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ineffable-suffering · 7 months

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Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

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copperbadge · 6 months

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In the ongoing discussion of aphantasia (see "an aphantasia fantasia" tag for more) an article popped up recently which has some details to share, including a history of how aphantasia was discovered in the scientific sense. I don't have "spatial thoughts" the way the author does, but it's also a pretty good discussion of how people who don't form mental images (or can't access sound, smell, etc in their minds) still interact normally with the world.

Here's some fucked up shit I didn't expect, however:

In a 2015 paper, a group of researchers [...] identified a new syndrome they called “Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory,” or SDAM for short. People with SDAM lack the ability to relive past experiences in their minds. While this condition is rare among the general population, a preliminary survey hints at a link with aphantasia, with as many as 51 percent of a sample of 2,000 SDAM individuals also having aphantasia. My own experience is similar. Past episodes of my life—when I can recall them at all—feel distant and non-sensory. [...] I would describe my recollections as summaries of key facts rather than first-person “mind movies.” When asked, out of the blue, about an experience I’ve surely had—say, any childhood birthday party—my mind first responds by drawing a blank. It feels as if my episodic memories were filed into a “mental cabinet” without an index. Many memories are in there, somewhere, but retrieving them is a daunting task unless I’m provided with very specific prompts. With some groping work of deduction (where did I live at the time? Who did I hang out with?) I can gather enough hints to bring out some locations and non-visual facts: I had a big party in our countryside garden when I was 11 or 12; there was cake; a lot of kids running around and … that’s about it.

This is one hundred percent how I access memory and how I assumed everyone did -- I am well aware I don't remember chunks of my past (or only remember them if prompted by something) but I do the same thing he does. I ask myself where I was living, or what other things were happening at the time, or I snag on a rare memory of a piece of clothing or a feeling, and I extrapolate from there. I don't relive memories in the way that the article implies regular people do, and while I will recognize say, the smell of a specific library, a deeply ingrained scent for me, I don't remember the smell if I'm not standing there smelling it. And this explains my dedication to making an annual photobook documenting the past year, each December -- the photobooks are powerful memory triggers and have more than once reminded me where I was or what year it was when I did XYZ thing.

Also, turns out that one of the key methods for emotional regulation in most people is calling up a happy memory to counteract sad ones, which is why depression is so pervasive, because depressed people have literal biological impairments to remembering or reliving positive memories.

And SDAM, associated with aphantasia, is an impairment to reliving any memory at all, so...

Big ol' neurological yikes, guys.

#sam has adhd #an aphantasia fantasia #aphantasia

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norrizzandpia · 6 months

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i love your story’s but the way you write oscar and lando are amazing!!!!

okk so i have an idea where the reader is a f1 driver and is a rookie this year as well and her and oscar and have been teammates since karting they ended up going to boarding a school together as well so they are best friends but oscar’s always been in LOVE with her and she just always thought he thought of her as a sister so she never showed any romantic feelings but maybe everyone on the grid thought they were dating and they are at club or party after race and the reader is being flirted with a stranger and the grid notices thinking the two were together telling oscar who denies they are together but still goes over their and drags her out of the part and he gets jealous and admits his feelings maybe angrily admits them and the reader smiled and kissed him

lowkey could see the reader as a landos little sister if you wanted to add more of a story or drama :)

This was so fun to write 🤭 i hope y’all like it

Loving You in the Shadows (OP81)

Summary: They’ve been together for years. Well, they haven’t been together for years. Yet.

Warnings: language, angst, happy ending tho, lots of yearning and longing, sad Oscar

Note: hehehe have fun everyone!!!! Btw shes a long one so buckle up

Lando’s little sister was the first thing he and Oscar bonded over. Throughout the years, he had heard of the friend Y/n had made through karting and school. He was quite elated to hear she was having so much fun with this boy, silencing his worries over the Australian’s intentions. They had met a few times before Oscar officially became his teammate with Oscar having come over to the house multiple times during holidays. Nonetheless, when they were introduced as teammates, Lando took to truly getting to know Oscar.

Surprisingly, getting to know Oscar proved to be easy as all the Australian wanted to talk about was Lando’s little sister.

That was the first time Lando truly ever had an inkling Oscar felt more for Lando’s little sister than he let on. The nagging feeling was forced to the forefront of his brain when Oscar won his first podium and the first person he went to find in the crowd was the girl who had placed P5, his “best friend”. Watching them hug and Y/n shouting out how proud she was of him, Lando clocked the unfamiliar glint in Oscar’s eyes as he stared down at her. It was unlike anything he had ever seen and that image plagued his mind at all times of the day.

He pushed to know more about them, his sister having been decently private about their friendship to everyone. He would slip in small questions about their previous times together every once in a while, amassing information over time.

He learned just how close they grew when they lived one building from each other in school, Oscar making it a regular routine to spend most days over at her dorm as they did homework together. He began to observe her face as she reminisced on that part of their life together. A lazy, adoring smile on her face as she detailed the moment where Oscar had snuck out of his dorm to show up at hers and demand help on his English essay. She would laugh and shake her head as if she was right back there, experiencing the moment again.

Suddenly, he was getting whiplash, realizing his sister was wholly in love with his teammate.

Their interactions became clearer to him even though they were, on the surface, completely platonic. The way her hands would stay glued to her sides, physically trying to restrain herself from reaching out for him; the way he would hug her and hold on a millisecond too long, just enough to breathe her in the way he desperately wanted to, but not enough for it to raise eyebrows.

That was when he understood they were both in love with each oth- “Mate?”

Oscar’s voice filled his thoughts, shutting off the episode he was watching in his head.

Shaking his head, Lando looked up at his teammate standing over him, “What’s up?”

Oscar’s eyebrows pulled together, “The team’s been calling you for ages. They’re ready for us.”

Lando’s mouth formed an “o” shape, nodding vigorously as he checked his phone to see all the missed calls and texts.

“I know you’re usually late, but you seemed kind of far away when I found you. You okay?” Oscar asked, head turned to him as they began walking toward the film equipment.

Lando feigned innocence, “Mmm, yeah? I’m fine.”

Oscar shook his head, “If you say so.”

Their conversation ended there as they reached the woman interviewing them for a Sky Sports segment. The two sat in their chairs, looking expectantly at the presenter with the flashcards in her hands.

The red light glowed bright, a sign for them to reel themselves in and slide into their PR trained skins, “Hi, everyone! Welcome back to another Sky Sports interview. Today we welcome some of the most talked about drivers on the grid as of right now, Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris! Hi, boys!”

They nodded simultaneously, smiles prevalent on their faces. Their time with the woman was limited, so she flew into questions quickly. Gradually, they transitioned from topics such as their car and the expectations they hold for the rest of the season to more personal ones such as Y/n.

“So, you both have a pretty close relationship with another driver on the grid, Y/n Norris. Of course, Lando, she’s your sister and Oscar, your best friend. Has that proved to be difficult? Having to share that time with her on top of how busy all your schedules are?” The woman smiled, leaning her elbow on her knee as she searched for the “real answers” behind their eyes.

Lando coughed to cover up his scoff, slightly annoyed by such an insinuation. His little sister never had a problem with priorities and self-discipline. The three all understood that F1 took a pretty heavy emphasis on her schedule, but they also saw how much effort she put in to keep their relationships growing. They never had to “share” her because she was already balanced enough to see everyone.

By the time Lando calmed his annoyance and protectiveness, Oscar had taken the question.

“No, not at all. Having to share her has never and will never be a thing. She’s an incredibly smart person who is capable of managing her time and managing it well. She has proved time and time again that, even when F1 gets crazy, we still hold a place in her schedule. To think that Lando and I essentially fight for her attention is weird and completely untrue.”

The woman is taken aback by his firm answer, however Lando can see the wheels turn in her head as she calculates her next words, “You seem very close with her, Oscar.”

It’s as if he doesn’t understand her inference, his smile brightening as he speaks, “Yeah! Y/n and I have been friends for years. She and I made some great memories together during our karting days and especially our boarding school days.”

Again, he doesn’t seem to notice the way in which his words have communicated, the presenter’s eyes bulging as she smiles tightly, “Oh?”

“Yeah!” Lando’s shoulders sink as he watches his teammate get taken advantage of by the press, knowing everyone will be misconstruing and manipulating his words. His green eyes glaze over as the feelings of hopelessness overtake him. He wishes to protect his little sister’s oasis with Oscar as much as he can, yet he fails in this instance.

Nevertheless, the interview concludes and the two boys are sent on their way, chatting freely again.

It’s by pure coincidence that they run into Y/n, the girl running around the paddock manically. She runs straight into Oscar’s chest as they round a corner, his arms immediately wrapping around her at the movement. When it dawns on the two of them who have just interrupted their conversation, identical smiles fall on their faces. Smiles which hold two very different forms of love.

“Y/n!” Oscar says cheerfully, falling into their forced hug comfortably.

Lando murmurs a quick hello, going into observation mode as if it’s second nature. What his eyes catch this time is the same thing they always have: lovesick grins and barely there touches.

He nods along with whatever his sister spouts off, his mind elsewhere. Although, when he sees Oscar’s face fall at her information and his body flying around, running in the direction they just came from, he realizes it’s probably best to tune in.

“What’s going on?” He asks, concerned, whilst grabbing his sister’s arm and forcing her to stay long enough to clue him in.

Her chuckling makes the tension in his shoulders ease, “Oh, it’s just I lost that McLaren sweatshirt Oscar gave me with his number on it last year. I know it’s in the paddock somewhere because I showed up wearing it, but I can’t remember where I put it.”

Lando’s face scrunches, “Why do you have merch from another team? And why are you wearing it to a race where you’re working for another team?”

Her innocent smile equates to his heart crushing, her naivety getting the best of her, “Because Oscar got it for me and I want to support him. He’d do the same for me.”

He nods, not wanting to bring up the topic of Oscar having feelings for her again after they’d had it so many times before. All he does is scoff obnoxiously as she runs off after Oscar, yelling, “When are you going to wear one of my sweatshirts?!”

Her gleaming face catches his eyes, “Never! That’s what sisters are for!”

He laughs to himself, “That doesn’t make any sense!”

But, she’s too far to hear him and, in the distance, he sees her reach Oscar, her body crashing into his as she hugs him from the side. His arms coming around to squeeze her impossibly close, Lando wonders if they’ll ever realize what’s left unsaid.

—

Dinner with the grid is always chaotic and tonight is no different. Every single driver in the 2023 season sits in a chair in the corner of a luxurious restaurant, a table so loud people have purposefully moved away. Their laughs echo off the walls and different conversations taking place from every part of the table announce their presence unlike anything else.

“Lando, I’ve always wondered how you felt when Oscar and Y/n told you they were together?” Charles’ giddy voice floats across the party, everyone clueing in to Lando’s answer whilst simultaneously keeping their chatter going.

It’s only when Oscar and Y/n deny their being together that the group falls incredibly silent.

“What?” Daniel asks in disbelief, eyes bulged and mouth agape as he stares at the two.

Lando shakes his head, not surprised in the least that his friends and coworkers believed in something so obvious.

“We aren’t together?” Y/n repeats, Oscar’s face heating up as he sinks slightly into his chair beside her.

Esteban slams his hands on the table as he gasps, slightly drunk, “Yes, you are!”

It’s when his sister stutters, at a loss for words, that Lando steps in, “They aren’t together, guys.”

Every driver aside from the two McLaren drivers and the one female driver sits frozen in their seats, minds reeling from the revelation.

“But,” Alex begins, “what about Y/n wearing Oscar’s number?” His eyes meet each driver, still stunned.

Y/n laughs, “It’s a joke!”

Lando sees the way Oscar’s eyes slowly trail up to stare at the side of her face. They’re drowning in sorrow and longing, the first time Lando’s ever seen him so openly yearn for her. It’s sobering, the turmoil Lando witnesses pass through his friend. He’s so inclined to stand up and yell at them for being so stupid all these years, but he’s so blatantly aware of the fact that they’ll never admit it until they’re absolutely pushed to their breaking point.

While Oscar seems to be reaching it, Lando knows him too well to understand that he’ll go farther, so determined to keep her in his life. The thought makes him down the rest of his beer, wishing greatly for something stronger.

The universe compliments his idea when the waiter comes by and drops the different checks.

“Let’s get to this club, yeah?” He yelps, everyone seemingly dropping the topic of Oscar and Y/n at the notion.

Whoops and hollers meet his ears as everyone throws down their credit cards, the excitement a deep contrast to the sunken face of his teammate.

—

“I’m going to go get another drink!” Y/n yells over the loud music, her words directed mostly toward her brother and best friend although the entire table picks up on it. If anything, Lando’s beat when it comes to the amount of protection held toward his sister. With her being the only woman on the grid, each driver took up a special kind of defensiveness when it came to her. Her age contributed to it greatly, her being slightly younger than Oscar and making her the youngest on the grid. They’re all careful with her, something Lando’s grateful for as time and time before have proven that when he’s not looking out for her, someone else is.

The group nods, Y/n smiling and chuckling at their synchronization and attentiveness to her whereabouts. Their eyes linger on her, making sure she makes it safely to the bar, but it’s fleeting once they become engrossed in their conversation again. Oscar’s gaze stays with her, something everyone else notices.

Max is the first one to call him out on the elephant in the room, “How are you guys not together?”

Oscar seems to think the champion is talking to something else, his entire face turned to the side as he watches the bartender not-so-discreetly look down her top.

Lando hits him on the arm and it’s enough to bring him back from the angry thoughts warring on in his mind, “Sorry, what?”

George presses just as Max is about to, “How are you two not together?”

Oscar shakes his head, “It’s never come up.”

Lando involuntarily lets out a noise of disagreement, all drivers turning to him. He gives Oscar a side glance, “Come on, mate. That’s not true.”

Immediately, Oscar gets defensive. His arms come up frustratedly as he scoffs, “It hasn’t!”

Carlos laughs slightly, “Hasn’t or you haven’t worked up the confidence to initiate it?”

Oscar groans, sitting back in the booth, and speaking quickly, “I don’t know what to tell you all here. We’ve been friends for years and the feelings I have for her mean shit. They always have and they always will. It’s not worth destroying the bond I already have with her trying to get a new one.”

Lewis’ response is instantaneous, “You sure?”

His comment would’ve gone ignored if his eyes hadn’t been looking off curiously into the party. Pairs of eyes follow his and Oscar’s heart drops at the sight they all collectively come to meet.

A random man lays a hand on Y/n’s waist as they lean on the bar beside them. She laughs at something he says and lays a hand on his bicep before utilizing the fact that he’s taller than her and giving him a look that would have any man falling to their knees. The drivers, except Oscar, tear their gaze away, giving each other minor glances that say way more than words could.

Even with all the noise around them, it’s quiet in their corner as they stare at Oscar, trying to anticipate his next move. Lando thinks he’s about to get about and dart over, claiming what’s always been his, but, at the last moment, the Australian whips his head back around and takes a sip of his drink, acting nonchalantly.

The group sighs, all giving up and going back to their side conversations. Oscar’s the only one to sit with himself, quietly, and Lando knows it’s because he’s trying so hard to restrain the last bit of self-control. He can practically see the battle going on within the walls of his head, recognizing that kind of self-doubt and sympathizing.

At some point, Oscar loses the battle he’s been fighting for years and abruptly stands from the table, jostling glasses as he runs through the crowd.

The rest of them nod, satisfied, and turn their heads away, feeling as if they need to give the two privacy for a moment that could either go perfectly right or horribly wrong.

When he reaches her, the flirting has gotten worse. Hands linger in places he’s wanted to touch for years and eyes stare at the lips he’s wanted to kiss for, what feels like, his entire life.

He sidles up to her as if he’s done it for so long, “Babe, what’s taking you so long?”

Her eyes meet his when she feels his hands circle around her waist, Oscar’s hands having pushed the other man’s away once he got there.

She gives him a quizzical look at the pet name before beginning, “Osc, what’s u-”

He extends his arm, interrupting her and setting his eyes on the stranger he loathes, “I’m Oscar. Y/n’s boyfriend.”

He can see out of his peripheral how her face contorts in mass amounts of confusion, “Wha-” She tries again, but it’s the other man that stops her this time.

“Boyfriend? Oh, my bad, mate, I didn’t know.” The guy says, truly remorseful for his “mistake” and it hits Oscar right in the chest. This man seems genuine and nice, everything Y/n deserves, yet he cannot physically bring himself to let anyone else know what she tastes like, feels like, loves like.

Even though he hasn’t experienced any of those things, he’s determined to.

—

The car ride is quiet as Oscar drives the two of them back to the hotel they’re staying at. After he pulled her away from the man, she had shut him out for the rest of the night, gluing herself to Lando. Her brother must have caught on because when it came to him driving her home, he bailed and forced her to get in Oscar’s car.

There was no further discussion, he shut her up with “I’m your big brother. You’re going to follow what I say.”

To say she was annoyed would be the biggest understatement of the year. She was close to fuming.

Oscar didn’t push her, not wanting to add fuel to the fire when he started it, so they sat in silence.

Uncomfortable silence. Something they had never experienced together.

When he pulled into the parking space in the structure, she flew out and slammed the door behind her.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He concurred, eyes blurring as he stared at her retreating frame.

She stopped, turning around and staring at him from her side of the garage.

“Why?” She asked aggressively.

“Why what?” He asked back, standing by the trunk of his car.

She exhaled a loud breath and walked closer to him, “Why’d you interrupt me with that guy? Why’d you say you were my boyfriend?”

Suddenly, his confidence from earlier was fading and he began to retreat back to the safe excuses, “You looked uncomfortable.”

He walked away from her, keys clinking against the cards of his wallet before the sound of her rapid footsteps replaced it. Her small hand wrapped forcefully around his arm and turned him around.

What he found was a red Y/n, exhausted with anger, “I fucking wasn’t!”

He shrugged, acting indifferent, something he didn’t know hurt Y/n deeply, “Oh, sorry.”

He tried to turn around again, run away from her and this situation, but her hands pulled him back once more.

