#TLOU Tv Serie
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no bc i fr want to give this man the nastiest, sloppiest, most unholy, sheet gripping, toe curling, eye rolling, jaw clenching, mouth watering, breathtaking, leg trembling, heart attack inducing, exorcism causing, sweat pouring, mortifying, paralyzing, beastly, foul, electrifying, earth shattering head known to mankind
#đ#this was made with sonny carisi in mind#but honestly it could apply to so many people#dominick carisi#dominick carisi jr#sonny carisi#patrick hockstetter#rafe cameron#joel miller#the ghoul#cooper howard#wesley evers#law and order svu#outer banks#outerbanks#law and order special victims unit#fallout tv series#tlou#the last of us#it 2017#girlblogging#this is girlhood#relatable
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if youâre taking joel requests hereâs one :3
touch-starved!joel who isnât aware heâs touch starved but then extremely affectionate reader comes along and just always! touches! him! loving & intentional touches, casual touchesâall of it drives him wild and he loves it!!
thank you!! I hope this is okay! Touch-starved Joel who wants you but doesn't know how to want you w/ mutual pining âĽď¸ fem!reader 2k
Joel wishes you wouldn't work the same shifts as him. Wishes you didn't have to work any shifts at all, wishes you didn't know this life, but you do. He wishes you wouldn't pick all the high-paying, devastating jobs that he does, wishes you didn't insist on keeping him company. And above all, he wishes you wouldn't touch him, because he can't handle the way that he feels when you do.Â
Sharing shifts turns to seeing one another outside of the old meat market by accident. In turn, that becomes purposeful. Before he really knows it, you're comfortable enough to come by his apartment and you'll wait there even when he isn't home just to see him. Precious hours of your life spent curled in on yourself at his door.Â
Joel nudges your sleeping body with his shoe and then feels like the world's biggest asshole. He sighs, kneeling down despite his aching back, and shakes your shoulder. He notices how soft your jaw looks when you sleep and has to look away, lest he think about it too much now, and remember it later. You have this habit of chasing him into bed when you're not there.Â
Your hand wakes before your eyes do, and you curl your fingers around his wrist, half on his sleeve and half on his skin. Where you connect hums with heat.Â
"Why are you out here?" He changes his prerogative, feeling as though chastisement is more important. "You have no sense of danger, even now. Get up."Â
He doesn't speak without fondness. You'd have to look hard to find it, but it's undoubtedly there.
His tone has you awake and alert quickly, your gaze on his face. "I do," you say croakily, letting him pull you into a standing position.Â
"Then what are you doing out here?"Â
"I can't call first⌠You look tired."Â
"I am. I'm not staying up." He pulls his wrist from your lingering grasp. "Should've called."
"You act like you don't like me," you say without inflection, following him in through the door and closing it softly behind you.Â
He drops his jacket over the back of the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. His back aches from standing and heaving all day, his arms tight with a cramping tension.Â
If he were younger he'd turn around and wrap you up in his arms. He'd tell you what he really thinks of you, your head hooked in the crook of his arm, his free hand roaming lazily over your back. His pinky finger would run along the line of your jeans playfully, and maybe you'd laugh. You don't laugh as much as you should.Â
"Are you hungry?" he asks.Â
"No, Joel."
You'd lie even if you were.Â
He moves into the kitchen, makes himself a small glass of water, and leans against the counter. He tries not to drink it like a total pig knowing you're watching, but he's dehydrated and cotton-mouthed.Â
The window paints you in a weak light, like iced tea. You pick over his things and arrange yourself on the couch like a tired house cat, pulling your legs up and rubbing your cheek against the backrest. Shoulders to the arm, you're almost lying down. He could superimpose you into his sheets, imagining how you might look in bed, not naked or waiting or anything so salacious, just how youâd look getting ready to sleep. He wonders if you wear pyjamas, figures you likely sleep dressed as you are now in your shirt and jeans. Maybe you swap denim for sweatpants, maybe you donât. Maybe you peel your shirt off, maybe your bra. He entertains a life where he gets to see it and finds it painful as wrapping his hand around a hot poker, because that life is alarmingly close to this one, if he were to take one small leap.
âWhere were you today?â he asks.
He sees a flicker of humour flit across your face. He knows it as one of your tells â you'd thought about bending the truth.
"You donât have to worry, Iâm just⌠rundown. Felt sicker than usual, so I stayed home."Â
It's automatic for him to give you a once over as he would with anybody who feels under the weather. You haven't been unlike yourself, you aren't sweating or irritable. You're fine. Youâre more than fine.
You have a strange inability to look after yourself. He believes in positive (and negative) reinforcement.Â
"Good girl," he says.Â
You smile at your hands, picking at nails he knows are scrubbed raw and clean as he crosses the room to sit with you on the couch. You're quick to push your legs over his lap, your jeans riding up until the rarely-seen skin of your ankles peak out.Â
"I had an incredible headache," you continue. "And I felt like the blood was rushing in my ears when I stood up but I wasnât dizzy.â
You touch him and it's like all his agitation starts to numb itself. The weight of your legs has him forgetting his aching back and his sore arms. He stares at his closed fist by your foot, willing himself to touch you; all he wants to do is grab your leg, feel the dough and softness of it under his palm. You sit up a touch to brush a longer piece of hair sticking out behind his neck.Â
He pretends you aren't moving at all.Â
"Do you feel better now?" he asks.Â
Your knuckle brushes under his jaw. He feels the short hairs of his beard catching.Â
"I feel fine," you say. "How are you feeling?"Â
He turns to face you head on. Heâs not going to answer your question. You already know he wonât, but you've asked anyway. He isnât sure what to do with that.
âYou really do look tired,â you say softly, concern knitting your brows together. He thinks itâs your most devastating look yet. âI donât wanna keep you up, Joel, Iâll go home. You can get some real rest.â
He almost says Hey, I donât want you to leave yet, and youâre already standing up. You look more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you arenât â you're a lightness. You drain the levy, and he canât see himself getting any rest at all if you leave.Â
Youâre saving him the awkwardness, climbing off of his couch and out of his lap to track down your shoes. âAnd, you know, you could shower,â you say, trying to infuse some life back into the room, âI know the cold water bites but we all gotta do it.â
He stands up too fast and feels an absence of noise. No blood rushing in his ears, no beating heart. Heâs too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what he wants. He canât ask you to stay.Â
You lean down to hook your finger into the back of your sneaker and stop at his expression. You stand a little taller. Whatever vulnerability he sees in you now, your short black socks against the floor, your sweet-eyed, tentative smile, he suspects heâd find it doubled in the mirror.Â
âJoel, IâŚâ
He canât ask you.Â
But that doesn't mean you can't ask him.Â
"Do you think I could stay, after all? To sleep. Just to sleep," you say. Your voice is quiet, like you're trying to spare yourself some dignity if you need to take it back.Â
He thinks about it. You, in his bed. You, sleeping as you had been in his hallway, your lashes skimming the delicate skin under your eyes, your neck craned in. You, with your hands under your cheek, your sluggish breathing, your heart capering only a handful of inches from his.Â
A beat. "You kick in your sleep?" he asks, cotton-mouth returned.
