#I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imthebadguyyy · 5 months ago

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i can fix him, no really i can.

Pairing : charles leclerc x reader

Fandom : formula 1

Series : the tortured poets department

Synopsis : they tell say God help her when I tell em he's my man...

warnings : angst.

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud...

The Monaco Grand Prix had been spectacular. Charles Leclerc, the golden boy of Formula 1, had won in his home country, and the celebrations were grand. The streets of Monte Carlo were alive with excitement, and the night was still young when you found yourself at a cozy bar with Charles and your friends, including Alex and Lily.

Charles was in high spirits, the euphoria of his victory coursing through him. You couldn't help but feel proud of him, but a knot of anxiety had formed in your stomach. You brushed it off, attributing it to the intensity of the day. The bar was crowded, the laughter loud, and the drinks flowing.

You sat beside Charles, trying to engage in the celebratory mood, but the jokes he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. You could see the discomfort in Lily’s eyes, and Alex’s attempt to diffuse the tension with his own humor only partially succeeded.

“And then there was my ex, remember her?” Charles roared with laughter, slapping the table. “She was always so organized, never made a fuss about anything. I swear, sometimes I think she had everything more together than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

The laughter that followed was forced, a thin veneer over the awkwardness. Your heart sank. Charles had a few too many drinks, and his filter was gone. The way he talked about his exes, and sometimes even you, made you feel small and insignificant. Tonight, it stung more than usual.

Lily gave you a sympathetic look, and you tried to muster a smile. Alex changed the subject to racing, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. But Charles was on a roll.

“And you, love, you’ve got your quirks too,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. His voice was louder than necessary, drawing the attention of those around you. “Remember that time you tried to cook us dinner and nearly burned the kitchen down? Classic.”

The laughter was scattered, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You wanted to disappear, but you stayed, for Charles. The night dragged on, each joke more painful than the last, until finally, it was time to leave.

Back at the hotel, the atmosphere was heavy with the unspoken words that lingered in the air. Charles, still basking in his victory, seemed oblivious to your discomfort. He collapsed onto the bed, eyes half-closed, a contented smile on his face.

You changed into your pajamas quietly, the tension building within you. Charles didn’t notice. He didn’t kiss you goodnight or tell you he loved you. He just lay there, lost in his own world.

As you slipped into bed beside him, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The silence was deafening. You turned away, facing the wall, the weight of your doubts pressing down on you. Was this what love felt like? Was this the future you had envisioned with him?

Sleep was elusive, your mind racing with questions and insecurities. You felt a chasm growing between you, one that his victory and the night’s revelry couldn’t bridge. Charles had won a race, but you felt like you had lost something precious.

In the quiet darkness of the hotel room, you lay awake, wondering if Charles would ever see the pain behind your forced smiles, the hurt beneath your laughter. The night that had started with joy ended in silent despair, leaving you unsure about the road ahead.

they shake their heads, saying god help her, when i, tell em he's my man...

The living room buzzed with nostalgia and laughter as you mingled with Charles' childhood friends. Marta, Riccardo, and a few others caught up animatedly near the fireplace, while Lily and your closest girlfriends gathered near the kitchen, sharing stories and memories.

Charles slipped his arm around your waist, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Hey everyone," you announced, your voice trembling slightly. "There's something we want to share."

The room quieted, and curious eyes turned towards you. You felt Charles' supportive presence beside you, which gave you a measure of reassurance.

"We're dating," Charles declared with a bright smile, his eyes searching for signs of approval or happiness.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, Marta and Riccardo exchanged concerned glances. Lily's expression softened with worry, but she quickly composed herself.

Without saying a word, Lily motioned for the other girls to follow her. You gathered in a nearby room, and they enveloped you in a supportive hug.

"We just want you to be careful," Lily whispered, her voice filled with concern. "You know how Charles can be sometimes."

The other girls nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and caution. "We're here for you no matter what," one of them added, squeezing your hand gently.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt their unconditional support. These were the friends who had always been by your side, through thick and thin. Their concern was palpable, a reflection of your deep bond and shared history.

"I appreciate your concern," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I really care about Charles. I hope you can see that."

They nodded understandingly, their embrace tightening around you. "Just promise us you'll look out for yourself," Lily said softly.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. Despite the doubts lingering in the back of your mind, you knew you had their support. With them standing beside you, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

Back in the living room, Charles was chatting animatedly with his friends, oblivious to the heartfelt conversation happening just a few rooms away. You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. Whatever happened next, you knew you weren't alone.

his hand so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face...