“Jesus, Y/n! Can you let me go to bed?” He exclaimed, annoyance with himself rather than annoyance with her. Though, she didn’t know that. The two were in the same situation yet so far apart: both in love with each other, but too engrossed in their own fears and insecurities to realize the pleading in the other’s eyes was the same swimming in theirs.

“No!” She yelled, hands flinging out by her sides, “Tell me why you said you were my boyfriend, Oscar!”

She was determined now, not deterred by his disagreeance, “Fuck, no, Y/n! It’s fucking nothing! Leave it alone!”

Her hands on his shoulders, she began shaking him lightly, “Why, Oscar?!”

Their yelling was bouncing off the concrete walls of the building. If anyone else was in it, they would be able to hear their long overdue argument clearly.

His mind closed in on itself, going haywire at the feelings of panic. He wasn’t ready to lose her, wasn’t ready to blurt out his feelings and have his whole world come crashing down around him. The friends held different determinations, the topics of which should have pushed them closer together, but continued to push them apart.

His eyes darted around as she yelled again, “Oscar! Why?!”

It was frantic and quick, his response, “YOU KNOW WHY!”

His loud yell had her coming back with the same amount of volume, both testing just how echoey the walls around them could be.

“NO, I FUCKING DON’T! I NEVER HAVE! WHY DID YOU DO THAT TONIGHT?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU! FUCK, I’M SO IN LOVE WITH YOU AND IT’S EATEN ME ALIVE THIS WHOLE TIME! I’M SO FUCKING SICK OF LOVING YOU FROM THE SIDELINES AND WATCHING EVERY OTHER GUY BE LOVED BY YOU, SOMETHING THEY DON’T EVEN DESERVE, BY THE WAY! HELL, I DON’T EVEN FUCKING DESERVE IT, BUT I’M TOO IN LOVE WITH YOU TO THINK THAT WAY. I FUCKING LOVE YOU, Y/N.” He stopped to catch his breath, volume retreating back to a quiet whisper as he looked down at her, “I fucking love you.”

She stared back at him, hands still on his shoulders, with a shaking frame. Her mind lost all power as she smiled at him, immediately moving her hands closer to his neck and bringing his lips down to hers.

What he thought would be a rejection turned out to be something he had thought about for an ungodly amount of time. Her plush, soft lips met his in a tender way, slowly melding together.

There were only a few times in Oscar’s life where he became so overwhelmed with emotion, he broke out of his unbothered persona and showed the outside world the intense feelings he was experiencing.

This was one of those times.

He grabbed her waist as if it grounded him in such a heavy moment. They stood, huddled together, in the middle of the parking lot kissing each other with such certainty that it reaffirmed the inferences made by everyone else.

Their friends, families, co-workers were all right. Everyone was right.

That revelation sat in Oscar’s chest as he tangled his other hand in her hair and pushed her lips further into him. He had wasted so much time engrossed in his feelings for her, he had failed to see hers.

From the nights she spent staying up late because he wasn’t prepared for whatever test they had the next day to the times she would solely come over to his house to cook food because he hadn’t eaten anything for dinner and didn’t know how to cook it himself now held a different light. A light that was no longer shunned by the longing he had been distracted with. A light that exemplified her kind, loving demeanor, something so comforting it couldn’t ever possibly pass as platonic. A light that slapped him so hard across the face, woke him up so harshly, he found himself thinking back to all their times together and realizing that while he was yearning for her love, she was yearning all the same.

When they pulled away and he was met with her grin, the grin she had given multiple times before, his brain recognized how adoring it was.

Always adoring him, always loving him, right in front of him.

He sighed softly, “You love me.”

He stated it in disbelief, but she confirmed when she nodded softly, “Yes, I do.”

He kissed her softly again, “I’m sorry for how long it took me to realize.”

She shook her head, “It’s my fault all the same, Osc.”

He laughed and moved to pull her into him, hugging her. Their hug, however, felt different. Now, he could let his hands linger and wander freely. Now, she could breathe in his scent openly, committing it to memory.

Now, they could love each other in the way they wanted to.

Still, lonesome in the parking lot, he pulled away and smiled at her, “The one thing I’m not sorry for, though, is pulling you away from that guy.”

She laughed, a sound he could now outwardly call his favorite sound, “Me too, Osc. Me too.”

A/N: hope you liked it (and cried) 😚 also lmk if y’all want a pt 2 to this where Oscar and yn go public to Lando, the grid and the public and everyone’s like “ok… we knew it was going to happen anyway 🤨” bc i think that could be funny

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destinysbounty · 8 months

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OOOOH HOW DID I NEVER PICK UP ON THIS

So I'm rewatching some s8 clips bc I'm trying to make a Harumi amv and. HOLY CRAP. I never realized that she figured out what scares Lloyd the most and then used that information to mess with his head. This is such a small and ultimately inconsequential detail but it's messing with me anyway. My brain is exploding rn

LIKE. GAH. First, there's this scene in episode 80 "The Quiet One"

AND THEN. IN THE VERY NEXT EPISODE. WE GET THIS FUCKIN LINE

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #harumi #ninjago harumi #ns8 #ninjago sons of garmadon #destiny post

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love4norris · 6 months

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THE SWEETEST TORTURE PT.2

ೃ༄ pt.1 here

episode two: caring

ೃ༄ pairing: lando norris x gbsf!y/n

ೃ༄ summary: where her best friend gets a girlfriend and she cant help but despise her and all of her perfectness

ೃ༄warnings: none except this not being proofread! there is some details that might not apply to you, it’s nothing big or anything just stuff to do with favourite colours and stuff but just ignore that if you don’t agree with it! i stayed up LATE to write this so i’m hoping it lives up to all of yours’s standards ( i hate the end bit but it’s like the first ever scene i’ve written like that so please don’t be to critical 🙏)

Raindrops glided down the worn down bricks of your house until they collapsed into the puddles below. The cold air being joined by harsh rainfall as if the darkness that was slowly accumulating inside of your body was beginning to leak into the faint aura of white that remained in the sky.

It however failed to be vengeful, even the sky refusing to be angry at that particular brunette boy.

Your bedroom door felt your wrath the hardest, the innocent slab of wood being pounded back into place to give you some privacy. It must of felt betrayed due to the fact when you had first been surrounded by these particular brick walls, the object had been left alone to watch your emotion flood back and forth across your body exactly like a cargo ship would if it were to encounter a strong storm. A smallest fulfilment of energy was what gave you the order to do such a thing, your brain going into overdrive and messing up constantly created the cause for the violent action as no one, not even an object with a lack of emotion, should witness such a thing.

Each emotion sat freshly placed in your body, almost mocking you as tears fought to be first to slide across your face. It was as if there was a bet going on inside you on whether or not anger or sadness would be the cause for the sudden burst of salty water.

A soft amalgam of the different textures that your clothing pieces had been made of, brushed against the nerves in your hand with every movement back and forth from the wardrobe to your bed.

Coming to a halt directly in front of the end of your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what he would feel once you had vanished, maybe he would realise something. What? You couldn’t know but the desire for him to realise something, anything was strong.

The decision to leave had been a rash one yet you still managed to find joy in it. The ‘what if’s’ seeming more appealing than any of the concrete answers.

Strong cologne melded with vanilla as the two scarce scents fought for slightest bit of domination over the room. Lando had decided to get ready in your room that two days ago to that exact hour, his words being exactly “so we can talk” but the lack of words that surrounded the two of you in reminder of your friendships sudden depletion, spoke many words but none the same as his.

Silk felt crisp in between your skin, the once smooth fabric now falling apart as if your emotion was once again leaking onto yet another inanimate object of your choosing. Placing it into your newish suitcase, the box began to cast its memories straight into your mind, one however stood out between the rest, the sounds and scents that joined it hand in hand making you feel as though you had been invited into the most peaceful time.

“What about this one?” Lando offered, his index finger pointing directly towards the peppa pig themed suitcase.

“Oh I love it.” Your joking response made him lean forward to grab it and pick it up so his eyes could get the full view of it.

“It’s perfect! I mean even your favourite colour is pink!”

The memory was harshly cut off at his false fact, the eight letter sentence once again concocting the relentless sensations that swirled impatiently around your body. Waiting for anything or even anyone to take it out on.

For once in the many years you had lived in these particular walls, each stroke of paint covered in some form of memory, you felt as though nothing substantial had happened in your life. The brunette boy that was most likely still dancing the night away had your full attention before it was possible to say the word.

No one else could have the blame though, every chance you had to tell him your love for him, you politely declined. Muttering a small ‘maybe next time’ to yourself seemed to do the job just as well.

The scent of him joined you in your solitude long before the sound of the innocent door opening snuck its way into your room. You couldn’t see him but every fibre inside of your body felt him. Even in the absence of any words, sentences cast themselves across the room each sending a long shiver up your spine until it seemed as though the softness of his own fingertips touched the dominant bone. The feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist but it was merely the same air that carted his cologne throughout the room but there was something else weighing down the air, something far more dangerous for the human soul.

Hope.

It stuck with you just like you had wanted Lando to, with strength and determination. Determination that a good outcome would come out of this. But as you stood on the wire that had formed underneath your shaking feet, as your bated breath claimed the entirety of your lungs in fear that if you were to even let one minuscule air particle pass your lips, the wire would snap.

“What are you doing?” The normally regretful or emotion filled words had been drained out as though they were flannels, each run of water that the drain gladly swallowed representing each mistake he had made throughout the years.

“Get out.” You had yet to lift your gaze, every movement being frozen in place, but it felt as though you didn’t need to do much as glance at him to be able to witness the smirk he was so cowardly wearing across his face.

“Pardon?” Yet again, he requested that you restate the demand, he had obviously heard you correctly but the shock in which you had dared to such a thing provided a lack of effort to process the two unfamiliar words.

“GET OUT.” You screamed, the anger boiling over as your hands grasped to grab any object infront of you. The mere, unlucky same silk top you had decided to launch at him being caught before it even managed to intercept his personal space. After all these years of feeling nothing but love towards him and the pain inflicted onto your heart as a result, it was loathsome how he managed to stay so smug throughout the ordeal.

His frame was adorned with a expensive obsidian suit, the blazer being thrown somewhere onto the floor in the lounge before he made his way towards your room. The time in which he left you to cool down had obviously not been expanded long enough, his feeling evident by the shift in his mood and posture.

“Come on, talk to me. For real this time and tell me what is wrong so I can help you.” It was as though his memory had been wiped from the events that had happened beforehand, maybe he even had the luxury to block it from making itself comfortable deeper into his brain.

He stood against the door, back being supported against the abused wooden pillars that held the door in place, sealing the only escape from your possession.

“I don’t even want to look at you, let alone talk to you about what I am feeling.” Swallowing a breath, you put off the appearance of the lump in your throat, pushing it down into the pit of your stomach.

The tension was palpable in the surrounding air, his own body and the singular window not allowing it to disappear. It pricked along the flesh of your exposed skin, slowly gathering all the cold it could just so it could wrap you into a shaking hug.

“I can’t think of what I could have done to make you so mad that you are packing a bloody suitcase! It isn’t so hard to just fucking communicate with your friend.” Lando eyed you as he began to walk over to your suitcase, his strides closing the gap between the two of you before you could close your eyes in a half-hearted blink. “Because we are friends at the end of the day so you can’t just shut me out like it is nothing!”

Pressing your lips together with harsh pressure, somehow you had managed to convince yourself that such an action would keep the building emotions at bay.

“Communicate? It’s head to communicate with someone when they don’t talk to you.” You took a step closer towards him but your voice had a cautious tone, wanting to keep the knife like words in the kitchen.

Lando made no bother in understanding, instead taking it upon himself to take your neatly folded tops out of the suitcase and back open to your gaping draws.

“I cannot.” You paused the second your broken voice punctured the air, the unfathomable amount of emotion that had decided to join immediately shocking the both of you. Your throat felt tight, the tensions hands unravelling themselves around from your lower body to meet with your neck as if it were doing everything in its power to keep these words hostage. “I will not be the friend that you simply settle for every now and then because you can’t be bothered with the others.”

Although the thought had only recently brought itself to light, the evidence to support its claims were overwhelming. The friend that he has on the side to just pick at whenever he needed to.

“Y/N-.” His sentence made no effort in finishing itself, the one word drawn out enough to consume the singular wasted breath it had stolen to get out.

“The truth is, I do love you. I have forever and I have had forever to come to terms with that and I have come to terms you do not feel the same way about me. I have worked years for this and the second you find out-.” There was something depressing, something you could feel penetrating your heart as you watched Lando’s face drop in realisation, the words funnelling in through his ears as quickly as he could process them.

“You just threw it out there as if it was nothing! Like it meant absolutely nothing to you!” Bewilderment laced your tone as it turns into a sharp scoff. Any stability that you had taken years to build up departing you with lack of any second thoughts. A question shuffled itself uncomfortably into your accusation however the lack of an actual inquiry filled you with a large emptiness. “Do you care?”

“Where are you going?” Words spilled over his slightly pouted lips, each one taking its turn to break down your barriers yet none faced the question so firmly placed in-front of them.

The world felt quiet, as though the only sound that dared to echo through the used up air, belonged to the two lone people that stood in your bedroom. Your breaths heavy with words that were unable to be spoke aloud.

For, he had evidently given up on the method of stealing your clothes, instead opting to just keep a few back for good measure.

“Why are you leaving me?” He tilted his head to the side as though it would help him gather the answer to his inquiry, his eyes peering slowly directly into yours.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Was all you could muster up in that moment, your vocal cords had numbed themselves, refusing to fall victim to everlasting lump that began to get comfortable at the back of your throat.

“Would you stay if I gave you a good enough reason?”

There was a million words that you could say, scream in response. But as your eyes began to take ahold of themselves and gain the strength to look at him, none seemed sufficient enough to hold the power of your pleas for him to give you a good reason, a great reason even.

“What if I told you that I did care, more than I should. A lot more than I should. But you are not the person I should care about so, so much. That should be Lacy but no matter how hard I tried, it was impossible. Or what if I told you that I went back in there after you left and I walked straight up to her to tell her that she was amazing and deserves much better than me and then I drove straight here to figure out that there was a recurring theme in this. And that is that I am not good enough, that I don’t deserve the love that people are so willing to give to me all the time.” Lando gazed at you stood so far yet so close to him, his voice deep but cracked as it floated around, certain words in particular sitting directly in his eye line.

Blinking softly, as you find yourself falling asleep to his dreamy words, you cleared you throat to fill the void of silence as you brain began to formulate the perfect sentence in which to respond with.

There was no response needed however, his scent engulfing you before his arms managed to. The warmth of his breath fanned against your sealed lips, as Lando’s briefly brushed against yours in a teasing manner, his lips hovering just above the touch of your lips. His palms were placed firmly on your hips, bringing you as close to him as humanly possible as all his actions combined in a way that was pushing you to make the first move.

“You guys have definitely broken up?” The question was one you had to ask before sealing the deal, you hands tauntingly snaking up his shoulders so they could encircle around the base of his neck, preparing for your next move.

“Definitely.” He confirmed breathlessly, though never let himself falter away from his current position and you couldn’t help but wonder how much pleasure he was getting from depriving you of something you had been wanting for years.

“I picked you.” With those three particular words, his lips descended directly on top of yours.

You had waited years for this moment, dreamt of it countless times and here you were, experiencing it. Experiencing as his hands trailed around your body as though it was an unexplored map.

Rather suddenly, he dragged you apart through the use of your hips so he could look you directly in the eyes.

“You aren’t going to leave now, right?”

“Not until you fuck up again.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris angst #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #f1 imagines #ln4 #mclaren

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neverendinglabyrinth · 8 months

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Analyzing 35 Portland Row:

Back at it with my set decoration posts, but lets overanalyze 35 Portland Row, shall we?

I love the way most of the house seems untouched, like it was frozen in time. Presumably, Lockwood never really "redesigned" the home from its original state, maybe a couple of changes here and there (which are more noticeable as we move on to other rooms) I say this, because of the contrast between pristine and messy in the areas.

The entryway:

I assume that the perspective pictures were taken as a way to assess how the set was going to look, in perspective 1 you can see the pillows on the bench missing, and in perspective 2 the clothing rack/hanger are completely missing.

On screen, we see that contrast I was talking about, you can see the way the clothes are almost stacked on that clothing rack (we can see George's coat, for example) I regard this as the kids respecting the space, since it is Lockwood's house they, most likely, don't want to trash it with their personal mess (or maybe George is the one that sets the 'mess-boundaries' to lighten the cleaning work).

On the other side of the spectrum we see the neat decorations and respected vases (respected as in, not using them as holders or trash bins) and the well cleaned masks and antiques hanging on the wall.

The Living Room:

This room is the "look how professional and neat we are" room, it is (by far) the cleanest one of them all, here is where they receive people and it is evident that they don't use it much by themselves, I know this because of the alarming lack of books laying around. I promise you, in Portland Row there are books EVERYWHERE.

Proof:

(these are just from the first couple episodes)

The Library:

I would argue that this is the "let's talk" room of the house, because it's the place where all of the information is. This is the room with the most "Lockwood flare", plus it's the perfect place for me to talk more about the messiness contrast.

In the scene where Lucy goes to talk to Lockwood, she has an apple core in her hand and this madwoman sets it ON THE TABLE (outrageous) but she looks for a spot where she wont ruin the table OR the books beside it. THE SELECTIVE MESS, PEOPLE! And Lockwood doesn't care, he just smiles, thankful.

Also there's a piano on the corner. (Hey! Locky, play Piano Man!)

The Kitchen:

Lockwood & Co's kitchen my beloved <3

By far my favorite room of the house, it is so cozy! From the spice rack, to the pot holders, to the kitchen utensils, the DETAILS. I'm in love, I love it.

And of course, the thinking cloth. The kitchen is the heart of Portland Row 35. And the crumbs on the table mean the world to me. LIKE DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SIMBOLYSM OF CRUMBS ON THE TABLE?

I love kitchens, and I love set decor. That's all I have to say.

The Rooms:

Last sections of me nerding out about set decor, I promise!

Lockwood's Room:

It's safe to assume that Lockwood doesn't spend much time in his room, so it stays mostly neat. Probably only in use when he's sleeping or getting changed, and most of his time is spent in the library or in the kitchen with the others.

