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familyvideostevie · 11 months

Text

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable.

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets. You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her." Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something.

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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munsons-melody · 10 months

Text

putting the x in sixx

summary: you and eddie go to a party in LA where your old celebrity crush, nikki sixx, starts to hit on you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions/insinuates sex, mentions of alcohol, etc, established relationship w eddie, little smutty towards the end

recommended song: girls girls girls by mötley crüe

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this after i watched the dirt last night, also not proofread at all :)

requested? no

masterlist

part 2 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

you looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring your new outfit... leopard print pants with a black corset top, your hair teased and hair sprayed to the gods, and your usual makeup, only with a little extra here and there

"hey babe we should probably get a move on cause-" eddie stopped in front of the bathroom door, giving you a look up and down and finishing with a wolf whistle

"jesus" he breathed out, leaning on the door, staring at your outfit causing a small blush to creep up on your face

"you like?" you asked sheepishly, already knowing his answer

you often didn't wear scandalous outfits like this, opting for the most basic t shirt, jeans, and your lived in reeboks that never got a day off but now that you and eddie were out of hawkins for the week as corroded coffin were playing shows at the sunset strip in LA, you figured you'd get less stares wearing an outfit like this

"i love" he purred, stalking closer before locking his lips with yours into a passionate kiss, his hands gently cradling your face as his tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands snaked up to his neck

he started trailing down your exposed neck, and you smiled, knowing what he wanted to do instead of heading to this party gareth heard about and was very persistent in everyone attending, hearing rumors of other rock gods showing up

"eds, as much as i know you'd rather stay here and do this, we really have to get going" you giggled, and he stopped kissing, leaning his head on your shoulder

"do we have to?" he mumbled, his voice vibrating into your chest

"gareth wants the whole band to go with just incase anyone cool happens, hey who knows maybe you'll run into mick mars or kirk hammett" you laughed

eddie moved his face to meet yours, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in, almost like he'd lose you if he let you go

"already checked, metallica is playing in ohio tonight so slim to none chance I'll see kirk" he said, leaning in for one last kiss before he unwillingly pulled away, walking over to his bag and slipping on a old cut up band shirt and fixing his studded belt

"eddie" you groaned, checking yourself one last time in the hotel mirror, seeing your lipstick smudged

"what" he replied with the same annoyed tone you had

"you ruined my lipstick" and he let out a small laugh

——

the car ride from the hotel to a massive mansion was fairly short, and you, along with the rest of corroded coffin, stumbled out of the car onto the driveway that you were sure could fit 10 of you and eddie's shared apartment

the music from the house was blasting and you wish you knew half these people, or whos house this even was but alas, you were just as clueless as the boys as you walked into the mansion

people were everywhere, you couldn't walk more than 2 feet without seeing a drink or bottle of alcohol, music was blaring, the lights were nice, adding to the ambience of a party

eddie grabbed your hand, lacing together your fingers as he motioned a "come on" and you followed, leaving jeff, dougie, and gareth to themselves

you and eddie walked to the giant kitchen, where you heard a voice yell "oh my god, are you eddie munson?" eddie immediately turned to where the voice came from, seeing tommy lee and nikki sixx leaning against a table, drinks in their hands

eddie looked at you with wide eyes, suppressing a giant smile which showed a mix of "oh my god they know who i am" and "oh my god they know who I am"

"go" you whispered, lightly nudging your boyfriend towards the two rockstars

he let go of your hand and headed towards them, and they greeted eddie like they were old friends even though they'd never met before in their lives

they immediately started into a conversation, you only heard bits and pieces but it was all shop talk about guitars solos, tour dates, etc.

you took this time to get a drink, walking deeper into the kitchen

you saw an opened pack of beers, and grabbed one out, opening it on the side of the counter (a helpful trick eddie taught you a few years back), and took a few sips, admiring the amount of people at this party and listening to the songs that were playing in the background, barely heard over the amount of people talking

you went to take another sip when you felt a presence next to you, and you look to your left to see none other than nikki sixx

dumbfounded that your old celebrity crush of a few years was standing next to you, you stuttered out a hello and he smiled

"y/n... right?" he asked and you nodded, a taken aback and confused look writing onto your face as he held his hand out to shake yours

"eddie told tommy and i about you just now, thought i'd come say hello" he said with a smile, leaning against the counter and inched closer

"well hello," you said, however, your voice moved faster than your brain processed, and it came out more flirtatious than you intended

maybe it was the subconscious part of your brain that was excited the guy you fantasized about before you met your boyfriend was in front of you, but now all you could think of now was showing him you weren't interested and that eddie was all you cared about

"so eddie's a pretty cool guy.." he said and you looked over at eddie who was engaged deep in a conversation with tommy, a drink in both their hands

you looked back at nikki who took a swig out of a jack daniels bottle he held in his left hand

"yeah, he's so cool i've been with him almost 4 years" you joked, awkwardly taking a sip from your beer

"you ever think about expanding your horizons?" he asked, the flirtiness in his voice increasing

"expanding to what?" you laughed, brushing off the awkwardness and hoping your heart rate would slow down

"to the room upstairs, there's a perfect little balcony overlooking the beach where no one can hear us...." he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck

"or see us... me fucking you senseless, my grip on your waist as my thick cock pumping in your tight little pussy, making you scream my name" he finished, leaving a hot, open mouth kiss on your neck under your ear

you felt a few shivers go down your spine, along with heat traveling to your core as a blush spread across your cheeks as you turned to face him

if this was a few years ago, before you met eddie, you wouldn't care that you'd be just another girl in the millions of his roster, you'd be halfway naked in the kitchen on your knees by now

but it wasn't a few years ago, this was now and even though you had the one man you had the biggest crush on literally beginning to have sex with you, but you also was dating someone you had an even bigger crush on

"i- i can't" you stuttered out, looking up at eddie and moving alway from the grip he had around your waist

it was like eddie could read your mind cause he turned around to see you with nikki, and him and tommy came sauntering over

eddie immediate wrapped an arm around you, pressing against your back and pulling you close, causing nikki to stand up straighter next to tommy

"what were you two chatting about?" eddie asked with a smile and nikki shrugged

"not much, just getting to know one another" nikki said, sending you a wink

"holy shit you're mötley crüe" you heard jeff say as him, gareth, and dougie walked up to tommy and nikki

"well half, you guys must be the rest of corroded coffin, right?" tommy asked, extending his hand to fist bump the boys and they all nodded excitedly

"hey while we're all here, let's talk tour dates, we've seen a show or two, and we need an opener" tommy said, extending an arm around nikki and gareth, walking off to where there was an opening on one of the couches, leaving you and eddie by yourselves in the kitchen

you turned around to look at his face, gently holding it with your hand as his arms wrapped around your waist

you kissed him gently and he kissed back, eventually pulling away with a smile

"uh, i just wanted to tell you, nikki hit on me... just now... when you were talking to tommy..." you told him

"oh wow..." he said, trailing off, looking over at nikki then back at you

"well, they always say don't leave your girlfriend alone around motley crue... i guess that actually is true" he chuckled

"yeah, but... he did tell me about this private room upstairs, incase you feel a little jealous and want to take it out on me" your voice again travelled faster than your brain as eddie's eyes darker, a smirk crawling up his face over his lips

"well what did he say exactly?" eddie asked, pulling you in closer and slowly moving his hand down your lower back

"something about screaming his name while he's fucking my tight little pussy-" you cut yourself off, kissing eddie

he pulled away, your foreheads touching

"did he get you all worked up? huh pretty girl?" he asked, staring to move his hips against yours and you whimpered out a yes when he suddenly stopped his movements

"i can't have you hot and horny for some other guy now can we? i guess i have to show you who can make you feel really good not some doped up rockstar who can’t please you the way i can..." he said again

you just nodded at him, staring, feeling like if you take your eyes off him, you wouldn’t get your release

“let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” he asked, extending one hand to yours and his other to one of the bottles of alcohol sitting on the counter opposite of him

you started to head upstairs when mick mars walked up to the two of you, stopping your path upstairs

“hey eddie, right? nikki was telling me all about you!” he said enthusiastically

“later mars, i gotta please my girl” eddie said in a rush, and the two of you ran upstairs to the bedroom

fin.

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mellaithwen · 5 months

Text

To hum and sway (bucktommy, 1.4k words)

[read on ao3]

Spoilers/Spec-fic for 7x06 "There Goes The Groom" After the wedding that wasn’t, and the wedding that was, after the search, and the rescue, and the drama of the day, Buck finds himself sitting in the hospital waiting room when Tommy turns up...

Now that Chimney’s been moved out of the ICU, the hospital staff have kindly set up a cot bed in his room for Maddie to get some rest beside him, while Buck stands—or rather–-sits sentry outside. While his sister clearly couldn’t have predicted she’d be reading out her vows standing between a heart-rate monitor and an IV stand, Buck’s just glad she was able to read them out to Chim at all.

A nurse shuffles past Buck down the corridor, and he pulls his legs back from where they’d been obnoxiously extended in his late-night exhaustion. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room before stretching his neck and shoulders until he hears a satisfying pop.