"No," you say. You laugh through it, making the word so thick it's almost sticky. Honey in sound.Â
It solidifies what he's said yes to. He doesn't know how to sleep next to you. He barely knows how to talk to you, and doesn't try as he leads you into his bedroom. Thankfully, you spare him. He knows you aren't the most confident person on the planet, and that each bold move you make is for his benefit. He tries to be unflinching in return, kicking out of his shoes and throwing back the blankets to lie flat on the sheets. You settle in next to him with little ceremony.
You keep your legs hiked up at first, your heels digging into the mattress near his knees. You turn your face to his, and he turns his face to yours. He can see your every wrinkle and line this close. You must be seeing his.Â
"You got lucky with the neighbour lottery, huh?" you say, not quite whispering. "It's silent."Â
He doesn't want you to stop talking, but he can't help himself. "Almost," he says wryly.
You know him well enough to smile. "I guess you don't need the quiet," âyou turn carefully onto your side, letting the weight of your knees rest on his thighâ "'cause you work all day every day."Â
The opposite. The shit he sees on shift is enough to give anybody insomnia.Â
"I'm the bad neighbour."Â
"Oh, right, your radio." The back of your hand touches his arm. The slightest of touches but enough to make him realise how much he wants it. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. He wants it worse than a hydro.
"I might, uh, might cling a little, in my sleep. You can push me away, swears. Even if you gotta really fight me on it." You close your eyes, burrowing your face into one of his flat pillows. Your knuckles jump up his arm as you get comfortable. "Jus' shove me."Â
He closes his eyes. The dark of his eyelids is usually a torment, but with you this close it lulls him quickly and without finesse. "I'm not gonna shove you," he says while he still can.Â
He's on the precipice of sleep when your hand slides up his bicep. You feel along the soft ridging of his muscles until your fingers slot between his arm and his chest, and your nose is kissing his shoulder. It's as if the moonlight has heat and it's bearing down on him through the dirty windows as every stressed ligament, every tensed tissue in his sore body finally gives in to rest.
When he wakes, he's missed his morning shift start. You're clinging to him like you said you would, harder than he'd think possible considering your unconsciousness, with your lips pressed to his shoulder. He thinks it might leave a bruise.Â
He dips his face toward yours until the tip of his nose nudges your forehead and goes back to sleep.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel miller x you#joel miller#the last of us tv series#the last of us tv show#the last of us hbo#the last of us#the last of us spoilers#the last of us joel#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x y/n#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro <3#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#the last of us fic
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He is fighting for Ellie. If it were just him, I think he would just be like âoh, fuckâs sake, just do it, just kill me already, Iâm useless, Iâm broken, Iâm lying on this mattress and Iâm dyingâ. But the thought that Ellie might still be alive, that Ellie might need him, that is what gets him off the mattress, thatâs what gets him going. (Craig Mazin in HBOâs The Last of Us Podcast)
The Last of Us, S01E08 | When We Are in Need
#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#the last of us hbo#the last of us series#tlou spoilers#tv shows#tlouhboedit#useremi#tusercora#xuserannie#userconstance#usergal#usersilk#tlounetwork#mine#*
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#i had to#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#the last of us tv series#tlou hbo#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#barbie
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Doomed sapphics you will always have my heart
Lottie and Nat : yellowjackets
Lexy and Nadine : chucky
Sarah and Hannah : Fear street 1666
KJ and Mac : paper girls
Ellie and Riley : the last of us
Cindy and Alice : fear street 1978
Bear and Tiger : sweet tooth
#lottie matthews#natalie scatorccio#lottienat#yellowjackets#lexy cross#nadine chucky#lexdine#sarah fier#hannah miller#hannah x sarah#kj brandman#mac coyle#kajemac#lottie x natalie#lexy x nadine#kj x mac#ellie williams#riley tlou#ellie x riley#cindy berman#alice hart#alice fear street#cindy x alice#bear sweet tooth#tiger sweet tooth#tigerbear#bear x tiger#chucky tv series#fear street#fear street 1666
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just a reminder that the pjotv is gonna be the first contact of many kids to the percy jackson world and probably will influence a lot of them to pick up books for the first time so everyone please be nice and tag tlt spoilers. let kids (and adults) feel the same enjoyment you did while finding out about the pjo world for the first time
#ill be posting about this til december#we had a great example of an old fandom respecting newcomers regarding the spoilers with tlou earlier this year#you can be excited about the tvshow AND about new people discovering pjo#its that easy#dont ruin other people's experiences just bc you dont feel like tagging spoilers#especially when we need the general audience to keep getting more seasons#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#pjo tv series#pjo tv show#annabeth chase#grover underwood#heroes of olympus#jason grace#piper mclean#leo valdez#hazel levesque#frank zhang#nico di angelo#will solace
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Me every time Joel reloaded his hunting rifle:
#on god I was#whoâs ready to cream#tlou hbo#tlou series#tlou ellie#tlou spoilers#joel tlou#joel miller#ellie williams#the last of us tv series#the last of us tv show#the last of us tv show spoilers#sam tlou#henry tlou#clickers#bloater#infected#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n
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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ii
series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter
chapter summary: Joel tries, and fails, to keep Sarah away from you, and you get to know the family across the street a little bit better. Itâs a slow burn, so let the yearning begin, baby! pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 7.7k chapter warnings: some light angst, alcohol use, references to marijuana use, parental neglect. divorce mention, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues - shocker! a/n: Was absolutely floored by the love on part one. Seriously you all are the best. I hate doing chapter summaries because I don't like giving away too much info, so I'd suggest just reading this. This story might end up being a longer than six parts, because I don't want to rush anything and it's been really fun to write these relationships as they form! Let me know what you think :)
-March 25th, 2003-Â
Joel cannot keep Sarah away from you.Â
Unfortunately, he canât blame her. Unlike him, she doesnât need an excuse to show up on your doorstep after school and on the weekends to be in your company. Still, he doesnât technically know you that well, and he imagines you didnât intend to see her as often as you did after extending some kindness to his family for one night.Â
Despite the two of you having not spoken since you helped him with the Tommy situation, Joel feels like he knows you, or is getting to know you, just from the snippets of information Sarah drops to him, which is then followed by a barrage of questions.
âDo you know she grew up in New York City? Have you ever been there?âÂ
âShe gave me her old tennis racket. Do you think I could start taking lessons?â
âShe says her brother got her front-row tickets to The Strokes last year. You like them, donât you?â
Joel decides to give Sarah a talking to about her tendency to wander over to your house whenever she sees your car in the driveway. Perhaps you are just being friendly, and feel bad saying no each time sheâs asked to come in. He tries to broach the subject with her one morning in the kitchen while sheâs eating breakfast. Theyâre already running behind, her for school, himself for work, but neither of them are in a rush. If youâre already late, whatâs an extra ten minutes?
âTake it easy, alright? She might not want company after a long day at work,â Joel leans over the countertop, hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, watching her shovel cereal in her mouth. Â
âDad, she said I could come over whenever,â Itâs accompanied by an eye roll, which is a new thing that had started about six months back. Teenagers. Well, almost teenagers. Sheâs still the sweet kid heâs always known, heâs just playing with fire trying to talk to her at seven in the morning, an indent on the side of her face still fading from where she slept on a crumpled pillow.Â
Joel was at least grateful that she did have occasional company on nights when he was working late. It made him feel better to know Sarah wasnât alone.