Lucy's Room:

Okay, this room is a set decor work of art. Why? Well, because it is a prime example of a characters personality shining through in a new space.

Not only does it show what it was before (a storage attic) but it also shows what it is now (a personal room) AT THE SAME TIME! You can see the way Lucy organizes everything contrasted with the way it was laid out before.

(look at the shopping bags she was carrying when talking to Kipps beside the bed, CONTINUITY!)

George's Room:

One thing about George is that he is way too excited about The Problem to care about actually cleaning and organizing his own room.

I think that his room is a physical representation of how his brain works. Books on the floor, papers stacked over anything, post it notes on the wall. You can just see the way his brain jumps from one thought to the other by the way his room is laid out!

The set decorator credits: JUDE FARR

So that's it! Im sure i missed a couple of things so if you want to add your observations, please do! And if i made any mistakes or incorrect assumptions I apologize, i am by no means and expert, I just like the subject.

#l&co #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #l&co. netflix #set decoration #35 portland row #neverendingthoughts #lockwood & co

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meatballsu · 6 months

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I have rewatched TADC many times recently and I come up with many interesting theories about Ragatha (My favorite) and I think it is great to share them here.

Theory: Ragtha is kinda on Caine’s side, or at least she is the person who always “giving”.

This isn’t intend to propose that Caine and Ragatha are “bad” or something. I’m not sure if anyone is watching the GenV series (Spoilers alert!)

and I think Ragatha is sorta a role like Kate that supports the Caine.

One thing is that when Caine is stopped by Pomni questioning about how do they leave, Ragatha immediately takes the question with a little stuttering opening, like she helps Caine when the AI is malfunctioned.

Another thing is she apologized to Pomni when glitching, says Pomni had a bad day, it looks like Ragatha took the responsibility that she should take care of the newbies.

I also noticed a very interesting detail about Ragatha's motion design. I collected all the clips of she approaching while people remaining steady. You know it usually means this person is a sacrificer in relationships.

Even when she is not in a good mood about Pomni's “abandon” . Ragatha still approaches and stands by her side.

This gives me the feeling that Caine may have demanded or asked her for help to care the new "sucker".

Additionally, the Kaufmo part also striked me a little. (It may turns out to be simply the pilot needs and my overthinking. But consider I have to wait for months to expect a new episode so why not brain storm.)

So Ragatha is the person who promts to check Kaufmo:

Ragatha: Oh, wait, we should go check on Kaufmo. And I'm pretty sure he'd like to meet Pomni.

While Kinger refuses the idea and says:

I think Kaufmo's gone insane. Last time I spoke with him, he was rambling endlessly about some exit.

After they went to the carpet, Ragatha mentioned that:

Well, we usually do, when we first arrive, but after a while you start to realize that you really can't leave and constantly chasing an unattainable goal will start driving you a bit crazy. And eventually you get to asking what the point of anything is and you completely lose sight of who you are and why you're even alive and when you reach your breaking point something really terrible can happen.

When she saw the abstracted Kaufmo and she stuttered that the creature might be the “terrible thing” refered to what she said before.

At this time I think we can assume that:

Ragatha knows the pursuing exits could drive people to the breaking point.

Ragatha knows people who breaks will happen terrible things.

Ragatha knows by Kinger (who is unresponisive but still noticed somthing wrong) that Kaufmo is unstable recently.

Ragatha knows what “abstract” is, and someone( people who came earlier than her or Caine) kept warnig/brainwashing her that “ Don’t overthink about exist or terrible thing gonna happen”.

Why Ragatha wants to take Pomni to go check on Kaufmo even she knows he is in a unstable situation?

I think it can be explained that:

She wants to form a stonger colleague relationship with Pomni by taking her to meet the used-to-be-frindely Kaufmo (who liked to tell jokes). or—

She wants to warn Pomni by letting her see “the terrible thing” to stop her from thinking about exit.

By going through all this points, I feel that Ragatha is the most positive on the concept about “No exist”. It looks like she tries hard to prove that there is no way out.

This point is also supported by Caine. And Ragatha hints in a non-obvious way through the pilot that Caine treats them with good intention:

The official site introduces the series with:

So nevertheless, I think Ragatha is still a trapped victim, and the pilot seems to show that she grows a bit Stockholm syndrome and stands by Caine’s side to defend her sanity. That's why she is described as the sweetest optimist.

ps:

I find Jax's different attitude is intersting when Ragatha and Kinger mentioned their daily routine:

Jax didn't comment on Ragatha explaining their useless sleep routine.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #ragatha #kinger #pomni #caine #jax #tadc theory

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theineffablesociety · 13 days

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I'd like to plan a Good Omens meetup for Saturday October 19th, 2024. Poll below!

The Ineffable Society Meetup is a thought that's brewed in my brain since June 2023 when a bunch of local GO fans chanced to meet for the first time at the King of Prussia PA screening of series 2 episode 1 and 2.

It is time to stop brewing and let others contribute.

Here's my initial thoughts:

I'm willing to organize but not alone. We'll need to work together.

I live near Philadelphia, PA so this is the area I'm willing to do what needs doing primarily in Eastern PA, Central NJ, surrounding areas therein.

I'd want everyone attending to be 18 or older, please. I encourage those 17 and under to organize something together!

Taking suggestions for type of venues to host, think like a family reunion or larger.

I'm not interested in handling money, so would seek at least 2 people to oversee financials if that comes into play. (Finances might be needed to cover renting a space, any printed materials, little swag gifts.)

As mentioned, Saturday October 19th. Because it's close to the Earth's Birthday. :3

Afternoon through evening could be good. Maybe a 3 hour window on the small end; most of the day on the larger end. Will depend on location and on how many helpers step up.

Good Omens related fun: encouraging cosplay, script book readings, discussions, games, swaps. Maybe screening an episode together (there's copyright law to contend with here though). Depending on how much time we have together and space. Simplest plan would be an informal Good Omens afternoon mixer type.

If fewer than 12 people are interested:

We could just meetup at a restaurant that has a function room! (Not super ideal for allergies, as there's probably nowhere that's good for everyone. But does it in a pinch. And would probably not be a big up-front cost. Often there's a small room fee and then the assumption everyone will eat.)

If more than 12 up to 40 people are interested:

We might consider renting some conference rooms at a small hotel. (That does make it easier for people to find accommodations: already there! At a hotel! Downside is this will require chipping in.)

Any more than 40 people and uhhh... We'll figure it out.

WHAT I NEED TO KNOW FROM YOU

There will be more questions to follow, but most important one is below.

Please answer YES if you are:

A Good Omens fan

18 or older

In the Eastern PA to Central NJ area

Or are otherwise willing, able, and interested to go there

For transparency. A little about me:

I'm North (SeedsOfWinter). They/he.

Over the past two and a half decades, I've organized or been a member of organizations that planned meetups, game nights, reunions, and nerd events for friends and strangers alike.

I've been a Good Omens fan since June 2019. I run @rareomens. I am a mod for @ineffableeraszine and @bildadzine. I was a mod for the Our Side Zines, Pin Me Up 2, and many more. I was a founding admin for the LGBTQIA+ Fans of Good Omens groups.

I've been part of convention presentations for Good Omens at The Ineffable Con (virtual) and DragonCon (in-person, Atlanta GA). I love to organize fan photoshoots and meetups.

I know that any attempt at gathering people requires a team to make it happen; and that there's pitfalls and perils to all of it, especially when you're dealing with a bunch of possible strangers meeting for the first time! But the end result (you all getting a chance to connect together as fans) is feeling pretty worth it.

#good omens #good omens fandom #the ineffable society #ineffable society #the ineffable society meetup #fan meeting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley

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oneatlatime · 3 months

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Let's look back at my season 2 predictions!

When I got to the halfway point of season 2, I made a post detailing my predictions for where the rest of the season was going. They were delightfully subjective and conformed more to my hopes than to any legitimate foreshadowing.

I made 9 predictions (one per main character), and then I predicted three ways that the finale could go. I went into some detail in some of my predictions, so I'd recommend checking out the linked post. Keep in mind that I made these predictions before the Ba Sing Se arc started, and it shows.

For Azula, I predicted that she would be the finale's big bad, that she would be defeated, and that the Fire Lord would be introduced as next season's big bad. I'm giving myself one third of a point for this one. Azula was indeed the big bad.

For Toph, I predicted that she would get a subplot that revolved around either something she excelled at being challenged by an external force like those wrestling idiots, or something that she needed to work on that tied into her noble background. Once again giving myself a third of a point, because those wrestling idiots were involved and she did meet an obstacle that she beat by inventing metalbending. I correctly predicted the pieces involved but I got them in completely the wrong configuration.

For Appa, I predicted that he would come back after having many adventures and running into other sky bison. (What's the plural of sky bison? Devastated to say that I've never had to use it) I was right that Appa came back; I was wrong that he ran into remnants of sky bison(s?), but he did end up running into remnants of the Air Nomads, and dreaming about other sky bison(s?), so I'm giving myself three quarters of a point.

For Zuko, I predicted that he would be coaxed/dragged into being decent via a swordbending girlfriend, and that he would be redeemed by the end of Season 2. Hilariously, my prediction smashed Jin and Jet together, which breaks my brain a little. Also, he did the polar opposite of being redeemed by the end of the season. I'm going to give myself a quarter point, for getting the sword bit and the girl bit.

I predicted that Sokka would split from the rest of the Gaang and go on a multi-episode Appa hunting arc that focused heavily on his ties to his family. I was 100% wrong with this one. No point for me. Which is too bad, because I really liked the idea I came up with.

I predicted that Momo would do aerial reconnaissance for the Appa hunt with Sokka. I'm giving myself a full point for this one, because what was he doing in the Tale of Momo? Flying around looking for Appa. Admittedly Sokka wasn't there, but whatever, I need this point.

For Katara, I predicted some sort of moral crisis. Something to add some nuance to her world view. A good yet unapologetically patriotic firebender, or a downright evil waterbender. I was completely wrong on this one too, unless you count being talked into listening to Jet. No points for me.

I predicted that Aang would have to do some type of Avataring that involved delegating tasks to his friends, or putting his status as avatar first, probably due to unrest in the spirit world. This was by far my most broad prediction ("hey maybe the avatar will have to avatar it up" is a very safe statement), so no points for that. I was wrong about spirit world involvement, although I was right that his Avatar duties would conflict with his personal convictions. I'll give myself one quarter point.

For Iroh, I predicted that he would call on old resources to get himself and Zuko into a better situation. I got this one almost completely right, except two bits: I thought he would use blackmail or intimidation, when he actually used something more like the power of friendship, and I also thought that particular plot point would last longer than a single B-plot in a single episode. But what the hell, I'm giving myself the point.

All three of my predictions for how the finale was going to go were incorrect. There was no strike against the Fire Nation, there was no immediate dismissal of the eclipse as a possible time of attack, and there was no relegation of the eclipse to a single episode plot point. No point for me.

So, out of a grand total of 12 predictions, I scored:

3.91!

Ouch.

I'm going to be generous and round it up to 4, which is a third correct. Still ouch. I am less reliable than a coin toss.

But! I actually had a lot of fun both coming up with predictions and reviewing them. So I'm still counting this exercise as a win.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #if any of you play cards with me #bet against me

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welcometothejianghu · 2 months

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 民国奇探/My Roommate is a Detective.

My Roommate is a Detective is a 2020 drama about the Jazz Age shenanigans of a terrible OT3: a useless noodle boy, a spoiled journalist girl, and a handsome thug-turned-cop, who together solve Agatha Christie mysteries in 1920s Shanghai.

I mean, seriously, have you ever wondered what Hercule Poirot would be like if he were a 6'2" Chinese rubber man? If he had a long-suffering sugar daddy from the wrong side of the tracks and a spunky sugar mommy who owned their shared apartment? The answer is, it would be a laugh-out-loud-funny series about a ridiculous and charming assortment of weirdos solving only slightly believable murder mysteries in charming period clothing.

This is another one of those shows where I'm kind of shocked at how not well-known it is, except I'm not, because I can see exactly the problems that keep fandom from descending on it like horny little vultures. Nonetheless, I think it's a good time that more people would enjoy if they gave it the chance. Here's five reasons why you should:

1. Equal parts smart as heck and dumb as butts

On the one hand, especially given its tone and tenor, this show has many surprisingly clever turns and thoughtful moments, carried along by some talented actors. On the other hand, [.gif of a guinea pig in a rollerskate being pushed merrily down a hallway]

This show is not a complicated intellectual exercise. It's an action comedy about a goofy sleuth, a rich-girl reporter, and the cop who should be the straight man in this trio, except he's as much of a goober as the other two are. If the promotional tableaus are giving you real "cover of a Clue box" vibes, you've understood the kind of pastiche it's pulling off.

The mysteries are preposterous. They're all the kind of thing that exemplify the Doyle line about how, when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left has got to be the answer, no matter how ding-dang improbable it may be. You know the type: tons of overly elaborate setups, unbelievably perfect timing, coincidental long-lost relatives, people hallucinating right and left. They're also very short -- most full cases take only 2-3 episodes to introduce, investigate, and resolve, even when interspersed with the larger goings-on in these weirdos' lives. The DramaWiki page for the show lists 23 separate arcs over 36 episodes, so you do the math.

And yet, it's way more thoughtful and clever than its doofy little setup would indicate. Its attention to detail surprised me on more than one occasion. Add to that a bunch of solid performances from an ensemble of real characters, and what you get is definitely more substantive than a junk-food waste of time. You can't turn your brain off while watching it, but you sure can turn it down, and that's great.

It also doesn't hurt that everyone is super attractive and wearing great outfits. The whole show's worth it for the wardrobes.

2. THE GIRL

Fuck the haters, fuck everyone, I am going to climb right up on my little soapbox and tell you all why Bai Youning is awesome.

She is insane. She's a troll. She's a clever little monster. Every other character's response to her is, oh my god, you are literally the worst. And she is! She has been spoiled beyond belief by her incredibly rich Crime Dad, and she has learned to leverage her uwu just a widdle girl status to get her whatever the hell she wants. She simply cannot hear it when someone says the word "no." She will look her future sister-in-law in the eye and point a loaded gun at her own head without blinking. Every ball she has is made of brass.

She's hardly perfect. During the course of the show, there are some times where her entitlement runs face-first into the brick wall of reality. She's not nearly as good at her chosen career path as she's been told (mostly by the people who get paid to tell her she's good). She's rarely prepared to deal with the consequences of her actions, especially when she can't just throw money at the problem.

So she learns, and grows, and changes. She's always going to be a stubborn bitch, but she can become a stubborn bitch with a more accurate conception of her relationship to the world around her.

She's actually a really good romantic foil for Lu Yao, who is equally stubborn and spoiled and obnoxious as hell. It is a pure brat4brat relationship, where each one thrives on comically enraging the other. What this means, though, is that when they actually start showing one another some vulnerability, it's really sweet.

Now: I'm pretty sure that you could not have made a female character in her position that everyone did not hate, no matter how cool you made her, because that is the fate of all girls who theoretically keep the two boys from kissing. (More on that next point.) If she were less outgoing and friendly, she would've been hated for being too cold. If she were less headstrong, she would've been hated for being a pushover. If she weren't as into the boy, she would've been hated for being frigid. I know the "god forbid a woman do anything" meme is a joke, but ... man, god forbid this girl do anything. She gets a level of hate entirely disproportionate to what she's actually like. As I said with Eom Dada, it's not always sexism, but sometimes, yeah, it's sexism.

(Real talk: Her character is also fighting both how she's definitely not written as well as the boys are and how the plot sometimes needs her to be artificially stupid and jealous for Straightness Drama Reasons, so that's a legit problem on a structural level. Also, she's dubbed by someone else and the boys aren't, which gives her voice an annoying not-quite-there quality that's hard to ignore. The deck is stacked against her real hard even before she steps onscreen.)

So here's my advice: Go into this show wanting to like her. Embrace her terribleness as a positive, intentional quality. Don't be mad at her for straightening up an endgame that was never going to be gay, even without her. Welcome her contributions to the chaos. Realize that she is exactly as entertainingly irritating as her boys are.

Truly, this is a story of three terrible people in love. They're all just awful, and you wouldn't want to be in a room with any of them for longer than you had to. Left to right up there, Bai Youning is spoiled and self-absorbed, Lu Yao is arrogant and lazy, and Qiao Chusheng is suuuuuch a fucking cop. If you're into the kind of dynamic that can only be described OT3: You All Deserve One Another, then this one's perfect for you.

3. Do you really miss '00s queerbaiting?

Like, really? Are you just super-nostalgic for being able to see the showrunners go, ha ha, girls, we know you're watching and we know you want these cute boys to kiss, which they never will -- but what if we pretended for just this one scene??? Do you just carnally ache for that with every fiber of your being?

Yep.

Now, why am I calling the occasional really gay moments between these two gentlemen "queerbaiting" and not "bromance"? Because these moments are a) obviously intentional, b) completely sporadic, and c) never spoken of again.

For example: There's a scene (which you can see a gifset of here) where the two of them are at a restaurant frequented by the cop, who brings a lot of ladies there on dates. When the waiter points this out, useless noodle boy says, I'm his date. The waiter looks mildly surprised by this, the cop says not to listen to his bullshit, and that's the end of it. The scene moves on. There is no further discussion of this comment. It does not affect their relationship.

That's the essence of queerbaiting: that little on-purpose nod to the homoerotic tension between the two, in a way that isn't a joke but also isn't not a joke, and either way is never going to happen. (In fact, the show is going to go out of its way to make sure that ship gets sunk, so, uh, get your fanfiction lifeboats ready for that.)

A true queerbaiting move is something that should make a difference in a relationship, but doesn't. It should make a difference that our cop is so comfortable in the noodle boy's personal space that he invades it at will. It doesn't. It should make a difference that noodle boy keeps getting real weird every time the cop has a date with a girl. It doesn't. Those are some real romantic moves the two of them keep pulling, and then nothing comes of them.