His hands clench into tight fists on either side of the chair he’s sat in, and he grips them tightly until his knuckles are white and the pain of his own nails digging into the flesh of his palms is enough to distract the guilt spiral he’s been fending off all day.

Maddie and Chimney will get their big-day. Buck will make sure of it. They’ll have the party that they rightly deserve, surrounded by their friends and family. A happy day, a calm day. The quiet, intimate ceremony in their own back garden that they’d wanted all along before losing track of the guestlist.

But that would be later. When they were both ready, and recovered. At least for now they got to wear the rings. At least they got to call each other husband and wife.

Finally.

“Evan?” Buck’s head shoots up from where he’d been lying back, leaning his heavy head against the wall.

There were so few people who called him by his given name nowadays...

His parents had long since left to do what they referred to as “damage control” with the guests and venue—since the rest of the 118 were more concerned with Maddie and Chimney than appeasing distant relatives who had traveled just so gosh darn far, Evan.

He’d corrected Bobby almost instantly on that first day so many years ago, that his name was Buck, and besides, his captain was currently driving Mr and Mrs Lee back home for the evening after spending so many hours in the same holding pattern of he’s stable—that’s the main thing—until Chimney had finally woken up and insisted with a raspy voice, that his Captain marry he and Maddie right then, right now...

And Eddie? Eddie had only ever called him Evan the once.

(Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t think about that moment often…)

But no, it wasn’t him either; Eddie was with Hen, roaming the corridors for a vending machine that worked until Bobby came back to bully them all into finally getting into his truck and going home. So that just left…

“Tommy? W-what are you—?”

“I came as soon as I heard he’d been found. How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?”

Buck’s brain struggles to keep up, his software in need of an update—Tommy’s here, standing in front of him. In the hospital corridor. Buck’s phone was god knows where, and with Chimney missing and his sister losing her mind with worry, he hadn’t had a chance to think about the fact he’d accidentally ghosted his date. But here he was. Standing in front of Buck like a guardian angel who’d done more than his own fair share to help in the search—all the while still wearing the clothes he’d put on as Buck’s plus one to the wedding that never happened that morning.

This is probably the closest thing to flustered he’s seen Tommy look the whole time he’s known him, and if the circumstances were different Buck thinks he would have found it endearing—but his head’s too much of a mess to even go there right now. The soft blue shirt he’s wearing is rumpled now but Buck just knows it would have been pressed and clean to start with. The slacks and matching suit jacket are both a wooly kind of mauve. Buck thinks it would have been nice to press up against the material as they slow-danced at the end of the evening. The lights would be dimmed, while the wedding band played something slow. He wonders if his parents would have noticed. He finds he also doesn’t really care.

He remembers Maddie and Chimney’s kiss under a symphony of high-pitched beeps, and the mumbled static of a tannoy announcement requesting a doctor’s presence in triage. Jee had clapped her hands in Mrs Lee’s arms before pretending to throw invisible flowers in the air just like she’d practiced with her uncle Buck.

How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?

“They’re—” Buck falters when he finally answers, genuinely unsure in the grand scheme of things. If he were to answer literally, he’d say they were sleeping. But emotionally? Physically?

“They’re…”

Chimney’s in the hospital. Maddie almost lost him again, and if Buck looks down, he knows he’ll find that there’s still patches of dried blood on the sleeves of his ruined pink jacket—remnants of the day, along with the pounding behind his eyes that he just can’t seem to shake.

Tell Maddie—

No, no Chim, don’t you dare make me do that, you can tell her yourself, okay? Just stay with me. Eddie’s gone to get help and Maddie’s waiting for you to come home—

“They’re married!” Buck finishes with a laugh that’s incredulous only so far as the circumstances of the last twenty four hours have made him seriously question his own sanity. Or maybe that’s just the last dregs of adrenaline leaving his head in a spin.

“Bobby performed the ceremony, but Chimney wore the white-gown this time.”

He’s deflecting. He’s searching for humor, for the laugh to be had at the absurdity of it all. He’s the class clown disrupting the other kids because he didn’t hear what the teacher said and he’s trying not to panic. He’s overcompensating at the academy because he has no support system to speak of in LA, and he needs this. He wants this. He can’t flunk out. He can’t fail.

He’s pushing and pushing and pushing to see where the boundary lies, to see how far he can go before he disappoints the family he’s found at the 118. He wants to know where that line in the sand is. How long until the tide comes in? How long until he drowns?

He’s….. he’s exhausted. And when Tommy tilts his head to the side and frowns, reading Buck like an open book of sad tells, suddenly the effort to keep the mask in place is too much. His shoulders slump and Buck’s whole body hunches forward with the weight of the day pressing down on him—only to find Tommy’s arms there ready to catch him when he falls.

“He nearly died,” Buck whispers into the crook of Tommy’s neck as he’s embraced. “Chim nearly died and if we hadn’t found him when we did….”

His voice cracks, the words seemingly too painful to even speak into the universe. Buck can’t bear to say more, and Tommy doesn’t ask him to either, he just pulls him in closer, squeezes him that little bit tighter, and holds him there for as long as he needs. He brings his hand up to the back of Buck’s neck, gently kneads at the knot he finds there. Cradles him like he’s something precious and deserving when for so long he’s convinced himself of the opposite.

After a time, when Buck’s breathing starts to even out, the hitch in his chest seemingly dissolved into the atmosphere, and the shock has thawed enough for him to feel the soft material of Tommy’s jacket under his fingertips, he finds that Tommy has been slowly moving their bodies into a sway. Leading, just a little bit—really they’re barely moving at all—but if Buck pretends, he thinks he can hear music playing.

“You said you wanted to dance,” Tommy says; answering the question Buck hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask yet. For the first time in hours, Buck’s mind goes quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispers a little self-consciously when the words catch in his throat.

Thank you for coming, thank you for holding me, thank you for being here with no judgment and no expectations. Thank you for caring when we barely even know each other. Thank you for treating me kindly, for being gentle and soft when all day I’ve felt like I was being strangled with barbed wire. Thank you.

When Tommy hums in response, Buck can’t help but lean into the embrace, finding solace in his arms. He can feel the warmth of his breath drifting along the side of his neck, soothing the goosebumps that reside there.

And when he presses a soft kiss on the stubble of Tommy’s jaw, it tickles.

-fin.

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millerscoffee · 1 year

Text

heat lightning

6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader

gif credit: @jdmorganz

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n

A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡

Joel liked having his way. Shocking.

This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.

You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was. Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.

Only to you.

Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability. It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come. But, right now? You’re a little preoccupied.

---

It started earlier tonight. Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.

And guess who had to remind him? You! Of course! Every. Single. Time.

To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in. But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again. Or at least, this was his excuse. More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.

Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely. “Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth. It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare. And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen. “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week. ‘Joel, wear your glasses. Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’ you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much? Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”

“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.

He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it. The hitch in his breath gave him away.

“No, ma’am.”

“Bedroom. Now. Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”

So he goes and you follow. And you bring a dining chair with you.

Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.

“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair. Naked. Do I need to repeat myself?”

Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”

You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.

---

“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,” Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning. The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.

His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.

The chair at the foot of the bed.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red. Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do. You feel sexy, and you feel in control. And fuck, you look so good. Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.

He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.

“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body. You take your time with each part of him. Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you. His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs. The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches. And he twitches at your gaze.

“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him. To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice. But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson. Taking him how you wanted because you could. And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.

“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”

“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip. His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes. The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you. Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn. Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.

“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right! Good boy!”

And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“How can you make me feel good, pet? Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it. His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours. The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.

“I—I c’n use my mouth. I wanna. Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging. He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying. It’s just that, he’s distracted– wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this. He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.

“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad. We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson. Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”

You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress. You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to. He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.

So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller. Right here.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.

“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”

Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”

“Not my name.”

You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy. I’m. Sorry.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.

That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted. His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight. Not yet, anyway. He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable. Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.

“Here’s how tonight's gonna go. I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock. Sound good?” you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good! Now shut the fuck up.”

It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other. Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties. You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head. To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features. And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this. You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.

Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth. Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret. His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy? But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.

“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans. Rather a solid melody to your tone. Grounded in your power. You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him. “Better than you can make me feel.”

And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him. He’s seen you with him. How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own. Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.

“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.

“Did I let you fucking speak?” Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes. The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with. His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope. Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.

“And what? You think you can make me feel better than I can? You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick. His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you. Poor baby.

It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead. It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.

“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant? Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me. Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”

The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise. And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint. You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is. Like he’s being edged without even touching him. His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.

It’s enough for you to waltz behind him. You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you. His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind. The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief. “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.

The arousal is a constant build between the two of you. When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move. Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities. He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles. He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you. He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it. Both of you feel safe. His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.

“You good little thing. Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily. “Go lie on the bed, honey.”

His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less. Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable. He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.

However impatient he may be in the process of submission.

“You are doing so well, Joel. I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you? Are you gonna show me your tongue?” Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over. Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this. A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.

His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head. Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation. Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it. So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.

“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth. His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.

“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline. He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.

The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now. All over Joel’s face.

Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you. “Suck.” The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you. Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly. Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy. Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.

“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are. Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself. You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.

But using him meant not warning him when you were close.

So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure. Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves. You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown. The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic. “Shit.”

That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings. Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick. The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body. His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.

