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kedsandtubesocks · 10 months ago

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your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

#hello hi if you read this know me and author Joel are writing you a love letter #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #author!joel miller #Joel miller fic #Joel 🤎

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cocoakrispis-blog · 3 months ago

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✭ 3. FAMILY THERAPY ✭

pairing ~ ellie williams x fem! reader

summary ~ we join (y/n) in her first family therapy session which goes fairly well for her, but she seems a little bit more focused on ellie and what she’s going through. (y/n) seems to be thinking about ellie a lot it’s almost like she’s even haunting her dreams.

warnings ~ homophobia, tones of a little bit of religious trauma, joel finally makes his appearance but he’s homophobic :(, lil bit nsfw, wet dreams, making out, masturbation

wc ~ 4.0k words

SERIES MASTERLIST

the next step for the true directions rehabilitation program was family therapy.

this was one of the steps that your were dreading the most.

there was still a lot of shame that lingered in your conscious at fully admitting that you were a homosexual. as well as a touch of embarrassment that your family and friends were able to figure it out before you.

you still got anxious saying the word, lesbian, quietly to yourself with no one else around.

you had no idea how you were going to face your parents the people who had raised you to be a perfect, good-mannered, respectful, and more than anything normal teenage girl and look them straight in the face to tell them you had ended up as anything but.

the guilt that kept you up at night was getting easier to deal with day by day but the announcement of family therapy made it come back in full force.

where had they went wrong?

where had you went wrong?

the two questions that kept you from getting one single good night of fully restful sleep.

it wasn’t hard to see that you and the girls weren’t looking forward to facing this next step.

in the morning it was much more quiet than usual and everyone ate their breakfast in silence.

getting ready for the main event was somewhat uncomfortable as well.

it was almost silent and everyone seemed to be in almost some sort of trance.

even ellie who didn’t have any trouble teasing you for small things like how you applied your lip gloss or the way you walked was completely silent.

it unsettled you.

you knew you would be overjoyed for finally catching a break from all of the teasing but for some reason it made you feel oddly sad and lonely.

everyone had became significantly more tense once maria had announced to them that their parents had actually arrived and were now waiting for them in the room that you would be using.

“they’re all waiting in that room for you guys go ahead and go chat with them a little bit while i prepare our lesson for today!” maria exclaimed quite cheerily.

everyone reluctantly nodded their head and slowly trickled into the room.

the first parent that you noticed was a burly looking cowboy with what you assumed was large ten gallon hat to complete the look.

his presence was quite misplaced in the pastel orange room, and it immediately drew your eyes to him.

it was obvious he didn’t belong here and you wondered how he had even found out about this place.

to your surprise ellie walked up to the man and as soon as he noticed her he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“hi there ellie.” you quietly heard the man’s thick southern accent whisper into the top of her head.

for the first time time since you had seen ellie you briefly saw her completely let her guard down and melt into the hug.

your heart squeezed and you unconsciously wished you could see her do that more often.

“hi joel.” ellie whispered back softer than you’d ever heard her speak.

your intense staring at the tender moment was soon interrupted by your own parents who you had completely forgotten were there to begin with.

“what’s got you so distracted (y/n) aren’t you happy to see us?” your dad joked and pulled you into a hug.

you were knocked out of your trance and immediately put fixed your face to appease your parents.

“of course i’m happy to see you guys!” you squeezed your dad before smiling at your mom and pulling her into a brief side hug.

after you chatted and caught up a bit more maria walked into the room to announce that you guys would be starting.

as you were finding your seats you finally looked around to observe everyone else’s parents.

dina was accompanied by her mom and what looked like her little sister.

dina and her mom and sister all looked extremely alike but it was obvious dina was the more laid back one of the three.

riley was in deep conversation with her mom and dad about what you assumed to be sports.

their relationship seemed to look quite healthy and normal and you couldn’t help but wonder why they would send her to this place.

cat only seemed to be with her very professional looking mother.

it was almost comical to see how alternative looking and cool cat looked next to her very serious and businesslike mom.

when you finished observing the room and everyone was officially settled and quiet maria began to speak again.

“well first i’d like to thank everyone for coming today your presence is very beneficial to our campers and is very helpful with their progress.

everyone clapped at the small welcoming before maria continued.

“so today in family therapy will be discussing our roots and really just opening up to get more comfortable with each other.” maria clapped. “why don’t you start riley.”

riley anxiously looked around the room before clearing her throat and beginning.

“well um hey to those who don’t know me my name is riley and i am a lesbian.” she glanced over the adults in the room for a reaction before continuing. “well my root is always playing softball growing up.”

“would you like to go more into detail about how deeply that affected you we are all here to listen and better understand eachother.” maria said gently.

riley nodded before going further in depth about her extreme love for sports and how girls that played it impacted her sexuality.

you somewhat zoned out as she kept talking since you had already heard all about this in group therapy and just allowed yourself to continue looking around the room.

all the other girls seemed to in the same predicament and you briefly made eye contact with dina and sent her a smile.

for the most part the rest of the session was a blur you were quite focused on putting together your root and making sure you didn’t ramble on and embarrass yourself.

eventually it was ellie’s turn and once maria said her name you were instantly thrown out of your own thoughts and you prepared yourself to listen intently.

there was long pause before ellie began talking and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on inside her head at that very moment.

she was usually so quick witted and smart it was quite unusual to see her in this almost timid state.

“i-i don’t have a root.” she mumbled quietly under her breath.

everyone shifted quite awkwardly at her response and you looked at maria to see how she would react.

maria’s smile briefly faltered before she corrected it and looked at ellie with an almost mocking look.

“what do you mean you don’t have a root ellie we all know you have one there really is no reason to be scared this is a safe space.” maria attempted to comfort the girl.

“no i really don’t have one.” ellie crossed her arms tightly to her chest before training her gaze onto the boring floor.

maria grimaced before pressing on.

“well since i know you do i’ll just say it and you can elaborate on it.” maria sighed quietly.

“ellie’s root is that her mother got married in pants.” maria announced to the group proudly.

you saw ellie’s dad give the woman a weird stare before training his hard gaze on ellie.

“is that right ellie?” joel mirrored ellie’s crossed arms and started to tap his foot impatiently.

you saw ellie hesitantly look up from the ground to glance at joel.

“n-no it’s not right i l-lied i don’t have a mom i’m adopted.” ellie mumbled quietly.

your fought back the urge to take in a large dramatic gasp and just settled for squeezing tightly on your skirt.

seeing ellie genuinely vulnerable and open was truly a sight to behold, and you were beyond shocked.

the lying was extremely obvious and you were honestly shocked maria even believed her fake root to begin with.

however everything that came after her admitting her lie was extremely surprising.

you felt your heart squeeze painfully at how sad ellie sounded when she admitted everything.

“ellie how exactly is this program supposed to help you if you’re going around here lying.” you clearly heard the strain in his voice.

ellie settled for not responding and silently stared at the floor with furrowed eyebrows.

“really ellie you have nothing to say for yourself?” he sighed at the unresponsive girl.

you watched as ellie bit her lip and shook her head solemnly.

“well if you’re not going to put in the effort to get better why am i even here trying to put the effort in to help you get better.” joel stated before rising from the couch without another word and walking out of the room.

as soon as he left you looked at ellie who looked completely shocked that he had left and watched as she scrambled out of the room to follow after him.

you turned around in your chair to see the two arguing outside but due to their distance you couldn’t hear any words. but from the frustrated facial expressions on both of their faces it was easy to assume the conversation is was not going well at all.

the scene made your heart feel almost indescribably sad.

it was obvious that the both of them were very close despite not being blood related but this situation had put an extreme strain on their relationship.

your shameless staring was interrupted by maria awkwardly clearing her throat and calling out your name.

“well um (y/n) it is now time for you to reveal your root.” maria said sternly.

you gulped quietly and shifted uncomfortable before announcing the root of your homosexuality that you had been going over in your head over and over again.

once you were finished the whole room burst into applause.

you heard murmurs of ‘who would have thought’ and ‘she’s so brave’ being whispered throughout the room.

maria even looked more than pleased with the biggest grin on her face.

you tried to smile back at her but you knew the only thing you really wanted to do right now was whip your head back around to see what had happened to ellie and her adoptive father joel.

soon after that the session of family therapy was finished and it was time for everyone to send their families on their way.

your mind could barely focus on giving a proper goodbye to your parents because ellie still hadn’t come back and all you wanted to do was know that she was okay.

the rest of the day went by in a blur and before you knew it it was free time.

usually you would spend your free time chatting it up with dina and riley but this time it felt like it was almost your duty to speak to and comfort ellie.

ellie was sat by herself over one of the small hills in front of the house smoking one of the cigarettes you still didn’t understand how she snuck in.

you mentally gave yourself a mini pep talk before waltzing over to ellie and taking a seat next to her.

as soon as you sat down next to her ellie scooted away from you.

“what am i contagious?” you gave her a confused look.

you expected her to give you back some kind of witty comeback but much to you dismay she very simply ended up rolling her eyes and promptly took another long drag of her cigarette.

you sighed softly at her lack of response and focused your attention on the notepad siting in your lap.

since there wasn’t much entertainment around here you would frequently make little cheers for your team to use whenever you would return back from camp.

your head unconsciously bopped up and down as you repeated the cheer over and over in your head while attempting to come up with the next line.

“what is that?” ellie finally decided to stop ignoring you and moved a little closer to look at the lines of cheer written on your notepad.

“i’m trying to make a cheer but i’m stuck right now.” you sighed in frustration.

ellie gave you a mildly interested look before asking you another question about your cheer. “well what do you have so far?”.

you smiled at her question before clearing our throat and chanting out what you had so far.

“5-6-7-8 God is good-“

ellie interrupted you to add onto the cheer.

“God is straight!’ she cheered out in fake enthusiasm.

you frowned once you realized ellie wasn’t actually taking you seriously.

“cheers aren’t supposed to be super duper smart and witty you know they’re just to make people feel hyped up and good.” you gave her an annoyed look.

“cheers make tiny girls in tiny skirts to little flips.” ellie took a drag out of her cigarette before continuing. “orgasms make people feel good.”

you felt your cheeks warm and you quickly looked away to hide your embarrassment.

ellie softly chuckled at the look on your face and shrugged her shoulders casually. “just trying to help you out.”

you rolled your eyes in response and you two sat in a comfortable silence for a little while.