âWhat do you even do over there?â
âHomework, readingâŚ.watching TV.â
âSo the same thing you do here?â
Sarah thinks about it. âWell, no, because sheâs teaching me to knit.â
âAnd what does she do while you do your homework?â
âShe works too. Or makes calls.â Sarah smiles a little. âIt sounds like people ask her for advice a lot. She does give good advice.â
âBetter than mine?â Joel holds his hand over his heart with mock offense.
Sarah groans. âRelax, donât get jealousâŚthereâs just stuff I can talk to her about and not you. Girl stuff.â
âGirl stuff? What like, boys?â
âNo, you wouldnât get it.â
âI was a boy once.â
âEw, dad, gross.â
âHow is that gross?â
âJust- not everything is about boys, okay?â
Joel isnât going to argue with that, and Sarah eventually goes back to finishing her cereal.
âAlright babygirl,â he raps his knuckles on the counter after heâs finished his coffee. âIâve gotta load up the truck, and you better get going, or Iâm gonna get an earful from Miss Davis.â He grabs his keys and his wallet, then yanks a baseball cap over his mess of hair thatâs long overdue for a haircut.
âOh, I bet she would love an excuse to talk to you,â Sarah slides out of her seat with her empty bowl and marches towards the sink to rinse it out, grabbing his empty mug on the way.
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âDonât you remember how giggly she was at parent-teacher conferences?â Sarah says. âIâve never seen her so happy before.â
Itâs Joelâs turn to roll his eyes. Heâd pegged it as unusual, but never considered it was because Miss Davis was into him. He wishes Sarah isnât soâŚ.observant.Â
Over the years, Joel has basically kept his head down, doing his best to keep things together. Because of that, he feels like heâs sort of lost his ability to pick up on when women are interested in him. And itâs safe to say, in general, heâs had a pretty uneventful love life since Sarahâs mom left.Â
For the most part, he got by on flings â one night stands, casual no-strings-attached arrangements that always fizzled out. Joel had never been a man who liked that sort of thing, and ultimately craved a deeper level of intimacy, companionship, but he had trouble sustaining anything more. And even when he thinks of the more serious relationships heâd had over the years, those were also never completely satisfying.Â
The fact of the matter was that when you had a kid, you werenât just looking for someone for yourself anymore. For most people, introducing their partner to their parents is always a big deal. But for Joel, it was always introducing girlfriends to Sarah. Over the last decade heâd only ever introduced her to three different women, and at that point he had usually been dating them secretly for several months before deciding that it was serious enough. It always felt like he was trying so desperately to ensure they liked each other. But he could tell that Sarah was never quite comfortable with any of them. And when theyâd start asking about moving in, marriage, and babies â heâd always panic. It was reasonable for them to want those things, hell, he wanted those things. But it had to be the right person. He knew he couldnât bring someone into his life, forever, that didnât love Sarah like a parent should. Like he did. No one ever would, and because of that, he knows thereâs a good chance itâll just be the two of them forever.
So, even if Sarahâs teacher, as cute as she was, were to ask him out, he would never be able to go. But less for the latter reasons, and more because he knows heâd never hear the end of it from her.Â
âAlright, thatâs enough. Iâm leaving in five minutesâŚwith or without you.â
âNooo!â Sarah screams in mock panic, scrambling upstairs to brush her teeth.Â
Joel exits through the garage, grabbing a few extra tools from his workbench that he needs for the job today and a saw.Â
When he opens the garage door, the harsh sunlight is the first thing to greet him, and then he sees you.Â
Youâre in your driveway across the street, barefoot and in a short, black silk robe thatâs cinched at the smallest part of your waist. Next to you is a man in a suit, holding a briefcase and trying to straighten his tie. He canât do both at the same time, though, so he pauses and turns to you, murmurs something, and you slow to help him, your fingers wrapping around the tie, tightening where itâs looped around his neck and tucking it into place, straightening his lapel before stepping away. The type of domesticity that doesnât happen with a one-night-stand.
It makes sense, he thinks. That youâre with someone like that. Itâs the world youâre in all day. And even though heâs standing in his own fucking driveway, Joel feels like heâs seeing something heâs not supposed to. Or maybe, he just doesnât want to be seeing it.Â
Joel tears his eyes away, putting his stuff in the back of the truck â the toolkit, the saw, glancing over to see the man kiss you on the lips and mutter something unintelligible before getting in a shiny, blue sports car. You nod, offer an easy smile, and stoop to pick up the newspaper. The car's engine roars to life, and you cross your arms, looking after it until it peels out of the cul-de-sac.
The bashful smile youâre wearing drops instantly once itâs out of sight, and he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose, and tilt your head back to the sky.
He turns before he gets caught, and slams the back of the truck shut, which is a little ignorant in hindsight. Joel looks over his shoulder to see your attention has shifted, and youâre shielding your eyes and squinting at him.Â
Great.
âHey Joel,â you wave, your opposite hand pulling at the bottom of your robe, in a futile attempt to cover yourself. You look good, obviously, but it makes Joel feel a little guilty to make the observation because itâs clear you didnât actually intend to be seen like this.
âMorning,â he answers.Â
âWhereâve you been?â you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.Â
âBusy. Work.â
âThatâs no fun butâŚsame here, I guess,â You shuffle forward hesitantly.Â
Joel takes a beat to think about what heâs supposed to say in response, but doesnât get the chance, because you speak up again.
âHey uh, not to put you on the spot, but were you actually serious about fixing my step the other night?â you ask.Â
Before he can answer, you continue.Â
âItâs okay if you werenât, but I twisted my ankle on it the other day, so I need to get it fixed before that happens to someone else. I was thinking maybe Iâd just call-â
âNo-â
âItâs no big deal if you canât-â
âNo,â Joel cuts you off. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up to you, not realizing that taking said time probably made him look like an asshole. âDonât call anyone else, I can do it. How about Friday night? Will you be around?âÂ
âFriday?â you answer, pondering. âYeah, that works. I have a friend from out of town coming to visit, so Iâll be home early because Iâve gotta pick her up from the airport.âÂ
âAlright, Iâll try to cut out early, too.â
âAnd also I can pay-â
âStop it, Iâve got you, donât worry,â he waves his hand.Â
You smile at Joel. Heâs sure it means nothing, but he gets some satisfaction from how sincere it is compared to the one youâd given the guy you had been escorting out of your home.Â
He feels himself grinning back, and you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the sound of his screen door slamming. Sarah stumbles down the steps, backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones to her walkman around her ears, holding her bright pink windbreaker in one hand and a book in the other. She looks at Joel, then you, standing in your driveway, and her face lights up as she calls your name.Â
âHey, Sarah,â you wave.Â
Sarah opens her mouth to speak, and Joel knows whatever sheâs going to say will start a much longer conversation that unfortunately they just donât have the time for.
âSheâs gotta get to school,â Joel tilts his head in the direction of his daughter before she can say anything. âBut Iâll get that done Friday.â
âSee you then!â You turn on your heel, and he looks away for a second to Sarah before glancing back in your direction, and youâre already gone, the only evidence you were there being your front door slamming shut.Â
Joel waits until he and Sarah are in the car on their way to school before he speaks again.Â
âSheâs never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, has she?â
Sarah doesnât even look up from her book. âNo.â
Joel nods, and itâs quiet for a moment.
He hears Sarahâs book shut. âWhy?â she turns to him, and sheâs got her eyes narrowed, like sheâs trying to figure out what the question really meant. Heâs never seen her make that face before, and itâs a little terrifying, because it looks like she could see right through him.