I had this show sold to me as being incredibly shippy, to the point of being even more so than its censored-BL contemporaries. And ... well, it is and it isn't. It has textually gayer individual moments, but it is much less pervasively gay. It's clear from the start that it's going to throw all its actual relationship points into its canon het romance. When it comes to these boys, the show is toying with you. It knows you want to see those boys smooch, just as much as it knows (and it knows you know) they're never gonna.

How you feel about this is entirely up to you -- and indeed, it may be a dealbreaker on the whole drama for you. If you are inclined to pitch a fit when your ship does not become canon, you'll be happier somewhere else. If, however, you see this as a delightful opportunity to do whatever the hell you want with the situation as it is presented, all the while enjoying little moments of startlingly blatant homoeroticism between two handsome dudes, well, here you are!

(I mean, if you want my take on it, what needs to happen is that the cop and the girl need to fuck while the useless noodle boy watches with asexual bisexual interest, and then they all need to snuggle with the noodle boy in the middle so they can both annoy him appropriately, but your mileage may vary.)

4. The multicultural extravaganza!

1920s Shanghai had a lot going on in terms of cultures and languages, and this show actually does a fair job of representing that.

By now, I've seen a number of shows set during this era, and they all at least acknowledge the international nature of the city -- usually by mentioning the French Concession and having a handful of evil Japanese characters. However, this is the first time I've seen a show go to such lengths to actually show so many non-Chinese characters onscreen, even to the point of making one a recurring character supporting the main squad.

Salim is the best. Whatever he is being paid, it's not enough. He's Qiao Chusheng's right-hand man, which means he is also the dude who most often has to put up the main trio's bullshit. (The actor himself is also a dude with a pretty cool backstory, which is another great layer.) He's sharp, he's loyal, he's patient, and he looks great with his shirt off. He's got it all!

Other non-Chinese characters include a white Jewish art collector (I'd issue a warning for period-typical antisemitism, except … honestly, it's mostly just confused), a sadistic priest who maybe is supposed to be Italian, a completely different priest who [last episode spoiler], and three whole sinister white dudes behind it all.

It's not just the world coming to China, though! A large number of the Chinese characters are said to have spent significant time outside of China, whether for business or for schooling. Near the end, when some characters are discussing moving away from Shanghai, they consider a number of foreign cities as potential destinations.

Here's a delightful detail: When Lu Yao and his sister speak English, they're dubbed by actors with posh British accents who sound like native (or near-native) English-speakers. This makes perfect sense, because both of the siblings did a lot of their schooling in the UK. When Bai Youning speaks English, she's dubbed by someone who speaks English very well but also has a noticeable Chinese accent, which makes perfect sense for her character's background. And Qiao Chusheng never speaks English at all, because he's a street tough who has no reason to know more than three words.

...This is also kind of weird to say about something literally made in China, but go with me on it: Everything's kind of got that Art Deco Orientalist vibe to it. It looks like China's idea of what Britain's idea of China during that period would have looked like. The result comes across less like what 1920s Shanghai would actually have looked like, and more what an ad for 1920s Shanghai would have looked like. It's a fascinating aesthetic, and more so for how it's mostly pretty subtle. The show isn't some visual extravaganza, but it's always very nice to look at, and I appreciate that in a show.

5. A wonderful horrible protagonist

A lot of mystery-themed prestige television involves an asshole genius detective who gets away with being a dick to everyone because he's sooooo smart, while all his long-suffering friends and colleagues spend a lot of time doing damage control for him because, sigh, he's an asshole but we need him, genius excuses all dickhead behavior, we'll always make exceptions for him because he's just ever so special. (Watch histrionic sage hbomberguy's video on Sherlock if you're unfamiliar with the trope.)

Lu Yao is an asshole genius detective, but one who winds up spending most of his time being an asshole to a) people who deserve it, or b) his horrible friends who will be assholes right back at him. When he is awful to the people who don't deserve it, the show smacks him pretty hard on the nose for it and makes him apologize.

This is a show where you'll figure out pretty quckly if you'll love it or hate it, because if you love Lu Yao, you'll love it, and vice versa. He carries most of the show himself, with his goofy charm and his incredibly bendy slenderman body and his ability to make the one competent person he knows both protect him and give him money.

Like so.

For my own part, I find him intensely charming, and I think a lot of this has to do with Hu Yitian's ability to play him as an affectionately bullyable weenie who needs to get shoved in a locker for his own good. He's the worst, and it's comically endearing instead of offputting because at the end of the day, he really does have a good heart. He's just also lazy as heck and disinclined to do anything that he does not want to be doing, and really, aren't we all?

As I alluded to in point 3, he comes across as real asexual. He's just not that interested in sex, and he is in fact pretty uncomfortable in situations where he finds himself the subject of someone else's sexual desires. He's perfectly capable of romantic feelings! I mean, not only does he get Bai Youning as a love interest, we actually meet one of his ex-girlfriends. He's just not partciularly horny about them -- which is even more noticeable as a sharp contrast to how extremely horny Qiao Chusheng is for just about everyone, but this exasperating little dork in particular.

(Like seriously, 90% of the time, Chusheng is about to explode with sexual frustration at Lu Yao's skinny oblivious ass.)

This isn't to say you couldn't get Lu Yao into bed, because you absolutely could, and he'd probably have a good time. You'd just have to remove all distractions from the room, lest his ADHD ass wind up running off to solve a crime mid-coitus.

Twiggy little nightmare man. Garbage-animal boy. Love him.

sidebar: A word about the ending

I'm going to be vague and talk about general vibes instead of specific events, but you should still skip this section if you want to remain completely unspoiled. Jump to the picture of Chusheng holding the sledgehammer.

Okay, so, a lot of people do not like the ending, and I'm including myself in that number. I honestly don't know if they got rushed and had to wrap everything pretty last-minute, or if they thought they might get a second season out of it and were leaving things open-ended accordingly. Either way, it's incredibly unsatisfying.

I think there's a clue that the show didn't actually want to end this way, and it's not actually in the text of the show itself. Every episode, between the last scene and the start of the credits, you get to see a couple still frames from the episode (usually some of the queerbaity ones). After the very final shot of the series, you get two images: the boys hugging goodbye, and Chusheng's upset face. That's not a resolution! That is at best a "to be continued..." ending!

But no, that's it. That's all, folks.

It's not quite an ending so bad it ruins the rest of the show, mostly because it doesn't feel finished, so it's less like you're watching a car being deliberately driven into a wall because someone thought that was the best route to take, and more like you're watching someone leave a car on the railroad tracks because they figured they'd have time to move it later.

As far as I know, there has been no noise made about a second season. These 36 episodes are the entirety of the narrative. It had the distinct misfortune to start airing in March 2020, which wasn't exactly prime time for planning sequels, and that seems to have been that. (There is a 2022 show called Checkmate that stars the two main guys in extremely similar roles, also adapting Agatha Christie stories, but it's apparently pretty meh? Somebody else who's actually seen it, go ahead and weigh in here.)

I'll say that if you turn off the episode right after Lu Yao gets out the handcuffs, you'll save yourself the worst of it the awkward and unsatisfying moments (though I'm impressed at your willpower to stop watching something five minutes from the end). That's not all of it, though. Structurally, there are several situations rushed to a resolution and loose threads left flapping untied in the breeze. I guess stopping before the last five minutes simply saves you the hope that it'll pull a good ending out of the fire, because it won't.

And let's be real: The more you hate Bai Youning and her romance with Lu Yao, the more you'll hate the ending. (Not that liking those elements will necessarily make you like the ending, of course, because I'm a fan of hers and I still think the ending is butts.) The ending is already like a pair of uncomfortable shoes; if the het romance especially makes you grind your teeth, the ending becomes a pair of uncomfortable shoes that also have a rock in them. A lot of the comments online indicate plenty of people dropped the show when they learned the het romance would be endgame. It's a pretty common dealbreaker.

Oh well. Bring on the fanfic, I say! Those of us who are used to taking a sledgehammer to canon are unafraid.

Smash it, baby.

Still want to see some of these mysteries?

Both iQiyi and Viki have the answer to your sleuthing!

It's not a perfect show -- as evidenced by my digression about the ending -- but it's a lot of fun. If you can handle the occasional foible and some eyebrow-raising moments, you're in for a good time with some attractive people that occasionally tastes very gay.

Every roommate crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man

#my roommate is a detective #民国奇探 #rec post #i made this

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lilhwahwa · 10 months

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heart swindler - J.WY (Part 2)

PART 1

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ part 2: After Wooyoung takes you home from the club following a claustrophobic episode, you grow paranoid at the threatening texts sent to you by an anonymous person. The following week you are extra careful but find the worst of your fears becoming reality. With no one to help you, only a coincidence keeps you and your nephew safe, for now.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Female Pronouns Conwoman reader! x Conman Wooyoung! Enemies to Lovers. Angst. Fluff. Smut.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ smut themes in the future parts. Mentions of drug abuse. Abusive parenting. Violence. Bi? Wooyoung? Stalking. Slowburn!. Conning? More to be added... This is fiction and does not represent the real idol.

proof read? - no

words: 8.1K

tags: @bl3ss3d-curs3d @mayosgrises @k-queen @starrysvn @harusoraa @chiefbananaearthquake @leeknowsalot @toxicccred @yunhorights let me know if you want to be added or removed!

MASTERLIST

---

To say that the new week started on a fresh note would be a lie. Since receiving the anonymous text message, you found yourself becoming hyperaware of details and people in your surroundings. You glanced over your shoulder when walking Jisung to school in the morning and cringed away from your phone every time it pinged with a message.

You considered letting the matter go. It isn't your first time receiving empty threats from men conned by you or their loyal-to-a-fault wives. Most of those threats were nothing but empty words of anger and frustration. Yet, nobody had ever personally come looking for you, let alone sent you a picture from outside your hotel room. Each passing hour of your days sparked dark thoughts that possessed your brain about strangers breaking into your home or sneaking up on you, or worse, on Jisung. Soon enough it is as if your body went into survival mode, planning safety precautions for any situation and scanning rooms and roads for exit routes.

Your paranoia lead you to the decision that it would be the right time to access your emergency cash stacked away in one of Hongjoong's safety deposit boxes. Stepping into LUX on a weekday felt wrong. The calm atmosphere was nothing compared to what it usually was on a Saturday night. First of all, no people were crowding you. There was a sense of security knowing you could be left alone. This instantly brought you back to the memory of Wooyoung carrying you out of the same place you now stood. You tried to avoid thinking back to that situation, seeing as it only reminded you about the sudden overwhelming anxiety caused by crowds. It is human nature to enjoy your personal space, after all. But of course, you couldn't be promised that freedom when you are a con woman. Your breaths were cut short from your lungs, each inhale followed by a burning blaze of anxiety as it settled like a barbell on your chest. Was it really claustrophobia? You refused to assume or even admit that crowds make you anxious. Your work relied on persuading people and standing out in crowds. So how could it be that you are so afraid of it all? And so suddenly?

“Hey Bullet” Hongjoong greets, taking long strides across the polished marble until you meet halfway on the empty dance floor. The hue of the lights is warm and soft, unlike the strobing effect arranged on them during parties. The whole club felt more like a New Orleans-themed old-fashioned jazz bar, decorated with the occasional strip pole here and there that added to the unique aesthetic blend.

“Hongjoong, thank you for meeting me today.”

“Anything for you. Are you perhaps having a shortage of customers lately?” Hongjoong raises a brow as you round the corner of LUX's bar, slipping into a hidden staff area. You mimic Hongjoong's expression. What did he mean? Had he also noticed the number of clients Wooyoung had been bringing in, or was your luck running so low that Hongjoong managed to take note of your pathetically desperate attempts at talking men up?

“Seeing as you are taking some of your emergency money out, that is” he is quick to add once he notices the distant look on your face.

When you first stumbled into Hongjoong’s club, he encouraged you to put away some emergency money in a safe deposit box storage at the club both for his and your safety. It was a good plan seeing as stashing cash in one place could show itself to be risky. If you were to be robbed, all your savings would disappear instantly. And seeing as you have a contract with Hongjoong, you could only guess the businessman also felt safer knowing his partners left some of their money with him as a deposit and promise they would pay their part of the deal. If not, well, they could kiss their earnings goodbye.

Hongjoong pressed his thumb onto a smooth scanning pad which activated the intelligent technology to validate his fingerprint almost immediately. He unlocked the steel door leading into yet another covert room. The room behind the door held multiple large safety deposit boxes. The only other time you had been in here, was when you left the money behind.

Your high heels click against the dark marble floor as you hesitantly navigate towards the bar where Hongjoong had instructed you to wait for him. You had visited some clubs in the city area, but none could compare to LUX. Rumour spread that it was one of the hardest clubs to get into which made it much more desirable. Before you even moved to the city centre, dreaming of getting into a place like LUX was a common theme of conversations among acquaintances at your old clubs.

The place lived up to its expectations. A large sign spelling “LUX” is on display on top of a glass, high-rise building, shining light blue as if it was made out of diamonds which is guaranteed to catch any passerby’s attention both day and night.

After standing in line outside, an exclusive elevator takes you to the 10th floor where a bouncer checks your information again. You wouldn’t blame anybody if they told you it felt like going through security control at an airport, but that’s what made LUX so exclusive.

If the inside of the club could be described in one word, it would surely be prestige. Marble floors shine from being squeaky clean as the many professional lights give the room a warm and alluring red hue. Even during the day, Hongjoong made sure to keep a certain vibe inside of LUX.

The bar catches your attention immediately. For a second you wondered if the bottles of alcohol were floating in thin air but then recognized that they stood on shelves made of thin glass. Behind the bottles, water ran down a marble wall to feign a calm waterfall that was accentuated by colour-changing lights behind it.

“Sorry for my delay, I will be seeing Mr Jung out now.” A voice cut through the room as Hongjoong appeared from behind the bar with a man following behind him. You immediately recognized the man. How could you not after his name spread through hushed whispers of customers and employees at various clubs, including smaller ones you had visited for work? Both men and women shamelessly spoke about wishing to cross paths with him, hoping they would possess unique traits that would stick out to him and make him stay. You were inclined to laugh whenever people deluded themselves with such ideas. Seeing people fall for a man in your industry was not uncommon, they are arguably the best charmers. But, getting them to commit? You would be luckier buying a lottery ticket than ever getting a conman to be yours.

You nod your head at the man politely, wondering if he had been working at LUX for while or if he was just starting. Whatever the answer was, there was no good answer. Having Wooyoung as competition would be hell and for a second you wondered if you should pack your bags and move over to another club.

"This is your new "bullet" you mentioned earlier?" Wooyoung asks, eyeing you from head to toe as if you weren't standing right in front of him. You furrow your brows. What had he heard about you? You clear your throat, hiding the sudden wave of insecurity flushing through you.

"Yes, and she will be quite the star, correct?" Hongjoong sends a reassuring smile your way, making you almost want to childishly stick your tongue out at Wooyoung as Hongjoong shuts his sarcasm down.

"I hope so" you reply silently, not wanting to show any uncertainty, but having Wooyoung stare you down wasn't a straight confident boost either. You would have to work on handling his...quirks.

Wooyoung chuckles, shrugging it off as if there were nothing to worry about. And truly, he did believe that. "Don't forget who your real star is, Kim" Wooyoung smirks, cocking his eyebrow at Hongjoong when the elder turns to look at him. Hongjoong clears his throat as the two share a knowing gaze, and you wonder if there is something deeper between the men that you had missed observing. You awkwardly look around the club as Wooyoung finally makes his exit. Despite the open space around you, he chooses to brush his body against you as he leaves, lips turned up in a cocky smirk as he disappears out of sight.

"See you soon" he called out behind him, and you were unsure if he had meant it for me or for Hongjoong, but you knew both of you would be seeing him around anyway.

"You are doing alright though, right darling? Wooyoung isn't giving you a hard time is he?" Hongjoong asks as he walks you over to the elevators. You aren't surprised at mentions of the man, seeing as you work together. But something about Hongjoong's tone made your stomach flip slightly. Why were they so familiar with one another?

"No, we're all good" You plaster a fake smile, yet your thoughts jump to possible scenarios of how Hongjoong got familiar with Wooyoung. From innocent scenarios such as getting introduced by friends to ones where they shared a bed. You weren't sure why you cared that much anyway, it's not like you are in any situation with Wooyoung, but the heavy disappointment still sinks to the bottom of your abdomen. "Well, I'll be going so...thank you for the help" You step into the elevator, eyes meeting Hongjoong's as he carefully looks over you with his usual, calm, expression. His eyes seemed to search for an answer to an unanswered question, but he let it go, for now.

You press your bag close against your side as you walk outside, throwing your arm out to attract the attention of a taxi. You had to get back to the hotel and start looking for other options. Moving places this quickly was not the ideal plan, but seeing as your location had been disclosed, you had no choice.

As you reach the hotel, you pay the driver and scramble your way inside. Your eyes scan the proximity of the lobby for any suspicious individuals, the anxiety brewing in your stomach as an unpleasant chill runs up your spine when your brain flashes unwelcomed violent flashes in front of your eyes. You shake it off and take the elevator up to your floor. Perhaps you had been overthinking it too much. It was already lunchtime and you would have to find a new place, pick up Jisung and go grocery shopping. Going back to LUX at night was an option seeing as any extra cash would be helpful. Yet with the factor that your ankle is still healing and the thought of leaving Jisung alone as you work, the idea was quickly erased.

You open your front door, shuffling inside. The sun was bright and lit up the beautiful wooden furniture of the luxurious hotel room you called home. You put your bag down on the couch before suddenly freezing in your spot. The sun. A shiver runs down your spine at the realisation. You could see the sun. Why would you be able to see the sun if you closed the curtains before leaving? That was one of your many safety precautions. Forgetting something like that was not a possibility.

You turn around to face the door again, an intuitive feeling ushering you to leave the room immediately. You decide to listen and step towards the door but it was too late. You hear it before you see it, the squeak of rubber from shoes against your floor as a pair of arms wrap around your torso, trapping your arms to your sides as you start trashing around.

"Let go!" you cry, heart banging against your ribcage with harsh thumps as the adrenaline inside awakens your fight-or-flight instinct. You trash your head and body side to side, trying anything to loosen the tight grip on you.