“your dad- um i-i mean your joel didn’t stay very long.” you messed with the grass of the hilll while casually trying to bring up the topic of the absolute trainwreck of a family therapy.

“his old ass was probably just cranky from not having an afternoon nap.” ellie laughed at her own joke with little enthusiasm.

“i know for a fact that he’s just trying to do what’s best for you.” you gently tried to soothe her obvious discomfort.

“well aren’t you just the sweetest little thing.” ellie scoffed at your response and gave you an irritated look.

“this whole thing is bullshit (y/n) i don’t know why you can’t you see that, you are who you are the only way you get by in life is by not getting found out.” ellie ridiculed you harshly.

you tried your best not to take her words to heart and pressed on.

“well if you’re such an expert on how to do this whole thing the right way how did you end up here?” you questioned the freckle faced girl.

“i got caught.” she sighed before mumbling out her response quietly.

“how exactly did you get caught?” you asked her curiously.

ellie let out a breath before beginning her explanation.

“i uhh used to have this friend that was a girl and we spent just a little bit too much time together.” you clearly saw ellie struggle to keep her voice level while explaining.

“what did you and this friend get caught doing?” you followed up your previous question.

ellie gave you an unimpressed look and sighed in annoyance.

“what do you think?”

her question was left hanging in the air as you imagined ellie with another girl doing inherently naughty things.

you felt your stomach turn at the thought and quickly shook your head to make your mind think of something else.

“one day joel caught us together and he decided the best course of action would be to send me here.” she continued when you didn’t respond.

there was another pause before you ed your next question.

you briefly debated back and forth with yourself to ask it but ultimately decided if you didn’t ask now you probably wouldn’t find a time to ask later.

“where you in love with her?” you asked ellie softly.

ellie looked away from you and quickly stood up to avoid your gaze.

“does it even matter?” grumbled under her breath.

you panicked once you realized you may have gone to far and in a desperate attempt to get her to stay you very gently reached up and grabbed her wrist to hold her in place.

ellie quickly retracted her wrist and gave you a look you couldn’t identify.

“careful i could get you reported for that.” was the last thing she said before leaving you to your own thoughts.

that interaction was the last one you had with ellie until it was time for lights out and you and all the rest of the girls were getting ready for bed.

you were sharing the mirror with dina and ellie as you all did your own separate nighttime routines.

dina was wiping down her face, as you brushed your hair, and ellie washed her mouth.

you were pretty much off in your own little world as you brushed your hair but out of the corner of our eye ellie asked your interest.

for some reason the sight of the water dripping form ellie’s mouth was oddly intimate and you couldn’t help but gawk.

ellie noticed your obvious staring and gave you a smirk and a wink before going back to washing her mouth.

you felt your body warm because of ellie and hastily put up your brush before running out of the bathroom.

you distantly heard dina ask ellie what was wrong with you and ellie let out a laugh before you jumped into bed as fast as possible.

you had no idea how much you were affected by what ellie had done in the bathroom until it was a couple of hours later and you just couldn’t manage to fall asleep.

for some reason every time you closed your eyes all you could see was ellie staring at you with her beautiful green eyes with much more attention than she had ever given you in real life.

as soon as that image materialized you would always open your eyes as fast as possible to get the scene out of your head.

after a while you got tired of interrupting your sleep and tried to just keep your eyes closed to see if maybe something else would happen after you would see ellie.

your eyes were then closed and you were back into your dream world staring at ellie and her pale green eyes.

ellie stared at you softly before leaning in and pressing her soft lips against hers.

the kiss was one of the most gentle things you had ever felt and without thinking you leaned into the kiss to return it full force.

you felt ellie smile into the kiss and her arms wrapped around you to pull you in closer.

your hands found your way into her auburn hair and you tugged at it when she teasingly bit your lip to ask for entrance.

you opened your mouth to allow her tongue to enter your mouth and softly moaned when you felt her warm wet tongue caress you own.

you felt fireworks go off in your mind at the feeling and pulled her in even closer by her hair to deepen the kiss.

ellie moaned into the kiss and roughly began kissing you back in retaliation.

you felt ellie’s hand trail down to your bottoms and begin to toy with the edge of your panties.

your eyes shot open in a panic before she could get any further and you sat up in bed while panting to catch your breath.

what had just happened?

you had heard of wet dreams before but you only knew of boys experiencing it so you were utterly confused as to why you had just suffering from one.

your confusion was cut short by the feeling of your thighs unconsciously rubbing together to relieve the pressure between your thighs.

you quietly gasped when you looked down to see a wet patch on your little shorts leaking from your panties.

there was only a couple of times you had felt this intense unfamiliar feeling and it always had to do with when you were staring a little bit too long at one of your teammates in practice.

you assumed it was just being proud of them for completing a hard trick but as you sat here in your own wetness after having such a dirty dream you realized it was actually arousal.

your whole body turned warm once you realized you were turned on and there was no way you would be able to go back to sleep without taking care of it.

as silently as possible you got out of bed and headed into the bathroom to hopefully sort out what was going on inside your panties.

you didn’t even bother turning on the lights to stay as discreet as possible.

for a while you stared at yourself in the mirror of the dark bathroom in hope of maybe finding some answers.

when no answers came out of the darkness you sighed to yourself in realization of what you would really have to do.

you very slowly took off your sleeping shorts and panties in one motion and shivered once you felt the cold air on your dripping heat.

masturbation wasn’t something you were completely clueless to but you had never actually tried to do it yourself.

from the mandatory sex ed class you had taken you knew were everything was and just hoped you could actually make yourself feel good.

you very hesitantly brought your hand down to your pussy and gasped softly once you actually made contact with it.

it was an unfamiliar feeling but it felt good.

it was so wet and a warm you almost felt embarrassed what you got this way from a dream with ellie in it.

almost.

your middle finger trailed down to your clit and you bit your lip in concentration as you began to circle it in soft motions.

you felt your hole twitch at the feeling and you whined softly as you softly pinched your clit between two fingers.

your nipples harden underneath your thin sleep shirt and without thinking you reached up to grab at one of your boobs with your other hand.

when you fingers made contact with your hardened nipples you had to bite back a whine at how good the stimulation felt.

the fingers that were circling your clit sped up and your breathing began to get heavier as you tell a foreign feeling start to build up in your lower stomach.

you threw your head back when you felt your fingers apply the perfect pressure to your clit and accidentally squeezed your nipple harder than intended, resulting in a quiet moan.

before you were fully able to process what was happening you felt your clit twitch and your dripping hole squeeze impossibly tighter.

the feeling growing in your lower stomach snapped and you felt the feeling of your warm cum slide down your spent pussy.

it was so overwhelming you had to rip your hand from your tit to cover your mouth to prevent any sounds from leaking out.

you had never felt something so euphoric and it was difficult to keep silent about it.

after a coupled blissful seconds the feeling started to wear off and you hesitantly brought your fingers up to look at how soaked they were.

you felt embarrassment fill you when you realized you had just cum on your own fingers in the dark bathroom with thoughts of ellie on the forefront of your mind.

without saying another word you washed your hands, reclothed your bottom half despite the fact that they were still sticky with your slick and quietly left the bathroom.

even though you knew no one was awake to look at you you still kept your head down in shame all the way back to your bed.

much to your surprise as soon as you got into bed a wave of exhaustion washed over you which made it much easier for you to fall asleep this time around.

the last thoughts on your mind as you fell asleep being about how much better you could have felt if ellie had been the one helping you out in the bathroom.

a/n: damn (y/n) is kinda FREAKY! uhh so sorry this took so long to come out school came went and kicked my ass. it literally took me the whole wee to write this it’s how busy i was i really hope it was worth the wait. i already said this but this isn’t exactly supposed to be word for word bar for bar by the movie so i cut some stuff and changed it out if i felt like it wouldn’t work with the storyline i am trying to create. i had so much fun writing the joel part but it was os hard because i know that canon joel would never care if ellie liked kissing girls </3. anyways i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter i will be pushing out the next chapter as soon as i can love you guys!!!

taglist: @st4r-b3rries @dollyvuu @lvlymicha @jellyfishrnice @machetegirl109 @smiths-fan--13 @elliewilliamssrealgf @ravyaryn @yuhgetintoonit @nelzooo @luvmily @dearestdolly444 @venuzasmuse @madislament @mochaluvsu @youfoundheavenn @boujieeprincesss @canellescandles

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #joel and ellie #ellie x reader smut #dina tlou #dina #but im a cheerleader

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babyzomb · 3 months ago

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hear me out, price would be the best dom in general, but make that man a daddy dom and suddenly you’ve got the most capable daddy on your hands.

price who looks forward to coming back home to his partner who is excitedly waiting for him, but inevitably (as always) ends up regressing and crying because of how much you missed him :(( price cooing and shushing you. you both take a bubble bath together before going to bed cuddled up

price’s ideal mornings starting off making breakfast with you. you make pancakes together in different shapes and characters before watching the early morning cartoons (because price has infected you with his early bird routine). definitely bans some cartoons because he’s tired of hearing that damn southern pink pig being such a brat, and he won’t let little you get any ideas. especially when you’re his good little girl!

and when price has to leave? it’s an oddly quiet affair. when you wake up in his arms the morning of, you can barely look at him. price takes your silence as a stubborn “if i don’t acknowledge your leaving you can’t leave”. but with a small kiss to your forehead, the routine begins. you stand in the doorways of the various rooms he enters, watching from a ‘safe’ distance as he gathers his things. when he finally makes it to the front door, he turns to look at you. he can see the tears welling up in your eyes that you’re doing such a good job at holding back. you’re his brave little bee, and he tells you that too. takes you into his arms, whispering promises of doing his best to get back whole, how proud he is of you for being strong, and that when he gets back you’ll watch the cartoon with the blue dog. and with a deep kiss and a step out the door, he’s off.

and you both already cant wait for your scheduled play date.

#john price #john price x reader #cod #cod x reader #daddy!john price #daddy dom!john price #domestic kink #sfw

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sgiandubh · 4 months ago

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News from Birmingham: 'Caitriona is a goddess'

I have two of my best friends in attendance, Marple. Getting decent photos and fighting a grumpy wi-fi/lackadaisical roaming connection is never easy, but our girls are bravely there and sending everything they can.

Our people in Birmingham are seated just in the back, but here is a good layout pic, serves us well as proof of life and more:

These are from this afternoon [I had to edit, sorry: I have a life, too], featuring John Bell...