Joel wracks his brain for a good enough excuse. âIf she has people over, I donât want you hanginâ around adults I donât know.â
That seems to satisfy Sarah, and the skeptical look on her face disappears. If anything, she seems slightly annoyed by the comment, which is definitely preferable. âWell, you donât have to worry about that because itâs never happened.â Sarah plays with the dials on the radio, changing the station until it lands on one playing The Chicks, her favorite group. She hums along to the song, filling in the gaps whenever the radio cuts out, and looks out the window.Â
âAlright.â
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
-March 28th, 2003-
âOh, I wanna come!â Sarah jumps up from the couch and joins Joel in the entryway. Itâs Friday evening, and heâs about to head out the door to your place.
âYouâre stayinâ in tonight.â
âWhat? Why?â
âWell first of all, youâre grounded, in case you donât remember.â
âYou donât even know what that means, though.â
Joel shakes his head, because sheâs right. Heâs never had to ground Sarah before, but when heâd gotten a call from her teacher that she had failed her last math quiz, and was close to not passing the class, he figured it was an appropriate punishment. âIâm pretty sure it means you canât leave the house.â
âBut this is barely leaving the h-â
âSecond of all,â he cuts her off. âShe told me earlier this week sheâs got a friend visiting, so itâd be rude to intrude if thatâs the case.â
Sarah groans, throws her head back, and falls onto the couch dramatically. âBut Iâm so bored.â
âYou could study. Practice dribbling, clean your room, clean your bathroom-â
âDad, itâs literally Friday night.â
âAnd?â
âAll that stuff is so boring.â
Joel canât help but chuckle. âLook, when I get back we can watch a movie. This wonât take long.â
She sits up a little, placated. âOkay, but itâs my turn to pick.â
âDeal. Iâll be home in an hour or so,â he steps out onto the porch.Â
Thereâs a special kind of glow in Texas about an hour before the sun sets. Warm light filters behind the trees, casting the leaves and anything else it catches in a golden halo. Joel takes in the view for a moment as he walks across the street, skipping the rotten step and knocking on your front door.Â
You answer it quickly. âHey, you wanna come in?â
Joel supposes he doesnât have to, and could just let you know heâs here, stay out on the front porch and just get the job done, but he accepts your invitation anyway.
Thereâs another woman sitting cross-legged on the couch, two half-full glasses of wine on your coffee table, music playing low on some speakers in the corner. The front windows are open, despite the chill of the evening, and your sheer curtains billow in the breeze.Â
âClaire, this is my neighbor, Joel,â you say. âHeâs helping me out with the steps. His daughterâs Sarah, the one I was telling you about. â
âOh, yeah.â Claireâs face lights up in recognition. âJoel. Nice to meet you.â
âYou too,â he nods.
âClaireâs visiting from New York. We grew up together,â you explain.Â
âOh, yeah?âÂ
âHer and I were roommates at boarding school,â Claire explains, finishing off a glass of wine. âWe got into a lot of trouble together.â
âHmmm, if I recall, it was more like you got me into trouble, but sure,â you say.Â
âYou were bad, if not worse, than I was.â
Joel smirks, and you turn to him, changing the subject. âSheâs jetlagged, so weâre just staying in for the night.â
âButâŚweâre still getting drunk, obviously.â
âOh yeah, that too,â you say flatly, although to Joel, you donât seem drunk at all. Luckily, your friend answers his question with her next sentence.
âThis one isnât very good at keeping up, though,â Claire tilts her head in your direction, then finishes off the glass of wine in her hand.
âYou sound like Vincent,â you roll your eyes.
âOh, how is Vincent?â
âWouldnât you like to know?â you cross your arms and look at Joel. âShe always had the biggest crush on my brother, and it was dis-gus-ting.â
âTo be fair,â Claire clears her throat. âAt the time, he was pretty dreamy. And if weâre being honestâŚ.he still isâŚtoo bad heâs married.â
âDivorced, actually. But stillâŚâ You wrinkle your nose. âGross.â
âDivorced?â Claire sits up, jaw dropping. âWhen? Why didnât you tell me? What happened?â
You raise your hands and shake your head, like itâs too much to get into. âItâs a long story. Iâll tell you about it later. Sorry, weâre being rude,â you turn back to Joel. âCan I get you anything? Want some wine?â
âI would, but it doesnât usually mix well with power tools,â Joel answers. âI should be good, though, I brought everything I need.â
âGreat well⌠Iâll let you get to it, then.â you pad across the floor to return to your friend on the couch. âWeâll be in here if you need anything.â
âSounds good,â Joel nods at you and your friend before stepping back out onto the porch.
The screen door shuts behind him, and the birds are quieting down for the night. He only has a little bit of sunlight left, but this shouldnât take him long. Just as he is about to get started, he hears your friendâs voice, muffled, from inside the house.Â
âOkay, I thought you were lying because your taste in men is usually questionable, but youâre right, he is really cute.â
âDude,â you interject, and Joel hears a sound of impact, like a smack on the arm. âLower your voice the fucking windows are open.â Claire starts giggling, and you continue. âYou know you donât have to say, like, every thought that comes into your head.â
He hears your friend laugh even harder, and eventually you join her. Joel shakes his head, but even after he starts working, canât keep the grin off his face.
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
-April 5th, 2003-
It has been the longest week of your life. Work had been hectic â youâd spent the last five days going to so many meetings and dinners with potential clients that you had almost no time to do your actual job. Plus, your visit from Claire had already wiped out nearly all your energy, since you had spent the whole last weekend showing her around Austin, entertaining.
Normally, on a Saturday like today, youâd do a number of things â the first of which would be to sleep the fuck in. The ideal schedule would go something like this: Youâd get out of bed in the early afternoon and immediately order some kind of takeout â most likely pho, or ramen, or some other type of soup. Youâd get high, eat the takeout, and then watch TV until youâre tired enough to go back to bed in the early evening. If youâre feeling motivated at all, you might change into a fresh pair of pajamas before you crash again. It would be the ultimate lazy day, and you had desperately wanted it.
However, the past version of yourself had made plans to play tennis in the morning with some friends, and then check out a new breakfast place in the city. Sometimes you hated how optimistic she was about your ability to wake up before 10 a.m. While you werenât excited to play tennis, you were excited that there was, at some point, going to be food involved.Â
So you dragged your ass out of bed, rifled through a box of clothing in your garage (one that you still had yet to unpack) to find a tennis skirt and visor, and then got in your car to go play all before 8 a.m. Then, youâd had your ass handed to you by your friends on the court. It was a little humbling to realize that you werenât very good at tennis anymore. The last time you���d seriously played was when you were still in school, and youâd originally started because your father had wanted you to be involved in an extracurricular activity. According to him at the time, anything involving the arts â music, dance, drama â didnât count. You had challenged this idea, and it had escalated to become one of the top ten worst fights youâd ever had with him. After that, you had learned that it was better to just do as you were told.Â
Youâd joined the tennis team, and started to pick up on how intrigued your father was by the trophies and ribbons youâd bring home when you did well. He started to ask you questions when he saw them, pat you on the head and say things like âthatâs my girlâ. Regardless of whether or not you liked playing, you had finally found a way to earn his attention. So, you got better. One time, he even came to your school to watch one of your matches. Of course, when you lost that one, it all kind of crumbled. But you still stuck to the sport since thatâs what all your friends were doing, even if it didn't get you what you wanted.Â
On the drive home from your morning out, belly full of breakfast and ready for a nap, thinking of your family brings about a terrifying realization.Â
You look at your phone. Shit.