"Shut the fuck up" you pick up from the person behind you. Your knees grow weaker as you struggle to stand. As a scream began to leave your mouth, a large palm covered your lips to muffle the sound. Sharp breaths through your nose keep you conscious and you realize the person now only had one hand around you instead of two. This opportunity gives you a momentary advantage as you push yourself forward as if losing balance and manage to hook your ankle around the intruder's leg. With a last burst of energy, you manage to land a hit to the intruder's side with your elbow, sending him off balance. When you feel the slightest relief of pressure on your body, you make a sprint for safety.

With shaky hands and wobbly legs, you manage to unlock the door as the person groans in pain behind you. Yet you never turn to look at whoever it was, deciding that running out to the lobby to find any living person would be the best option, seeing as your floor was empty. You wonder if the pain you inflicted would last long enough for you to escape.

Your chest heaves up and down heavily as your body shakes from adrenaline and shock as the elevator door allows you entrance, fingers repeatedly hitting the button for the first floor. Light thumps and a squeak from sneakers could be heard closing in from the hallway, and for a second, you wondered if you had failed to escape. Surely your luck had come to its lowest. With mere seconds left to spare, a black shadow picks up speed and sprints towards the elevator, but the doors close in the nick of time, separating you from the intruder.

The floor in the elevator seems to swallow your body, feet sinking into the floor as you lean on the railing for support. The muscles in your legs spasm from the adrenaline wearing off as the realization of what had just happened caught up to you. Anxiety seeps through your pores and is distributed to your chest and abdomen, making it harder to take a proper breath. The fears you deemed as stupid and irrational were suddenly very real. You clench your trembling fists, desperately seeking a source of comfort, but your hands are slick with perspiration.

You aren't sure which way to run as the elevator doors part with a soft ping, reaching the lobby The security office is right around the corner outside of the hotel. The receptionist on shift was just a young girl who probably wouldn't hurt a fly. A coffee shop is opened right across the street, surely the intruder wouldn't cause a scene there, right? You look over at the other operating elevator as you sprint out from the one you had taken. Would he still be after you? Maybe he'd give up and-

"Oh you are here, I was going to look for you since you forgot your-" what was that? The voice was so familiar, and as you turn to look, you see that you are coincidentally running into Wooyoung. You couldn't stop your legs from moving, seemingly uncontrollably as you walk straight into his body.

The man who you once wished would disappear from your line of sight, was now suddenly the only beam of hope you held onto. His facial expression changes in a matter of a millisecond, so quickly you manage to miss it. His hands grip your arms to stabilize your body as he watches your eyes hysterically run around the room, chest heaving in obvious panic. What the fuck was going on? "Do you feel unwe-" he starts.

"Please we- please take me away from here-" you manage to push out words on the little air you had left in your burning lungs. You would curse yourself for showing such desperation in front of your proclaimed rival. But tears pricked at your eyes as you realize that if don't leave right away, you may not make it out unharmed, or even alive. A ping of the elevator doors opening sends a shiver down your spine, and your whip your head to check whether the intruder was catching up to you. Wooyoung follows your gaze but finds a family of three exiting the tight compartment.

"What's happ-"

"Please, we have to leave, just- please" You beg breathlessly. Though hesitating for a second, unsure whether to question you now or do as you request, Wooyoung accepts that an explanation could wait. He wraps a protective arm around your waist to support your floppy body and sets course to his car parked by the entrance.

You couldn't seem to make your legs walk, awkwardly hanging onto Wooyoung as he supported your weight on the walk over to his car. The same car he had taken you home in just last weekend. You sink into the leather seat, eyes on the hotel entrance to see whether the intruder would come out that way. Would you even recognize him? What if it wasn't a man?

Wooyoung snapped you out of your thoughts as he plopped down into the driver's seat. He wasted no time driving off. You were thankful for the silence that settled over you as Wooyoung drove you to a place he deemed safe. You didn't even think to question your location, putting your trust in his hands. As if it was how it was supposed to be. You notice stray raindrops hitting the car window, eyes following the race between the oval shapes. As they disappear from sight, you look up to follow another race and repeat this until the light drizzle, turned into a pour.

Wooyoung's intuition to observe, caught glances of your shaky hand clenching around a tiny bit of your shirt, probably to calm down. He glances over to you staring out the window with a blank expression. Neither of you has said a word since you left. The tension in the car was becoming palpable, and the rain only seemed to amplify it as the drops violently knock against the window of the car.

The silence stretches on, and you begin to feel like it's suffocating you. You fidget in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. The rain continues to fall relentlessly and you can feel the tension in your shoulders mounting as you think of what to tell Wooyoung. The truth? A white lie? Your paranoia went as far as to believe he was in on the evil plan at one point.

"Would you like to stop at McDonald's?" he asks as he spots the bright yellow sign through the heavy downpour. He was uncertain why he offered, but since ordering it last, he thought it might cheer you up. Not that he cared to cheer people up for fun, but it slipped out before he could stop to think twice. It came out naturally. Almost as naturally as it was carrying you out of the club in his arms. Or wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you stable.

Yet his words brought on another anxious reminder. Whilst his intentions were pure, he was oblivious that the fast food had been for Jisung and not you. Jisung. He was still in school. Alone and oblivious that the life he had before leaving for school would not be the same again when you pick him up. How would you even pick him up? There was no way you would willingly leave your somewhat safe spot with Wooyoung, but you could not leave Jisung exposed to the intruder. You had to tell Wooyoung. Fuck whatever he would think of you.

"No, but there is somewhere we have to go. Please" you look at him as you speak up, eyes silently begging to not ask further questions. You knew you had asked a lot of him. Hell, he had helped you this past week more than your own family ever had over the span of your life. Wooyoung's eyes met yours, melting into the gaze as thoughts seemingly teleported between your minds. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you speaking. It's as if words would break the spell that had been cast between you.

Then, Wooyoung reaches for his phone, unlocking it before handing it to you without a glance. You eye him carefully and take the phone into your hands, noticing that the maps application was selected. A warm feeling of relief and gratefulness settles over you as you type the address to Jisung's school without another sound. Wooyoung follows the GPS to the selected location. As stoic as his face seemed, his jaw was tight with worry and theories on what had happened. It had to be something serious for you to end up asking him for help. He wasn't clueless about the dynamic of your relationship if one could even call it one. You so desperately asking him for help already created a picture of what type of situation this could be.

As the car comes to a stop, you realize the overwhelming amount of explaining you were about to do. Both to Jisung but also Wooyoung. The car is as silent as ever as you gather yourself, preparing to step out. Your hands were still shaky, but your heart rate had slowed down, leaving you with a faint weight of where it had banged against your ribs as a reminder.

"Would you like me to go in with you?" Wooyoung breaks the silence, yet his mind was becoming louder with new questions. A school? Why the hell were you at a school? Was this a family matter?

You realize that as much as you'd like to get Jisung by yourself, the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that the intruder could be a psychopath who was now stalking you around the city. Even the rational part of your mind seemed to agree seeing as the break-in you were so paranoid and worried about, did end up happening.

You nod quickly, your body reacting faster than any words leaving your mouth.

"Yes please"

Wooyoung doesn't need to be told twice as he gets out of the car, eyes staying on you as if you'd disappear. He wouldn't call it worry, but something about seeing the pure terror in your eyes as you clung onto his arm desperately sent unpleasant jolts down his spine. He didn't ever want to see that look on your face again. Whatever this behaviour was, it was certainly not something you'd ever seen on Wooyoung before. His seductive and teasing nature would never suggest that a much more stoic and...nurturing character hid inside of him. Of course you didn't expect him to march around in a button-down with his chiselled, toned chest and collarbones all oiled up as he lands all women and men in the ten-mile radius. But you had never seen him calmly cooperating and seemingly sympathetic to your struggle.

The faint smell of cafeteria food lingered in the silent corridors as most classes were in progress after a lunch break. You thankfully remember exactly which room Jisung would be in after lunch and knock on the wooden door. You look behind you to see Wooyoung observing your moves almost like a bodyguard. And frankly, he could become one with how safe you felt. You hear the teacher's voice pause as she opens the door. You recognize the elderly woman with glasses too big for her face as Jisung's English teacher. You had heard stories about her cats and weird obsession with crocheting from Jisung as he begged you to let him skip class early in the morning.

"Hello, I am here to get Jisung. I am afraid I forgot he has a doctor's appointment today that I completely forgot about" You offer your best smile, eyes scanning the room for your nephew. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in as he sits there in one piece, eyes lighting up as he catches a glimpse of you.

The teacher nods and turns to call on Jisung to collect his things. You feel curious eyes linger over you but on a day like today you couldn't give two fucks. Jisung scatters to collect his things, as if being in the classroom for even a second longer would suffocate him.

"Hey buddy," you say shakily, quickly coughing to cover your nervous tone. Jisung embraces your torso, happily mumbling how he couldn't wait to go home as the teacher shut the door. Although Wooyoung seems stoic, his jaw clenches in shock as he tries to keep his reactions at a minimum. A child?

"Are we going home? Do we have food? The cafeteria had those weird gummy spaghetti again and I didn't eat it..." Jisung whines and turns to leave but soon notices Wooyoung blocking his way. The younger looks up at the man and bows slightly, thinking he was a teacher or somebody here to get their kid.

"Jisung- this is um, my friend Wooyoung. He is kind enough to help me pick you up today and take us-" You start introducing the two but your face drops as you realize you had nowhere to go. The hotel was the last place you'd go, especially alone. You didn't have an apartment and the only place you could think of at the top of your mind was LUX, which is not the right place for a child. "Um-" you struggle, eyes scattering away from Jisung's gaze to think of a lie.

"-To my place for a sleepover. We came to get you earlier so we could go get some food and become closer buddies, you and me. How does that sound?" It is as if something takes over Wooyoung the second he sees the pure confusion on Jisung's face. Hearing you stutter lies to him to keep him oblivious to whatever was happening. It reminded him of his baby brother and how any child should have the right to an innocent childhood, away from the fuck ups of this world. Wooyoung squats down to Jisung's height and holds an open palm for him. "I'm Wooyoung" and as soon as his name is out of his mouth you see the charming smile back on his lips. As if somebody had yelled "action".

The little boy looks back at you, eyes suspicious and if you weren't so worried about your well-being, you'd chuckle at how much he picked up from you. Small quirks and comments from your daily diary. You nod with a small smile, reassuring him it was alright.

"I'm Jisung" he exclaims and places his small hand to drown in Wooyoung's. Even as the older smiles, you don't miss the glance he shoots your way as Jisung happily trots towards the exit.

"We have a lot to talk about" is all Wooyoung says as he follows the younger boy out the door. You freeze in place for a second, watching the scene as if it was the calm before the storm. You take a deep breath and exit the building to catch up to Jisung, who was getting buckled into the backseat by Wooyoung. You did in fact have a lot to talk about.

Wooyoung was well off, that was a fact that had engraved itself in your mind since the day you met him. Not that you had any evidence to prove it other than the Prada shirt he'd wear or the van Cleef watch on his wrist. Yet you still find yourself looking around the penthouse apartment in awe. Of course, that jerk had to get a penthouse, he probably even has a playroom to go with it to feed his god complex - is what you would say if you had been here on another occasion, whatever that might be. But having nowhere safe to go and being offered a penthouse really doesn't leave room for complaining.

"This place is huge! Is that Seoul Tower?" Jisung screeches as he runs to look out the tall windows displaying the city. You'd tell him off for his behaviour, but something about seeing him so cluelessly happy calmed your heart. Wooyoung follows the boy, standing behind him to see what he saw. The height difference between them looked almost...adorable? You clear your throat and pick Jisung's backpack off the ground, placing it in the spacious living room.

Wooyoung's interior choices scream rich, modern bad boy protagonist. Whites and blacks along with marble accents. Is he a Christian Grey fanatic?

"Just because you got off school earlier doesn't mean you're free. Get your homework out" you call out to the boy who freezes and almost pretends he doesn't hear you. He'd try that trick but frankly, he's too embarrassed in front of his new buddy Wooyoung. Jisung silently walks over to you and reaches for his backpack. Wooyoung watches the scene with uncertainty. A lot of questions run through his mind, the biggest one surprisingly being your safety.

"Let's go, buddy, the sooner you finish the quicker we'll get to play. You like PlayStation?" Wooyoung palms Jisung's shoulder, patting it in comfort as he shows the younger to the kitchen, which seemed bigger than your old hotel room.

"Set your books here while me and your um..." You catch Wooyoung's eyes, only now realizing he must've thought Jisung was your son all along. You quickly step in.

"Auntie and Wooyoung will just talk about what to eat, get your book out and start okay? I'll come to check your answers soon" You hope Wooyoung catches on but still, you owed him an explanation. Whether it was the full one or a slightly tweaked one.

You didn't need to find an empty room to speak, because merely walking over to the staircase going up to what you assumed were bedrooms, allowed your privacy.

"I owe you an explanation" you speak lowly, unsure of where your confidence had run off to as you couldn't seem to look up at Wooyoung. "Look I don't know how I got tangled up in all of this and why you out of all people involved but I just, I have to say that I-" you struggle to explain, finger locking and squeezing into a palm as your brain seemed to handpick flickers of the attack and of you fainting at the club, flashing them in front of your eyes.

"Jisung is my nephew. He's been with me since my sister almost killed him and herself" You finally look up at Wooyoung whose face is ever as stoic, but this time you notice that no matter how hard he tried to withhold a reaction, his eyes did not follow. They twitched in worry as they intensely focused on reading every expression associated with your words "I think the guy at the club, who knew my name. I think he's targeting us. He- I was attacked and there is no way I can go back there. I don't even know if I can go outside right now. Fuck- for days I've been paranoid and watching my eyes step but-" the words come out by yourself before you can stop them. And once they start, they don't seem to finish as you go into a frenzy. Your body just couldn't handle it all anymore. Always be responsible for everything in your life, by yourself. Is it really that bad to need support? Even if it was from Wooyoung. What spurred you on more is that he didn't interrupt you. It frustrated you that he didn't act like an asshole even though you needed his help. It all angered you because it would add another problem to your neverending list; you growing fond of him.

Wooyoung reaches out to place his hand on your arm, sort of awkwardly yet so comforting without much effort. You really shouldn't have had a moment of weakness in front of him. For all you know, he could have cameras in his house, recording your breakdown and your secret nephew. Your heartbeat grows quickly as you realize your mistake of ranting and you turn around, as if not seeing him would help you in any way. The familiar cold sweat of panic sweeps over your palms and raises a ring in your ears.

"You were saying?"

"I- I can't stay here. Thank you um, Wooyoung but we can't stay here it was nice of you to offer-" You turn to offer the man a sweet smile but something tells you that this time, the show you put on wasn't close to good enough. And that was enough.

"Calm the fuck down" Wooyoung growls low and sternly, never raising his voice in case Jisung would hear. As much as he wanted to argue in disbelief about what you said when he had offered his home to you and your nephew, keeping you safe and driving you around, something else fueled his argument.

"Don't even try to pretend to be alright or whatever it is you do when you act like some "bullet"” he quotes in the air. "You need help so take it. If I wanted to hurt you, it would've been done ages ago. I'm not that petty and have enough money if you haven't noticed. I chose to help you but now you have to tell me what is going on because I don't have patience for bullshit or whatever crap you're trying to pull right now." And that is the moment you met the real Wooyoung. Not the foxy character at the club. Not even the one who drove you home. It's hard to admit that oftentimes you end up falling for the characters and masks other colleagues put on only to be reminded that they're also real people. This was a serious conversation and fuck, if you really are getting fucked over by him he really is a good actor.

You catch your breath, nodding slowly. Please don't be bad..please don't be bad you silently pray on the inside. You just really needed someone. And if it had to be Wooyoung then so be it.

"I'm being followed. I- I can't trust anybody and you must understand why. I don't have an apartment because moving around is safer. I got a message on my phone threatening me and then...today...when um-" you feel your throat thicken and Wooyoung didn't need further explanation that what you were talking about was the cause for your frightened eyes and desperate grip on him that he couldn't seem to shake off. One he knew too well.

"Breathe, just breathe okay? I know we aren't exactly...best of friends but I don't have intentions of hurting you" he hushes, recognising the rush of panic in your eyes. Those shiny eyes that he'd catch glaring at him from across the bar as he chatted up a client. He wouldn't admit it, but your reactions amused him more than his targets most of the time. The raw look of hatred and hunger for revenge stirred his stomach in exciting ways. When he'd look back and catch you flipping him off when he left with targets was something he even looked forward to. It was never something he took offence to...though maybe he should have.

But instead of the passion, your eyes were wide with terror. They were tired and silently pleaded for help even if your conscious mind didn't mean to make it seem that way. And how could Wooyoung stand watching your eyes become so dull?

"Just- stay here, for Jisung's sake. Figure out what you need and see it as a favour if it makes you feel any better." he finally concludes. Why was he agreeing so easily? A brief moment of silence settles between you. It was tempting but something about this was just too easy. How could one go from barely talking to living together? He is a conman still, and whatever sincerity he might show might just be a planned scheme to mess with you at your most vulnerable.

"Don't overthink it" Wooyoung says and doesn't let you answer as he turns to find Jisung again. Perhaps he didn't want to bruise his ego by becoming so available. Or he just couldn't stand looking into your eyes for a second longer. Whatever it was, it was settled and he has a new task. To help you.

"How does ordering food sound? Maybe we can plan to cook something later instead?" Wooyoung's tone is softer as he addresses Jisung. You hear it from a distance and wonder if he was experienced with kids. If he assumed you were a mother then what if he was...no, now you're reaching for something that isn't true. But why is it that a rock weighs down your chest at the thought of somebody being close enough to Wooyoung to create a family together? You had just stepped foot into his apartment. Apart from him being a con man, there was nothing you knew about him that could increase your attraction to him. Well apart from the physical at least. And if him calming you down from a panic attack and offering his home wasn't enough, seeing him interact with Jisung made it harder to believe all the paranoid lies you made up in your mind about him.