The day had been a disaster. Charles had been so sure of his win, so confident in his abilities. But the race had ended in bitter disappointment. You could see the frustration radiating off him as he stormed out of the pit, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

You followed him quietly, giving him space as he retreated to the trailer. He slammed the door behind him, and you hesitated before opening it slowly and stepping inside. The tension in the small space was palpable.

"Charles," you said softly, hoping to calm him down. "It's just one race. There will be more."

He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You don’t get it!" he shouted, the force of his anger making you flinch. "I needed this win. Everything was riding on this."

You took a step back, feeling a mix of fear and sorrow. "I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, and then turned away from you. "Just...leave me alone," he muttered, his voice still edged with anger.

Your heart ached at the distance between you. You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but his fury made you hesitant. You stood there, torn between giving him the space he demanded and wanting to bridge the gap his disappointment had created.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, and he turned back to you, the anger in his eyes replaced by regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, though it still carried the weight of his frustration.

You nodded, but the hurt lingered. "I know," you replied quietly, not sure if you believed it yet.

He stepped closer, his calloused hands reaching for you. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his words earlier. He softly traced hearts on your face, the roughness of his fingers a reminder of the man he was — strong, yet capable of such tenderness.

You closed your eyes, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions swirling within you. His anger had scared you, but his apology and the softness of his touch made you question your feelings. Could you forgive him so easily? Did his regret outweigh the sting of his outburst?

He continued to caress your face, his fingers moving in soothing patterns. "I hate that I took it out on you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was genuine remorse there, but also a desperation for your forgiveness. You wanted to trust him, to believe that this was just a moment of weakness, not a glimpse into a darker side of him.

"I don't know what to feel," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You scared me, Charles."

His face crumpled with guilt, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. Please, just give me a chance to make it right."

You stayed in his arms, your heart heavy with uncertainty. His touch was soothing, but the memory of his anger lingered. You wanted to forgive him, to move past this moment, but a part of you wondered if this was a sign of things to come.

As he traced another heart on your cheek, you closed your eyes again, trying to find clarity in the midst of the chaos. You loved him, but love alone couldn't erase the hurt. Only time would tell if his actions matched his words, if his tenderness could outweigh his anger.

For now, you held onto the hope that he could change, that the man who traced hearts on your face was the real Charles, not the one who lashed out in anger. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you silently prayed that your hope wasn't misplaced.

i can fix him, no really i can..

The evening had started off so well. Charles had invited you to a family dinner at his mother's house. Pascale, Arthur, Lorenzo, their girlfriends, and a few of the drivers were all there. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and warmth. You felt a sense of belonging, surrounded by the people Charles loved most.

But as the night wore on, a seemingly innocuous comment about a minor mistake Charles made during a recent race triggered something in him. What began as light-hearted teasing quickly escalated into a heated argument. Charles' temper flared, his frustration from the season bubbling to the surface.

"You don't understand the pressure I'm under!" Charles shouted, his face flushed with anger. "It's not just a game to me!"

You tried to calm him down, to remind him that everyone was just joking, but he was too far gone. "Charles, it's just a silly mistake. Everyone makes them," you said gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

But your words only seemed to fuel his rage. "You always take their side!" he snapped. "You never support me!"

The room fell silent. Pascale and the others exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the evening had taken. Arthur stepped forward, trying to intervene. "Come on, Charles, she’s just trying to help."

Charles whirled around to face his brother, his eyes blazing. "Stay out of it, Arthur. This is between me and her."

You felt a pang of hurt at his words, but also a rising determination to stand your ground. "I'm on your side, Charles. I always am," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. "No, you're not. You never are."

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Pascale sighed deeply, her face etched with worry. "Let him go, dear. He needs time to cool down."

Arthur put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "He’s being unreasonable. It's not your fault."

But you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can fix him. No, really, I can," you insisted, your voice breaking. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn't mean it."

Lorenzo's girlfriend, Charlotte, gave you a sympathetic look. "We know he doesn't mean it, but you can't keep taking the brunt of his frustration. It's not fair to you."

You looked around the room, seeing the concern in everyone's eyes. They cared for you, and they cared for Charles, but they didn't understand. They didn't see the Charles you saw — the one who was vulnerable and scared, hiding behind his anger.

"I love him," you said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else. "And I know he loves me. I just have to be patient."

Pascale walked over and took your hands in hers, her eyes filled with motherly compassion. "Love is important, but it shouldn't hurt this much. Sometimes, it's okay to step back and let him come to terms with his own issues."