“This?” You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”

“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him. He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.

“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.” When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides. You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?” His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.

So you straddle him. Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies. You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you. Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit. You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.

Joel’s body. The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle. Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.

“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.

“Nuh uh. Words, tell me. Need to hear you say it, Joel.”

“F-feels so good, honey. Feels like my kinda paradise.”

Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear. It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best. Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in. It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.

“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.

“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that. At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.

“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid. “Stay right here. My good boy. M’gonna take this big fucking cock. That’s right, isn’t it? Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”

And he loves hearing you talk about him like this. Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet. Not until I take you myself.

Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch. Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.

“M-Mommy!”

The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.

“Shhhh, you can take it.” The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.

He’s greeted with your sinister smile.

“What, honey?” You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.

His bottom lip trembles and puffs. He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this. Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants. The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.

“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze. How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence. Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again. Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too. Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience. The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.

All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.

You’re slipping.

But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest. You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance. He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission. And fuck, you’d almost allow it.

Almost.

“Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.” You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.

“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate. “Please! Please just let me come, mama. I wanna paint ya up so good, honey. P-please, mama! I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”

That’s the green light.

Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly. Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving. Your body giving in, doing what it does. It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings. “Fucking take this cunt. Fill mommy up, yeah? You wanna make me a real mama, baby? C’mon, let go for me. You can let go, you can move.”

It’s a lightswitch. It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.

You yelp when he tosses you off of him. Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream. It’s exactly what you need now. You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you. You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth. Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source. You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.

Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care. You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center. “I’m doin’ okay, mama? This whatcha need?” This sly fucker. “S-s’perfect!” The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner. How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet. A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls. Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.

Of course, he circles your clit for good measure. Of course he would. Little shit. It works like a charm.

He knows your body, said it himself. How it operates, how to take you there. And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.

You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure. It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder. You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job. “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said? Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him. He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time. Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer. You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.

Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear. His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you. Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.

“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck. “Give it to me, Joel.” Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body. It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls. Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy. Come for mommy.”

His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen. “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head. You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.

Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other. Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before. And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval. Until he rides it out. Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.

“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work. He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”

“Well, at least we had a good run.”

It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.

“Mmmng.”

A flawless response. Mmmng, indeed.

You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.

And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you. Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.

“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction. Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath. Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow. You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion. “It’s ready.”

Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go. You can’t get enough of him. The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad. You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded. He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while. Exhausted, used. He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.

“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him. “This week’s been… it don’t matter. You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen. I will, I promise. I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”

You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his. Drops spill out the tub when you do.

“You never make my life harder, Joel.”

“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim. He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you. “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”

No. You won’t be having any of that.

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words. “Not even close, do you understand?” Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make everyday brighter. Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest. “I swear.”

Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.

“Okay, I believe you. But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.”

You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands. It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.

When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable. Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into. Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on. It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material. Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other. You look back at the room before flipping the light off. At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.

Then there's the kitchen. Where it started. But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before. Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave. He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.

“Hot liquid for my man?”

“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”

You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it. Coffee? Yes. A blend of chamomile and lavender? You weren’t so sure. But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.

“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight. Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.

“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time. “That’s alright, baby boy. Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”

“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.

“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground. It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.

“Yeah, you’re just so good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”

And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn. Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.

Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller. “Not too good, just clever. I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”

“Easy.” His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop. Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”

“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”

Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I learn from the best, I guess.”

You wait a beat.

“So… lasik, huh?”

Joel practically chokes on his beverage. “Uhhh…,”

“Great! I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”

You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.

“Yeah, yeah.” That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.

The only thing that matters, anyway.

No matter all the hardships, the restless nights. It’s this. It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.

You would take care of him. You would catch him.

Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:

Everything leads back to him.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!

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amyispxnk · 7 months

Text

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 1: Special.

Series Masterlist

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - You and Joel finally sit down together after a year of stolen glances.

A/N: OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE WRITTEN A FIC I MISSED IT SM. Let’s all collectively pray that I actually finish this series, btw. It kind of just came to me earlier today and I barely have anything planned but.. you know me by now.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol, light language, (kind of) fluff, nothing much really in this chapter

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Come on man. We’ve been here for almost two years and you still haven’t made any friends. I see how you look at her- just say something! It is actual torture having to watch you dance around people like this.” Ellie groans dramatically, trying to kick some sense into the man who sits across from her. Joel just grunts, continuing to eat his stew as she looks blankly at him. “She’s nice enough.” She adds after a moment, trying to get him to say something.

After more silence, she speaks again with an exaggerated sigh, “I guess I’ll just go talk to her then, tell her that my old man has a big, fat crush on her. Maybe then you two can-” her smirk falters when Joel interrupts her.

“Don’t you dare go doin’ that,” he grumbles “Y’ gon’ make me look stupid-”

“So you talk to her then! Stop moping around all the time.” Ellie concludes, before standing up and saying goodbye, going to clear her tray and giving him a look before leaving the mess hall.

Joel watches her go before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. First, Tommy was on his ass about making some friends - “You’re scarin’ people, y’know. Givin’ everyone death stares when you walk around, being so.. withdrawn all the time. It’d do ya some good,” he’d told Joel one evening at the Tipsy Bison - and now Ellie was too. And, knowing Ellie, that kid wouldn’t be as patient, probably already concocting some sort of plan to force you and Joel together.

As he leans his head back and mulls over his options, he looks out the window. Of course you’re out there, playing with the kids of Jackson. You’re one of the most popular people in Jackson, always being friendly and knowing just about everyone.

..Except him, of course. You’ve had some small chats with him, but you never really see him. He sees you though, having been.. observing you for the past year, keeping his distance - being respectful, in his eyes, being a wuss, in Ellie’s - and he knows enough about you to know that he probably has no chance with you.

You’re funny, sweet, fucking stunning, and he’s seen multiple guys try to approach you at the bar. Younger, more attractive guys. Mainly, you help teach kids things like art and music at the Jackson school, and you also do patrols a few times a week. On some nights you also sing at the Tipsy Bison when there are events and dances. The band will play, often with you as the lead singer. He always makes sure he’s there when you are.

The first time he saw you was on one of his very first nights in the Tipsy Bison. Tommy had dragged him along, Ellie going too, with promise of a fun night.

He came mainly to keep an eye on Ellie and to get some alcohol in his system, not expecting anything ‘fun’ to happen. Boy, was he wrong.

It had been around half an hour of him nursing his whiskey in the corner of the room when you came onto stage, million-dollar smile on your face as you spoke into the microphone.

“Good evening, Jackson!” You began, already getting a loud cheer from the crowd of people there that night. “It’s great to be singin’ for you again, you know I missed ya! Now, tonight, we got a few songs lined up, but this first one is a special request from Mister Tommy Miller over there!” You had said, pointing over to Tommy who was sitting with Joel, the younger brother grinning widely at you.

The band started and you began to sing one of Joel’s favourite songs from before the outbreak - somehow, it sounded even better in your voice. Joel glared at Tommy when he realised what he had done, and Tommy just shrugged before looking back at you. He couldn’t stay mad at him though, because by the end of it he was entranced by the sweet melody of your voice and how gorgeous you looked singing your heart out under the lights.

You were beaming at the audience after finishing as they showered you with applause, though it took Joel a second to actually start clapping and stop staring at you.

He tried denying it, but, as cheesy as it sounds, it was love at first sight for him.

It scared him, definitely. It had barely been a year since he lost Tess, and although he wouldn’t go as far as saying they were in love, it was the closest thing he’d had to it in decades. To think he even liked you from just hearing you sing one song.. that fucking terrified him.

Which is why he kept his distance for so long. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he realised he actually liked you. He hadn’t had any sort of connection other than Ellie and Tommy in so long, and they were his family. You, though.. you were so different.

He sighed deeply before opening his eyes again, finishing his meal as he watched you smile and laugh in the snow through the window.

A week later, Tommy manages to convince Joel to come to the Tipsy Bison again, promising ‘no funny business’ to go on. Joel isn’t sure he’d really mind.

Time goes by quietly, a simple Monday afternoon not having much going on for them, but then you turn up. He sees you as soon as you walk through the doors, an unfamiliar tiredness in your eyes. It looks like you’ve been on a long patrol.

You look around before noticing Tommy and Joel, walking over with a small smile.

Joel stares daggers at Tommy. “You said no funny business,” he grits, a strange panic flooding his system. Did he brush his hair this morning? Do his clothes look tidy? Did he have anything in his teeth?

“Ain’t no funny business here, brother.” Tommy grins at him, not giving him a chance to reply as you get to their table.

“Hi Tommy!” You smile, hugging him before turning to Joel. “And Joel! It’s so great to see you!”

Joel blinks at you. Fuck, you’re talking to him. He needs to say something back.

“Yeah, you too.” He mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly.

If you pick up on his discomfort, you don’t mention it, looking around before continuing.

“Are y’all stayin’?” You ask, now leaning forward a little with your palms on the table.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Tommy replies, to which you nod. “Y’ wouldn’t mind if I sit with ya, then?” You ask.

“Not at all, darlin’.” He says, and you slide into the booth with them, starting up a conversation about what you did today, mentioning that draining patrol you just got back from.