April 5th.Â
Immediately, you dial a number on your cell. Youâre aware of the dangers of talking while driving but you know if you donât make this call, youâll never hear the end of it. The line only rings twice before itâs picked up.
âHello?âÂ
âVincenzo!â you say with your best â but probably horrible â attempt at an Italian accent.Â
âWell, well, wellâŚ.if it isnât the estranged daughterâŚâ the familiar timbre of your brother's voice answers. âTo what do I owe the pleasure?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âWell first of all, fuck offâŚâ We're off to a great start. â...and second of allâŚHappy Birthday.â
You hear your brotherâs chuckle on the other end of the line, a noise that youâd been on the wrong side of â laughing at you, not with you â more than once, but your heart aches a little at the sound of it now. I miss you, you wish you could say, but you keep it to yourself.Â
âThanks, Iâm surprised you remembered,â he says, lightly.
âIâve never forgotten.â
âThere was that one year-â
âOh my god, I was like twelve.â
âYou were fourteen.â
âOkay, well, sorryâŚItâs been over ten years and it hasnât happened since.â
âIt feels like youâve forgotten more than once, but that might just be because itâs pretty much the only time you ever call me these days,â Vincent says, and if you were with him, in person, youâd be able to tell by the look in his eyes whether or not he was joking. But over a cell, youâre not sure at all.Â
âThatâs not true,â you say, turning your car into your neighborhood. âBut I mean, the phone does work both ways.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, whatever,â you catch something flippant in his tone.Â
âDo you want this to be a nice conversation or are you gonna be an asshole?â you ask, maybe a little too matter-of-factly, but at least you can determine whether or not itâll be a waste of your time to try and be cordial. If heâs in a bad mood, you know itâs pointless.
âRelax,â he says, and you hear a hint of the teenage boy you once knew. âYouâre always so ready to argue with me, Iâm joking.â
âVery funny,â you say, and try to be nice about it, because deep down, you know Vincent is right. You donât talk to your brother enough to argue with him when you do speak. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. âSo what are you doing on your big day? Anything special?â
âNothing really special, I worked out, had lunch with a friend, and I think Iâm having dinner with Elizabeth tonight.â
âOhâŚreally? Elizabeth?â At the mention of his soon-to-be ex-wife â or maybe current ex-wife? Youâre not sure â youâre surprised.
âYeah she and I are uhâŚ.talking still, I guess. For Ethan, mostly, butâŚI donât knowâŚthe divorce isnât finalized, and I think now that Iâm seeing a therapist and shit, maybe we can work something out. Weâll see.â
âAnd do you want to work something out?â
âI mean, sheâs only the love of my life so yeah, itâd be great.â
âI think so, too. How is Ethan, by the way?â
âOh heâs great,â you hear your brotherâs smile over the phone. âJust a big ball of energy, and so fucking smart. He told me he misses you the other day.â
Your heart lurches at the mention of your sweet, five-year-old nephew. âYouâll have to tell him I said hi, and that I love him.â
âYeah, yeah, I will,â he answers. âYou know, next weekend Iâm having a proper birthday party. Weâre all going to the Hamptons. I could fly you out here, you could tell him in person.â
âI canât, I got shit to do,â you answer a little too quickly, turning the car into your cul-de-sac.
âWhat uh, your little corporate gig keeping you busy?â
Thereâs a subtle dig in there, little.Â
âMaybe.â
âIâm telling you, all I have to do is phone a friend, and weâll find you something here thatâll pay a thousand times better and wonât have you working weekends.â
âI donât work weekends,â you say, pulling into your driveway. âAnd Iâm not interested.â
âYou like making yourself miserable, donât you?â
âVinny,â you say, exasperated, putting your car in park. âIâm happy here.â
âIn Texas? I donât believe it,â he says. âAnd you know, at this point, youâve proven whatever you wanted to dad. After everything youâve done, he probably respects you. Like, you did it. You cut yourself off, you made a name for yourself, you donât need us anymore. Congratulations, amazing. I get it. But you should come home now.â
âVincent,â you repeat yourself. âIâm not going back. You know what it was like for me. For you.â
âYouâre my fucking family too, you know? You canât just let him control every decision you make,â he says, and heâs not quite yelling at you, but he is sounding a lot more stern than he was before. âAnd by the way, it wasnât so bad. You and I always got along.â
âEven if I move back, things will never be like they were.â
âYou donât know that.â he says it with such a deep sadness in his voice that you want to take back every cruel thing youâd ever said to him â not just from today, from forever. And then he speaks again. âYou know, you used to be so sweet when we were kidsâŚ.I donât know what happened.â
I do, you think. âI had to look out for myself.â
Before he can respond, you change the subject. âAnyways, you should move out here instead,â itâs only halfway a joke.
âIâm not leaving New York.â
âWell, Iâm not leaving Austin.â
âWellâŚâ he says, clicks his tongue. âThen I guess thingsâll just stay this way.âÂ
âI guess so.â
You wish you could offer more. But he has never understood. The silence on the other line is so loud, your ears are ringing.
âLook, I just pulled in my driveway, I gotta get going.â
âYeah.â
âBut have a nice day, okay?â youâve gotta turn this conversation around because it went so far off the rails. âTell Elizabeth I say hi, and I hope you do work things out with her because you know I think sheâs great. And give Ethan a kiss for me.â
âI know, and I will,â you can see him closing his eyes, fingers pinching between his eyebrows.
âI love you.âÂ
âYeahâŚokay,â he says, like he doesnât believe you, and itâs a punch to the gut. As usual, you werenât able to say the right thing. Tears start pricking the back of your eyes, guilt twisting deep in the pit of your stomach.
âGoodbye,â in one swift movement, you end the call and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. Youâre sad now, but itâs only a matter of time before you become angry, which is always easier to deal with, so you just gotta suck it up until it passes.
Trying not to be upset is such a high priority that you donât hear your name being called right away, and when you turn around, itâs too late.