As the day progressed into night, the atmosphere seemed much lighter. You sit comfortably in the corner of Wooyoung's couch as he and Jisung yell over one another, PlayStation controllers in hands as they frantically push the colourful buttons. You were satisfied with just sitting ---there enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Not Before long Jisungs eyes were struggling to stay open. You lock eyes with Wooyoung who seems to have noticed the boy dozing off with the PlayStation controller in his small hands.

"Ji-" you start but Wooyoung raises his hand to stop you from disturbing the younger's sleep. A small smile makes it to your lips at the thoughtfulness Wooyoung displayed. One side of you still reminded you to stay doubtful of his intentions. Sure, he was nice. But this came out of the blue after your little accident at the club. Certainly, people don't change during such a short time frame. You were rivals just a mere week ago.

You stand up as Wooyoung switches the game off. It was a silent agreement to move carefully to not wake Jisung up and as you reach down to pick the sleeping boy up, Wooyoung drives your hands away and instead sweeps the boy into his arms, carrying him over what you assumed was a guest room. The atmosphere that had settled over the apartment was calm and safe. Seeing Jisung in Wooyoung's embrace made your heart skip over a beat as you imagined how this would be if it was routine. No, why would this even be one? You follow Wooyoung through the maze that was his apartment and into a guestroom. He places Jisung on the bed, covering the sleeping boy with a fluffy blanket before nodding towards the door. With silent steps, you make it out of the room without waking Jisung.

"Thank you" your voice is barely a whisper, stuck in your throat from being so silent. You find your way back to the living room but Wooyoung doesn't stop walking, instead walking up the staircase with the expectance that you'd follow.

"If you are showing me to a room you don't have to, I can very well sleep with Jisung-" You stop right in front of a door, one of few existing on the floor.

"You can sleep where you want, but I'm sure sleeping in your clothes wouldn't be too comfortable now would it?" Wooyoung's words are barely heard as he mumbles. He seemed deep in thought about something ever since Jisung went to bed. He doesn't turn to look at you as he opens the lock to his safe space. His room. Judging by how Wooyoung usually would act at the club, his room must see multiple visitors every night. Nobody assumed that on the contrary, it was the only privacy he had left, hidden away from anybody to discover apart from you in this moment.

"Oh yeah- I'm sorry to ask this much of you really- I will bring some of my clothes. Or I'll buy some-" You realize that with the way you're imposing your stay on him and nervously try spit out anything that made sense. "-Only if it's okay that I bring some stuff I mean I don't have to stay here if you don't-"

"Lord, you really can't hold that tongue of yours when you're nervous, have you noticed?" But instead of sounding irritated, Wooyoung's lips are turned up at the corners in a cocky, familiar to you, smirk. "I offered and already told Jisung you'd stay so, take it while I'm being nice" he shrugs, unsure of how to really explain to you that he wanted to help. It's not like he could explain his own sudden interesting in volunteering, not even to himself fully.

For the first time ever you feel a heat settle at the apples of your cheeks, burning as Wooyoung turns around to rummage through his closet. You manage to look around his room. Although clean, it had its own unique messiness that added to or maybe explained Wooyoung's personality. His bed was somewhat made and recent clothes were stacked like a small hill on the back of a chair. Something about it only seems comforting though. It seemed real and like Wooyoung. It was safe. A fresh scent of bergamot and what you assumed was the natural smell of the man lingered in the air, poisoning you deeper into a state of attraction. He looks good, he dresses well, he flirts well and now he smells good too?

'He's barely above average height' you tell yourself, trying to find excuses that could convince you that this attraction was clouded by loneliness or desperation for something. But even then did your insides not give up their reaction to Wooyoung as he turned around with a shirt and some shorts in his grasp. They weren't folded, but they looked clean.

"Here, wear this for tonight and tomorrow I'll get someone to pick some things up for you and Jisung" he offered, moving closer until he stood in front of you. For someone with average height his magnetic energy sure was large, towering over you as it radiated from him. Especially from his piercing eyes. You hold your breath the second your eyes meet. You can't show him emotions, he'd see right through you and the confusing feelings you had developed for him. If he came just a step closer he would probably hear how your heart had started banging against your ribcage. The hue from a bedstand lamp accentuates the protruding veins on his toned forearms, bobbing whenever his arm tensed up.

For a second, your brain blanks out. Over the years working with men, you had learned to grow accustomed to their looks, affections and flirty ways. It had to be done in order to fully have control over them and complete your job. Whilst there were cases where staying evenminded was difficult, there had never been a case where a man could affect you so deeply just by existing in the same room as you. At some point, there would have to be a man that would successfully slither his way into your heart. Whether it was you growing up or just being a romantic, you knew it was bound to happen. Denying it would be childish. But could it be now? And could it really be with Wooyoung?

"-Unless you want to sleep naked of course" his comment is what brings you back. Wooyoung was now right in front of you. Did you really blank out that hard?

With a scoff, you take the clothes from him but find no strength to move. It's as if one look was enough to keep your body still. You wonder if he feels it too. The tension from the car, the accidental grazes of skin and now this. Blond hair really suits him you think, even more now that his golden skin is glowing so close to you. The urge to lean in and touch him itches at your hands and makes your body tense. As if the only thing that could relax the eager muscles is to finally touch him. You bet his skin is smooth and warm. But the rational voice in your brain reminds you that it would be risky. He could be playing you all along. The reminder of being careful makes your body shift. You look away from him then, scared that if you looked any longer that he'd take control of you. Just like you did to your victims. Just like he did to his. Would it really be that bad though?

"You're doing it again" his voice comes out hoarse, as if he also was struggling within. "You're torturing your brain with unnecessary thoughts". If he was this good at reading you already, what would happen if you stayed with him longer?

There's a long, silent pause.

"How could I not?" you whisper, as if speaking louder would break this moment. You see Wooyoung raise his hand up towards you and in the next moment, its warmth touches the skin of your cheek. Your lips part as breath escapes and you immediately look back at him. Whatever he was thinking about, must've been challenging to overpower. His brows knitted together as his Adam's apple bobs each time he nervously swallows. These were the only indicators giving you hope that maybe he felt something more.

Without saying anything, Wooyoung instead darts his eyes down to watch his thumb soothing circles into your skin. His own skin is slightly rough but it only affected you deeper with every trace. You carefully wrap your hand around his wrist, or at least whatever you could fit into your palm. Without another thought, you press his hand deeper into your cheek, eyes closing to enjoy whatever this moment was. You needed this. He made you feel calm and the past week had been nothing but the opposite. Whatever his intentions were, you decided it would be worth it.

"Look at me," he says lowly, voice thin as if he also feels the need to savour the moment carefully. You open your eyes, reconnecting the gaze and you're unsure if you're dizzy or if he had moved closer but you swore that just one move forward could put your lips onto his. Was this really happening? How could you ever bear seeing him at the club again if you let this happen? With a deep sigh and anxiety rising in your chest, you push his hand away from your cheek, instantly regretting as the warmth disappears.

"I'm tired from today, Wooyoung. I'm going to change and sleep" You force the words out and it's almost obvious by how monotone your voice sounds. Wooyoung clears his throat and looks away from you, nodding slightly to himself as his eyes fixated on a random object in the room.

"Good night, bullet" The nickname coming from him sounded unnatural. You felt like a stranger then and cursed yourself for ruining the moment. But it was for your and Jisung's safety.

"Good night" you whisper and exit his room, gritting your teeth harshly in hopes that it would take tension off your chest. Could you take it back? Turn around and kiss him? Would he accept it if you tried? He was right, you really had a tendency to torture your brain with thoughts.

You change into the clothes he had given you and slide into bed next to a sleeping Jisung, still in his clothes. You don't bother waking him and turn to lay on your side, closing your eyes as you tried focusing on any sound or smell. You blame it on being tired, but slowly reach your hand to bring the fabric of Wooyoung’s shirt up to your nose, inhaling the detergent and the natural smell in his closet. One of the scents that was usually mixed in with his cologne. A small smile spreads over your lips as you play over the fresh memory of him cupping your cheek. He looked at you as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Yet his eyes never held any expectation over you. He never crossed a line and seemed to sense the exact amount of what was needed. And you wanted it more. He is successfully swindling your heart.

#heart swindler #wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fic #enemies to lovers #ateez au #kpop reactions #wooyoung fluff

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cainanders · 10 months

Text

wildfire 004

[001] [002] [003]

warnings: a little angst, lots of feelings, hand kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, some smutty stuff

A/N: apologies for the delay. This is over 5k words to make up for it. I may be able to get two more parts out of this, but at least one more for sure.

You hated your job, which you convinced yourself had nothing to do with Cody. You didn’t understand the sport, and your co-workers made little to no effort to engage with you. As much as you would have loved to quit and head back home, you knew you’d have no luck getting out of your contract early.

After leaving the United States, you cut off contact immediately with everyone from WWE. Except for Cody. For the first month in Scotland, you kept in contact with him, sending updates on your new job and along with pictures of the landscape. Cody would fill you in on any details going on with your friends, but he always sounded so distant. In your mind, Cody had become apathetic, only responding to you out of kindness and not interest.

You did just leave the country on a whim, you would think. But it didn’t make it any easier when you’d listen to how listless his voice was whenever you spoke. So you pulled away more.

Gradually, you stopped answering Cody’s calls and texts and it wasn’t long before they stopped altogether. Again, you convinced yourself this was the way to protect yourself and ultimately protect Cody. If he wasn’t interested in you any long, there was no use in trying to keep him around.

It had to make sense, you thought, surely it did.

It took a few more months for you to realize that you were an idiot. There was a man that you had fallen for, who knew all of your flaws, and still wanted to keep you in his life. Putting yourself in Cody’s shoes, you imagine that you too would be hurt if someone had been so flaky, and burned bridges thinking that was the way to fix the problems they created.

You’d be lying if you said you were heartbroken when you saw reports of Cody dating another woman, but you didn’t have the right. It was your fault, you pushed him away. More than anything, you wanted to be back home and get Cody back in your life, even just as friends again.

It was almost exactly a year since you had left, and you declined the offer to renew your contract with the team. You had to get back home, back with your friends.

Your flight home arrives on a Monday. It was by design, as you’d already worked with your old boss to ensure you had a pass for the episode of Raw scheduled that night. You swore them to secrecy in the hopes of surprising all of your old friends, especially Cody. You hire an Uber to bring you straight to the stadium from the airport, to give you time to get your belongings stashed and avoid being seen before you are ready.

You stay out of sight for most of the show, only catching up with some of the crew that you had missed. The first of the superstars you see is Seth, who immediately makes his way over to greet you. As the two of you speak, other superstars make sure to stop by to say hello, but Seth is the only one who stays to talk.

You see Cody before he sees you. His eyes are down, checking his phone as he walks toward the locker rooms. You try not to stare but you can’t help yourself. He’s leaned out slightly, not quite as thick as he was the year before. He’s still just as muscular, that much is apparent from his biceps alone, which are currently visible in his sleeveless hoodie.

Cutting your gaze only momentarily to smile at Seth, who still stands before you, continuing on about what he’s been doing over the last year. As quickly as you had looked away from Cody, you’re looking back again, and this time his eyes are up, scanning the hallway as he grows closer to you.

Your brain is screaming, hoping that Cody can hear it and notice you standing there. As if he reads your thoughts, his gaze finally finds yours and his facial expressions go through a quick journey— confusion, surprise, relief, and excitement.

Before Cody can reach you, Becky sneaks up on you to join the conversation, and you shoot an apologetic glance to Cody. He grins and nods his head, pointing towards the locker rooms. You return his smile, understanding his silent suggestion.

The conversation with the couple feels as though it goes on for an eternity, but you keep pleasant as they speak. Every fiber of your being is screaming for you to go to Cody at that moment, and as soon as the conversation begins to wind down, you excuse yourself to find your friend.

Almost as soon as your knuckles make contact with the locker room door, it swings open and Cody is grinning on the other side. He reaches out, grabbing hold of your wrist and pulling you into the room, shoving the door closed behind you.

“Well, hey there,” he smiles, eyes drinking you in as if his life depends on it.

“Just hug me, asshole,” you laugh.

Cody pulls you into a hug, wrapping you up tight in his arms and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You breathe in the smell of his cologne mixed with the sweat he worked up during his brief time in the ring earlier. A part of you wants to never let go of him, and from the pressure he’s applying to the hug, you think he may feel the same way. However, you both pull away smiling as you lock eyes again.

As Cody opens his mouth to speak, the locker room door opens, and Sami & Kevin enter, both immediately swarming you to get their own hugs. You send Cody another glance to apologize, but he shrugs the situation off, busying himself with packing up his belongings.

“We heard you were here!” Sami exclaims. “I can’t believe you didn’t try to find us.”

“You’re joking,” Kevin chuckles. “You knew she was gonna find Rhodes first.”

“Technically, Cody was, like, the ninth person I talked to since I got here,” you reply, shoving Kevin away from you. “So, fuck off.” You give a quick glance to Cody, to see him still packing, but grinning to himself.

“Let’s go get something to eat!” Sami suggests.

“Good idea,” Kevin nods.

“Works for me,” you agree. “Cody, you coming, too?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says, turning to face the group.

“My bags are in the office,” you say. “I guess I could pick them up later.”

“Nah, I’ve got a rental,” Cody says. “We can put your stuff in the trunk. Lead the way.” Cody gestures forward, as the four of you exit the room.

————————

“How’s Scotland?” Sami asks.

“The country is really beautiful,” you reply, leaning back in your seat. “The people are nice. Sometimes I can’t understand a word they’re saying, but it’s gotten easier over time.”

“Are you going to re-up with them?” Kevin asks. You notice out of the corner of your eye that Cody, who was looking down at his food initially, looks to you at Kevin’s question.

“Well, the season is over,” you shrug, thinking of a way to talk around the truth. “The team finished in the middle of the league, nothing spectacular.” You pause, looking down at your food for a moment as you contemplate the answer you want to give. “I think the team owner is more concerned with the players right now,” you continue. “I don’t know.”

“How many lovers have you taken?” Sami’s tone is downright cartoonish, and you are unsure if he senses your uneasiness or has been tempted to ask you the question all night. Judging from the way he phrases the question, you’re almost certain it’s the former.

“I don’t have a whole lot of time to meet people,” you say. “I spend most of my day with the team, and I’m so tired when I get back to my place, I basically collapse into bed.” You casually glance at Cody, seeing that he is waiting for an answer. “I mean, I’ve gone on a few dates or whatever,” you add. “Nothing to write home about.”

“Are you a huge soccer fan now?” Cody asks, with a small laugh.

“Hardly,” you reply, smiling. “I know less than when I started, probably.” The men laugh at your joke before settling into a brief silence for a few moments.

“Well, we’ve got an early flight to Pittsburgh in the morning,” Kevin sighs, looking at the time on his phone. “When are you heading out, Rhodes?”

“Midday,” Cody says. “I don’t like feeling rushed.”

“I need some sleep,” Sami sighs. “I don’t sleep well on planes. Are you going to come too?” When the three men look at you, the heat hits your cheeks, feeling put on the spot.

“Uh, maybe,” you answer. “It depends.”

“On what?” Sami asks.

“If I feel like it,” you laugh.

“You’re weird,” Kevin chuckles, as he and Sami stand from the booth. “You guys gonna stick around for a bit? I don’t know why I even ask.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow,” Cody laughs.

You say your goodbyes to the two other men as Cody stays seated and watches. Sami and Kevin make their way to the exit and you plop down in your seat again with a sigh.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Cody says, making himself more comfortable in the booth across from you.

“Yeah, me too,” you laugh. “I missed them, but their energy levels are unmatched.”

“Agreed,” Cody nods. “So, you avoided the question. Are you back for a good time or a long time?” You chuckle, wringing your hands together as you contemplate dodging the question for a second time. “Just answer the fucking question,” Cody laughs, as if he reads your mind. “It’s just me.” As soon as he says it, the little catchphrase that he uses for you, calm radiates through your body for the first time in a long time.

“I quit working for the FC,” you say. “I wasn’t really getting what I needed from them.”

“What, like they weren’t paying you enough?”

“No, nothing like that,” you scoff. “They were paying me, like, fifty percent more than what I was making here.”

“Holy shit.”

“It was so far away from anything that I know,” you say. “I didn't grow up with soccer. I never knew where I needed to be, what to anticipate, or who the fucking players were. With wrestling, it’s easy. I know who does aerial moves, who is more likely to apply a submission hold, or who likes to taunt when their opponent is down. It just makes fucking sense.”

“Why the secrecy? You could have just said that before.”

“Because I’m embarrassed about it, Cody,” you reply, shrugging one shoulder. “My whole life I would say that I’d never run away from anything. And what did I do? I ran away from here to Scotland, and from Scotland back home. So it’s my thing now. I’m a runaway.”

“Yeah, like Sandy West,” Cody replies. “But sadder.” You laugh and grab your drink from the table to take a sip. “You were there for a year,” Cody says. “You didn’t think to come back sooner, like when you realized it wasn’t a good fit?”

“Cody, as soon as I got on the fucking plane to go to Scotland, I knew I was making a mistake,” you answer. “But I also knew that I needed to get away for a bit. And I had the fucking contract that I had no way out of, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t leave.”

“I know,” he sighs, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. “Even though you needed time, you didn’t have to…ya’know, cut me off completely.” You had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up, especially in public, so your gaze drops to the table.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time,” you mumble. “If I didn’t see everyone I left behind then maybe it would be easier to be away. Joke’s on me, I guess. I know it was shitty, but I’m here now, and I’m going to try to make it up to you.”

When Cody doesn’t respond, you lift your gaze to find him watching you. There is an expression in his eyes you’re unable to read, but after a moment, he smiles.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he says. “You were doing what you needed to do to take care of yourself. You don’t owe me anything.”

As you exit the restaurant, a shiver runs through your body at the chill in the air, so you pull your hands into your sweater sleeves and cross your arms over your chest. When Cody passes you, he gently bumps into you, walking to his car, and you dramatically pretend as though he threw you off balance.

“Where are you planning on staying tonight?” he asks, laughing.

“A friend’s place,” you reply. “They live like an forty minutes away, so I’ve got to get an Uber, if there even are any.” You pull your phone from your pocket, beginning to launch the Uber app.