“I’m tellin’ ya - morning patrols are like hell on earth, Tommy. ‘S not fair to be makin’ us go out at 6 am.” You groan, to which he smiles. “Nothin’ a little coffee can’t fix.” Tommy replies, which makes you perk up.

“You have coffee? Since when?” You gasp, wide-eyed at him.

“New trade opened, and since Joel here is such an addict, we got our hands on some.” He gestures to Joel, and you look over at him, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I see.. being Tommy’s brother has its perks then? Got you hoarding all the coffee for yourself?” You tease, to which Joel chuckles quietly at, sitting up a little taller.

“Not hoardin’. Nobody else has asked for any.” He tells you, looking into your eyes and trying not to get lost in them for too long.

“And if I wanted some?” You say, tilting your head sideways slightly as it rests on your palm.

“Y’ always welcome to come get some, sweetheart.” He isn’t sure what possessed him to use the pet name with you, but he’s very thankful for it as a soft crimson paints your cheeks and you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. “Well, thank you.” You reply, before a man comes over to get you your drink. “Whiskey, neat please.” You tell him and he goes off to get it. Joel is pleasantly surprised by your choice. He never really thought about what you might order from the bar, but the fact that you shared the same drink of choice made you even more attractive in his eyes.

2 hours later, Tommy had gone off to handle an issue with the council and you and Joel had been talking and drinking and laughing. It’s around 3 now and he barely realises in time for his afternoon patrol, finishing off his whiskey before telling you, noticing the slight sadness that appears on your face at him having to go.

“Oh! Alright then. I’ll see you around. Have a good patrol, Joel.” You smile at him, and he offers you a small smile back.

“See ya ‘round.” He says before leaving and going back to the stables.

Later that evening, Ellie somehow figures out what went down earlier at the bar (Joel’s already planning on giving Tommy a talking to tomorrow) and makes fun of him endlessly for it, saying that he was apparently so shy when he was talking with you.

“I’d have never thought that someone could make the big, bad Joel all nervous and flustered, but she just continues to prove me wrong. She’s definitely special, huh.” Ellie grins, before bidding Joel goodnight and leaving him with his thoughts.

He hated to admit it, but Ellie was right in saying that. You were special.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

Next Chapter

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val-cansalute · 8 months

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 5

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 6

a/n: 😪 banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics

Snow still lays thick upon the soil once you’re gone. Along its boundless surface, specks of silver glisten, basking in the gentle glow of the moon, smothering the town’s bustle.

“You sure?”

The wind is cruel, lashing auburn locks erratically about Ellie’s face, numbed by the frigidity. In spite of the burning cold overtaking her limbs, her grip on the straps of the saddle tightens and her eye contact with Tommy turns ever so slightly hostile,

"Tommy, it’s been less than a day. She can’t be far. You comin’ or not? ‘Cause I’m doing this with or without you.”

He looks back at her wordlessly with a furrow in his brow, piercing through the tense silence laced with the distant bustle of Jackson,

“Alright… Let’s set off quick then.”

“Okay.”

Something compels her to silence, an impulse to keep her lips sealed over restless secrets. Maybe she knows that going after you is illogical, that it was a choice you made on your own. But she can’t bring herself to indulge in those realisations – all she knows is that she has to find you; there is no hesitation. Thankfully, the urgency in her tone was explanation enough for Tommy.

With a rushed onset, they split up to cover more ground, venturing onwards into the overrun territory encompassing Jackson with eyes vigilant, searching for signs of you, but seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours of vacillating between trot and gallop, losing sense of direction and fragments of determination to the exhaustion that mutinies her mind.

Thank god the hoofprints come into view when they do - as if by magic or a blessing, the impressed snow shows itself clear as day, juxtaposing the sea of white bordering it, darkened by dirt and grime. Ellie perks up with desperate intrigue so she pulls the reins and crouches down beside them, muttering to herself,

“Huh, what do we have here?”

And then her heartbeat quickens in anticipation of relief,

“She's close.”

Verily, she follows, the tracks guiding her further into the dense vegetation with senses working overtime to accommodate the fact that it is winter and hordes are rampant. She fucking prays you didn’t run into one, but the forest is deafeningly silent, seeming to hold its breath tonight.

She’s fast on your track; in this moment, the path is hope, a lifeline steering her along. Every now and then, a rustle of leaves, or the distant echoes of infected throw her mind into disarray, but she scans the area rapidly, shaky grip tightening on her firearm, before pushing on.

Just under an hour, the prints become faded and scattered, and the apprehension makes her stomach twist before she lifts her head to greet the destination - a desolate clearing.

“Fuck me.”

Dim moonlight hangs over Ellie and Tommy’s exhausted figures. The night has been relentless. The trail resulted in nothing more than wasted time and the discovery of a empty clearing, devoid of any sign of you.

Frustration and fatigue etched on her face and lingering in the air around her, Ellie kicks at a loose stone on the ground like a little kid, the full regret of having set off hurriedly with no real plan or navigation overcoming her. They’ve gotten nowhere.

In a see-through attempt at remaining pragmatic, Tommy pats her shoulder and states with a tone of reassurance, though it’s betrayed by the wearied rasp in his voice,

"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We just need to rest for a bit and rethink our strategy. She couldn't have gotten far."

But Ellie's resolve is fixed and her jaw is set in determination. It’s too late to turn back now, she knows that.

"I can't rest, Tommy. Every minute wasted is another minute she's further."

He sighs heavily with complete sincerity, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Ellie, she’s probably asleep right now, or some shit. And pushing yourself like this won't help anyone."

Their intermingling voices rise, threaded with increasing aggression until the tension has thickened beyond salvaging, and the rift between their convictions seems insurmountable in the darkness of the night.

Finally, unable to find common ground, Ellie announces,

"I'm not waiting. I'm going to keep searching. You wanna go back? Fine."

And, without waiting for a response, she takes off, leaving her horse and Tommy, who mutters quiet cusses into the heavy stillness of the night. She moves with purpose, the flashlight attached to her backpack tearing through the darkness.

She refuses to let the ache in her feet claim her; every step she takes echoes the silent plea for you to be found. Even as the hours wear on, Ellie's determination refuses to wane in spite of the fatigue gnawing at her bones. She can’t let herself think, she can’t let herself dwell, she has to keep searching, even if she can’t tell herself why.

However, the moon, as always, gives surrender to the encroaching dawn. Ellie's flickering hope of finding you dims as her steps grow heavier and her eyes wearier, and the first light of sunrise bleeds into the sky from the horizon.

Eventually, shattered and running on sheer god-like willpower, Ellie stumbles upon a vantage point, and stands over the landscape, large enough to swallow her whole millions of times over, like she’s the last person on Earth, staring into the face of impending destruction.

But it’s just dawn, and the overcast warm glow showers upon her as the realization that she has been searching through the night hits her. The screeching thought of you inevitably having gotten hurt plagues her mind. Deep breath, in and out, she lets the weight of it all settle upon her weakened shoulders, yet there’s still no time for rest.

The search is far from over.

You strain your neck to squint up at the skeletal structure that has born the brutality of the post-apocalyptic world, barely making out the details past the overgrown foliage seeping out of its broken windows and destroyed walls.

You enter with caution and heightened senses, searching for any signs of danger. The creaking floorboards beneath your feet shatter the palpable silence in the damp air.

Shifting through the shadows, your senses remain sharp and attuned to the slightest noise, scanning the objects illuminated by the dim light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the abandoned building. Shadows loom outstretched along the corridors.

In a shadowy corner, a man is crouched over a bag, and you watch him with a racing heart before you emerge, your silhouette a silent spectre against the dilapidated walls.

Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before you both jump into action instinctively, but you swiftly disarm him. The struggle is brief but intense, and he is overpowered, because, if there’s one thing fear has taught you, it’s that each movement has to be calculated and purposeful.

And when he’s on his knees, trying to plead for mercy, when he’s scraping pathetically at the scruples of humanity left in your soul, you remain resolute - just don’t think. Your grip is firm as you subdue him.

A few blows leave him incapacitated, and you leave it at that because you have never been able to succumb to gratuitous violence. He lets out a muffled groan with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

Swiftly, you bind is wrists and ankles taut, ensuring he can’t pose a threat before confiscating his meagre supplies and rifling through them. Food, water, anything that could sustain you on the journey ahead, you take, and then you drop his bag my his side and arise.

You turn to leave, but you glance back at the man over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. You haven’t done this in a while, not since you arrived at Jackson, and your penchant for showing no mercy has been buffed down.

There’s so much you have to beg your mind to steer itself away from, beg it to not to linger on the helplessness in his eyes as he looks back at you, or how you would’ve slit his throat without a doubt when it was just you and Soren.

With the stolen supplies secured, you walk through the entrance. You have to convince yourself of one last thing.

Mercy takes on different forms.

Out into the muted light of dawn, the air is brisk, and the horizon enlightening drags the worry of not making it out of the treacherous night you endured off your shoulders. A new day. A momentary respite washes over you; you’re only a little scathed.

With the first light of dawn illuminating your path,

“Only an hour or two away …”

It is a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough for someone with your past.

Mounting her horse, the familiar weight of the saddle grounds you as you set off once more into the unknown. The rhythmic, muffled thump of hooves against the snow-blanketed floor, and the shadow of the horse and rider stretched long over the ruins, a lone traveller navigating the remnants of a world.