You nodded, but your heart was heavy with resolve. You knew they were right, but you couldn't give up on him. You had seen glimpses of the man he could be, the man he was when he wasn't weighed down by his own demons.

"I have to try," you whispered, more determined than ever. "I have to."

You slipped away from the group and found Charles outside, pacing back and forth, his hands clenched into fists. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with regret. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "I know you're under a lot of pressure, Charles. But you can't keep taking it out on me. We need to find a way to handle this together."

He nodded, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I know. I’m sorry," he repeated, his voice breaking. "I just...I feel like I'm drowning sometimes."

You held him close, your heart aching for him. "We'll figure it out," you promised. "But you have to let me in. You have to trust that I'm on your side."

He nodded against your shoulder, his grip tightening. "I do. I will."

As you stood there in the darkness, holding each other, you knew the road ahead would be difficult. But you were determined to help him, to fix what was broken. Because despite everything, you loved him. And you believed that love was worth fighting for, even when it hurt

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man..

The car ride home was supposed to be peaceful. The two of you had spent a pleasant evening with friends, but as you drove back, a comment about his racing performance earlier in the week had sparked an argument. The tension between you and Charles had been simmering for days, and now it was boiling over.

"You're always criticizing me," Charles snapped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You think it's easy out there? You have no idea what it's like!"

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm not criticizing you, Charles. I'm just saying you need to be more careful. It's not just about you—there are other drivers, the team, and me."

His jaw clenched, and he pressed harder on the gas pedal. The car surged forward, the speedometer climbing rapidly. "You don't get to tell me how to drive," he growled.

Your heart started pounding, but you kept your voice steady. "Charles, slow down. This isn't the track."

He ignored you, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his knuckles white against the wheel. The car continued to pick up speed, the scenery outside blurring into a streak of lights and shadows. Fear tightened your chest, but you refused to let it show.

"Charles, this is dangerous," you said firmly. "You're not thinking straight."

He shot you a fierce glare. "Stop trying to control me!"

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep us safe. You're being reckless."

He let out a bitter laugh, his anger palpable. "You think you can handle everything, don't you? That you know better than me?"

Your patience snapped. "I can handle a dangerous man," you shot back, your voice rising. "But I'm not going to sit here and let you put our lives at risk because you're too stubborn to listen!"

Charles flinched as if you'd struck him. For a moment, the car seemed to hover on the edge of something catastrophic. Then, slowly, he eased off the gas, the car's speed gradually decreasing until you were traveling at a more reasonable pace. The silence that followed was thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words.

You both stared ahead, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint whir of the tires against the asphalt. The anger and fear churned inside you, but you kept your composure, refusing to give in to the chaos.

Finally, you reached home. Charles parked the car and turned off the engine, but neither of you moved to get out. The weight of the argument hung heavy in the air.

"I don't want to fight," he said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a fraction. "Neither do I. But you need to understand that your actions have consequences. It's not just about you anymore."

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away. "We need to communicate better, Charles. We can't keep having these explosive arguments."

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative. "I'll try," he promised. "I don't want to lose you."

You squeezed his hand, offering a small, tentative smile. "I don't want to lose you either. But we have to work on this together."

With that, you both stepped out of the car and walked into the house in silence, the echoes of your argument lingering in the night air. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were determined to face it together, one step at a time.

Come close I'll show you heaven, if you'll be an angel all night..

The argument had been intense, but now the storm had seemingly passed. You and Charles found yourselves in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere heavy with unresolved tension. He reached for you, his touch tentative at first, but quickly growing more insistent as he pulled you closer.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with regret. "I don't want to fight anymore."

You responded to his kiss, your anger melting away into a fervent need to reconnect. Your hands roamed over each other, the intensity of the make-out session escalating quickly. Lips met with a desperate passion, tongues intertwined, and the world outside ceased to exist.

"Come close," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, really?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

His lips trailed to your neck, kissing the delicate skin there, taking it between his teeth and sucking it to leave a mark, making you gasp and moan at the sting, letting your head roll back.

You nodded, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Yes, but you have to promise not to bring up the argument again. Let's just enjoy the night."

He chuckled, the sound dark and sardonic. "And if I don't behave? What happens then?"

You pulled back slightly, studying his face. "Then the deal's off. No more fighting, Charles. I mean it."

His expression hardened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a familiar edge of defiance. "You think you can control everything, don't you?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Always trying to manage me, like I'm some child."