“Nah, that’s silly, don’t do that,” Cody says, taking your phone from your hands and putting it into his pocket. “Your bags are already in my rental, so come stay at the hotel with me. We can watch a movie, like old times.”

“This feels very much like I don’t have a choice,” you reply. “Since you just stole my phone.”

“You’re right, you don’t have a choice,” he grins. You let out a sigh, looking down at the ground so Cody doesn’t see the smile on your lips. “I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he adds. “Unless you tell me otherwise.”

“You lasted longer than I expected,” you laugh, looking up to see the confused look on Cody’s face. “I would have put money on you making a sexual comment much sooner than now. But two hours is impressive.”

“I’ve been thinking them the whole time,” he says, tapping his fingers to his head. “I wanted to ease you back into it.”

“Very kind of you,” you laugh.

You stay silent for a moment, thinking of how to respond to his offer. On one hand, you wouldn't have to pay for the Uber to bring you the forty-five minute journey to your friend’s house. On the other hand, you were nervous about sharing a room with Cody after what happened last time. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about him almost everyday while you were gone, and the thought of being alone with him in a hotel room after a year apart floods your mind with scenarios you don’t feel ready for.

“The room has two beds,” Cody interrupts your thoughts, and when you look at him, you see the reassuring smile on his face. “I would love to watch a movie and talk some more, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all, so if you would rather stay with your friend, I completely understand. If you want, I can drive you there, or I’ll pay for your Uber if you’d rather do that. I mean, I could get you a room at the hotel too, if you’re…ya’know, you look tired.”

Your heart nearly skips a beat at how Cody is making a genuine effort to make sure you feel safe. At the same time, you see a side of Cody that he never shared much. Desperate to make you feel comfortable, he’s stumbling over his words and talking to fill the silence, as if he’s nervous. While you prefer to see the confident, smooth talking Cody, it’s nice to see a small crack in the exterior. You bite your lip to hide the smile that begins to tug at the corners of your mouth.

“I don’t mind staying with you, Rhodey,” you reply, smiling.

“Awesome,” he nods. “Let’s go!”

————————

You had intended to have a conversation with Cody when you arrived at the hotel, however, you both felt just how exhausted you were as soon as you settled down. No sooner had your head hit the pillow, you found yourself falling asleep.

The next morning, you decided against going to Pittsburgh with your friends, opting to head back home to get settled in with your old roommate. You could tell that Cody was disappointed, but he insisted on you joining them on the road just as soon as you were finished.

Two weeks had gone by. You spent the time moving in, and working out a new contract with WWE. Finally, you were able to join the team on the road again, and you found yourself at a karaoke bar with Cody, Sami, Kevin, and, much to your surprise, Kenny, Matt, and Nick, who met up with the group on an day off.

Throughout the night, you catch Cody’s eyes on you, but he keeps his distance, never allowing himself to be alone with you. Initially, you take it personally, but as the night continues, you brush it off, opting to ignore it.

“You wanna sing something with me?” you ask Kenny with a laugh, watching him debate it momentarily.

“Of course,” he replies. You both walk to the announcer, going through the touchscreen of songs to choose from. “What’ll it be, huh?” Kenny asks.

“I got a good one,” you answer, and pick a song that causes Kenny to laugh.

“Elton John? I thought it would be a Beastie Boys song or something,” Kenny laughs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and pulling you beside him as you both make your way back to the group.

“It’s a good song,” you reply.

“I suppose,” he jokes with a groan. “You could have at least asked what I wanted to sing.”

You shove Kenny away from you and plant yourself in your previous seat to take a sip of your drink. As your eyes wander around the table, you catch a glimpse of Cody, aggravation visible on his face as he looks back at you. Your eyebrows knit together in question, but Cody glances away with a shake of his head.

At that moment, the announcer at the bar calls for Sami and Kevin to go to the stage for their turn to sing, which finally frees up space next to Cody. Quickly, you slide into the seat beside him, and wait until your friends begin singing before you speak.

“You okay?” you ask, biting your lip. Cody takes a sip of his drink then leans back, draping his arm over the back of your seat so he can turn closer to you.

“Are you into Kenny?” he asks.

“What?” you laugh. “Are you seriously asking me that right now, Cody?”

“I mean, you’re all over him, planning to sing cute duets together,” he says. “It’s sweet really.”

“Are you not tired of this?” you say. “I’m pretty sure we’ve had a conversation like this before. Don’t you remember how it ended?”

“Are you threatening to hit me?” Cody smirks.

“No,” you reply. “Unless you want me to.” Cody lets out a chuckle, dropping his gaze to his lap for a moment before looking back to you.

“Come on,” he mutters. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” you reply, leaning closer to him. “Cody, you’ve been avoiding me all night. Am I just supposed to sit quietly by myself until you decide to activate me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “I just—”

“What did you expect then?” you ask. “For me to come crawling over, begging you to talk to me?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, then, since we’re being serious, I don’t know who this weird, broody guy is that you’re channeling right now, but he’s kinda gross. At least the old Cody would do something when he was jealous.”

“Hey, kid, we’re up!” Kenny calls out.

Without another look to Cody, you stand from your seat and follow Kenny to the stage. As you both pick up the microphones, you glance back to your table, seeing Cody down the remainder of his drink and run his hand over his face.

“Are you Elton or Kiki?” you ask Kenny, turning to give him a grin.

“Whichever hits the highest notes,” he quips.

As you sing with Kenny, you try to remain in the moment, but your eyes keep finding Cody. You notice him start to relax more throughout the song, until finally he begins to smile, and tap his hand on the table along with the song. Once the song ends, you and Kenny take a dramatic bow as you exit the stage and make your way back to your friends.

“Incredible!” Matt cheers, clapping his hands and Nick whistles loudly.

“You didn’t have to show us up!” Kevin laments.

“Oh, please,” you laugh, sitting in the seat beside Cody once again. “You guys gave a better performance than the Pointer Sisters could have done themselves.”

As the group settles into another loud conversation, Cody shifts in his chair again to place his arm on the back of your seat. You sigh, rolling your shoulders to stretch your muscles, and suddenly feel Cody’s hand gently touch your back. Involuntarily, you tense up from the feeling of his fingers pressing softly at your spine.

“Do you need some help?” he asks, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. “You feel really tense. If I could get both of my hands on you, I’m sure I could help you work that out.”

“Hm, welcome back, Creepy Cody,” you tease.

“Thanks for putting me in check,” Cody chuckles. “I’m getting kinda tired of this place…how about we turn this into a movie night?”

“That sounds great, actually,” you sigh, feeling your body relax at the thought of changing into pajamas and laying in bed. “Please, can we leave?”

“God, you don’t have to beg me, babe,” Cody mutters. “As good as it sounds…” You elbow him in the ribs, which causes him to let out a huff of breath that turns into a laugh. “Ouch,” he chuckles, rubbing his side where you made contact.

“You promise to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Fine,” Cody sighs, dramatically. “I promise.”

————————

Thirty minutes into the schlocky horror movie that Cody picked out, you find yourself losing interest. You are in the bed nearest the window as you generally pick, while Cody lays on the other. You’re laying on your side facing his bed while he is on his back, and from your position you can sneak glances at him without him knowing. You cut your eyes to him, noting that he’s focused fully on the movie.

“This movie kinda sucks,” you sigh. Cody laughs, and shifts his head to look at you.

“We can watch something else,” he suggests.

“No, it’s alright,” you say, checking the time on your phone. “It’s one in the morning. What time is the flight?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Like, in five hours?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back to the television. “I tried to get a later one, but there weren’t any with two seats next to each other.” You smile to yourself, keeping your eyes on Cody. “I wanted us to be able to sit together,” he adds.

“I missed this,” you say, softly. “I didn’t have movie nights with anyone in Scotland.”

“I’d hope not,” he grins, looking at you once again. “Because this is our thing.” You laugh, pulling the covers closer over yourself. “You really never had anyone over to your place?” he asks.

“One time,” you laugh. “The kit man for the team gave me a ride back to my flat, and asked to use the bathroom. That’s the only time anyone else set foot in my place.”

“So, you didn’t hang out with anyone?”

“Nah, not really,” you shrug. “The few dates I went on were nothing serious.” You bite your lip in thought, trying to come up with a way to ask your next question. “I saw you, uh, were spending some time with someone,” you try to make every effort to sound casual as you continue. “Some girl, I don’t know her name or anything. Not like it’s my business, I was just—”

“Yeah, it was just for two months,” Cody interrupts. “She was nice but I was only looking for something casual, which I told her up front.” You know that you have no right to be jealous, but it doesn’t stop the feeling from rising inside of you. “What, are you jealous?” Cody asks, as if he reads your mind.

“No, it’s your life,” you respond. “Not my business.”

“You’d been gone for about five months at that point,” Cody says, looking up at the ceiling. “You’d stopped calling, stopped answering texts. I figured you found yourself a soccer player to occupy your time, and didn’t have any use for me anymore. Outta sight, outta mind.”

“Listen, we both know I was the idiot,” you respond. “I thought if I went to Scotland I could figure my life out. It was neutral, nobody knew me. I could become who I wanted to be. But I hated it. As beautiful as it was, it didn’t have what I wanted. I knew that what I was missing was here. I didn’t hate it because there was something wrong with it; I hated it because you weren’t there.” You pause to let out a sigh, and then quickly continue before you lose your nerve. “What sucks the most is that I figured this out after a few months,” you continue. “I had another, like, nine months on my contract. And I tried to get out of it, believe me, I did. But there was no way that I could without it costing me. Foolishly, I thought if I cut you off completely, that would help make it easier, but it was even worse. When I decided to finally reach out to you, I saw the pictures of you with that girl and it sent me in the other direction. I was jealous and depressed, and fucking mad because it was my fault.” You stop talking and look at everything in the room except Cody, until finally you have to look at him to gauge his feelings. His face shows little expression, but he begins to speak as soon as you look at him.

“Me and her had an agreement going into it,” Cody says. “She was gonna use me to get famous, and I was gonna use her to keep my mind off of you. At the end, she was the only one who got what she wanted. It was stupid of me to think I could get over you by fucking someone else. So, it seems like we both made stupid decisions.” You let out a sigh, and stare back at him for a moment, knowing what you want to say next.

“It’s a cliche if I say it now, you know that, right?” you say, rolling on your back to look at the ceiling. “This isn’t a romcom. Like, after we had this whole little talk about our fucking feelings, and how we missed each other, now I have to say it? Why? So you can have the upper hand because—”

“I love you,” Cody interrupts. You turn your head, looking at him still in the other bed. He grins slowly, then shrugs his shoulders. “You can have the upper hand if you want,” he says. “I’ve never tried that before, it might be kinda hot.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m obviously always the one in charge,” he says. “Ya’know, the dominant one. Daddy, if you will.”

“I won’t,” you retort. “That’s not what I was talking about, and I think you know that.”

“Oh, the other part,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, I love you, no big deal.”

“I sorta wish I said it first now.”

“To be fair, you did,” he says. “Last year.”

“That didn’t count,” you laugh.

“Why, because you said it after I choked you?” You laugh softly, feeling your cheeks heat up when he brings up this memory. Turning your head from him, you bite your lip, but Cody climbs from his bed and moves to sit beside you. “No, c’mon,” he chuckles, grasping your jaw and turning your head towards him. “You were so perfect that night, did you know that?” You shake your head, parting your lips and gently biting his thumb that he has brushed along your lips. “Begging me with these beautiful eyes. This fucking mouth hanging open, trying to breathe…so fucking pretty.”

“I was pretty while you were choking me, you psycho?”

“It wasn’t the choking,” he replies. “You trusted me. You needed me. That’s what it was about.” Cody pauses, eyes cutting to the side in thought, before he looks back to you. “I mean, the choking was hot, too,” he adds, and you quickly smack him on the arm which causes him to laugh. “Ouch! What’s that for? I know you thought it was hot.”

“I did,” you say, taking his hand from your cheek and lacing your fingers together. “Didn’t you promise me that you were gonna keep your hands to yourself?”

“Hmm, that’s right, I did,” Cody smirks, attempting to pull his hand free from your grasp, but you tighten your grip. He grins wider, taking your other hand and pulling you to sit up in front of him. “Do you want me to touch you?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yes,” you say, closing your eyes.

Cody shoves you to lay back on the bed, and tosses the blankets away from you. You wonder if he can hear the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. He settles over you, both hands bracing himself on either side of your head and kneeling between your legs. The gaze that he gives you mixes between adoring and animalistic, and you can’t help but reach out to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

The grin on Cody’s face is apparent as he leans in to kiss you and you return the smile as your lips touch. One of your hands rests on the back of his head, while your other hand grasps his shoulder, tightening your fingers around the fabric of his sleeveless shirt.

The way Cody kisses you takes your breath away. He gives you every ounce of the desperation and passion that he feels for you, kissing you forcefully enough to make you let out a small groan. He presses his hips against you, grinding enough to make your groan turn into a moan that’s lost in Cody’s mouth.

With a growl, Cody moves his mouth to your jaw, giving you a bite that only proves to make you moan again. He keeps traveling down to kiss and bite your neck, one of his hands now moving to cup your breast through your shirt. Your hands find their way up the back of his shirt, fingertips pressing at his warm skin, nails ever so slightly starting to dig in.

“Mmm, careful,” he mutters against your neck. “You’re gonna leave marks.”

“So are you,” you pant.

“Yeah, but only one of us is shirtless on television for a living,” he says, quickly, giving another bite to your neck. You giggle, pushing him away from you and peering into his eyes as he resituates to straddle one of your thighs, still on his knees.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too.”

Cody does not take his eyes off of you for a second as his hand creeps past the waistband of your panties. Your ragged breath surprises you, the anticipation that has built up over time finally starting to get the better of you.

“Fuck,” Cody whispers. “You’re shaking.” His middle finger rubs against your clit, causing your thighs to instinctively pull together. Your efforts to close your legs, however, are blocked by Cody, who has rested one knee between your thighs. “Still shy, huh?” he quips, nuzzling against your cheek and glides his fingers towards your entrance. “You don’t have to be scared of me, baby girl. I won’t hurt you unless you ask me to.”

“Cody,” you mutter, turning your head away from him as you feel your cheeks flush.

“Uh-uh,” he breathes, pulling his hand from your panties and taking hold of your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me.” Cody turns your head so you’re facing him again, his hand shifting so that his fingers, damp with your juices, touch your lips. You react on instinct, opening your mouth and giving him a desperate, pleading look. “Oh, I forgot about that,” he mutters, slowly sliding his index and middle fingers into your mouth, watching as you begin to suck on them. “Fuuuuck. What is it, huh? Do you love the taste of yourself, or would you just do anything to get my fingers in your mouth?”

All you can do is whine, grabbing onto Cody’s wrist to keep his hand in place as you suck harder. Your other hand feels blindly at your side in search of his arm that he uses to keep himself supported above you. As your fingers graze his skin, you grasp onto his forearm, creeping up higher to hold his bicep. Your eyes are closed, and you can hear your own moans as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“I’ll bet it’s both,” he whispers, his voice distant, slightly breathless as he answers his own question. “You’re so fucking strung out on me, you don’t even realize what you’re doing, do you?”

Your eyes flutter open, pulling you back into the moment that you hadn’t realized you had slipped out of. To your surprise, you are grinding against Cody’s thigh, his athletic shorts riding higher up his leg with each of your movements.

“How long has it been?” he breathes out, letting you use him while he maintains his composure perfectly. “You’re so desperate for it, I’m sure it’s been a while.” Finally, you drag his fingers from your mouth, sucking enough to give a gentle pop when they’re out.

“Since Ziggler,” you reply, breathlessly.

“No fucking way,” he chuckles. “That was a year ago.” You bite your lip, keeping your slightly embarrassed gaze locked on his. “You haven’t even…” he trails off, his hand slipping from your grasp so he can cup your jaw. “Have you done anything? Like, you haven’t even touched yourself?”

“No,” you say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, damn,” he breathes. For a moment, he thinks, his eyes cutting to the side and his brow furrowing in thought. “Ya’know what?” Cody begins. “I want you in my bed.”

“What? We’re already in this bed why do we—”

“That’s not what I mean,” he shakes his head. “I want to fuck you in my own bed. At my house, not at some hotel. That way, I can fuck you like you deserve.” Cody’s words make your head reel, and you let out a shuddered breath. “Do you like that, hm?” he asks, leaning closer to place another kiss on your lips. “We’ve got some time off next week…three days. Think that’s enough time?”

“Enough time for what?”

“For me to really make you mine. You’ll never want to look at another man again when I’m done with you. And I’ll make you so fucking addicted to me…you’ll be soaked whenever you even look at me, because you’ll know exactly how fucking good I give it to you.”

“Hope you can back up all this talk,” you breathe out. “Especially if I have to wait a week.”

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” Cody teases, sticking his lip out to fake pout, mocking you. “You can wait that long? I barely even touched you, and you’re so worked up, you can’t control yourself? So, you’d rather I fuck you here? You’re dressed like a slut, I can treat you like one, if that’s what you want.” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a sly grin, and he shakes his head. “Nah, you can wait,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”

#cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes smut #cody rhodes x reader

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adora-but-ginger · 1 year

Text

scrawled in sand

pairing: joel miller x gender neutral!reader

summary: a fight leads to a mistake that may be costly, and Joel might lose someone, again.

word count: 4.5k(ish)

warnings: typical tlou violence and the warnings that come with those, nothing in detail but some sexual thoughts so 18+, weapons/knives, mentions of the loss of children, joel is kind of being an asshole at some points, angst, fluff at the end though, reader is like a feral cat joining a group of feral cats, swearing, hallucinations kind of, spoilers for episodes eight and nine, talking of death, no y/n used, umm i think that's it

masterlist

a/n: please don't ask me what this is, i don't have an answer. i chugged it out on a whim yesterday and make some edits today to fit the story better, and i'm currently trying to fill the hole that the end of the show has left so here this is! pedro as joel truly makes my brain go brrr, this series is fr consuming my life oh my god. thank you for reading! <3

one more thing! don't repost my stories, because only those who don't cover their cough or sneeze do that, and frankly that's embarrasing.

enjoy!-ella

credit to gif owner!