You ride on, your mind numb to the thought of returning to Soren. Back to the old house, to the doorstep where your heart lies dormant.

Crestfallen, the fruitless landscape stands before Ellie, as if to mock her hunched over figure, bathed in the warm hues of the noontime sun. She has been traversing since the wee hours of the morning after stopping momentarily to map out a journey in her relentless pursuit of you, trying to stay determined, but the urgency that keeps her moving forward is dulled by the incessant pangs of hunger and the desperate struggle to keep her eyes open. Doubt creeps in as the vast emptiness erodes her resolution.

Just as thoughts of turning back infiltrate her sleep-deprived mind, a faint sound carries along a whistling gust of wind, drawing her fading attention. Pained noises, barely audible, leave her instantly alert, and Ellie follows the source of the sound with a subtle limp in her step. Though her senses are sharpened by the urgency of the situation, everything still seems blurrier and muffled.

Guided by the haunting echoes, she carefully weaves her way through the silent surroundings, every step weighted with anticipation, into a derelict building.

She approaches cautiously, entering a room where the sound is amplified and she comes face to face with the source: a man, bound and gagged, his eyes shut as he lies, weakened by his restraints. Without hesitation, Ellie kneels beside him, pistol pressed to his pained temple, her gaze unwavering,

“Who did this to you?" she demands, her voice edged with a fierce determination. His eyes fly open, looking up at her fearfully.

“Shit! Some fuckin’ girl – I don’t know!”

“… When did she leave?”

“Like ten minutes ago! I haven’t got shit, she took everything! I’m begging you, please untie me!”

She stands, contemplating it for a moment, before she kicks him over so that he can contort his body into a sitting position, eliciting a sharp groan. He wasn’t tied up beyond hope of managing to undo the knots, you made sure of it,

“You can figure that out on your own, I got shit to do.”

With a sense of exhilaration, Ellie jogs out and circles to the back of the building, her eyes scanning the snow-covered ground for any sign of movement where she notices a fresh set of foot and hoofprints, meeting at a point along the line where they become one trail of hoofprints, a delicate dance littering the frozen canvas.

Hope surges within Ellie as, once again, she follows the tracks. She has to move fast; you have a horse and she has only her feet. The air is tense with anticipation, but she somehow manages to power through the all-consuming exhaustion and hunger with the promise of getting closer to the elusive figure she seeks.

The sun dips lower on the horizon; the bitter cold forgotten in the warmth of purpose.

Nothing is left of your house but the gnarled bones of the home it once was. The memories of all you left behind seep through the cracked walls – the good and the bad, a silent witness to the passage of time. You hold your breath captive in your tightened chest and push open the door, its rusty hinges protesting your return with a shrill creak.

The air is thick with dust dancing in the slivers of dim light that manage to pierce through boarded windows. Everything surrounding you, once thriving and familiar, is now reduced to mere echoes, whispers. Your fingers gently trace the life left in the fray, your gaze sweeping over the remnants of all you lost to the destruction. There’s nothing but blood left to salvage, to hold onto.

You lay in the centre of what used to be your bedroom, save for the actual bed, beside the shadow of the place where Soren used to lie, but there is no reprieve. You can’t look at it, your gaze pointed to the damp-stained ceiling, rust-coloured organic forms scattered across it.

If there’s one thing you can trust to remain a constant in your life, it’s that memories flood your mind no matter when or where you are, unbidden and unwelcome. Here, you can let them play out wholly, succumb to the deserved guilt that you cannot let yourself escape.

Trace the mustard outline of the leakages in the wallpapered walls with the movement of your weary pupils, stop trying to battle the thoughts as they influx from the depths. Turn your head to look at the ruined wall – no matter how hard you scrubbed, droplets of what once was his blood, and his blood only, taken over by that cruel evil, seeped through and infected it just as the clicker infected him. They still burn as hot and bright as they did that night, staring back at you.

You had been splayed out on the floor, over tattered blankets, similar to now, waiting for Soren, who had heard a noise beyond the gate. The worry was becoming an annoyance, so you got up and ran out into the night to find him, further out than you usually would on your own.

You should’ve stayed. Never should’ve wandered. It was your fault he had to fight off that clicker, the scar etched into his back for all eternity, evidence of your fatal error. Even though you made it home with adrenaline pumping through your veins, the nagging sting eventually became an undeniable ache, and from that point, Soren was already dead.

He begged and begged, eyes glassed over for the first time since your mother died, but your pathetic selfishness left him shrinking beside the new force overcoming his body, till he became what he prayed he would never become.

Then, and only then, did you do it. Coward that you are, bashing his obliterated skull over and over in the haze, blood and brains sent adrift, consuming all the surfaces they landed on, your mind, body, and soul, for the rest of your life, and anything that lies beyond.

There’s a violent shift and you jolt back to the surface, gasping for air like you were drowning with sharp, shallow, greedy breaths.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ellie's urgent voice cuts through the remnants of the memory.

"I got you," she whispers, a breathless relief in her voice. You, disoriented and still caught in an intersection between past and present, struggle to hold back the already fallen tears and even in spite of the glaring truth that you came here wilfully, the sight of her brings sweet relief.

“Ellie-”

“Shimmer.”

“Huh?”

“The horse’s name is Shimmer.”

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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You join the Shelbys for Christmas Eve dinner.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur, heavy fluff, probably bad retelling of Greek history don’t come at me

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 11: Dazed & Confused

I bet you know just what you’re doing. You’re not the type that’s used to losing. First you build me up, then with just a touch, leave me here in ruins. Something ‘bout your eyes, I can’t even walk in a straight line, under the influence. Oh, I’ve been dazed and confused, from the day I met you. Yeah, I lost my head, and I’d do it again. Either I’ve seen the light, or I’m losing my mind. There’s something ‘bout you, that’s got me dazed and confused. — Dazed & Confused, Ruel

God you felt so stupid. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to this house — hell, even a stranger to having dinner at this house. But after meeting Tommy, it didn’t feel like just having dinner at a friend’s place anymore. Would this nervous feeling ever go away?

You’d gone all out for this special occasion, with Ada’s help after you’d expressed your nerves. She’d been far too giddy for your liking over your anxiety. But you let her take you shopping that morning and helped you tame your hair and even refrained from fighting her when she shoved a deep red lipstick into your hands after claiming that it was too dark for her to wear.

Your hair had to be re-managed after your shift at the pub that afternoon. Apparently, Harry closed the place for Christmas Eve night. You thought that was a mistake, surely men were looking for some drunken solace after the children had gone to bed, but you bit your tongue at Harry’s excitement and accepted the extra time off.

After the age of twelve, Christmases in your house had become a less-than-joyful time of year for you. It felt like a switch — one year you were a happy kid surrounded by excited parents drinking hot cocoa and waiting for Father Christmas — and then the next you were fighting over hanging tree lights, complaining about going out into the crowded malls, sitting in three separate rooms of the house to numb yourself with whatever was on the TV at the time. The littlest things would set off your mother, leaving you either raging with anger or crying in the garage waiting for your father to get home.

The magic had disappeared along with your childhood. And it only got worse after your father died. You’d been reckless those first couple years, sneaking out any chance you got to run around town with your friends. When you left for college, you selfishly dreaded coming home during the breaks. That’s when your mother’s psychosis started to get worse.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mother hadn’t been alone for all that time, if she’d had someone to confide in or even just to talk to, if her sanity could have been salvaged, even just a little. But deep down you always assumed it was something darker going on inside her that made her act the way she did. By the end, if she wasn’t numb, she was crying, and you just had no idea how to handle her.

After her death, you simply avoided holidays, always volunteering to work the extra shifts or treat it as if they were any other days of the week.

Since arriving in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving, with trying to figure out what was going on, the idea of Christmas or any other holiday had been nonexistent. Which is why you’d been surprised at Tommy’s (or technically Ada’s) invitation to a Christmas Eve dinner.

Fidgeting with your dress, you stood nervously at the doorstep and knocked. Behind the door, you could hear the sound of voices and pots banging, even a gramophone playing.

The door swung open to reveal Ada, shouting her hello before pulling you inside for a warm hug. You chuckled at your friend, who clearly had been enjoying some pre-dinner drinks, and walked further into the house.

The betting shop doors were open, the tables that usually hosted piles of books, papers, and money now cleared and replaced with plates, napkins, and silverware. You took a scan at the guests around, surprised at the number of people here.

You recognized a few of them — the two men who’d been with Tommy and his brothers last night at the Garrison, Benji, and the man who stood out on the streets preaching. Then there was Martha sitting near the fire with Polly at her side, looking better but still not completely on the mend. Finn ran past you, shouting as the older of John’s kids chased after him. The rest of the men in the room you didn’t recognize.

“Y/N!” Polly shouted, finally noticing your arrival as she left Martha and pulled you in for a hug. It appeared she’d also been indulging in some pre-dinner drinks, this being the most affection she’d ever shown you. “Let me get you a drink and then introduce you.”

She shoved a glass of something brown in your hands, a quick sniff indicating it as whiskey, and began to walk you around the room, starting unfortunately with the group of men Benji was with.