Your heart sank, the heat of the moment dissipating in an instant. "That's not what I meant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I just want us to have a good night together."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever you say. As long as I'm your perfect little angel, right?"

The insult stung, cutting through the fragile peace you'd managed to build. Without another word, you pushed away from him, the anger and hurt flooding back. "You know what, Charles? Forget it. I thought we could move past this, but clearly, you're not interested."

You turned on your heel, heading for the door. Behind you, Charles called out, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that."

But you didn't stop. You couldnt. The promise of a passionate night had been shattered by his careless words, and you needed space to cool down and collect your thoughts.

As you walked away, you heard him sigh deeply, the sound filled with the weight of unspoken apologies and missed opportunities. The night that could have been spent in each other's arms was now tainted by lingering resentment and unresolved tension.

In the quiet of your room, you let the tears fall, mourning not just the lost night, but the growing distance between you. It would take more than apologies and promises to mend the rift, but for now, you needed to be alone.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you couldn't keep going on like this. Something had to change, and it had to start with him.

but your, good lord didn't need to lift a finger, i can fix him, no really i can....

The vacation had been a welcome escape from the relentless pressure of the racing season. You and Charles had joined a few of the drivers, including Lewis and Pierre, at a luxurious beachfront villa. The days were spent basking in the sun, enjoying the ocean, and indulging in rare moments of relaxation.

But even here, away from the track, the shadow of Charles' recent bad streak loomed large. It was a warm evening, the group gathered around a bonfire, laughter and conversation filling the air. Charles, however, seemed distant, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames.

"I feel like I need to pray," Charles said suddenly, breaking the jovial mood. "I need something to break this bad streak."

You squeezed his hand, trying to offer some comfort. "You know, you've always said I'm your good luck charm," you joked lightly. "You’ve got pole, fastest lap, and wins when I’m around. Maybe I’m the one you should be praying to."

There was a moment of silence. You expected a laugh, or at least a smile, but instead, Charles' expression darkened. He pulled his hand away, his eyes narrowing. "You think you're like God? That’s incredibly arrogant."

The words hit you like a slap. The laughter around the fire died instantly, replaced by stunned silence. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift. "Charles, I was just joking," you said quietly, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden deck. "You don't get it," he snapped. "You think everything revolves around you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. "I was just trying to lighten the mood," you said, your voice trembling. "I’m always here for you, trying to support you."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I don’t need your kind of support."

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Lewis and Pierre exchanged concerned glances, clearly uncomfortable with the unfolding drama.

"Charles, that’s enough," Lewis said gently, stepping in to diffuse the situation. "We’re all friends here."

But Charles ignored him, turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness. You stood there, feeling the sting of his words, the hurt cutting deep.

Pierre got up and walked over to you, his expression filled with empathy. "Hey," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but the tears finally spilled over. "I can fix him," you insisted, your voice breaking. "No, really, I can."

Pierre sighed, his eyes sad. "You can't fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed."

Lewis stepped closer, his gaze steady and compassionate. "You're better off without him if he keeps treating you like this. You deserve someone who appreciates you, not someone who lashes out."

You shook your head, the conviction in your voice wavering. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn’t mean it."

Lewis and Pierre exchanged another look. "Pressure or not, there’s no excuse for treating you this way," Lewis said firmly. "You need to think about yourself, too."

You wiped your tears, the reality of their words sinking in. But despite everything, you still loved Charles, still believed in the man you knew he could be. "I just need to talk to him," you said, more to yourself than to them.

Pierre gave you a small, sad smile. "Just be careful, okay? We’re here for you."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The night that had started with so much promise was now marred by tension and hurt. As you walked away from the fire, your heart heavy, you knew you needed to find Charles, to try and reach him one more time.

You found him by the shoreline, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand echoing your turbulent emotions. He stood with his back to you, his posture rigid.

"Charles," you called softly, stepping closer.

He turned, his face illuminated by the moonlight, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice raw. "I didn’t mean to snap at you."

You reached out, taking his hand. "I know," you whispered. "But we can’t keep going on like this. We need to find a way to deal with this pressure without hurting each other."

He nodded, pulling you into an embrace. "I don’t want to lose you," he murmured into your hair.

You held him tightly, hoping that this time, things would be different. But a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that this cycle would continue, that the man you loved would keep lashing out in his moments of weakness.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the waves crashing at your feet, you silently prayed for strength—for both of you. Because love was worth fighting for, but you couldn’t do it alone. Charles needed to fight too, for himself and for you.

WOAH- maybe, i can't...