âHey!â Sarah Miller is skidding to a stop in front of you, wearing boots that look a size too small for her feet, dressed in athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. âMy dad says Iâm not grounded anymore so I can-â she falters when she sees your face. âAre you okay?â she asks.Â
Clearing your throat, you fix your expression and try to shake away the lingering disappointment like dirt off a kitchen rug. âYeah Iâm fine,â you lie. âSo does that mean you passed math?â
Since that night you let her stay when she was locked out, youâd seen quite a bit of Sarah. It was a little unconventional, and you probably needed to find friends in the community that were more age appropriate, but you enjoyed her company. She would hang out and do homework at your house while she waited for her dad to get home from work. You had always valued your independence, and told yourself you preferred to be on your own, but whenever she left, your house always felt a little emptier than you remembered. Maybe you needed to get a fish or something, since Martiniâs appearances were few and far between.Â
âNot yet, but I did get an A on my last test. I hate to say it but my dad was rightâŚstudying actually helps.â
âYeah, that tends to be true,â you say, relieved at how easy the smile comes, and you glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing at the edge of his driveway with his hands on his hips. He looks fucking good, and youâre almost sort of mad about it, or itâs hopefully just the irritation kicking in after the conversation with your brother.Â
Does Joel know? He has to. Itâs like having whatever the male version of a siren is living across the street from you â working with his hands, being a doting father, and mowing the lawn shirtless when itâs hot out. And apparently this was a record-breakingly hot spring, because youâd seen that more than once. Not that you minded, though it only made you want a closer look. Years ago, you probably wouldâve scoffed at what sounded like a suburban momâs wet dream, but actually experiencing it, you felt differently. There was just something about him.Â
You give Joel a wave, and he waves back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like heâs trying to decide if he wants to come over and talk. As usual, he seems like heâs got somewhere to be, but heâs too polite to tell you to fuck off.Â
âHow have you been? Iâve hardly seen you,â Sarah says. âDid you play tennis today?â she pokes at the racket thatâs hung over your shoulder. âWere you serious about teachinâ me to play this summer?â
Itâs hard not to be amused at the barrage of requests. You admire her ability to be so enthusiastic, so open, something that most people are unable to do, but for her, is effortless. Sheâs older than your nephew, but you get the same kind of relief from interacting with both of them. The kids are alright. At least, some of them are.Â
âOf course,â you answer, and notice that Joel is slowly and hesitantly making his way up your driveway. Itâs upsetting that everytime you run into him, you conveniently look like shit â like last Tuesday when youâd just rolled out of bed and were still in your robe. Or right now, after spending the whole morning chasing after balls on a clay court, scuffed knees and hair slick with sweat. But you suppose thatâs sort of what neighbors are for.
âHey, howâs it going?â you ask Joel.Â
âItâs goinâ,â you take him in as he gets closer, notice the way the arms of his t-shirt are just a little too tight because of his biceps, and feel like you need to take a cold shower to wash yourself of this morning. âBabygirl, we should probably get going.â
He calls his daughter babygirl? Thereâs no way he was being serious, that it isnât some ironic joke, or part of an act. You always assumed that was just something you saw in movies.
âBecause I did so well on my test my dad is takinâ me on a hike,â Sarah says, and then her face lights up. âWaitâŚ.you should come with us! Dad, can she come?â Sarah whirls around to face her father.
Joel looks down at Sarah, and then up at you, and then at Sarah again. âI mean, thatâs fine, butâŚshe might have other things going on.âÂ
Itâs hard to tell if heâs trying to give you an out, or if heâs hinting that you shouldnât come. And you probably normally wouldnât want to go, but the alternative is moping around your house and thinking of all the things you couldâve said differently to your brother to ensure the conversation would have gone better than it did. Youâre always desperate for a second chance to do things over, and do them right.Â
You look between the two of them, back and forth. âI mean I would totally, I justâŚdonât want to interrupt a father-daughter activity-â
âYou arenât,â Sarah says so quickly that Joel looks offended. âI couldnât leave the house this week so weâve been spending too much time together.â
Joel frowns. âThatâs rude.â
âWhat?â she says. âItâs true.â
Joel sighs. âSheâs right, though. You wouldnât be interruptinâ.â
âPlease?â Sarah begs, and you realize you canât say no even if you want to. You wonder how Joel was even able to ground her for a week, looking in those big, innocent eyes.Â
âYeah, justâŚuh, could I put my stuff inside and maybe change?â you ask, gesturing towards the house.Â
Joel nods, and Sarah rocks back and forth on her heels. âYes, yes! Take as long as you need.â
âIâll be fast,â you assure her, and duck inside.Â
âââ シ ・ďžâ: *.â˝ .* :âďž. âââ
Halfway into the hike with Sarah and Joel, and youâve decided youâre out of shape. You try to tell yourself there could be another reason you are so out of breath â you already worked out once today while playing tennis. But that doesnât seem like a good enough excuse. Of course, youâre trying to play it cool, because youâre not about to embarrass yourself. Sarah is entertaining you with all kinds of talk about school, and soccer, and sleepaway camp she gets to go to for two weeks once school's out. And you suppose the pain youâre in right now is also welcome distraction from thinking about Vincent.Â
However, you canât dip away from the group to rest for a second, because Joel is already trailing behind, and heâd catch on. However, his distance â several paces back from where you and Sarah walk â is not because heâs out of shape. On the contrary, he seems to be putting almost no effort into the steep climb. Heâs on his own, head on a swivel, kind of like a brooding security guard, and you wonder if he feels left out.Â
You steal a glance over your shoulder to take him in, shrouded by the verdant foliage. He looks at home in this environment, sun-kissed and rugged, a finger hooked behind the strap of a leather bag he carries over one shoulder, his gait measured. Aloof, but thereâs a quiet confidence to him that draws you in, causes your stare to linger just a touch too long, so when he turns his head straight, his eyes catch yours. You focus back on the trail ahead.Â
He hasnât said much since youâve started hiking, or in the car, even. Most men are easy to read, but so far, Joel has kind of stumped you. There were times, during the night that youâd helped him bail his brother Tommy out of jail, that you had thought maybe he was- no. Heâd been pretty tense in every other interaction you had, so you still couldnât decide if he had been flirting with you.
And he was older than you, you were pretty sure. Not so old that it wouldnât be out of the question for him to be interested, but enough that, depending on the type of person he was, might see you as a little too young for him. And he had a kid, responsibilities.Â
You were a-single woman with a high-powered career, one cat and a fish on the way. You slept in on the weekends, refused to learn to cook for one, and got violently stoned on your back porch a minimum of three times a week. In suburban Texas, most of the women your age were long since settled, and you were an outlier. It was fair to imagine that Joel probably didnât see any real promising future when he looked your wayâŚ. or maybe he was more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and didnât care about that at all. This was not necessarily information you needed â but you wanted it anyway.
Not feeling like an outsider would be one upside of moving back to New York â you could be exactly yourself, and still blend right in. It was one of the parts you missed most, besides Vincent. Your heart sinks, and you realize that the hill youâve been climbing has flattened out, and so youâre able to think clearly again, which is why youâre thinking of your brother.Â
Sarah has pulled away, and is wandering towards a clearing. Your eyes are on her form, bounding up ahead on the pathway, the sunlight peeking through the leaves dancing on her skin, when your foot lands on a loose rock, and slips out from beneath you.Â
Please, God, n- You donât even get the chance to plead yourself out of humiliation, because thereâs a steady hand on your hip and your back collides with a broad chest.Â
âGotcha,â Joelâs voice is right in your ear â when did he get that close? Â
Heâs solid, strong, and for the shortest, sweetest moment, youâre overwhelmed by him â get notes of his bar soap (pine, cedar, mint)Â mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used, and just the faintest bit of - Fuck. In one swift movement, he brings you upright like youâd never slipped at all, then pulls back. The skin on your hip smarts even after his hand drops away.
âYou alright?â Joel steps beside you, watching Sarah, who stands with her hands on her hips, her back turned to you both.
âYeah,â you nod. He looks back over at you. âCome on,â he tilts his head towards his daughter, and you walk beside him to where sheâs standing.
The whole hike youâd been so occupied with bullshit. Trying not to think about your brother. Trying not to act too out of breath. Trying to not let Joel catch you staring, although youâd already failed at that. But now, you wish you wouldnât have been in your head, because what youâd come to see made worrying about all that seem stupid.