... Vandervaart (*faints in Romanian*) and David Berry (#silly me, I had to ask):

The girls confirmed C arrived and was monitored at all times by none else than Steve Himber, S's official minder/handler. They had no pic, because they were told that they couldn't take any 📸during the autograph sessions. I was later tipped (thank you, love you!) and found that on @bella_outlander_fan's IG account (she is very well informed and posts everything, including the bad and the ugly):

General impression tidbits follow:

✔️'she is a Goddess'- our friend is a C mainly, just like Shipper Mom. In the same sense I am an S mainly, nothing more, but also a prominent & very active shipper, on top. Also, one of our absolute BEST sleuths. A wonderful, caring and sensitive soul I love to bits, too.

✔️Added impressions on C: 'Wonderful. Smiling. Friendly. Touchy-feely. A hugger. Grateful. Thin like a rail. Very little makeup/no makeup look, if any. Jeans and grey Tshirt, with sneakers. Absolutely beautiful and affectionate during each person's minute with her.'

✔️ Our friend could talk to her during the autograph session. Note to self for Paris: presents were not allowed to be given in person, had to be presented separately (I am planning to order a limited edition, old as time spirits bottle, stupid me, LOOOOOOOL - more on this at the end of the post). Our friend described her lovely, thoughtful gift and C promised to retrieve it (will she wear it? are we allowed to dream?). She thanked her warmly, she loved the idea and she 'loved [the place where they came from]' (not for me to say, but TELLING as FUCK).

Her panel is scheduled at 5:00 PM, GMT, which is to say in nine minutes. Will keep you posted.

Thank you, girls! LOVE YOU!

[Later Edit]: forgot to mention one of my recent breakfast chats with Shipper Mom, during which I mentioned I did not plan to have my pic taken w/S, in Paris.

'And why not, are you stupid or just vain, like that?' (my mother is exactly like me, because well - she is my mom: I sense a theme, here)

'You know why. Because of the Dubai Whore Thing.'

'Oh, puh-lease, Baby Bear. If I were you, I would go right there and thank the guy. If anything, for all those wonderful people you have met through OL.'

She got me. I am going. I know exactly how I want that pic to look and will post it. Na, as the French, the Romanian and the Greeks say, in defiance. Must be a Southern thing, LOL.

IMPORTANT: a pox on your house for 2400 years if you post these without permission.

#fandom #Starfury Highlanders 7 2024

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thatwriterchick222 · 6 months ago

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a helping hand (dad's best friend!joel miller x f/reader) AU

summary:

Your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, comes over to your apartment to help you fix up your broken table...

~~~

“You done with school?” Joel asked, ruffling his hair slightly before dropping his hand. His fingers landed right on your knee to your surprise, and you froze. His other arm was casually draped over the back of the couch, his whiskey in hand, his finger playing with the edge of the glass.

You licked your lips, trying not to look down at his hand on your leg, your eyes locked with his. He was daring you. Teasing you. Say something. Do something.

~~~~~~~~

You had recently moved into your new apartment and had been slowly incorporating new pieces of furniture, one of them being a vintage table that you had opted to use in your small dining room area. The one problem was, the second you settled it in your place and sat down for breakfast the next morning, the thing collapsed.

Two legs had detached from the end, splinters of wood and dust and mysterious screws laying about on your hardwood floor. You pulled out the few tools you had and tried to stand it back up, looking for the holes that the screws had come out of and where the glue had been worn down, but it didn’t make any sense. It was destroyed.

So, you called your dad. You told him it broke and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to fix it.

And that was when he gave you the idea to call his best friend, Joel Miller. Joel was a carpenter, and you had known him for years… since you were around sixteen. When you reached the age of seventeen, you realized that you had a little bit of a crush on him, but of course, you kept it to yourself. He was at least in his forties, and a father. So it stayed as a little joke between you and your friends, the hot DILF who was best friends with your dad and occasionally came over for family dinner.

But when Joel picked up that morning, his voice slightly groggy and his southern drawl muffled through your phone speaker, you felt yourself falling back into old habits.

Because he sounded good. Too good, and the way he said your name made your heart sputter in your chest.

“My dad said I should call you…” You said through the phone, noticing how sweaty your hands were, and how dry your mouth was. “I need help with something.”

He chuckled on the other end. “Sure, what is it?”

By that evening, Joel was knocking on your apartment door, and you were taking one more glance in the mirror as you walked by to greet him. You had put on a pair of short jean shorts and a basic black tank top, part of your brain hoping he would notice your figure, but knowing he wouldn’t care. You were twenty now, but it didn’t make a difference. Why would he want you?

You opened the door and were immediately taken back how he looked, his grey hair longer than you remember, and a black pair of thick-framed square glasses sat on his nose. He looked deliciously nerdy, like a teacher after a long day, his wrinkles prominent and his beard as salty and peppery as the last time you saw him. He was wearing a basic navy blue t-shirt with paint scuff marks all over it, and you had to fight yourself not to let your eyes drift down his body.

He smiled politely at you, looking you up and down shamelessly. “Christ, it’s been a while.”

You grinned, opening the door wider. “Yeah..” You let him in, watching him as he stepped inside. “Thanks again for coming over.”

Joel reached up, running a large hand through his hair. He looked around the apartment and you watched his eyes settle on the table, lying on the floor. “What’d you do to it?” He asked a playful tease.

“Very funny.” You replied, rolling your eyes.

Joel approached the table, and you watched his large frame cross the room, his ass in his jeans. You quickly looked up as he set his toolbag down, eyeing the destroyed piece of furniture.

“It’s vintage.” You blurted out, almost in an attempt to defend yourself against any assumptions that you bought a shitty table unknowingly.

Joel chuckled. “There’s your first mistake.”

You frowned, coming up beside him. “It was pretty.”

Joel turned to you. “They’re prettier when they’re functional.”

~~~~~~

Thankfully, after inspecting the table, Joel discovered it was a pretty easy fix. Just a few screws and some glue here and there, along with fortifying the other legs, and he was done. And you watched him the whole time. He even asked you to help him sometimes, getting you to hold something as he drilled screws in. But when you weren’t helping him, you were staring at him, watching his muscles flex and his veins pop every time he screwed something, his fingers wrapping around the trigger of the power drill. Sometimes he would even let out a grunt of effort, or a “fuck” of frustration, and you would find yourself holding back a smile. You had a thought that you should break furniture more often.

He stood up and scratched the back of his head, his shirt lifting just enough for you to see the dark hair on his lower belly. “All fixed up.”

Your eyes darted back up to his, and you smiled. “Thank you. I was worried it was fucked.”

Joel shoved his screwdriver into the pocket of the toolbag and picked it up, plopping it down on the now-fixed table. It didn’t even wobble.

You raised a brow. “Wow.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He said confidently, taking off his glasses and wiping them with his shirt, his eyes on you. Your stomach flipped, and you blinked rapidly, trying not to seem to phased.

“Do you want to…” You looked around, “Stay for a drink?”

It was a strange question. You had never really had much one-on-one time with Joel, and when his eyes subtly narrowed, he caught onto your little scheme.

He smirked. “Sure.”

~~~~~~~~

You sat on the couch, whiskeys in both his and your hand, your knee so close to brushing his leg that you couldn’t think about anything else.

But Joel didn’t seem to notice, he only took a sip of his drink, looking over at you. “So, how’s your summer been?”

Small talk. Of course. “Good. I’ve been working full-time to afford this place.” You chuckled, taking a long sip of your whiskey.

“Ah, I see.” He laughed and adjusted his position slightly, pushing his hips up as he leaned back against the couch. You swallowed, taking another quick gulp of your drink.

“So, what’s new with you?” You asked, “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

Joel shook his head, looking off. “Nothin’ much. Sarah’s in high school now…”

Your eyes widen, remembering his daughter. She was so young, the last time you saw her. “My God.”

You licked your lips, trying not to look down at his hand on your leg, your eyes locked with his. He was daring you. Teasing you. Say something. Do something. He knew this would fluster you, and it did. Not only that, but it confirmed that he did want something from you, and that fact in itself made your mind race with sinful possibilities. How long had he been thinking about this? Had he only seen you today, in your little shorts and revealing tank top, and suddenly needed to have you? Or had he been waiting, waiting until the opportunity struck?

“I…” You stuttered quietly, the energy in the room becoming heavy… and hot, and you struggled to remember what he had even asked. “I graduated with my BA.”

Joel smiled warmly, but his brows furrowed in a way that made your heart leap out of your chest. “Hm.” He lightly moved his calloused hand up your leg, “Good for you.”

You wanted to continue your train of thought, but you were speechless as his hand gave your thigh a light squeeze. Your insides burned and your skin felt deliciously hot, your face even more so, his fingers trailing along your skin with a gentleness that made this seem like a casual touch. You both knew, though, that it was anything but casual.

“What was your major, again?” He asked softly, his voice low and barely a rumble in his chest, so low that you needed to lean closer and grip your whiskey glass tighter.

But you couldn’t think. Because now, his fingers were dipping under the hem of your shorts, and your breath hitched. “I…”

Joel smirked, tilting his head. He took another sip of whiskey and dropped his arm back down to the back of the couch, almost touching your arm. “What… too worked up to say anythin’, darlin’?” He teased.

You swallowed, laughing softly, trying not to moan from how good it felt to be touched like this… he hadn’t even gotten very far. “What are you doing?” You asked.

He chuckled, staying put, his palm on your thigh, his thumb resting on the inside of it. “What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re coming onto me.” You said quietly, holding back a smile as you downed the rest of your whiskey.

Joel stared at you, his eyes following your every move. “Is that okay?”

You adjusted your position, moving your leg slightly closer to him, lifting your knee further up on the couch. “Yeah. But…”

His hand drifted down to your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing the skin there, making your stomach flip in excitement. “But what?”

He knew what. He knew you were his best friend’s daughter, and that sleeping with you was probably a boundary he shouldn’t cross. But, despite both of you being well aware of the potential consequences that could come from this, you found yourself being drawn further and further to him. His eyes on you felt good. His hand on your thigh felt even better. Hell, you had wanted him since you were a teenager. Why was that so wrong?

“You’re mighty quiet…” Joel spoke up, his hand lightening its touch on your thigh. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You wanted to grab his hand and pull it back down, pull it to where you throbbed for him. But you only moved your hips closer to him– slightly– but noticeably.