The villa was supposed to be a retreat, a place where you and Charles could escape the relentless pressure of the racing season and find some peace. But the calm had been shattered by yet another argument. The drivers who had joined you—Lewis, Pierre, and a few others—had made themselves scarce, sensing the brewing storm.

You were in the kitchen, the words flying between you and Charles like daggers. "You’re always on my back, always criticizing me," he shouted, his face red with anger. "Do you think I don’t feel the pressure already?"

"I’m not criticizing you, Charles," you replied, your voice shaking with frustration. "I’m trying to help you, to support you. But you keep pushing me away."

He scoffed, turning away from you. "Support me? By constantly nagging? That’s not support, that’s control."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "I’m not trying to control you. I just want you to be your best, and that means sometimes you need to listen."

He whirled back around, his eyes blazing. "Listen to you? You think you know better than me? That you can fix all my problems?"

The words hit you hard. You had spent so much time believing that you could help him, that your love and support could make a difference. But now, standing there, the reality crashed down on you. He didn’t want to be fixed, didn’t want to change. He wanted to wallow in his frustration and drag you down with him.

"I thought I could fix you," you said, your voice breaking. "No, really, I did. I thought if I loved you enough, supported you enough, you’d see that you don’t have to go through this alone."

He rolled his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "That’s your problem. You think you’re some sort of savior."

The anger flared inside you, hot and fierce. "And you think you can treat me like this and I’ll just keep coming back? You’re the one with the problem, Charles. You’re so caught up in your own misery that you can’t see what’s right in front of you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, your voice rising. "You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that I can fix you when you’re not willing to fix yourself. I’m done."

Charles looked taken aback, his bravado faltering. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I’m leaving," you said, the words steady and resolute. "I deserve better than this. Better than you."

You saw the shock in his eyes, the realization that you were serious. "You’re not serious," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"I am," you replied, turning to grab your bag. "I’m done being your punching bag. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved."

You walked past him, heading for the door. As you reached for the handle, you felt a sense of clarity, of strength. "I can fix him, no, really, I can," you muttered to yourself, then shook your head. "Woah, maybe I can’t."

You opened the door and stepped outside, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you walked down the path, away from the villa and from Charles, you heard the door slam behind you. He didn’t follow, didn’t call out to you.

The drivers who had been waiting outside looked up, concern in their eyes. Pierre stepped forward, his expression gentle. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I will be."

Lewis came over, his hand resting on your shoulder. "You did the right thing. You deserve someone who values you."

You felt the tears well up, but they were tears of relief, of release. "Thank you," you said, your voice steady. "I needed to hear that."

As you walked away with your friends, leaving Charles and his toxicity behind, you felt a newfound sense of freedom. You had tried to fix him, but in the end, you had fixed yourself by walking away. And that was the greatest victory of all.

a/n : it appears I've given allll the angsty ttpd songs to charles 🥲 this one was painful to write. as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

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charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegends316 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1loverrr @livs @inkfablesandstories @ssararuffoni

f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion @williams-spare-chassis

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callmelittlebuttercup · 6 months ago

Text

Peace Offerings Pt. 10

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Reader accidentally spends the night at Joel’s place, and Matthew is not happy about it. Later in the day, an inebriated Reader runs into Joel at the bar and makes it his problem. He gets her home safely and the two talk about the events of the morning. Reader feels like she’s getting somewhere, but the evening is cut short when she says something that sobers them both up.

Series Warnings: Extreme slow burn, Age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, alcohol use, protective!Joel, respectful!Joel, drunk!reader, asshole!brother

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Ten

“Ok, asshole. I’ll stay. But only if you share that with me.” I said as I caught sight of a full bottle of whiskey on the counter. His eyes followed my gaze and he moved to pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, and then popped the cork out of it before taking a swig. “It’s shit.” He said after swallowing. I grabbed it from him, “It’s better than nothing.” I raised the bottle to my lips and as the liquid hit the back of my throat I coughed, “God that is bad.” He took it back from me and pushed the cork in, “Told you, but you still haven’t learned your lesson.” I looked up at him and questioned, “What’s that?” He walked over to sit back down on the couch. “You still don’t listen.” I sat on the chair across from him, “Well I listen better than you do. You are half deaf afterall.” He pressed his lips together, “Even then, I can follow directions.” I rolled my eyes, “That’s cause you make ‘em. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. We can go our separate ways, remember?” I reminded him. The reminder wiped the sly look off of his face and he nodded. After thinking for a moment, he spoke again, “Seems like you’re not quite ready to though.” I raised my eyebrows, “And you are? May I remind you that you kissed me first, and now you’re practically begging me to stay the night at your house?” He cleared his throat and sat up, uncomfortable with the chokehold I had him in, “Again, I was lookin’ out for the horses. And you’d find some way to get yourself in trouble.” I bit my lip to stifle a smile and nodded, “Right.”