“Lovelock, Scudboat, and Hancock, this is Y/N. A family friend and barmaid at the Garrison. She’s under our protection, so you know what that means.”

“Aye ma’am,” Scudboat smiled, nodding his head respectfully before lifting his hand. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

You smiled genuinely at the man, already appreciating his vibe. Lovelock didn’t offer any words, but nodded and gave you a smile and handshake as well.

Hancock, or Benji as he’d introduced himself to you as, gave you a smirk. “We met last night,” he said suggestively, lingering his hand around yours longer than you thought was appropriate. “But it’s good to see you again.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your hand away and instead offering a polite smile. Luckily, Polly pulled you away to work the room.

Jeremiah was the name of the preacher, accompanied with his young son, Isaiah. You were curious how he fit in with the group, but saved your questions for another time.

Charlie and Curly worked at the Yard down by the Cut. You realized this must have been the ‘Uncle Charlie’ that Tommy mentioned the other night. They were both quiet, but nice. Curly was beginning to ask you if you liked horses, but Polly shoo’d him before pulling you along to the next man.

Danny Owens, or Whizz-Bang as he mentioned everyone called him, said he could only stay for a drink before going home to his wife and kids. He was fidgeting with his hat, muttering something about wishing Freddie or Barney could be there. Obviously you recognized Freddie’s name and wondered if you’d finally get to meet Ada’s mystery man. It wasn’t the case though as you finished the rounds of introductions.

A shout of the men behind you caused you and Polly to turn, seeing Arthur and John enter the room. They welcomed everyone around them with a loud greeting. You kept your eyes on the doorway, waiting for the one family member who had not yet arrived.

As if on cue with your thoughts, Tommy walked into the room quietly, leaning against the door edge to watch the scene. His eyes scanned the room until they fell to you. The corner of his mouth rose in that familiar resilient smirk, obviously unused to being caught doing his surveillance. He gave a subtle nod over his shoulder before pushing off and turning toward the family room.

Your heart raced a little as you took the bait, excusing yourself and grabbing your drink before walking across the betting shop floor. When you walked through the door into the family room, you heard the gentle shut of the door behind you, but your eyes were transfixed on the tree in front of you.

You’d noticed it when you first walked in, but now, the simple Christmas tree was lit with candles tied at the end of its branches.

The last time you saw a Christmas tree lit up, it’d been multicolored and flashed like a bad shop neon sign, glued to the plastic thistle of a fake tree. The sight of it at the time had made you groan at the very idea of the holiday you dreaded, thinking about all the money that was wasted during this time of year on stupid decorations like that one and worthless presents that would just end up in the garbage in a month.

But this. The real fire dancing on the wicks, sending beautiful shadows across the whole room against the lush pine leaves. It was enough to take your breath away.

“We lit it just now with the kids.” Tommy’s deep voice behind you brought you out of your trance as you felt him move to your side. “We’ll re-light it again before they go to bed.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he replied as you finally looked over to him, his eyes already on you. The implication of his words and that look made you blush.

You bit your lip as you shook your head and the possible compliment off. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” you found yourself admitting.

Tommy’s brow creased. “Do they not have Christmas trees in America?”

“Um, they do. Just not decorated with real candles,” you replied, not exactly lying but not responding with the whole truth.

You weren’t entirely sure when electric tree lights would be invented, or common place, even. To avoid further questioning, you asked one of your own, a genuine query you couldn’t help but wonder now that the bewilderment had faded.

“Does the tree ever catch on fire?”

He chuckled softly, “Yeah it has. That’s why we only light it for a little while each night, usually before the kids go to bed. This year it hasn’t yet, surprisingly. But the year before we left, Finn was tryin’ to light it for John’s kids and lit the whole bottom row on fire. Luckily Pol was there to put it out before the house caught.”

You were watching him as he told the story before he let a short breath out his nose and a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, as if reminding himself of his own memory had been a pleasant surprise.

He cleared his throat, his smile returning back to his neutral expression as he busied himself with pulling his cigarette box out of his pocket and lifting out a stick. He ran it between his lips before lighting the end, the action causing you to lick your own lips before you remembered something.

“I, um — I got you a gift,” you said, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.

He paused at your words, his brow creased as he watched you pull a small box out of the handbag you’d been carrying.

“A gift?” He repeated, turning his body away from the tree and toward you.

You shrugged, trying to shoo away your nerves. “Yeah, ya’know, it’s Christmas. It’s not anything super fancy, but saw it this morning when Ada took me shopping and I just, I don’t know, I thought you might like it. Sorry it’s not wrapped,” you lifted the box and offered it to him.

Tommy took it tentatively, his brow hooked as he examined the plain cardboard. “You didn’t have to,” he said, not yet opening it.

“I know. It’s just — it’s a thank you,” you finally spat out, your eyes chancing a look up to meet his, “for everything.”

His brow was still creased as he looked down, and your embarrassment and stupidity reached it’s peak as you realized how much of a mistake this probably was.

Did people not get each other gifts in the 1900s? Ada hadn’t said anything when you picked it out and asked if she thought this was something Tommy might like. She had given you a shit eating grin, but hadn’t deterred you or told you you were being weird.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, turning away from him to try and hide how red your face was. “You don’t have to use it, you don’t even have to open it, I’ll just take it back and we’ll pretend this never happened—“

“Y/N,” Tommy’s voice said softly, causing you to look back over at him, the box open on the table and the cigarette case now in his hand.

It was a simple case, minimal decoration around the border, but the minute you saw it, it made you think of Tommy and his damn cigarettes. Part of you wanted to get it engraved, something snarky about killing his lungs — but you could only afford the case, so you got it on a whim. It’d definitely been more than you could afford, but it was the holidays, you reasoned. You’d start saving again next week.

Tommy tested the case, using his thumb to click the flap open, then closed it again. He did that a couple times before letting out a humored breath out of his nose, the corner of his cheek rising as he pulled out his box and moved a few sticks into the case.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely as his eyes found yours, lifting up the case to emphasize before smiling back down at it. “It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve gotten in years.”

You swallowed, dropping your head as your cheeks reddened again. The feel of his fingers against your cheek caused you to lift your head again, not realizing he’d gotten so close. Your eyes found his, serious and soulful as he peered down at you, the light from the candles dancing off the glassy orbs. God, he was beautiful.

A bang on the door caused you to jump before stepping away. Polly shouted from the other side, instructing you both that dinner was ready and to get our asses out there.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Every time.”

Tommy met your laugh with his own softer one as you turned toward the door. Before you could reach it, he grabbed your arm and spun you back toward him, pulling your body against his as his lips crashed against yours.

He wrapped the hand still holding your gift and his lit cigarette around you to curve your body against his, his other hand raking through the base of your head and neck, nearly lifting you up to meet his hunger. Without a second thought, your own hands found themselves around his shoulders as you clung to him, your kiss matching his eagerness. You tilted your head and opened your mouth just enough for him to dive in deeper, breathing in sharply through his nose as you let out a needy moan.

Fuck the dinner, screw all the people on the other side of the door. You’d let him take you right here on the couch, on the floor, you didn’t care. All you cared about was his hard body against yours, his hands gripping at you, his mouth and where else it could consume you.

When you found your feet flat on the ground again, he pulled his lips away just enough before giving you another slow kiss, then another, before pulling away completely.

He smiled as you caught your breath, still surprised and slightly disoriented from the action. You thought he was going to kiss you again as he brought his hand back to your cheek, but instead he used his thumb to rub what must have been smeared lipstick off your face. A pathetic whimper left your throat at the disappointment.

“Better not keep Pol waiting,” he said easily, adjusting his suit and sliding his new cigarette case in his jacket pocket before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his own lips. You watched as the white fabric turned red from your lipstick and smirked, thinking of other scenarios where you could leave pieces of you with him throughout the day.

He noticed your look and rose a brow as you licked your lips, shooing those ideas away for more socially appropriate ones as he opened and held the door open for you.

Ada and Martha were helping to set the table when you joined them, grabbing two plates from Polly before adding them to the make-shift dinner table. Once every seat was served, Ada pulled you into a chair next to her. You looked at the head of the table, expecting to see Tommy but surprisingly it was Arthur who stood up and rose his glass. To his right sat Tommy, then John and Martha; to his left was Polly, then Ada and you.

Arthur cleared his throat, causing everyone to quiet and turn their attention to him.

“Um,” Arthur cleared it again, pulling down at his vest as he fidgeted. “I um, I’m not much for speeches. But um, I wanted to— wanted to thank you. This year— these years, being away, it’s been—“ his voice chocked as he looked toward Tommy.

Tommy smiled up at his brother and stood, gripping Arthur’s shoulder as he held up his own glass. “It’s been good to be back,” Tommy said simply, finishing Arthur’s prompt, possibly not in the same direction Arthur was heading, but a good detour to keep the moment light. He continued to keep his arm on his brother’s shoulder, as he addressed the rest of the room. “We all know the hardships and blessings we’ve been dealt, this year especially. And soon, it’ll be a new year. A fresh start. This is our opportunity to seize, and we’ll be damned if we’re going to let it slip.” His eyes flicked to you before rising his drink higher. “A toast, a simple toast, ya brotha’?” He pulled Arthur closer as he chuckled, rising his own glass higher with his brothers. “To good fortune, good health, good horses! Happy Christmas!”