He licked his lips. “Mmm.”

“Joel… I–” You inhaled sharply as his fingers traced under the hem of your shorts again, feeling like you needed to put a stop to this. Like it was your moral responsibility.

But when his fingers grazed your panties underneath your shorts and he looked up at you again, you let out the smallest whine.

“You’re gettin’ real worked up, ain’t ya’?” He said softly, a teasing lilt to his voice. He hadn’t even touched you, and you were already a mess. You had almost dropped your glass about three times, your fingers gripping it hard.

“Yeah…” You whispered, embarrassed and aroused.

Joel smirked, bringing his mouth to your ear. Your head rushed with excitement at the sudden closeness. “Come on, let me make you feel good, sweetheart. I know you want this as bad as I do.”

continue reading on ao3!!

#the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #dilfsource #dilf joel miller #age g4p #power dynamics #mildly dubious consent #teasing

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hwatermelons · 1 year ago

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unconventional gender neutral terms of endearment ^^

(mostly made this cause my drafts always have "baby" a million times and then i replace them lol)

- pretty (as in pretty girl/boy, but without the gender word attached) - starlight/my star, sunshine - honestly if you put "my" before anything it could probably work as an endearment - animals: firefly (got the idea from sufjan stevens), bunny, dove, mouse, hamster, hummingbird, penguin, monkey 😭, kitten (this one's kinda popular) - flowers: tulip, rose, sunflower, a flower that's special between your characters - fruits/vegetables: pumpkin, bean, mango, lychee, kiwi, peach, nectarine, apricot, berry(!!), blueberry, strawberry, raspberry, cherry, etc - sweets! a special weakness of mine is sweets from the person saying the endearment's culture. like if someone who was also indian called me their kaju katli i'd melt (but probably not laddu unless it's clear they're teasing and i get back at them 💀). maybe runs the risk of being cringey tho? honestly as long as it's from the sayer's culture and suits their personality it's fine - examples of sweets that don't belong to a certain culture: cookie, brownie - nature: snowflake, raindrop?? (i guess it works if your character has something to do with water), sprout, sapling

and here's some classic gn terms of endearment if your character's more into that: - darling (i see this as a perfect alternative to princess/prince) - love/my love - lovely/beautiful - baby/babe (can be used in both cute and teasing/suggestive moods) - angel (personal favorite of mine!) - dear (it's so "grown old together" vibes, i'm in love with this one for this purpose) - honey, honey pie, sugar, sweet(ie). honestly if they're used for s/os, it feels kinda old-fashioned. but for parent figures saying it to someone much younger that they care about, children or otherwise? (i'm imagining a southern (from america) beekeeper with no children or spouse of her own who sells her famous honey to buy food for the small army of orphaned children that shows up on her front porch every morning for breakfast. and these are the kinds of things she'd call them. perfection.)

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gummysharklover · 7 days ago

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POP PRINCESS °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ !

masterlist ! part 1 !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ you leave austin to continue your tour

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ mostly yearning for this part, yall! ᯓ˚࿔ ultra fem!pop star!reader (she/her prns) ᯓ˚࿔ flashbacks in blue ! ᯓ˚࿔ so much thanks to my lovely mutuals who helped me work on this and give me ideas and such! ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread! ᯓ˚࿔ this is not the end of pop princess! there are more fics to come! :D

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 5.7k

You stand, tearing up as you lock eyes with Schlatt, who looks equally ruined. The crowd's cheers fade into background noise as you stare at one another.

"Flordia is so warm," You laugh into the phone, the warmth of the sun filtering through your window as you describe the balmy air.

"Yeah," Ted agrees, "But I think the worst part is the humidity. It just clings to you."

You groan, "The humidity is sinister. It feels so heavy, you know? And I've genuinely been worried for the audience at my shows," You frown a little, "But I hope the water I have them pass out makes it a little bit better."

Ted runs a hand through his hair, "Yeah, I can't imagine what that's like."

"I've been drinking so much, Teddy." You whine, feeling dehydration grasp at your throat.

There's a lull in the conversation—a thick silence of uncertainty, "How... how's Schlatt?" You tentatively ask, voice laced with curiosity.

"You can ask him that yourself. You know that."

You grimace, feeling a knot form in your stomach, "It just feels so strange. I dunno, I feel like he hates me."

Ted sighs, "How many times do we need to go over this? He doesn't hate you."

"How can you be so sure?" You ask, nervously chewing on your lip as you fidget with your hands.

"Because," Ted replies with a steady tone that borders on parental, "He doesn't shut up about you. He misses you, Y/n. And I know you miss him too."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Schlatt. I know we haven't talked in forever, but do you want to catch up?'" You reply with embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's exactly what you're supposed to say," He states matter-of-factly.

"But, Teddy," You groan, dread creeping in, "That's so embarrassing!"

Ted sighs, "I assure you it's not. He wants to talk to you."

"Then why hasn't he reached out to me?" You question as a pang of unresolved tension hits you in the chest.

Ted is silent, the weight of the unanswered question lingering in the stagnant, humid air. He doesn't have an answer.

You let out a resigned sigh, "I've gotta go."

"It was nice talking to you, and hey, break a leg," He says with a warm voice of support.

"Thank you, Teddy. It was nice talking to you, too," You reply, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration as the call ends.

"I need to break up with Kaleb," You mutter, absent-mindedly poking at your breakfast. Sunlight pours through the window, illuminating Schlatt's face.

Schlatt rolls his eyes dramatically, "I despise that guy. I was so upset when I saw you two were together."

You raise your eyebrow, a coy smile playing on your lips, "Really?" You ask as warmth flutters through your chest at his words.

Schlatt scoffs, leaning back in his chair, "'Course I was. He took my pretty girl away from me. Oh, and don't even get me started on his Instagram stories," He adds, tone becoming mockingly dramatic.

"Oh, I never look at those."

"It's for the better," He replies as a smirk ghosts his lips.

"Why? Do I look bad in them?"

He shakes his head, a genuine smile breaking through, "You could never look bad, pretty girl."

His words hang in the air, warm and reassuring.

"Hun, what's wrong?" Jess asks, her voice filled with concern as she strides over to you.

"Just..." You sigh, letting your thoughts swirl uncontrollably, "A lot going on in my mind."

She side-hugs you, radiating a sense of warmth, "You can always talk to me, hun. You know that, right?"

Her southern drawl, melodic and sweet, never fails to make you smile, "I know, Jess. Thank you." You appreciate her unwavering support more than you could ever express.

"Now!" She claps your shoulder, eyes full of whimsy and encouragement, "Go out there and shine like the star you are!"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Tonight's performance was particularly tough. People loved Forbidden Love so much that you added it to your setlist, and as the familiar melody fills the air, you can't help but continue your newfound tradition of scanning the crowd for Schlatt. You yearn for the moment your eyes meet his, but he's not there. He never is.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Schlatt sits in his office watching a live stream of your concert. He's been seeing you all over social media, and there are rumors you're dating again. Some guy named Oliver, and Schlatt has to imagine the worst—has to assume you're dating him.

He has your number; he can call you and find out. He won't. Despite everything Ted says about how you miss him, he tells himself you hate him.

He tears up as you sing Forbidden Love, hating how the crowd sings along like they know what it's about—like they could ever understand.

"We're all over Twitter," You giggle, holding up your phone to show Schlatt.

As he leans in closer, he taps on a post—a candid shot of you, captured mid-gaze, completely enamored as you watch Schlatt while you sing 'Forbidden Love' at your last concert.

"This song—it's about..." He looks into your eyes, sincerity reflecting back into his, "Is it about me?"

You nod with a racing heart, "Of course it's about you."

When you return to your hotel room, you sit on your bed and stare at his contact.

Jay <3

The heart taunts you, a relentless reminder of the possibilities that slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of what could have been given everything worked out. But it didn't. With a sigh, you set your phone down and turn away from its dimly lit screen as you make your way to the bathroom. Eager for a moment of solace, you anticipate the warm water of a hot shower to cascade over you, hoping it will wash away the remnants of doubt and regret you always seemed to feel.

"I found a new manager," You smile as you sit on the couch next to Schlatt.

He lights up, "You did?" "Yeah," You smile, "Her name is Jess. I think she's going to be a good fit."

"No more fake boyfriends?" Schlatt laughs, but a sense of seriousness fills his tone.

"No. Only real ones from now on," You smile at him, and a warm spark of excitement ignited deep within Schlatt's heart, filling him with an unfamiliar sense of anticipation.

You lay in bed, remembering how Schlatt cared for you that first night you went to his place—how he held you so gently as you walked. A gentle hand that cradled your hip to keep you steady. You remember how his demeanor changed for the first time—how he looked at you with so much adoration. You remember how he cared so deeply.

You turn on your side, pulling the soft blankets closer around you, and gently close your eyes. A sigh escapes you as you surrender to the stillness of the room, willing sleep to come. In the quiet darkness, you hope for dreams filled with him so you can remember what it's like to hear his voice again—what it's like to see that look in his eyes. And as you drift off, you allow your mind to wander through those soft, lovely moments together, desperately clinging to the hope that tonight, you can touch the fragments of your past with him once more.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You groan as your alarm blares, willing you to wake up.

"Five more minutes," You murmur, though you're not sure why—there's nobody there.

After hitting the snooze button on your alarm about five times, you finally sit up, wincing as a sharp pain throbs in your temples. Cradling your forehead, you get out of bed and head to the bathroom. As you look in the mirror, you struggle to recognize the person staring back at you. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and you often feel sluggish. Your thoughts drift back to your last week in Austin.

You sit at a table in the hotel lobby across from Schlatt, "I leave in a week," You mutter softly, looking into your cup.

Schlatt frowns, and his tone is so genuine you feel like you might cry, "I don't want you to."

"I don't want to either, but I have to continue my tour," You look at him, thoughts swirling in your mind, "What if you came with me?"

You walk back to your bed and pick up your phone. Unlocking it, you're met with his contact glaring at you.

Jay <3

You swipe to your home screen and sigh.

Schlatt gives you an apologetic look, and you can sense the rejection before he even opens his mouth, "My whole life is here. I—" He sighs, "I can't just up and leave Austin. It's my home."

You solemnly look back into your cup, "You're right. I guess I didn't think about that."

You shake your head. You can't afford distractions today.

"What's goin' on with you, hon?" Jess asks backstage.