Joel occupied himself with tending to a small fire he’d lit in the brick fireplace that was adjacent to the furniture in the living room. I watched him as I sat on the chair and sipped the rubbing alcohol they called whiskey from the bottle. I couldn’t help but notice how his demeanor changed here. His serious and stoic nature had softened. He could joke around and not clam up after. Maybe it was finally having a sense of safety for once and knowing that his brother was alive and well. Or maybe it was the whiskey.

“Joel?” I asked as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey back from my hand and plopped onto the couch. “Hmm?” He grunted. “Who’s Sara?” His eyes flashed to me as soon as the name left my mouth. I stiffened. “How the hell do you know that name?” He asked, his tone darkening quickly. I needed to stop letting my curiosity, and liquor, get the best of me. His face dropped in realization, “Is that why you were hiding in the stable? To eavesdrop on Tommy and I?” He asked angrily as he set the whiskey down on the table with a loud thump. “No. No I swear- I really got pissed at my brother and was just trying to find a quiet place.” I explained frantically. He calmed a bit, but the accusatory look still inhabited his face. “What’d your brother do?” He questioned. I shook my head, “It’s stupid. Just forget my question- forget all of it.” We both leaned back in our chairs, letting the potential conversation marinate as we stared into the fire.

Finally, Joel spoke. “Sara was my daughter. Lost her on the day the world went to shit.” My breath caught in my throat, and my chest tightened. I couldn’t imagine the pain that had caused him, but it did explain a lot of things. “God- I’m sorry, Joel. I-“ I breathed. “Don’t.” Was all he had to say before I shut my mouth and prepared to do so for the rest of the night.

The warmth of the whiskey in my stomach and the crackling of the fire began to lull me to sleep. I heard Joel’s soft snores coming from the couch across from me. There was a perfectly good bed upstairs, but even after weeks of sleeping on the hard ground or pushing cushions together, we still chose to sling ourselves over living room furniture.

I jolted awake at the sound of a forceful knock on the door. Joel hadn’t heard it, he’d fallen asleep with his good ear facing down. I contemplated waking him up, but the knocks were getting harder and louder. Out of fear of handling the situation alone, I planted a hand on his shoulder which caused him to flinch and draw in a panicked breath before catching sight of me. “Someone’s at the door.” I whispered. He blinked a few times and sat up, rubbing his eyes. We both jumped as the knocks sounded again. “Dammit, I’m comin’!” Joel yelled as he pushed himself off of the couch and limped towards the door. I stood in the living room, almost certain the knocks were for me, but I knew I couldn’t hide long.

Joel opened the door and Matthew grabbed a hold of Joel’s collar and pushed him up against the wall. “Where’s my sister, Miller?” He growled. Joel’s eyes were filled with panic and confusion. He tried to signal for me to hide, but I wasn’t going to let my idiot brother hurt him over an innocent night of drinking and conversation. “Matthew, let go of him.” I called. His head snapped towards me and his hands dropped from Joel’s collar. “The fuck are you doin’ here with him, sis? We talked about this.” He said as he walked towards me. “You talked at me about this and didn’t listen to a word I said.” I answered coldly. “Oh I heard you. You said there was nothing going on between you guys, and clearly that’s a lie.” He seethed, “What happened to your nose? He beatin’ you already? Hmm.. he’s starting earlier than the last one did. James gave it at least a year.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides. He’d dug up a memory I’d pushed far, far back into my mind. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. My eyes flashed to Joel and his eyebrows were furrowed with that same pitiful look. “I fell, Matthew. I tripped in the dark while I was getting some fresh air last night and smacked my face on the ground. Joel was only helping me because I ran into him and my nose was bleeding everywhere.” He looked between Joel and I, and then settled his sight on the half empty bottle on the table. “So it took all night, and a half a bottle of whiskey to ‘help’ you.”

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. I was 34 but somehow my older brother made me feel like a teenager again, in the worst way possible. “I drank it for the pain, got tired, and fell asleep in this armchair.” I explained bluntly. He nodded and walked back towards Joel, “That the truth?” Joel’s jaw was clenched and his fists balled in the same way mine were, but he nodded calmly. “All right then. I don’t mean to be all psycho on ya, Miller. My sister hasn’t had the best luck with male companions, and uh, you don’t have the best reputation around here. Just lookin’ out for her is all.” Matthew said in a patronizing tone before patting Joel’s shoulder and walking out the door.

