one of the first vld comics i thought of when i started making these but i didnt think it was that funny#but then i decided its nit abt being funny its abt projecting my britney obsession on keith so.#hunks excited bc he finally found someone on this ship with decent taste#lance listens to weezer and like. 21 pilots and pidge gecs and listens to vocaloid#shiro listens to like. cigarette dad music from the 2000s#allura hasnt heard human music yet so shes out#anyways#that screenshot is my britney playlist on spotify btw
809 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
emseu
Emseu
angered-box
just a lil' guy
coralsuitrebel
Naamloos
jensencart
Art of Jensen Couch
myseductivethoughts
my seductive thoughts