"I miss him." You reply.

"Who?" She asks before a look of realization settles on your face, "Oh, that boy, right? The one you keep talkin' about?"

You nod.

"Call him up, hon. No point in wallowing in your sadness."

You sigh, slumping further into the makeup chair, "But I can't have him reject me again. What if he doesn't pick up?"

She rubs small circles on your back, "Then he's not worth your time or energy. Okay?"

You nod, "Okay."

"Now? What are you going to do?"

You smile, "Go out there and shine like the star I am."

She claps your back with a grin, "Atta girl!"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After the concert, you trudge back to your dressing room, practically collapsing on the small loveseat from exhaustion. You pull out your phone and open Instagram, trying to focus on anything other than Schlatt. But to your luck, his story is the first one on your feed. Too tired to know any better, you press on his icon, smiling as you see a picture of him and Jambo.

Schlatt opens Instagram. He sighs as he refreshes your page, desperate for some sort of contact with you—one-sided or not. To his dissatisfaction, nothing new pops up, and he sighs. Bored, he checks the stats on his story, muttering about how stupid it was to have stats anyway, but he stops his mini rant when he sees your profile picture as one of the people who viewed his story.

"Holy shit," He murmurs.

He stays up the rest of the night, unable to sleep due to thoughts of you plaguing his mind.

Regret fills you as you realize what you've done as you tell yourself he hates you, but then those words echo in your mind.

"I could never hate you, pretty girl."

Never hate you.

And you try so hard to believe it, to recount those exact words, but for some reason, your brain tells you it's all a lie.

"Oliver, I don't know what to do," You mutter to your friend.

Oliver shrugs, "I've told you all I can. Call him."

"What if he hates me?" You whine, dramatically throwing your head into your hands.

"He doesn't hate you," Oliver tries reassuring, but it feels like a fruitless endeavor.

You take a deep breath as you try to calm the pool of anxiety growing in your chest at the thought of talking to Schlatt, "But what if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if I ruined everything?"

"Sometimes you have to take risks," Oliver replies, "You won't know unless you try."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The more Schlatt sees you and Oliver all over the media, the more agitated he grows. His finger hovers over the call button, the screen lighting up his face. He's so close to tapping that stupid phone symbol, the one he's sat and stared at for hours on end, but he throws his phone onto the couch, groaning as he stands up.

"Get it together, man," He grumbles, "She's just a girl."

But, in the back of his mind, he knows you're more than that. You're more than "just a girl." You made him feel something he's never felt before, and at first, it was uncomfortable. He hated it, so he hated you, but then the feeling settled in his chest, and it felt warm—you felt warm. Your giggles were sweet as they bubbled up from your chest, and the creaking of the floorboards as he walks over to his couch sharply contrasts with those memories of your laughter—of your voice. How you used to light up a room with your smile, how you smelled—all these small rememberings he can feel slipping through his fingers with each passing second he doesn't have you.

He sits down on the couch, picking up his phone. Your contact stares back at him, and he decides he's finally going to message you.

'So what's up with this Oliver guy?' He types out, thumb hovering over the send arrow. Rereading the message, Schlatt grimaces as shame bubbles up from deep within his gut.

'I hope the tour's going well,' No—too impersonal.

He thinks for a second about what he actually wants to say to you, 'I miss you so much, pretty girl, and it's killing me to pretend I don't.'

He stares at the text, reading it over and over again. Pretending? Is that what he's doing?

So he edits it, 'I miss you so much, pretty girl, and it's killing me that I keep ignoring you.' But he hates how that reads, so he deletes the message altogether.

Finally, he types out a simple: 'Hey,'

But even that feels like too much, so he highlights the message, pressing delete for the final time that night.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You sit alone in another hotel room, staring at the abstract painting hanging across your bed. It's the kind of still that's more oppressive than peaceful. Picking up your phone, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the black screen. The bustling city life seems so distant as you swipe up and scroll to Schlatt's contact. You feel cut off from the loud traffic and neon lights as you picture him, maybe nursing a drink as he sits on the couch, laughing at an old re-run of a cartoon he loved when he was younger.

The thought leaves a bittersweet ache in your heart. You can almost hear his laugh, grounding you in a way nothing ever has before. But then you look down at your screen, seeing the time stamp of your last message, and you sigh.

You replay your last interaction for the hundredth time, looking for something you might have missed—some sign that he wants you to reach out. But all you can recall is his faint, ambivalent smile as he waved goodbye to you.

'Hi, Jay, I've missed you,' You almost hit send, but your heartbeat spikes and you delete the message.

'Hope you're well!' But that sounds so disingenuous.

Lastly, you type out a simple: 'How are you?' But you remember something he confessed as you cared for him while he was half asleep and tipsy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You want to hear a secret?" He quietly mumbles as you lead him to his bed.

"Sure," You amusedly reply. "I'm scared of new things. I prefer to keep things the same."

You pause, tilting your head thoughtfully, "If things never change, how can you hope to grow—to reach any destination in life?"

He's silent as he takes in the weight of your words, not having an answer.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You'd be selfish to reach out. He's living his calm, peaceful life, and you would be disturbing that. The words "I can't just up and leave Austin" taunt you as they echo in your mind. You think about the implications of your actions—how your longing to reconnect might disturb the tranquility he's built. Part of you yearns to reach out—to bridge the gap, share more moments and stolen glances, but you know the risk it carries. o you put your phone down and let the silence settle in your bones as you rest your head in your hands. He deserves peace, and your life isn't peaceful. Not for him—not for anyone, so you close your eyes and tell yourself it's for the best, even if the ache in your heart says otherwise.

Schlatt wakes up, the harsh morning light filtering through the windows. He rubs his eyes, attempting to shake off the remnants of sleep. A familiar pang of stillness crashes over him as he sits up like a strong wave does a rock on the beach. It feels overwhelming—knowing that this ache continues to grow with each passing day you weren't there.

The silence in the room feels heavy, amplified by the absence of your laughter and the warmth of your presence. He looks around his room, taking in the familiar surroundings that now feel eerily different. Walls that once echoed with shared conversations now stand silent while the air stays stagnant with fading memories. Taking a deep breath, he wonders if the day holds any promise of change or if it'll just be another reminder of what he lost.

Out of habit, he checks your page. Surprised to see a new post, he clicks on it, swiping to see the pictures of fans dressed for your concert. The excitement from each person is nearly tangible, and he remembers what it was like to see you for the first time—how he ended up watching in admiration as he tried to convince Ted he hated the performance. Then he swipes to a picture of you; you're smiling, bathed in pink lights, as you sing to a roaring crowd. He feels a smile filled with admiration tug at his lips as he goes to comment.

'Looks like you're enjoying yourself,'

Then he stares at the screen until the words just look like letters—pointless letters, and deletes the message. Something feels off—wrong, even. Here he was, sitting in Austin while you were out there, miles away, selling out stadiums. What would you do with a comment from him? Would you even care? His words felt meaningless and small, like they wouldn't even register in your busy life.

And he knows that one message—a single crumb from you—would turn his life upside down. Maybe that's why he avoids messaging you. Schlatt's life is slow and steady, and he's comfortable with it. He likes waking up and doing his routine. He likes feeding his cats and lazing around. He thinks about you—about how grand your life is, and he sighs. He would just be holding you back, and a sharp pang of fear rises in him. Tilting his head back, he stares at the ceiling, knowing he can't have it both ways—knowing he has to choose you or stability. But he's not ready to let go of either.

But as the days gradually shift into weeks and the weeks seamlessly blend into months, you and Schlatt both find yourselves caught in this unrelenting cycle. Every day feels like a mirror that reflects the last, and the rhythm of your routines becomes monotonous backdrops to your lives. The world around you continues to change, but you remain in this endless loop where time seems to lose its meaning, and every moment stretches on indefinitely.

You sit backstage, and the usual symphony of noises around you feel distant—like you're underwater, trying to listen to those calling to you from the shore. Someone is talking—maybe your manager—but the words pass by you in a blur, barely registering. All you can focus on is the aching desire to check your phone again, as if this time, by some miracle, you would find something different.

Your fingers fidget with the skin around your nails, picking at the rough edges in a small attempt to ground yourself. But it doesn't help alleviate the familiar ache that twists in your chest each time you open Schlatt's profile and scan the screen for any sign of life—any hint that he still thinks of you. But there's nothing, just the same posts from weeks ago, like his life is paused—like he's frozen in time.

People move around you, exchanging laughter and energy, but you sit still, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling of his absence gnawing away at you. It's as if he's slipped away, and the only pieces left of him are the memories you cling to and the photos on his page that you've already memorized.

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away, attempting to be present. But your gaze still wanders, sweeping the room as if, by some chance, he'd be there—as if he'd somehow find his way back into your world. But all you find is emptiness, a quiet reminder of what isn't there. And in that space, the ache settles deeper, making a permanent home in your heart.

'Goodbye.'

The word hangs in the air, loaded with uncertainty. What does it truly mean? Does it signify that he's vanishing from the online world just as he has from your personal one? Or is it a final farewell that suggests you'll never see his face again?

You finally muster the courage to watch the video, and a swirl of confusion envelops you as he passionately bashes Texas—his disdain for Austin palpable. The haunting phrase, "I can't just up and leave Austin," reverberates in your mind, and a visceral sense of betrayal hits you like a semi-truck, leaving you reeling from the unexpected revelation. You feel frozen as you sit and watch him talk about needing a change—about how Austin is dull and lifeless.

Your mind reels while your heart pounds in your chest.

"Fellas, I'm goin' back home."

But isn't that what he called Austin? Didn't he call it home? When you'd asked him to join you on tour and invited him into your life, he said Austin was his home, that he couldn't abandon it. The life he'd made, the stability, the routine were his reasons for staying behind—the reasons he chose not to be with you.

Yet here he was, casually announcing that he was leaving it all behind. For New York, without a word to you.

He told you he couldn't make that type of change, and you'd stupidly believed him. You accepted stability was what he needed—what kept him grounded—so you let him go, thinking it was better than pushing him out of his comfort zone. But it turns out he'd been willing to leave it all—just not for you.