Joel,

The letter started, and he felt the all too familiar feeling of guilt pool in his gut. The argument from earlier that morning back had ran through his head on repeat since you left him standing alone in the middle of the street, with nothing but the horses in the near distance remaining as his company.

He didn't know why he said what he did, or at least he didn't want to admit it. The ghosts of his past had been haunting his every waking moment the closer he got to you, after Ellie had asked you to come with them in Kansas City. To say you were a force to be reckoned with would be an understatement, and he frequently glanced to your features and saw the same fires that burned the kindle of broken memories in himself.

You were dangerous, fearless, and morally questionable. This meant that Ellie nearly fuckin' worshipped you, and that Joel followed not too far behind.

The fact that you were nearly breathtaking to him was also an added benefit. Had he met you before, Tommy definitely would've chastised him for fawning after someone so out of his league.

You were brutal, and had made your grand entrance by saving Ellie and his life when he thought he had failed once again. Even months after you had joined their little duo, he still hadn't figured out how he hadn't seen you in the shadows. You had gotten rid of the person holding the weapon to Ellie's head just as they were about to pull the trigger, the shock of this third unannounced party granting you the time to take care of the one suffocating Joel.

Apparently, you drew a line of morals somewhere, but the line must've been distinct only to you. You had introduced yourself to the two after making sure they were both okay enough to continue, and it didn't take him more than another twenty-four hours to know that somewhere along the line, you had lost a child too. He had never expressed his inference out loud, but only someone who personally knew the pain of losing a child like that would save a kid like that.

From then on, he could tell that his silent vow to protect Elle at all costs was shared with another--an unspoken agreement going between the two of you.

It didn't take long for his 'crush' (as Ellie called it) to develop for you, though he denied it at any and all costs. How could he not? You could take out a clicker in the most agile way he had ever seen, and still walk away looking saccharinely angelic. His angel of death, he called you, after a night of too much stale alcohol surrounded by the sounds of crackling embers and an audience of the stars. You had laughed, and it was the first time he had made you produce that sound.

To say that the thought made him a little weak in the knees would put it mildly, and he thanked the onlookers of dust and ice above him that he was sitting down.

You had told him that that was probably one of the nicest nicknames you had been gifted by another in the last two decades.

He responded with a small smile, one that hadn't seen the light of day in much too long.

You said you liked it, the way his eyes looked with the little crinkles, and got up to stand watch. He noticed the scar that adorned the length of your collarbone for the first time, and let his eyes travel downward for the briefest of moments, before he lectured himself on why he couldn't think like that, of you, of anyone.

Your guard slowly went down for him after that night under the stars, but that didn't mean that you were any less brutal. You plowed through infected with so much as a blink of an eye and a scoff, and could bring a person to their knees, in want of lust or life, often taking the latter.

You two had become close after the winter that he nearly died at the University and Ellie and themself had gone through some of the most trauma one could experience. In fact, the caring whispers you and him had shared during those weeks, well, he damn near thought he made them up out of how unreal they seemed. He remembers the feeling of your lips against his cheek, of you falling asleep on one side of him with Ellie on the other while he nearly bled to death.

He knew he loved you then, but chalked it up to his dying mind.

And then the incident with the hospital happened, and even though you had barely the slightest clue as to who these firefly folks were, you had informed him afterward that when you woke up and pestered Marlene into telling you what was happening with Ellie you blacked out--that there was a reason as to why he had given you that nickname all those moons ago.

Because even if these people thought they could make a cure, who was to say that it worked? These scientists, with barely any resources to perform the necessary tests, had no guarantee that they wouldn't fuck it up, or that they would even did the surgery right had they performed it. No practice on what to do, no clue as to if they even acquire the correct sample. In fact, the only thing that they could guarantee would be the blood of a fourteen-year-old on their hands.

Joel had met you halfway through his sweep of the first floor, the fireflies making the dire mistake of keeping you two on the same level.

He decided to lie to Ellie about what had happened earlier then, and you respected his decision to a point, but you told her that you couldn't speak for him, and that you had found the two of them through no innocent manner.

So now here the three of you were, in Jackson, Wyoming, with him head-over-heels for you, and you feeling quite the same. A home was given to you all, and Tommy had rightly taken up his role of annoying younger brother, reminding him that not only did he know those who were ordained within the town (should the time come for you to become him and Maria's sibling-in-law), but that it would contain the looks that those of all genders gave you.

Like he said before, you were breathtaking, and now he wasn't the only one who knew that.

You had let your guard down a little sine you all returned, but he could tell you were struggling with it. Acting as a parental figure to Ellie had come easy to you, which meant that Tommy wasn't the only one constantly pushing him to make a move on you. He wouldn't be surprised if Ellie and his brother had a damn bet going on as to who could get him to say something first. And even though you two shared a room and a bed, nothing was set in stone. You would only really go out when the other two were, besides patrols, which you damn nearly craved according to Tommy.

It was hard for you and him, but the effort was there. He would see a more relaxed version of you in the nights, with the musings spoken between you and him after the sun had set only heard when your arms were around him in bed and the lull of sleep was around the corners.

So, when you both came back after a significantly rough patrol and something within him snapped at your recklessness, the feeling so long subdued came out from the depths of both of your hearts.

"You need to start being more careful of your surroundings!" He had sharply huffed at you after you had gone in with your usual guard and lack of self-care. The shock at his sudden outburst on your face spoke for the both of you. He didn't know why he was so upset, this was nothing new, but his fears had started to best him.

"Pardon me?" You had said after removing the saddle from your horse.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, your actions soon mirroring his. "You can't just go into spaces we haven't checked alone all because you feel up to it."

"I went in there because I knew that there were infected, I don't get why this is anything different than the usual." The shock had quickly faded into confusion at his accusation. As much as he knew your readiness for conflict of the physical, he knew that you were never one for that of the verbal. That was one difference between the two of you--you insisted that problems were to be figured out and dissolved as soon as they arose, for there was no point in letting an argument brew.

"It's just--" he shut his eyes and took a breath, trying to keep himself in check, recognizing the fear that still remained from how fast you bolted into the abandoned barn. "We're a family now, you n' Ellie n' I, and you have to start caring more about what you do and your safety."

"I have been, Joel. So a stalker got a jump on me when I turned my back, but it's happened to the best of us. I wasn't bit, I'm okay." You had reached for his arm, but he moved his stance back just enough for you to halt your motion.

Something hardened in his eyes at that, feelings of what could've happened if you were bit flashing across his mind like a bad movie. "What if we hadn't been on your six? Huh? What would've happened if you did get bit? I couldn't live with myself, and you know damn well that Ellie wouldn't take the news well either. What you do doesn't just impact you anymore. That's all I'm saying."

You had sighed, nodding. "You have to see where I'm coming from too though, love." Pet names had flowed relatively frequently between the two of you since the beginning of the winter, but he still wasn't used to them. He liked em', loved em' even, but a little voice in his head always told him he was getting too close. You both hadn't said those three words, but he was terrified that he would push you away the moment they entered the air.

"I just, never mind." He turned to walk away, which was his first mistake. He knew you wouldn't let the subject just go like that.

"No, no, let's talk this through. You have done the same thing countless times, hell I've had to pry those fuckers off of your back more than I should, but you still continue to do it."

He spoke with his back still turned. "Yeah, but with me it's different."

Mistake number two.

You had both moved to the street now, the lights of early morning filling the colour palette surrounding you both.

"What do you mean it's different? What, you think I'm weaker than you or somethin'?" Your voice held more bite with the claim, and he screwed his eyes tight. He knew that your ability to hold your own was a touchy subject at best, after you explained your amount of loss long ago, but it didn't even cross his mind that his words could've been interpreted in a different manner.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He was getting annoyed, he was tired, but he turned to face you nonetheless. It was too early for a disagreement, but alas, here you both were.

"Yeah? Because that's not what it sounded like."

"Listen," your name tumbled from his lips. "You know that I know you're not weak, I have never doubted your strength and I never will. Goddammit. I just think that you go in over your head sometimes, thinkin' that you can handle more than you can."

Mistake number three.

"I know damn well what I can and cannot handle, Joel." Your chest was starting to raise faster, and he could tell that you were getting fed up, but so was he.

"Can you just listen to me for once?!" his tone became louder with every word. Memories of his life before ran through his head, alongside your image. If you wanted to be so stubborn, he could too. Maybe that's why he said what he did next. "You know what? No. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"For the past how many patrols, you've come back with some sort of scratch because you don't care about what happens to you, and I'm sick of it--"

"--I've been working on it, and you know that. This isn't an easy change for me."

"But you're not workin' hard enough!" his voice was raised now, and he saw your resolve start to break. The dam had opened, and now the flood was rushing in. "If you're goin' to go and get yourself hurt, go do it away from me. In fact, it might just be better if you go on and leave, save us the trouble of worryin'." The words were leaving his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying, and he regretted every word that he processed.

"You don't mean that." He could see your breath hitch, your chest stumble as you spoke.

"I'll be damned if I don't. Can't have us thinkin' you're not gonna make it back if there's no back for you to come to."

"Joel, I am trying to work on getting better at it." Your voice matched his tone now, the anger seeping through you. "You don't see me pointing out every one of your flaws, and goddammit you have your fair share. You know I love you regardless, and--"

Mistake number four.

His body tensed up at your accidental confession, and your eyes widened as you realized what you had said.

"What did you just say to me?" He was too fired up to process his emotions healthily, and all the alarms to run were blaring loud and far. Did he feel the same? most definitely. Did he know how to express that in the slightest? Not at all.

But you held your ground. You knew him and how closed up he was, hell, you were nearly on par with his level there, but you had said it nonetheless. "You heard me, and I've got the feeling that you've known it for quite some time now."

He couldn't stop though. "Don't come home tonight. I don't want you there. Hell, you should've gotten bitten, for all I care."

You cursed yourself for getting close to that old grump. You didn't mean to say it, but you meant it, and you thought he felt the same. You left him there, then, not allowing him to see just how his words affected you. It was ridiculous really, how you let him get to you, but you liked the normalcy of Jackson, no matter how bad you were at it. You felt bad for leaving Ellie, but you thought it was best. Joel was right in that manner, she deserved a guardian that could keep themselves alive.

So that afternoon you talked to Tommy about taking your horse for a little joyride that evening, and though he wasn't too happy with your push for it, he obliged. It was past midnight when you came into the building you used to call home. You got your little belongings together, those consisting of a photo of the three of you, some flasks of water, some flasks of a liquid that was not water, some food, some weaponry, a journal, and went downstairs.

You scribbled a little note for Joel and went on your way. You couldn't look back, because if you did, you'd stay. Part of you broke as you imagined Ellie's reaction come the morning, but you continued on.

You didn't know where you were going, but you didn't really care.

After talking with Ellie that afternoon about what happened once the guilt had consumed him, Joel sought you out. You hadn't come home that night, and though in his fury he told you to do exactly that, he didn't expect you to actually do it.

He had checked the spare bedrooms but found only empty spaces. His heart started to drop as his hopes to see you dwindled. It was when he walked to the kitchen table was he met with someone. Ellie sat there, eyes glued to the small piece of paper in her hands, a tear slipping down her face. At the presence of Joel, she whipped her head towards him.

"I thought you were going to fucking talk it out." Her eyes were red, and she spoke with a bite. "Go get your fucking stuff, we're bringing them back." She stood up and went to go gather her stuff he assumed, leaving the paper on the table. He walked over and picked it up, the guilt returning as he read his name in your handwriting.

Joel,

Guess it really all was just one sided. You were the first person in years that I let myself care about, and I guess I'm facing the consequences. Like you said, you can't worry if I don't come back if there's no back to go to.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt his heart become erratic.

Ellie,

I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me for leaving, but please don't hate me for it. If I were to stay, it would just be awkward between Joel and I, and eventually you probably wouldn't see much of me anyways. Love you, kid.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, this was a mistake. You'd been with people for too long that you grew to be rusty by yourself, and it was costing you, big time. You had been on foot for who knows how long now, but it was dark and sleep was slowly lulling you to its call, so you didn't hear that someone caught onto your trail and began to follow you. It wasn't until a twig snapped no more than fifteen feet behind you that you caught on, and by then it was too late.

A short fight later, death had found another, and there was a nasty stab wound in your shoulder.

You had thought to bring food and water, but why you forgot a med kit was beyond you. So, here you were, your horse waiting by the creekside, while you tried to find something that would hold enough pressure to prevent you from passing out. That was quickly coming to no avail though you realized, and you cursed at yourself for being so torn by rage from your fight with Joel to prepare properly.

You could see drops of your blood reflect in the morning dew that coated the grass. This wouldn't be lethal if you found a way to patch it up, but you were losing hope by the second.

Being agitated enough to find a solution, you decided to press on the wound with your hand, causing your sight to briefly black out in pain. A groan surpassed you, and you begrudgingly dragged yourself to your horse, doing your best to keep the reins in place via a bigger rock, and slumped down against it. If you could rest for just a few minutes and regain your breath, then you could focus better on what was around you that could help. Just a few minutes, you promised yourself, and the darkness overcame your shutting eyes.

It was the sound of another horse that jostled you from your unconsciousness. Looking around, it took you a half a moment to recognize where you were, a part of you aching for the comfort of your shared bed. But that's when everything came flooding back.

Joel. The fight. The note. The stabbing.

You looked skyward and groaned when you saw the paint of warm colour canvasing the blue. With a curse and a deep breath, you pushed yourself up, barely making it to a standing position before the pain overcame you again. You risked a look to your clavicle, and to your dismay, it was looking a whole (no pun intended) lot worse. You figured that you should've known that sleeping it off wouldn't heal a literal stab wound, but what the hell, it was worth a shot. The blood loss caught up to you making you lightheaded, and as you stumbled to your horse, you thought you were hallucinating, because you could swear that you heard Joel's voice.

The version of him that your mind had cruelly made up was coming closer, and jesus christ you were hallucinating Ellie's voice now too. The trees around you started to spin, and when you saw them turn towards the crest of the hill you looked up from, you actually laughed.

You were about to possibly die, and your mind had to punish you for it.

Calling up to the false images, you got their attention with slurred speech. "Shit, you can't even let me go in peace, can you?" Another sour laugh followed your accusation, and the hallucinations had their own conversation before rushing down to you.

Getting off Callus, Ellie slapped Joel's chest at the sight of your shoulder. "Holy fucking shit, guess we know what the blood trail led to." She moved to you after that with Joel not too far behind, but you put all the remaining strength into stepping back from them.

"I know you're both not real, but I don't know why you're still here." This must have been the precursor to death's entrance because that could be the only rationale for this. "You clearly got your way, Joel, now go away so I can please die with some closure."

It was a shame that this is how you went really, with a wound from a dirty blade, but alas. Fake-Joel crossed the distance between the three of you, grabbing onto your good side with eyes wide, examining the injury. "When did this happen?" His eyes sought yours, and you rolled yours in response. "Ellie! Get the bandages from my pack!"

You gave a poor attempt at backing away. "Can't you just leave me be? You told me to go and made it quite clear how you felt about me." You were slipping, and could feel the darkness whispering your name.

"I'm real, this is real honey."

The little amount of push in you snapped, because you scowled in response. "Don't call me honey." You glanced at his hands, noticing that they were moving to the wound. "Plus, if you were real, I wouldn't want to speak to you. So what, I said that I loved--" A gasp caught the end of your sentence, the pain clearing your sight as he started to put pressure on your shoulder. "--love you, but you knew it anyway. We were a family, like you said, and I let my guard down for you--" You had used more energy than you thought on that last sentence, with nothing more than a whisper allowing itself to get through for any other words you had.

Ellie had given Joel gauze by then, and he started packing the wound as best he could. "El, get the horses together, we're takin' them back." He spoke your name then, and you wanted to cry out to the universe for making you think this up. "Bet that felt real, yeah? Listen, I know I said some things earlier, but I really didn't mean them. I'm not that good with bein' vulnerable yet, and I'm still learnin', but I shouldn't have acted that way." Your name spilled from his lips again, and why was he saying all of this now? He continued to talk, but you didn't hear anymore, your eyes unfocusing and starting to shut, the darkness finally coming to claim you.

It had been nearly a full day that you were out, and even though Joel knew that it was partially due to whatever the doc had given you, he was damn near terrified. All of the day's events seemed like a blur, and by the time he was given the okay to stay in the room with you, he had had his fair share of tears. Ellie sat next to him in the chairs he brought up from the dining room, the temporary cot in his room that held you looking extremely out of place.

He had apologized to you more times than he could count while you were out, but the guilt that still racked him rang strong. He had failed, again, this time because he was too bull-headed to talk it out.

Ellie's nudges brought him out of his train of thought, her voice saying your name as your eyes opened. A string of cusses flowed from you as you came to, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Once he had offered you some water, he saw your features twist into skepticism.

"If I'm dead, this is not what I was expecting."

Of course you'd say something like that, trying to diffuse any awkwardness of the situation. Joel played off of it, because he'd prefer this to anger any day. "Yeah, we're actually angels."

That got a snort out of Ellie, and a weak smile from you, one of his own following not soon after.

A few seconds passed in the welcomed silence of each other's presence, but all too soon things became real again.

"I don't know how much you remember from out there, but you gave us a real scare." His hand gingerly reached for your arm, silently asking for permission to hold it, sighing a breath of relief when you nodded. You weren't one for physical touch, especially after an argument, so this felt like a hopeful sign "I really am sorry about what I said to you. I shouldn't have, and I didn't mean a lick of it. I care about you more than I have for nearly anyone else, and I--" The words caught in his throat, and your eyes followed his as they searched the room for an answer.

"Joel," you murmured, eyes on him. "Shit happened, we can talk about it all later, yeah? You don't have to give any confessions now." You kept trying to break the tension there, and he could assume it was due to Ellie being there.

He pushed through though, because Joel Miller was a stubborn man, and damn it if he hadn't been working up the courage to say it since you all re-entered Jackson's gates. "No, no, I want to say it, and I mean it."

"I love you too."

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller apologist #joel miller angst #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams #the last of us spoilers #tlou spoilers #tlou hbo spoilers #pedro pascal

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