I stood there for a moment, recovering from the blow of memories being brought up. I felt Joel’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bear to look into them. I was in no mood to answer the questions that were likely circling his brain and kept my eyes on the floor as I moved from the living room to the door. “I gotta go… I’ll see you around, Joel.” I said quietly before stepping out onto the porch and pulling the wooden door closed behind me. I ignored the sound of it opening again and my name being called as I made my way down the street.

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks and an immeasurable anger burned inside of me. How dare my brother just march back into my life and act like he cares about protecting me. If he really cared he wouldn’t have left me. He wouldn’t have obeyed some random woman’s orders to cut off contact with me. Wouldn’t have thrown my past in my face over some man he didn’t truly know.

I caught sight of Matthew strutting down the street and towards his house. The last thing I wanted to do was speak to him, but if I was going to stay here, I needed to convince him that Joel wasn’t the man those rumors were about. “Matthew!” I yelled as I jogged to catch up with him. He turned around. As I caught up I placed my hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, but what the fuck is up your ass for you to think that you can just waltz back into my life after years and act like you’re my god-given protector or something? May I remind you that you were the one who left? You-“ he cut me off, “And I regretted it every day. Wished I could’ve turned back every chance I had.” My eyes widened, I was unable to process his sudden change in demeanor. “Then why didn’t you?” I asked. He lowered his head to the ground, “I figured you’d be safer in the QZ. My plan was to find somewhere better for us, and then bring you out. Didn’t want you risking your life traveling outside the walls for nothing, so I went first. Plus, I fell into some bad groups. I couldn’t have left if I wanted to.”

I stared at him, suddenly the guilt for being angry with him for all this time flooded my chest. He was trying to find us a better life, not just himself. But I still needed to understand something, “And how do you explain the over protectiveness?” I asked pointedly. “I don’t know… I just… when we were younger I saw you with all of these assholes. Always knew you deserved better. All of the men I’ve seen and heard of in this new world are twice as bad as they were then-“ I raised a hand to cut him off, “But Joel is not. I know you’ve heard things about him, but you can’t deny the fact that we’ve all done horrible shit to survive. I’m sure if someone heard what you’ve done- what we’ve done they’d think the same damn thing. Believe me, I thought he’d be just like those other men, but he proved otherwise.” I explained. He crossed his arms, “What makes him so different, huh?” I looked back towards his house to see that he’d gone inside. “He didn’t have to take me with him, but he did. Says it was for Abe, but now I’m just starting to think it was just out of the kindness of his heart. He shared what he had with me, protected me, even risked his life for mine on multiple occasions. I know words are just words, Matthew, but if you get to know him, you’ll see.” He followed my gaze to Joel’s house and then settled his eyes on me. “Do you trust me?” I asked. He nodded. “So you’ll stop being a psycho?” I asked again. “I’ll think about it.” He smirked, and turned to walk into his house. I took in a huge breath of relief before following him into the house.

That night, Matthew had dragged me to the bar to meet a few of his friends. I’d knocked a couple of shots back to calm my nerves from being in a big crowd which caused me to become a bit more social. I was deep in conversation with a woman who was almost as drunk as I was when her eyes were focused on something behind me. “Hey, that guy over there is staring at you, want me to fuck him up?” She slurred, almost falling off of her stool. I spun to look behind me, having to catch myself on the counter of the bar before making another circle, and caught sight of Joel standing against the wall beside the fireplace. He quickly moved his eyes away from me and began to speak to Tommy. I turned back to the woman, “Nah, I got it.” I slid off of the stool and started towards him. The ground felt like it was moving, and I tried my best to stay upright as I made my way over.