You click your phone off, and the sudden absence of sound intensifies the silence around you. It feels deafening as your thoughts swirl chaotically. Hurt and anger intertwine to create a tumultuous mix that you can't ignore. Images flash through your mind—his laughter during the moments you shared now overshadowed by the realization that he's moving on, and he's doing it without you. He's actively chosen a path that doesn't have you in it. And the knowledge that he's opened a new chapter free from the weight of your shared history hits you hard as the ache in your chest deepens, and you wonder how he can carry on so easily without looking back. You stare at the ceiling, eyes filled with tears heavy with all the words you'd never get to say to him.

The light of dawn that filters through the curtains awakes you, and you squint against the brightness. Rubbing your puffy eyes, you slowly sit up while feeling the heaviness of a restless night's sleep still clinging to you.

You dread today.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The airport is full of motion as travelers weave through the chaos, only focusing on reaching their destination. Schlatt leans against the pillar of a small Café, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he waits for his flight. He's in no rush as the plane for his connecting flight to New York wouldn't even arrive for another two hours. The noise of static that rolls through the intercom as announcements are made and the clacking of flight attendant's high heels fade into the background as he people-watches, gaze unfocused until something—someone—catches his eye.

You.

Schlatt instinctively straightens as he feels a sharp, unexpected jolt course through his body and settle in his heart. You walk towards a gate on the far side of the terminal, and the curve of your face is distinct and unmistakable, even in the crowd surrounding you. You look tired, shoulders slouched ever so slightly, but there's still something purposeful in the way you move.

He feels frozen, feet refusing to carry him closer to you. His mind races, caught somewhere between relief and panic as he wonders why you're here. And then it clicks—New York, of course. He saw it on your schedule weeks ago during a moment of weakness when he scrolled through the updates he told himself he didn't care about. He swallows hard as you stop to adjust your bag, tilting your head to check the departure board. For a split second, he wonders if you're looking for him—if, somehow, you know he's here. But your gaze sweeps right past him, and the sharp pang of being invisible to you lodges itself deep in his chest.

He could walk up to you, but what would he say? That he's been watching from a distance, too scared to reach out—too worried to know if you'd still want him in your life? The words burn his throat like acid. So he stays rooted to the spot, hidden among the hundreds of travelers. His jaw tightens as he watches you fidget with the strap of your bag—a small habit he knows all too well. You look lovely, even in your quiet unease, making him hate himself a little more than before.

An announcement jolts him from his trance, and he watches you walk toward your gate, feeling the distance between you stretch with every step.

He turns back to the cafe, staring blankly at the menu, pretending he hadn't just seen the one person he wanted most leave his life for the second time.

The crowd roars as the lights dim. You stand behind the curtain, heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the cheers.

New York—the city that never sleeps.

You smooth out your outfit one last time before the curtains part. You're blinded by the stage lights as the crowd's roar becomes deafening.

After finishing Corner Store, you smile, letting the crowd's energy wash over you as you step into the spotlight.

"New York City," You call into the mic, "It's so good to be here tonight."

The response is electric as cheers and applause fill the stadium. Schlatt is on your mind, and you feel like you're back in Los Angeles, performing that first night when all you could think about was that mysterious, mean man at the party. You hope history will repeat itself as you scan the crowd for him once again.

The possibility pulls at you while hope flickers in your chest. You told yourself to expect nothing, but the ache of missing him seems to be louder than the crowd as they chant your song.

Pink lights reflect off countless smiling faces, but none of them are his signature smirk. Your throat tightens as you continue to perform—continue to smile, but your heart sinks lower with each verse.

He's not here.

You try to shake the thought away—you can't afford distractions. You can never afford distractions. But the memories of his laugh, his voice, how he'd call you pretty girl like it was your name—it's all too much, overwhelming you.

You reach Forbidden Love, and you step away from the mic, letting the crowd sing for you. The sound surges as thousands of voices fill the space. You take the short moment to look over them again, searching for Schlatt.

All you find are strangers.

The realization hits you hard, and a pang of loneliness cuts through the adrenaline. He's not here. He's not in the crowd—he isn't waiting for you after the show. He's in a world far from your own, and for the first time in months, your voice falters as you sing.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Backstage, the crowd's noise fades into a distant hum while you sip on your water. You think of Schlatt—think of what he'd say given he saw you now—and let the ache settle deep in your heart. You hope he hears about the performance—about how you cried—and knows you're thinking of him, even if he's miles away.

The sunlight streaming through the window is harsh—too bright for how Schlatt feels as he groans and reaches for his phone. His feed loads slowly, and he rubs his eyes as the images come into focus.

You're everywhere.

Clips from last night's performance are trending, with fans posting blurry videos and pictures of you on stage. The captions talk about how beautiful—how utterly unforgettable you'd been.

Schlatt scrolls further, thumb hesitating over a video of you singing Forbidden Love. The caption is trying to decipher who the song could be about, and you look untouchable in the dim light of the stage.

Before he can stop himself, he clicks on the video. Your voice pours through the tiny speaker, and he hates how much it hurts to hear as the song fills the quiet of the room.

"She's fucking everywhere," He mutters.

The feeling clings to him as he grabs his jacket. He needs air—needs to get away from thoughts of you.

But at the corner of his street, a billboard stands tall. A picture of you on stage advertises your tour. The tagline reads, 'A Voice That Can't Be Ignored.' And he scoffs—that's one way to put it.

On the way to the store, he passes a magazine stand where your face stares back at him from glossy covers. Every headline seems to scream your name, and he keeps his head down—refusing to look at them.

He reaches the store, and your voice greets him as the doors slide open. Your music croons softly over the radio, and he freezes for a moment, staring at the fresh produce as his lips press tightly together. He quickly grabs what he needs and makes his way to the register.

He gives the cashier a tight-lipped smile, and as she begins ringing his items, she speaks, "She's amazing, isn't she?"

Schlatt blinks, caught off guard, "What?"

"This singer," The woman says, "Her music has been on repeat all week. I still can't believe she's here right now."

He hums in response, nodding as he hands her the cash, "Keep the change," He says, giddy to leave.

He walks home, keeping his head down to avoid any possible conversation. Then he stops, frozen in his tracks, as he sees your silhouette. He wants to go up to you—wants to hear your voice. For a moment, he wonders if you'll turn around and see him, but you don't. And he doesn't let you.

Ducking his head, Schlatt quickly crosses the street. His pulse hammers as he picks up his pace, trying to get away from the snippets of your voice. His stomach twists, the same pang of loneliness and guilt that's been haunting him since you left Austin. It would've been so easy to stay on the other side of the street—to walk up to you. He doesn't.

What would he even say? That he misses you? That every song, every picture, every damn video of you makes him ache with yearning? That he hates how much he wants to be part of your world despite it terrifying him at the same time?

He shoves his thoughts down as he walks as quickly as possible. He can't face you. Not now, not like this, not conflicted and uncertain while stuck in a life he isn't ready to leave but can't stay in without thinking of you.

A minute or so later, he glances back, but you're gone. His absence hits him harder than the sight of you ever could. He stands there for a moment, staring at the spot where you'd been. It's funny how people just fill the space where you were as if you hadn't even been there.

When he gets home, he drops the bag of groceries onto the counter and slouches onto the couch. It feels like the universe is mocking him, pushing you into every corner of his life and reminding him of what he can't have. And no matter how far he goes—how much he tries to clear his head—it seems like you are always going to be there, right out of reach.

You reach your hand towards the plastic separating you and the litter of kittens. One lazily stretches, blinking at you with disinterest before curling back into a ball.

A small smile tugs at your lips. It's been a while since you let yourself slow down like this and just exist. The chaos of your tour has been relentless, and this small pocket of quiet feels like a reprieve.

As he enters the store, Schlatt mutters something about Jambo running out of treats again. He's been making excuses to leave his house—telling himself he's going out because he wants to reconnect with the city, but he's lying to himself. He knows, deep down, that he keeps going out because he's hoping to see you again, hoping you'll notice him.

And then he turns to the cat aisle, steps faltering as he catches sight of you. There you are, standing alone, focusing entirely on the kittens before you. For a second, he considers walking away—slipping out of the store before you notice him. But the way you stand there under the dim lighting, shoulders slightly slumped, while looking at the cats with quiet affection, makes him pause. His feet begin moving on their own accord as he runs a hand through his hair, heart pounding harder and harder with each passing second. He doesn't have to say anything—you didn't see him—he could leave and pretend this never happened, but the thought of walking away again felt heavier than the fear of facing you. So he goes to tap on your shoulder, but he hesitates—finger hovering over you like it did the call button so many times before this moment. But he actually commits this time—no more chickening out, no more running away. This is it.

You turn around as you feel a soft tap on your shoulder, "Yes?" But you feel the air leave your body when you realize who stands before you.

He awkwardly waves, "Hey, pretty girl."

"Jay… hi."

thank you so much for reading <3

if you liked this, please reblog it! im hoping to reach my true and final form of a gummy shark, and i grow stronger with each reblog!

#pop princess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt #gummysharklover #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt x reader angst #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader angst #schlatt x you #shark's schlatt obsession

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the-record · 11 months ago

Text

COWBOYS LIKE ME

SYNOPSIS: youll never stop letting her in.

PAIRING: cowboy!abby x reader

WARNINGS: none??

A/N: yall remember when i wrote some fics and made a ton of ideas and series and then disappeared??? WOOPS!! heres a little holiday present!! maybe there will be more, idk

my masterlist

after that last night, abby hadnt shown at your door again. she knew she was wrong for it, for everything. all you had done was love and care for her, treating her with sweet southern kindness. she hated herself for leaving you.

you couldn’t find it within your heart to hate her. she didn’t lie when she said it wasn’t safe for the two of you beyond the farm. it still didn’t make it hurt any less when she left without a word.

you gave up after three months and she didnt come by even once. you fell back into your regular routine. afternoon tea, church, chores. you even found a bookstore that would fill the quiet hours between tasks.

abby didn’t forget about you though, how could she? she had people all around town keeping an eye on you, ensuring you were never around danger. subtle misdirections and such. just because she couldn’t be there didn’t mean she doesn’t care.

you’d attempted to forget her, and almost had.

but it was cold and snowy out, just days before christmas, and abby found herself close to the only place she could call home.

you werent shocked to hear a knock ok your door so late in the evening, figuring one of the ladies had stopped by with news and a gift. but seeing her at your door stopped your heart.