Stretched out in front of you was a wide creek with moss-colored water that flowed down over layered slabs of rock, and crashed into the waterfallâs churning basin. The sun hits the mist in just the right light, and casts a series of rainbows midair, which move and shift as you turn your head to study the lush, tree-lined shore across the river.Â
Youâre standing with one hand on your hip, and out of the corner of your eye Sarah shuffles back a few steps to stand beside you, looping her arm through yours, her cheek on your shoulder while you both enjoy the view.Â
âIâm glad you got to see this,â she says, and you can just make it out over the sound of the falls. âIsnât it pretty?â
âItâs beautiful.â
Joelâs hands land on Sarahâs shoulders as he steps close behind you both. She straightens, leans back against him until he wraps his forearm across the front of her in an easy embrace, and she grabs for his wrist with both of her hands, tucking them beneath her chin. A pang of familiar grief stirs inside you at the sight, and you turn away, back towards the view.
âThis is the only time of year itâs worth seeing,'' Joel says to you. âIt dries up in the summer.âÂ
âItâs still pretty in the summer,â Sarah pipes up.
âNot as pretty.â
âCan you get me the water?â she asks. Joel grunts an affirmation and a moment later you hear the sound of a zipper.
When youâve had a considerable amount of time to contemplate life while looking at the water swirling across the granite, you turn to find Sarah sitting on a rock, struggling to peel an orange, and dropping each tiny piece of skin she can get off into Joelâs begrudgingly outstretched hand.
You use the opportunity to stretch your calves against a nearby tree.
âHave you hiked before?â Sarah asks.
âHere and there,â you say. âBut not often.â
âWhy not?â
âWell this is basically a workout. I donât like working out, Iâm pretty unathletic.â
Youâre surprised when that draws a smile from Joel.
âBut you play tennis.â
You shrug. âEh, kinda.â
âMe and my dad go hiking a lot.â
âThatâs sweet,â your eyes flicker from hers to Joelâs, because they are both staring at you, and youâre pretty sure, though itâs hard to tell from this distance, that their eyes are the identical shade of caramel. Sarah finishes peeling her orange and Joel pockets the scraps of skin. She eats a slice before offering you both your own, and you step closer to accept it.
Sarahâs taking her last bite of orange when Joel speaks up.Â
âShould we head back?â
Sarah turns to take one last look. Itâs mid afternoon, the slant of light from the sun as intense as it can be, and you squint when it reflects back off the water and into your eyes.Â
âYeah, we can,â Sarah decides, and itâs clear that Joel would have stayed there for as long as she wanted. It wasnât up to him.Â
The hike back isnât nearly as difficult. Itâs all downhill, and Joel leads. Sarah stays behind with you, and clings to your arm while she teaches you how to navigate the trail without slipping. Back at the trailhead is one steep step that drops off into a puddle of stagnant water.Â
Joel jumps down first, and turns to offer his hand to Sarah, who takes it and leaps lightly, landing on two feet on the other side. You arenât sure what youâre expecting, but itâs not for Joel to offer you his hand to you as well. But he does.
âCareful,â he murmurs. And of course, you couldâve easily done this yourself, with no help. Itâs a two foot drop and an inch of water. But you accept it anyways, putting some of your weight against his hand as you hop down, noticing how he doesnât waver.
By the time youâre long since settled in the car, pulling into Joelâs driveway, you can feel sleep tugging down your eyelids. A steaming shower and a pair of pajama pants is imminent, and itâs like your body knows. Surely, you will still probably feel guilty about your brother, but youâre convinced that you wonât lose sleep over it, which you consider a win.
Sarah, who insisted that you both sit in the back together on the way home â leaving Joel in the front alone â gives you a quick hug after youâve gotten out of the car, and then plucks the car keys from her father.
âSorry, I drank a lot of water and I have to pee!â she says, before jogging up the walkway and unlocking her front door.Â
Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, but turns back look at you with startling warmth.Â
âThanks for having me, I really needed that,â you tell him, and youâre not sure why you feel compelled to be honest with him, but continue on. âMy brother and I got into it on the phone this morning, so if I didnât go I probably wouldâve spent all afternoon moping in bed.â
âIâm sorry,â he says, voice soft. âIs everything okay?â
âYeah, itâll be fine,â you say, quickly, brushing it off. âSiblings, you know?â
âYeah,â he nods, but you can tell he isnât convinced. âI know.â
âHowâs Tommy, by the way?â you ask. âStaying out of trouble, I hope?â
âHe is,â Joel answers. âWe actually have a big project we might be about to book. Pays well, and will keep us employed for the next year.â
âOh thatâs exciting,â you nod. âSo what Iâm hearing isâŚif my step rots again, you wouldnât have time to come fix it?â
âNo,â Joel chuckles again, and youâre dizzy after hearing it. âIâd make time.â
You take a deep breath. âGood to know,â you shuffle a few steps backwards. âI better get going, though.â He doesnât answer right away, and just as youâre turning to walk across the street, Joel calls out to you again.
âHey,â and you pause, facing him again. âI wanted to ask you ifâŚâ he hesitates, blinks and shakes his head once before continuing. âIf Sarah is coming over too much. If you want, I can tell her to cool it.â
âAre you kidding?â you ask. âI donât mind at all. Sheâs great company, really.â
âYou sure youâre not just sayinâ that to be nice?â
You sniff, look at the ground, then back up to him. âIâm not actually very nice.â
He studies you. âIâm not sure I believe that.âÂ
âYou hardly know me,â you shrug, and his eyebrows pinch together very briefly before his expression neutralizes. âIâm just sayingâŚ.if I didnât like having her around, you would know.â
He bobs his head slowly, and you turn back around to walk to your house, glancing at him from over your shoulder.Â
âIâll see you around.â
- - - - - - - - - -
taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg @yeehawbitchs @ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done @melancholicmelanin @reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer @superflymaterial @mikkorantanev @zbeez-outlet (i'm sorry if i missed anyone, i didn't tag anyone that didn't explicitly ask!).
part iii
#are we surprised that reader has daddy issues? odds are if you are reading this fic about the video game/TV DILF of the century you do too#i mean i certainly do#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller#Joel Miller x f!reader#joel Miller imagine#Joel Miller series#joel miller the last of us#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#Pedro pascal#TLOU HBO#TLOU fanfic#TLOU series#texas sun
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me: âthatâs literally me!â
the characters:
#yes iâm mentally ill what about it#they are me and i am them#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#the last of us#the last of us part two#tloup2#tlou x reader#tlou#percy jackon and the olympians#luke castellan#tlou2#pjo#pjo series#pjo tv show#kate bishop#marvel#avatar the last airbender#atla#zuko#prince zuko
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Go Team Jackson!