“By order of the Peaking fuckin’ Blinders,” Arthur added, his voice strong again.

Everyone exploded with cheers as they raised their own glasses and shouted “Happy Christmas!”

The night went on as everyone ate and talked. You were enjoying the dinner, laughing as you watched the family dynamic between the core Shelbys as they enjoyed each others company. Everyone’s inhibitions and guards seemed to be set aside tonight, giving you what you assumed was a rare glimpse at what dinners pre-war must have been like for the group.

On the other side of you sat Charlie and Curly, and you were grateful that Benji had been placed at the end of the other side of the table, just far enough so that easy conversation wasn’t possible. But you felt his eyes on you, causing you to shift in your seat every now and then when you’d catch his gaze. After the second time it happened, you found yourself sighing, knowing you’d have to have an awkward conversation at some point with him to convince him you weren’t interested.

The dinner party was winding down, with most of its guests already gone. Even Ada had given you a kiss on the cheek before whispering that she was sneaking out. She wiggled her eye brows, causing you to roll you eyes and shove her away, whispering your own ‘be safe’ back at her.

Of course, Benji took the opportunity to swoop in to fill the opening.

“Your first Christmas in Small Heath?”

You nodded, taking a sip to keep your mouth busy.

“I’ve always liked winter over summer. Sure, it gets bone cold, but there’s less smoke in the air during the winter,” he mused, topping off his own glass and offering to do the same for you.

“That so?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, just feels like it, I guess. Maybe it’s more to do with the days being shorter.”

You nodded, slightly surprised at the insight. “Could be.”

“Do you have to go back to the Garrison tonight?”

You coughed at his unexpected turn in subject. “Um, no, Harry closed the pub for Christmas Eve.”

“So you’re free, then? We could go get a drink—“

“We have a drink,” you replied, holding up your glass. “And we’re guests at a party.”

“Come on, no one would miss us if we left—“

Scudboat appeared behind Benji, dropping a weighted hand to his shoulder. “Gotta go, Hancock.”

Benji’s brow creased as he scoffed. “Now?”

“Aye, it’s Russel. Just got the order.”

Benji huffed, “It’s Christmas Eve. Can’t we do this after the holiday?”

“You know the drill. It’ll hurt his family more to see that face Christmas morning. Will make him think twice next time. Tommy’s orders. Now!”

Scudboat left you both as Benji turned back toward you, blowing a big breath out of his nose as he cursed under his breath. “No rest for a Blinder.”

No rest for the wicked, you found yourself thinking, your tongue too tied to say the words aloud. Russel — you recognized the name of a copper from the family books. He’d been one of the more recent discrepancies you’d alerted. And now he was going to get beat up, or cut, on Christmas Eve.

And it was on Tommy’s orders. You swallowed down a big gulp of your drink as Benji said his farewell.

“Ready?”

Tommy’s voice behind you caused you to jump startled. You turned to face him, his own expression seemed slightly perturbed as he watched the Peaky boys leave the shop.

“Ready for what?” Your voice wasn’t as strong as it normally was, feeling both caught off guard as well as slightly uneasy about the darker side of Tommy.

It wasn’t like you were an idiot. You knew this came with the territory. Tommy Shelby was a gangster, as much as he wanted to call himself a businessman. Violence was as much a currency of this business as money. And here you were, contributing to that violence.

But you knew the world you were now a part of wasn’t that simple. Maybe this copper deserved it, maybe he didn’t. If you were going to be a part of this company, you’d have to trust the people making the calls, even if it went against your own moral code.

Did you even have a moral code anymore? Were you just making excuses?

“To talk, like I promised,” he replied, his eyes finally moving back to you. “Unless you’d rather join Hancock.”

His jealousy caused you to chuckle, despite your prior thoughts. “I told you last night I wasn’t interested in him.”

He hummed, “Maybe you ought to tell that to him then, eh? This way,” he placed his hand to your back as he directed you back toward the house.

You noticed him exchange a look with Polly before leaving the room.

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly as he directed you toward the stairs.

He didn’t answer you, instead taking the lead as he brought you to the top of the stairs and opened the door. “My room.”

The room was small and plain. A bed even smaller than yours in the corner, a nightstand, a chair, a dresser, and a fireplace. The decor was also minimum: a mirror hung at the head of the bed, a lit lamp on the nightstand, a crucifix on the wall by the door, and a few other photos and paintings dispersed between the walls, nightstand, and fireplace, which was also already lit.

The air smelled different in the room. There was something else, in addition to the outside air, sweat, and cigarettes that you’d grown used to. Your eyes searched for a source, but gave up when Tommy closed the door behind him.

“You’re not worried someone will hear?” You asked as Tommy chose to sit in the chair by the nightstand, leaving you to either continue standing or sit on the bed.

“This room is pretty sound proof, long as we don’t do any shouting. The other guests will leave through the betting shop doors. They won’t stay for long, Pol knows that we’re here and will clear them all out soon enough and lock up behind ‘em. I’ll walk you home when we’re done,” he said, pulling out the cigarette case.

He pulled out another stick and ran it across his lips, causing you to lick your own and making you fully aware that you were finally alone in a bedroom. God, your stupid libido. First you were questioning your own morality, and now all you wanted to do was jump his bones.

“Did you, um — did you drink the tea yet?”

Your eyes flicked back toward him, surprised at his question. “That where you want to start?”

He shrugged, lifting up the case before setting it gently on the nightstand. “I hadn’t intended, but in the spirit of gift giving, seems as good a place as any.”

You turned away from him, anxiously avoiding his question by continuing to examine the room and get your mind out of the gutter. The box in question was currently sitting in your dresser drawer, shoved in there after you’d finally unpacked so you wouldn’t have to look at it.

“And why not?” Tommy followed-up, taking your silence as a no.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before answering, “I have to think about it. I’m convinced it’ll either give me a seizure or just end up being a really bad cup of tea — both of which I believe will happen before it lets me talk with the dead.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol. She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, still unconvinced.

“We’ll revisit that another time, eh. Where is it that you want to start, then?” He asked.

Your mouth felt dry as you tried to consider your options. Honestly, you’d expected Tommy to take the lead in this debrief, almost demanding answers or explanations. You hadn’t expected him to hand you the reigns, and you found yourself struggling to get a grip.

He was watching you as you considered his question, refusing to speak first. You took a gulp of your drink before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“My nightmares — the two dreams that I had in the wagon, I’ve never had dreams like those before. I’ve had realistic dreams before. Mundane or stress-induced dreams where I’m living out my normal day and then wake up and can’t believe I have to do it all again. I’ve had dreams of memories, replaying of certain events. Hell, I’ve even lucid dreamed, where I recognized a dream I’d had before and been able to change the dream. But I have never in my life had dreams like the ones I had in that wagon.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked toward the wall across from him, some recognition in your words. If you hadn’t been so lost in your own recounting, you might have picked up on it, but instead you continued on.

“It felt so real — more than a memory, like I was actually standing in that garden, feeling the wind against my face. But it wasn’t my memory. It wasn’t me. It was like I was watching and feeling the memory of another.”

“Whose?”

You swallowed before looking back up at Tommy. “I think I was dreaming about the story of Cassandra and Apollo.”

You left out the part where in your dreams Apollo just happened to look exactly like Tommy, just with golden eyes. The logical part of you knew that your brain was just inserting what it knew into the dream. Wasn’t it a known fact in your time that people only saw the faces of those they knew in their dreams? That’s all it was, you told yourself.

Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette. “You goin’ to explain who those people are, or just leave me in the dark?”

“Do you know much about Greek mythology?” you asked, trying to gauge how to approach this.

Tommy shook his head. You took a moment to collect yourself, your brain ready to jump into explanation and story telling mode. This was one of your favorite subjects, after all. You took a sip of your drink before leaning against the wall, making yourself more comfortable on the bed.

“Where I’m from—” you started, swallowing as you decided to stop trying to hide the little details of your life — if you were going to do this, you might as well dive in. “I got to learn about it in school, mostly in language arts or social studies. I asked a teacher once why we were taught Greek over other mythologies, like Norse or any Asian religion — she seemed to believe it was because of the influence the Ancient Greek, and then Roman, society had over Europe, which then influenced Western civilization. There’s written records on top of word-of-mouth story telling that has lasted tens of thousands of years. And the influence they still have on philosophy, architecture, military, governance, agriculture, medicine — hell, even the word alphabet is Greek for alpha and beta, the first two letters of the Greek alphabet. Shakespeare wrote plays based on the mythology, Renaissance artists created masterpieces in an attempt to bring it to life. She said it was close to the same reason we learned about Medieval stories even though there’s no historical truth to King Arthur and Camelot. But we all learned them. And it started with literature.”

Tommy blew a puff of smoke, seemingly unimpressed with your pretense. “Ok.”