“can i come in?” you ushered her in, taking in her shivering frame. “im really sorry if im putting you out, but could i stay here? just for a night if thats all you please.”

you nodded, just enough to see, still starstruck. she smiled softly and knocked you out of your state. you grabbed the snowy coat off her shoulders, helping her take off those boots you knew didnt do much in this cold. you pulled her to the fire place, setting her beside it and finding a blanket to wrap around her body.

she laughed as you sat beside her, just staring. “gotta love southern hospitality.” she joked, but you barely laughed. abby sighed and picked at her fingers, “i really am sorry. i feel i cant stop hurting you.”

you merely nodded before getting up. heading to the kitchen, your head clouded as you fell into routine. as you put the kettle on, you couldnt help but wonder why she was back on your doorstep. you didnt stop wondering even as you watched the tea steep, when you brought it back to the now warmer blonde.

but when you held it out to her, you didnt let go. “are you gonna leave again?” her silence was answer enough. your hand dropped and you turned, leaving for your room.

abby flinched when your door slammed.

her boots still sat beneath your bed, gathering dust, fingerprints still visible from the last time you missed her. you listened to her footsteps as your fingers brushed all over the shoes.

she roamed the kitchen, cleaning it the best she could before she made her way upstairs. abby didnt want to hurt you. she loved you, even if she struggled to say it. when she knocked she heard a quiet ‘come in’, yet she still hesitated at the door.

the door opened for her. you staring up at her blank face, a tear stain she wanted to wash away and never see again.

“i love you.”

when the sun streamed in the next morning, it didnt fall on just you. a weight slung over your stomach, one of abby’s arms dead weight across you. you couldn’t help but smile.

when it snowed again the next day, the bed was cold, but the house wasn’t. downstairs, abby had the fire going and breakfast on the stove for the both of you.

and when the sun shown and the birds sang months later, she laid in bed watching your peaceful sleep.

her cuts and bruises had long disappeared. that chill she had that made her shake, warmed. the emptiness she had felt for all those years, had been filled with love and care she yearned for her whole life.

she felt it when she saw you.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x fem!reader #abby my beloved #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader

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morning-star-joy · 1 year ago

Text

a stranger's heart without a home epilogue

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Now that you've found a place by Joel's side, you know you'll never leave.

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Smut (18+ Only MDNI) unprotected p in v sex, praise kink. Language (y'all know it by now), so much Fluff

A/N: We will return to this story with one-shots, drabbles, sequels, prequels, AUs, and whatever else I can think up, because I love these characters sm and I don't think I can ever let them go completely. But I hope that you guys enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. All my love sent to every one of you!

Wordcount: 3k

chapter 1 || chapter 19 || chapter 20 || masterlist

ao3 link

Waking up without being wrapped up in Joel’s warmth was not a feeling you were fond of.

So when your eyes slowly blinked open one morning, the bed empty beside you, a deep frown crossed your face as you were immediately thrown into a bad mood.

You grumbled to yourself, turning over to try and get some more sleep, even though you knew it was a hopeless cause when you were alone.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up, glaring at his unoccupied side of the bed before slowly getting out of bed.

Despite your grumpy, early morning annoyance, you moved about his bedroom subconsciously, stooping down to pick up your panties that had landed across the room last night to pull them on before grabbing his flannel next.

Walking towards the hallway as you buttoned the shirt up, you paused in the doorway, head lifting as you sniffed at the air again when a peculiar scent caught your attention.

Was that…?

That frown that had been fixed on your face since you woke up quickly evaporated, melting into a small smile as you made your way towards the staircase, taking the steps two at a time before swinging around and heading towards where that delicious smell was coming from.

You didn’t try and sneak around Joel, but your footsteps were light by nature, and he had no idea you had found your way into the edge of the room as he turned over whatever was sizzling in the pan on the stove—though you had a pretty good idea just what it was from the smell.

Unable to help yourself, you loitered in the doorway, leaning against it with arms crossed, head resting against the edge as you watched him make you breakfast with a warm smile on your face.

When he turned to grab something off the counter, he finally saw you, jumping with a mumbled curse, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself at the sight of such a prepared man being taken aback.

Joel’s eyes darted across your face and down your body, a small smirk twitching onto his lips at the sight of his flannel barely reaching past your thighs as he murmured, “Morning, darlin’.”

“Good morning,” you hummed in response, pushing yourself off the doorframe to walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a slow, sweet kiss before the sound of popping from the pan made him tear himself away from you.

You glanced towards the pan, seeing that your theory had been correct, but you still found yourself asking with a growing smile, “Is that bacon?”

“Yup,” Joel replied, stealing a glance at you as he was in the midst of turning the strips of thin, crispy meat over again, checking that they were fully cooked before removing the pan from the heat. “Gift from Tommy.”

“How kind of him,” you teased, reaching for one of the pieces of bacon before Joel playfully swatted your hand away.

“Table,” he insisted, nodding towards the small table next to the window where he insisted you ate your meals together, and you sighed dramatically, even as you were helpless to resist his endearing Southern manners while you walked towards it.

Plopping yourself down in a seat, you rested your chin on your hand, content to watch the domestic scene of him setting the bacon on three plates along with the eggs he had apparently also scrambled, before bringing two of the plates towards you.

You knew the last plate was to be saved for Ellie, and you smiled at the simple show of his affection for his surrogate daughter, before turning your attention towards your food.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, not needing to fill the air between you with any unnecessary words, the same way it had always been between you, even before…this.

It was funny, how once you had allowed yourself to start falling, you couldn’t stop.

Most of your days were spent in Joel’s home now instead of your own. It wasn’t an adjustment either of you commented on, as most things went unspoken between you—but you had caught Joel’s smile when you brought your sister’s childhood drawing over to rest on the fireplace mantle next to Ellie’s drawing of Joel.

With your clothes in his closet and the old photograph that you had caught him observing set up next to his pictures with his daughters on his dresser—“your parents?” he had asked one day, and you nodded, letting him take in the picture without forcing you to speak on the matter until you were ready—you settled right into your place by his side, knowing for certain that now you had found your spot there, you would never leave.

When Ellie burst through the back door, saying something about smelling bacon until she froze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting at Joel’s table, in his flannel, sharing his breakfast with him, the young girl burst into laughter as your cheeks flushed, and Joel groaned.

“Ellie—”

“I knew it!” Ellie cackled, pointing between you with a gleeful glint in her eye. “We all fucking knew it!”

Joel rolled his eyes, glancing at you to make sure you were okay, but you were smiling yourself now, trying to obscure a giggle with a cough as he shook his head and rose to grab the third plate of breakfast.

It didn’t take much coaxing for Ellie to join you at the small table then once Joel brought over another chair, and you glanced between the two with a grin as Ellie refused to let Joel eat in peace, teasing him over your presence at every single opportunity, and drawing a laugh from you every time she did so.

Joel just shook his head, letting out sighs every time Ellie would rib him about it, but you saw the warmth in the smile he tried to conceal behind each bite as he looked between the two of you, sitting together with him in his home.

When Ellie left to meet up with Dina and Jesse for some regularly scheduled mayhem for the day, you barely began to clean the dishes before Joel’s hands were on you, sliding up your thighs and under the flannel while he tugged you back into him.

“Joel—”

He interrupted your half-hearted protests with his lips pressed to yours, drawing moans from your mouth as he turned and lifted you easily, setting you on the edge of the counter to take you while you still wore his shirt.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered the first time you had found yourselves like this—pressed against the counter in your kitchen, your back to him as he fucked into you until you both found much-needed release, no matter how short, how temporary.

Now he held you tightly to him, rolling his hips into you at a leisurely pace, facing you fully with his lips pressed to yours again and again, taking all the time in the world with you.

Because that was what you had.

All the time in the world.

When you were finished, it didn’t last for long, only taking the time to clean up the mess you had made before you were scooped up into his arms, your bright laughter echoing through the house as he carried you up the stairs to have you again in his bed.

You would never get tired of being with him like this, and you knew he felt the same just from the words he murmured every time he was inside of you—murmurs of “fuck, sweetheart, so perfect, so good for me” and whimpers of “oh, mi luna, always want you, always.”

That late morning, when you were spent in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his heartbeat slow back down to a calming pace, you found yourself saying quietly, “Hey, Joel?”

“Hm?” he hummed, fingers dragging up and down your spine in a lazy, affectionate manner, and you smiled against his skin before pulling yourself up so you could share his pillow with him.

“I’m gonna ask you something, just—” you cut yourself off, sighing as you felt your cheeks heat, avoiding his searching, curious gaze before you mumbled, “Just don’t laugh.”

“Mm,” he hummed again, arching an eyebrow as you looked back at him, and you smacked him in the chest as he teased, “No promises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, the harsh words devoid of any bite and instead filled with a fond warmth, and he chuckled, the sound softening you as you gazed into his eyes and asked, “Do you believe in other lives?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, clearly wondering what had brought this on as he looked over your face, but to his credit, he didn’t judge your line of thought as he replied truthfully, “I dunno, I’ve never really thought about it. Why?”

With a sigh, you traced the lines of his face with the tips of your fingers, grazing them over the scar near his temple as you answered, “I just…”

You shrugged, trying to avoid his gaze again as you suddenly felt self-conscious, stupid at the soft sentiment that you had been mulling over the past few nights.

But Joel was having none of that.

“Look at me.”

Even though the gentle, firm command made you blink in surprise, you followed it instantly, almost subconsciously as your gaze flickered up to meet his.

Joel searched your eyes, probably trying to find the reason for this unexpected question, and you distracted yourself from his quick calculation by glancing down his own body when he shifted himself to face you better.

Between his legs, you could see his cock was stirring again just from having you this close to him, half-hard and Jesus, even though he had just fucked you so well—twice—you still wanted him. You were sore and aching, blissed out from far more than one orgasm and you still wanted him.

Would you ever stop wanting him?

Biting your lip, you began to wonder if you could convince him to partake in a third round, and then maybe then you could bring it up, pour your soul out to him as you rode his dick that you watched twitch under your rapt attention.

Knowing that just the simplicity of your eyes on him evoked such a response from him, your desire for him eliciting his own desire for you, made your heart begin to race again, and, fuck, now you just wanted to—

Your name being muttered pulled your attention back as you began to fully space out, and you blinked a few times, looking up as Joel gently pushed you back onto the bed to hover over you.

His thumb brushed along the scar on your cheek, a story you had yet to tell him, just as he had yet to tell you the story of the one on his temple. You knew you would speak of each hidden part of your lives eventually, but you were in no rush, content in how you already knew him as well as you knew yourself.

“Look at me,” he murmured again, and you did.