Ellie & Dina & Jesse
#the last of us part 2#the last of us#tlou#HBO#the last of us tv show#hbo max#tlou series#tlou part 2#tlou joel#ellie tlou#tlou tommy#tlou dina#ellie x dina#joelmiller#abby anderson#joel and ellie#ellie williams#naughty dog#playstation#tv shows
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ELLIE, TESS & JOEL in THE LAST OF US (2023-) S01E02 | "Infected"
#the last of us#tlou spoilers#anna torv#pedro pascal#bella ramsey#tlou#tlou hbo#tlouhboedit#tloudaily#useranimusvox#tvandfilm#tvedit#userreh#userquel#series#tv#drama#2020s#by gabi#*
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Horror shows, but really out of context:
The Walking Dead
Supernatural
American Horror Story
Preacher
Hannibal
The Last of Us
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Angel
Resident Evil (Netflix)
The Haunting of Hill House
#horror tv#the walking dead#supernatural#american horror story#preacher#Hannibal#the last of us#buffy the vampire slayer#Angel#resident evil#the haunting of hill house#twd#spn#Ahs#preacher amc#hannibal tv show#tlou#btvs#angel the series#resident evil Netflix#thohh#horror#horror tag#horror show#horror series#tv shows#out of context#out of context tag#horror shitpost#horror franchise
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hi babe! could we get something suggestive with joel? maybe he and reader find somewhere to bathe / shower and he gets a bit flustered? would be funny through his stoicism lol. iâm nineteen!
thank you for your request! reader is 20s or older cw MDNI very suggestive/ light smut, heavy petting, joel being a voyeur
The river water is very, very cold. Gooseflesh ripples over your skin and all the hair on your arms stands on end as a small breeze whips past you.Â
"Christ," you say, startled.Â
Standing a little ways down the river, Joel waits for you to get out with a hand on the gun he has pointed at the ground. He lifts his gaze at the sound of your cursing and you cover your chest too slowly.Â
"Sorry," you say, your arm held over your breasts. "It's just the wind. Surprised me."Â
He clears his throat and looks away.Â
For fucks sake, you think. At least he didn't see any lower down. Kneeling as you are, the water laps at your navel lazily. You look down at the rush of clear water over the stone riverbed and fight the urge to drown yourself.Â
Joel just saw your tits. Covered in soap. He just saw more of you than he's ever seen before, all 'cause of a cold breeze.Â
You wash the soap from your chest and under your arms. You dunk your head in the water and rake it away from your scalp, and when you emerge Joel's watching you again.Â
You cup your chest. "Do you mind?" you ask teasingly, though you're starting to forget how cold the river is, a hearth of heat lit in the pit of your stomach.Â
Joel tucks his gun into his belt and starts to pace toward you.Â
"You'll shoot your ass off," you say, parroting something he loves to say himself.Â
"Think that's the least of my worries."Â
Look, you're no sex weapon. Everything you know about sex is from books, everything you know about kissing from Joel. You don't have a clue what he likes or what he wants, but the tightening of his pants gives you a clue.Â
You part your fingers, letting your nipples peek out between them as you push your hands up your chest before letting them fall. "Fine," you say softly, nearly indecipherable over the sound of the river around you, water trickling over rocks not too far down, "it's your funeral."Â
He squats down near the edge of the river. He's still on higher ground than you, but his closeness makes you nervous. You drop your hands deliberately between your legs as you enter into a staring contest with him, willing him to be the first one to look down.Â
His brow is low and gives away little emotion. In your peripheral you can see his hands, his huge, thick-fingered hands, rubbing down to his knees. You break his held gaze first and follow the length of his thigh to the bulge between them, your mouth suddenly dry, your stomach burning with a foreign feeling.Â
You look up.Â
Joel gives you a smile. A real smile.Â
"You come on out when you're ready," he says, standing up. He turns and walks back toward your camp on dryer land.Â
You don't have a towel to dry off with when you get out of the river, but you wring your hair of as much excess water as you can. You put on a blessed pair of clean underwear and a shirt and make your way toward him, bare-legged and barefoot. He's waiting for you near the propane stove, one leg stretched out in front of him. He looks up when you're close.Â
"You look cold."Â
"Warm me up?"Â
He puts his hand on your leg. You smile, your heart pounding fast against your chest as he eases you over one of his legs.
"There," he says as you sit, spreading your legs wide and tugging you up the length of his thigh. "Warmer?"Â
"Not yet."Â
"Where are you cold?" he asks, the beginning of a doped up smile on his lips, his hand playing with the hem of your t-shirt.Â
You lean forward until your lips are near his ear. You wish it were to be sexy, but really you're too shy to say it to his face. "I think you got a good look at where," you murmur.Â
His palm flattens over your soft stomach. Rough skin moves up, and up, each inch dragging until his fingertips nudge the damp underside of your breast.Â
He grabs you more suddenly than you'd thought he would, squeezing, heat of his palm against your cold skin. The sound you make breaks any hesitancy that he has left.
"This okay?" he asks, leaning in.
You nod into a kiss, hands framing his scratchy face, and though you try to lead he quickly takes control, kissing you searchingly as his hands get acquainted. His nose nudges against yours and you part your lips, sigh turning to a pant at his less than gentle treatment.
You move your knee in until it's snug against the hard bulge of his cock. "Someone's excitedâŚ" you whisper, looking down at your knee. "Don't have to spy on me, you know? All you had to do was ask."Â
"Sure wasn't spying when you got a handful. Why don't you show me again?" He lifts your shirt up to your collar, letting it rest on the swells of your breasts. His thumb brushes your nipple. You know it's to torture you.
You hesitate, holding your hands to your sternum.Â
"All I had to do was ask, right? I'm asking, baby. Touch yourself."
You look out over his shoulder at the clear expanse of river, and then behind you. Joel takes your face into his hand and pulls you back around.Â
"I'm keeping an eye out," he assures you.Â
You know he is. You feel safer with Joel than anybody else no matter where you are. You lean back in his lap, trailing your fingertips up the expanse of your naked, trembling abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly 'til you reach your chest. You cup your breasts and bring them together, watching in awe as his eyes noticeably darken, his eyebrows pinching together.Â
You meant what you said. All he has to do is ask.Â
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x afab!reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader smut#the last of us tv show#the last of us tv series#the last of us hbo#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us x reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n
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Hello,
I just went through a car crash but we're still postiiiiinggg!
This video is a bit more serious than my recent ones. I look super tired in it, stars. I wanted to do a comparison of the new Fallout and TLOU adaptations. Mostly, how stories can become less compelling based on the media of choice, be it interactive or filmed. I loved both shows, but some key differences between both greatly altered the weight of the stories being told.
This is my dream. Making stuff like this, so any subscription, like, comment, even dislikes makes this all the more possible for me in the long run. I hope you enjoy it. Give it a watch!
youtube
#the last of us#pedro pascal#fallout#fallout series#fallout tv series#tlou#joel miller#ellie tlou#lucy maclean#cooper howard#video essay#youtube#youtuber#walton goggins#ella purnell#bella ramsey#video games#abby tlou#tlou2#Youtube
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#grumpy grump#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x reader#tlou#the last of us tv series#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#pedro pascal
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The stupidest criticism The Handmaid's Tale is getting by some people here is that it "isn't realistic", because that's literally a fictional story. Yes, these kinds of things happen to women already in some parts of the world and the book was inspired by it, but this isn't a documentary about those countries, it's a fictional story about America being turned into something similar to that. It makes no sense to look at an imaginary world with imaginary characters and complain about how it doesn't look realistic to you. "June isn't a realistic victim" bitch, she's a fictional character. That's like watching the stuff like The Last Of Us, for example, and complaining about how it's not a realistic story because in the real world there are no zombies killing us every day and that's why the story makes no sense.
If you don't like something just don't watch it.
#or when y'all are being too vanilla and complain cuz the show is violent lmfao what did you expect a musical out of a story about a slave#i don't understand people#when something isn't for me i turn off the tv i don't go cry about it all the time#the handmaid's tale#the handmaids tale#things that happen after season 1 aren't even in the book the story continues on its own in the series in their imaginary universe#btw i have absolutely nothing against tlou it's amazing btw i recommend both this and tht
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