“Mr. Joel!!” I called. He raised his head, and his face dropped when he saw me nearing him. “My friend over there caught you staring at me. Do we have a problem?” I asked as I tried to crack my knuckles intimidatingly. I was too drunk to see the smirk forming on his face. He lowered a hand to my arm to steady my swaying. “I wasn’t starin’.” He grunted. I gasped dramatically, “And now you’re lying! ‘Cause I saw you with my own two eyes, pal. You are a liarrrrr.” My sing songy voice caused him to cringe, and he began to look around the bar. “Where’s your damn brother, you need to get home.” I pushed his hand away, “No, thank you. I am fine. More than fine. I’m gonna go dance. C’mon.” I grabbed the glass of whiskey out of his hand and began to tip it into my mouth before he wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled it downwards. “You’re done.” He said, his voice took on a serious tone, causing me to become even less serious. “C’mon, Joel it just started to not taste like piss anymore.” He put the glass down on the mantle, and ushered me forwards by my shoulders. As I fought against Joel’s force, I became engrossed in the song that was playing and started to sing along to it. I eventually slipped out of his grip and turned around, wrapping my hands around his neck, “You gotta admit, this is a good fuckin’ song.” I slurred. “Jesus Christ.” He sighed. He rolled his eyes and his hands hovered around my waist. “Oh quit being a pussy.” I spat, and pushed his hand onto my waist. He quickly removed them and pried my arms off from around his neck. I stood there with a hurt expression on my face. He had officially become sick of my shit, and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the door of the bar.

“Oo, where are we going?” I asked cluelessly. “I’m taking you home. Don’t want you doin’ anything you’ll regret.” He grunted. It was freezing outside, and I realized I’d left my jacket on the stool. “My fucking jacket!” I whimpered as I rubbed my arms up and down for warmth. He pressed his lips together and shook his own off his shoulders before wrapping it around me. “Just let me go get it.” I protested and tried to hand it back. “You’re not goin’ back in there.” He grumbled, pushing it towards me. I rolled my eyes and clumsily threw it back over my shoulders. The smell of him on the jacket warmed me more than the heavy fabric itself. “Thank you.” I said as I wrapped it further around me. He grunted and held out his hand for me, “You gonna make this easier now?” I slid my hand into his larger one and squeezed before sighing, “I don’t think I have a choice.”

Joel pushed open the door to Matthew’s house and called out for him, but received no response. “He probably followed some girl home.” I laughed and began to dig through the cabinets for another bottle of liquor. I found one, but Joel closed the door before I could reach up to get it. I shot him an annoyed look, but he ignored me as he took a glass and filled it with water from the sink. “Drink this for a change.” He said, shoving the glass into my hands. “I’m really fine, Joel, I don’t know why you’re going all guard dog mode.” I slurred before taking a small sip of the cold liquid. He said nothing, and perched himself onto a stool at the island. I stood opposite of him next to the sink. He was staring at me with an indecipherable look in his eye. “What?” I asked bluntly. He shook his head, as if shaking himself out of a trance and mumbled, “Nothin’.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Well from the way you’re lookin’ at me it’s obviously something.” He shifted in the chair, then gestured to the cup in my hands, “Drink some more water ‘n then we’ll talk.”

“Ok, I finished the glass.” I said as I slammed it back down onto the counter. “Good,” he said before standing up and beginning to walk towards the door, “Now go to bed.” I cocked my head, “That’s it? I thought we were going to talk.” He let his head fall towards the floor, then raised it back up towards me. “That was a bribe. Goodbye.” He turned to continue his exit, but I wasn’t having that and ran to stand between him and the door. “Not cool, Miller.” I said quietly, becoming shy with his intense eye-contact. “Come on, move.” He said , tapping my arm gently to try and usher me out of the way. “Joel, I want to talk to you. About what my brother said this morning.” I blurted. He paused, “What? That I’m a bad man? That I beat you? Yeah, I know he’s not a huge fan of me, so if he catches me with you again it won’t be pretty. I was just tryin’ to get you home safe. Now I gotta go.” I shook my head and pressed my hand on his chest, “No, Joel I talked to him.” I insisted. “What?” He tilted his head. “I…wanted him to know that you weren’t who he thought you were.” I said shyly. “What’d he say?” He asked. My heart fluttered when I realized he cared. He cared what my brother thought about him. “We can convince him,” I sighed before reaching up to run my fingers through his hair and let my hand rest on his neck as I spoke, “He was just being protective. He was never a big fan of my past relationsh-” I stopped myself. Joel’s neck tensed under my hand and I peeled it off to hang by my side. My body numbed with fear and sobriety as I saw Joel’s face change from his soft, yearning look to a hard one. I watched him build his walls back up in real time. “I mean… Not that we’re in a relationship, or going to be in one. Uh… its just, you know..a man and a woman can’t be in the same vicinity without people thinkin’ they’re…” I trailed off again, stopping myself from digging into an even deeper hole. I moved away from the door. “G’night.” He grunted as he pulled the door open. “Night.” I whispered, my voice drowned out by the wooden door slamming in my face.

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Awwww shit reader, what did you do now?? Lmao

Thank you for reading! <3

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