Joel’s thumb moved to stroke along your chin and up the edge of your jaw, and your eyelashes fluttered, helpless to resist his request as he whispered, “Tell me.”

Licking your lips, you finally found the courage in his comforting warmth to say, “Do you think we found each other?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, still not following your line of thought, and you sighed quietly, heart racing in your chest as you clarified, “In another life.”

At the clarification, Joel’s face softened, his hand reaching back up to cup your cheek as his eyes locked with yours.

Open, honest, real, and you knew that if you did meet him in any other lives, you were without a doubt fated to helplessly fall for him all over again.

“Do you think we found each other in another life?” you asked quietly, breath trembling as you danced your fingers over his face, cupping his cheek in the same way he still held yours. “Where nothing bad ever happened to us?”

Joel’s lips were already pressed to yours, desperately kissing you as you finished the question, and you sighed into the affectionate action, knowing his answer even before he parted from you to speak.

“I hope so,” he whispered, bumping his nose against yours as he stole another kiss before laying back down to face you on his side again. “Sarah would have loved you.”

The genuine comment brought a surprised laugh from you, the sound nothing but fond as you smiled at him. “And my Little Star would have loved you.”

Joel returned your smile, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer, his forehead resting against yours before he asked, “What would this life have looked like?”

You hummed in thought, resting your cheek against the pillow to glance over his face, the open, earnest affection in his deep brown gaze, considering the question before answering, “I go to school for photography, and my sister and I move in next door to you.”

“Interesting,” Joel said slowly, his brow arching as he smiled slowly at the scenario you were setting up. “Go on.”

“Well, you are absolutely smitten with me at first sight, of course,” you teased, heart racing as the word smitten left your lips, the description much closer to the feelings you shared for each other, but never dared to speak of directly, even now.

To his credit, Joel didn’t hesitate, his eyes filled with warmth that was only for you as he murmured without missing a beat, “Of course.”

Butterflies were taking flight in your stomach to fill your entire being, and you suddenly felt like you were in something as close to heaven as you could get, unable to help but grin as you continued, “My sister and Sarah become best friends. Tommy’s there too, of course—he comes over for dinner every Friday.”

“Damn, can’t get rid of him even in our fantasy,” Joel teased, and you smacked his shoulder, earning a deep chuckle from him that made your heart skip a beat.

“Every Saturday, we have our movie night, with all five of us,” you continued, speaking slowly, as if you didn’t want this fantasy to come to an end as you imagined it in the comfort of your shared bed with Joel. “With my feet in your lap, and you and Tommy complain about the acting while the girls laugh and tell you both to shut up.”

Joel’s smile was still on his face, but it softened even more into something you didn’t recognize, a look you had seen from him on occasion, one that made your heart race as you struggled to find the next words, “And on Sundays, we spend the mornings in bed, like this. You fuck me, and I kiss you, and you say—”

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

You looked at Joel, seeing his entire soul laid bare to you as he placed his heart into your hands without a second thought.

And then your heart started again, pounding against your chest as you licked your lips and whispered the truth you had known, deep down in your soul, for a long time, “I love you, too.”

Joel’s smile then could be described as almost giddy, his kisses nearly joyous as he pressed them to your lips and all over your face, and you laughed, wrapping your arms around him, limbs entangling as you rolled around in your bed and kissed and kissed until you both lost your breath.

When you settled again, foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath, you asked quietly, “When did you know?”

Joel tucked a hair behind your ear, shrugging a shoulder as he answered, “I don’t know. I think I knew for a while, in some way.”

You hummed, giving your agreement to the sentiment in the sound as you gazed at each other, no more barriers left between you as he added softly, “I think that, when I met you—I could tell.”

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you raised an eyebrow as you asked, “Really?”

“Well,” he licked his lips, shifting onto his back to gaze up at you, his hand caressing your back as he explained, “Not love, but—there was some part of you that felt like a part of me.”

You softened then, tears nearly springing to your eyes as you knew exactly what he meant. It was a feeling you had experienced too, for a longer time than you think you even knew. Joel had always been a kindred spirit to you, not only in being a cold cynic, but in the loneliness deep inside his heart. For so long, you had no place to call home, and he was exactly the same.

And now he was your home, as you were his.

“Is that why you created those stupid fucking rules?” you asked, the comment eliciting a laugh out of him that you joined in with. “To keep me away?”

Joel’s thumb stroked along the small of your back, surprising you as he nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

You were struck silent for a moment, feeling an old ache in your chest that was only satisfied when you leaned down to kiss him again. “Well, you did a great job at keeping them.”

“Mm,” he hummed in content into your mouth, chasing your lips for another longer, deeper kiss when you pulled away. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, kissing him again before you laid on top of him, resting your head back onto his chest. “Me too.”

After a long moment of silence that was filled with nothing but an understanding for each other that rested in your souls, you spoke again.

“So it’s settled, then,” you said, raising your head back up to look down into his eyes. “You’ll find me in the next one.”

Joel smiled up at you, cupping your cheek as he pulled you down into a long, lingering kiss that told you everything you needed to know.

Still, he said it aloud, and you finally found peace with the four simple words.

“I’ll always find you.”

#joel miller x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #a stranger's heart series #posting this through tears as I listen to we're in love by boygenius on my vinyl which heavily influenced the epilogue

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elliesbff · 7 months ago

Note

I feel like you’re the person for this job.

I feel like this fandom needs more cowboy Abby fluff. CAN A GIRL GET SOME PURE SOUTHERN COMFORT AROUND HERE??? Like we all know that woman would hold doors open and be such a good little provider yk??

i LOOOOOVEEEE this idea. i’ve seen multiple fan works of abby as like a cowboy, or like a farm worker and sometimes even in a red dead redemption au, and it’s been on my mind ever since.

enjoy these headcanons! (since my brain is fried and i can’t focus on anything) cw: slightly suggestive at some points!

cowboy abby anderson,

she’s such a gentle-woman for you. always opening doors while making a grand gesture with her arm; “after you,”

to add, although she knows you’re perfectly capable of these things yourself, she provides these acts of service anyways, just to show her love and devotion to you.

she’s so good with horses, and animals in general. you always stare in awe as she tends to them, cleaning, feeding and the likes.

on those scorching-ly hot summer afternoons, she’d wear tank tops that revealed that a little bit of her chest and her back. some would say she does it on purpose.

her with a southern accent…. somewhat similar to joel’s, the exaggerated pronunciations of the end of each word. she’d still have those commanding, almost always sarcastic undertones in her voice.

would definitely let you wear her large cowboy hat, and only you.

because of her muscular build, she can easily haul objects such as hay bales, game, and even a variety of animals around — including you, with little to no struggle. use that to your imagination.

she’s exceptionally good at horse-back riding and controlling her hips. it’s no different in the bedroom.

from the amount of heavy duty work she does; lassoing, hurling heavy loads around and such, her hands are ridden with callouses and scars. combine this with her unimaginable grip and strength, your skin is far from safe when it comes to slaps and spanks.

on the outside, she’s a tough, burly stud of a woman who’s strength is near unmatched. but when you dig a little deeper, she’s just a warm ball of energy, who turns to mush at the mere sound of an earnest compliment.

good behaviour is always handsomely rewarded.

her lasso skills come in handy behind closed doors.

she’s old fashioned when it comes to gracing you with affection; neck and hand kisses, inviting you to dance even in the midst of silence, breakfast in bed, and gifting you with flowers she found while hunting.

on the topic of hunting, she’s mighty good at it, and never fails to impress you with her bow and shotgun — watching her come back home with an abundance of loot always amazes you.

her skilful providing never goes unappreciated.

that’s all i can think of for now, sorry if it’s not that good💔💔 i’ll try to think of some more tomorrow!

#abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #tlou part 2 #tlou series #cowboy abby anderson??#headcanon #rdr2xtlou2 #abby anderson is a gentlewoman

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veronicaphoenix · 6 months ago

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Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable.

But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing.

She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her.

Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness.

Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space.

She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.

So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place.

Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home.

She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later.

In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state.

In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat.

After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart.

Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.

Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination.

Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her.

Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment.

His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless.

When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?”

His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

Of course, it had to be Jack who told him.

“But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand.

“We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman.

Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house.

Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot.

Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

“Please, don’t go.”

“Love, I just got here.”

“I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch.

Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident.

He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers.

“I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?”

She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him.

She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken.

She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses.

As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table.

“Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone.

“I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

“And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy.

“I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.”

She sighed, but she knew he was right.

“If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?”

His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing.

Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

“Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right.

She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.

Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.

Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too.

One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men.

Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess.

“I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed.

She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul.

She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her.

“Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him.

“Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy.

“What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?”

She shrugged, not particularly caring.

“Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah.

As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

“Kitten..”

She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said. Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew.

Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her.

After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him.

“You look tired, too,” he remarked.

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted.

“Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested.

With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his.

He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home.

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah.

Oliver: Still up?

Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.

Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear.

“What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

“She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

“I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

“I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

“Needy, huh?”

“Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

“Oh, good.”

“The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

“In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

“I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

“Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.”

“Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

“Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?”

“Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.”

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor.

Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.

“Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle.

“Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

She gave him a tiny smile.

“Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

“I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

“You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.

“Do I, now?”

She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb.

“Feeling any better?”

Swallowing, she nodded.

“What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

That sounded like… Heaven.

Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life.

“Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things.

By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before.

If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table.

That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other.

Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room.

It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family.

After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower.

As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared.

They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him.

When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly.

After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands.

As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.

Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace.

“You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him.

“It’s okay, love.”

But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers.

Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned.

Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs.

She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

“You didn��t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.

“Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words.

While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore.

Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers.

Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard.

She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking.

Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Make love to me?”

Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

“Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look.

Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever.

He already was.

His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

Her hips arched towards him.

“What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

“Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time.

He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence.

He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time.

Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go.

Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same.

That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same.

Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears.

A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin. One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too.

The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after.

The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex.

Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.

“Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

“Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being.

She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

But still. Something was missing. Someone.

“I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions.

“Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

“I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK.

“I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet.

It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on.

“You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings.

“What?”

“That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days.

He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport.

“You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

“Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

“I’d love to see that.”

Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable.

He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams.

The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip.

They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.

CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON

#into the abyss of bad habits #oliver sykes x reader #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bmth #bring me the horizon #oliver sykes x noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #oliver sykes fic #noah sebastian fanfic #oliver sykes fanfic

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