“Two of the oldest works of literature that’s still widely referenced are Homer’s epic poems — the Iliad and the Odyssey. The stories are pretty significant because of their themes about fate, glory, heroism, pride, wrath. And there’s so many phrases that originated or were inspired by the stories: an Achilles heel, Trojan horse, a face that launched a thousand ships, stuck between a rock and a hard place—”

“You’re losin’ me, Y/N.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m just — I’m trying to figure out how to make it make sense. The Iliad tells the story of the Trojan war, a ten-year battle between the ancient cities of Troy and Sparta, mostly focusing on the abduction of the Spartan Queen Helen, and the hero Achilles who was recruited to help save her. That’s a crazy oversimplification of the story, and honestly I’ve read so many retellings I’m not even certain on the actual story anymore. But it’s really quite interesting if you want to hear about it some time — I think you would especially find the character of Achilles interesting—”

“Y/N,” Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waved his hand along. “Madam Despoina said you were named after a Trojan princess. That was Cassandra, ya?”

The sound of Tommy saying your middle name out loud for the first time made your chest tighten.

You nodded, avoiding the feeling. “A Trojan prince was the one who stole Helen, the Queen of Sparta, so the Spartans and the Greeks attacked Troy to get her back. Cassandra was a Trojan princess who was also a priestess.”

Tommy hummed, “And you said that God gave her the gift of prophecy, but then He wanted to fuck her and she refused.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his retelling. “Something like that. But the Greeks didn’t believe in just one God, they had a pantheon of gods, goddesses, titans, and other creatures who all had roles they played in the creation and general day-to-day motion of the world and its people. One of those gods was Apollo.”

He leaned back in his chair, “The god Madam Despoina kept going on about.”

“Exactly. He was the god of, well, a lot of things — but he’s mostly tied to references of the Sun and light. He’s also the god of music, the arts, medicine, archery, town building, and prophecy.”

“And that’s where the Delphi come in?”

“Yep. They were priestesses who spoke his word at his temple, where people would travel from all over for a consult with the oracles. The Greeks considered this temple to be the center of the world.”

“So the princess wouldn’t fuck this god Apollo, so he cursed her. Why not just take back the gift?”

“A common myth is that a god couldn’t undo the work of another god, even their own work. So when Cassandra wouldn’t sleep with him, he couldn’t take back his gift of prophecy. He cursed her instead. She had no choice but accurately predict the future, but no one would believe her. Throughout the war, she tried to warn the Trojans, her family, of the dangers of their actions, but they couldn’t believe. Eventually, the visions of disaster and frustrations of being called a liar and madwoman drove her insane.”

“Why didn’t she just lie? Say the opposite and then they’d believe her?”

You shrugged, smiling at hearing the same question you’d asked your own teacher. “I don’t think she could lie. I don’t think she could even stop herself from telling the prophecies, otherwise I don’t see why she wouldn’t have just shut up early on.”

“What happened to her?”

“She predicted the fall of Troy, and the deaths of her family, we well as her own death. Before that, during the siege, she was raped, and then given away as a concubine to one of the Greek Kings. She and the King were then killed by the Queen and her lover.”

“And what happened to Helen?” he asked, genuinely curious it seemed to the story.

“In Homer’s story, Paris, the Trojan prince who kidnapped her gets killed along with most of the rest of his family, and she’s reunited with her Spartan husband.”

“Lucky her.”

You scoffed, “Comparatively, I guess.”

“Does the story match up with your dreams?”

“Kind of. In the stories, it’s always implied that either Cassandra promised that she’d sleep with him in exchange for the gift and then refused when he came to collect, or that she didn’t promise him and he just assumed that she’d give herself to him if he gave her the gift. Madam Despoina seemed to imply that there was another side to the story.”

“Which is?”

“In my dreams so far, it seems like maybe they actually both were in love with each other. But then something shifts and he’s cursing me— her. And that’s when I wake up.”

“That explains why you kept saying you were cursed,” Tommy mused, taking another sip of his own glass before reaching for the bottle that was already on the nightstand and refilling it. He offered to refill your own glass, which you accepted. “And the main question — what does that all have to do with you?”

You took a deep breath, taking a big gulp of your drink, the warm liquid burning down your throat. “I think Madam Despoina thinks that my mother named me after the Cassandra from this story. It seemed like she was implying that I’m a descendant of Cassandra, or I don’t know, maybe a reincarnation? Both of which are ridiculous.”

Tommy’s brow creased, “Why?”

You shook your head, flopping down to lay flat on the bed, setting your glass on the nightstand. “Because it’s just a story, it isn’t even real! Homer wrote the Iliad like hundreds, maybe thousands of years after the war would have happened. If it even did at all. There’s some evidence of civilization in the area Troy is thought to have been, and even some evidence of war I think, but still. Now, the odds of Madam Despoina being a descendant of the Greek Delphi may be more likely, since there was more evidence of the temple discovered and records found. I still think it’s highly unlikely, but who am I to question her. Maybe some distant relative passed along the stories and traveled across Europe.”

“That’s the rumor,” he nodded. “Came from Balkan gypsies, they say. Would explain why their clan is so deep and connected.”

“As well as the divinity shtick.”

“And the tattoo, it connects you,” Tommy added as he stood up out of the chair and walked toward the bed, lifting up your legs and sitting at the end of the mattress, pulling your legs back to drape over his lap.

“I got this tattoo on a whim,” you said with a shrug, as of trying to shake it off your back. “I just drew it one day and decided to get it for my first tattoo.”

He chuckled, “So, what, after everything you’re just goin’ to chalk that up to a fuckin’ coincidence?”

You huffed, “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to believe? That I thought of the tattoo because something in my blood or heritage or some mythological corner of my subconscious knew that one day I’d need to meet a Balkan gypsy family of fortune tellers who’s ancestry dates back to my own?”

“Is that harder to believe than the two of us having dreams of each other before we’d ever even met?” He asked, the question feeling like a cold splash of water.

“No,” you groaned, throwing your hand over your face. “Both are just as ridiculous.”

Tommy rubbed your leg reassuringly. “Just one more question, and then I’ll drop the subject — for now at least.”

You sat up, realizing you were practically in his lap as you waited for him to continue.

“When I went to speak with Madam Despoina alone, she told me that our fates were entwined. That I shouldn’t repeat the follies of her god and that if I listened to you, if I didn’t push you, if I trusted you, we would achieve so much more together than apart. That you can predict the future, and I would be a fool to take your advice lightly.”

“Tommy, I can’t—“

“Can you predict the future?” He asked softly, running his fingers along your jawline.

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.“ You looked between his eyes, swallowing before dropping your gaze. “I know things. Not everything, I can’t predict Ada’s future or tell you what Harry’s going to have for dinner a week from now. But I know that the prohibition amendment will pass in America at the beginning of the year. I know the worker strikes will only continue to get worse. I know the Irish will continue to fight against the British government for independence, and eventually between themselves. I know that jazz music is going to be everywhere.”

“You knew when the end of the war was goin’ to be,” he added.

“And I know other things — things I can’t—“ you swallowed, lifting your eyes back to his and bringing your own hand to his face.

“Perhaps you are Cassandra,” he said, his eyes moving down to your lips, “and this time, I’m to believe you. I’m to protect you from this bloody curse.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You— you believe? Me, all this? How?”

“Talk to Polly. Drink the tea. Who bloody knows if Madam Despoina is telling the truth or if she’s a fuckin’ nutter. But I trust my gut, and my gut has wanted you from the moment I saw you in my dreams.”

“Really?” You whispered with what little breath you seemed to have.

He smiled, humming. “And since you yelled at me down by the Cut.”

“I didn’t yell,” you chuckled, feeling the mood lighten again, your face just a breath away from his own.

He pulled you forward just enough for your lips to meet for the fourth time that night, kissing you softly. You kissed him back, the build up from tonight and two nights before making you needy.

“Tommy,” you whimpered when his mouth left your own for your neck. You swallowed thickly as an insecure thought crept through your mind. “I’m not a doll though, Tommy.”

“I know,” he said against your skin, his breath causing you to shiver.

“I don’t know how to help you,” you added, suddenly worried about whatever promises Madam Despoina seemed to be making for you.

He pulled away from your neck to meet your eyes again, running his hand through your hair. “You’ve already helped me, Y/N. I don’t care if you can tell the future — I don’t care if you can’t. I just know…” he paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he rest his forehead against yours, “I need you, Y/N.”

>> next chapter

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joelsmochi · 1 year

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Good Surprise

Read part one here. SUMMARY: Joel finally gets to have you. WARNINGS: smut minors dni, a little slow at some points but it leads up to a very very very pervy!joel, needy!sub!joel, dom!reader (??? she's a little mean hehe), awkwardness, brief cig smoking (don't judge girly is stressed). 18+ WARNINGS: panty kink, cum eating, masturbation (m), oral (m receiving), good boy bomb (just once), dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m + f), public...stuff WC: 7.6k

A/N: Here is part two of UATW. There is at least one more part coming soon, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading, I love you all sm. Enjoy :)

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If one more fucking customer complains about the wait time—

“Excuse me, ma’am, how much longer do we have to wait to be seated?” A rude man you’ve already dealt with asked even though you were in the middle of taking someone’s order.

Your eyes were wide out of sheer annoyance when you turned to look at him and asked, “How long was the wait when you got here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he replied.

“Okay, and how long ago was that?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Fifteen minus five is..." You pretended to think about it to be satirical. "Oh! Ten! Your wait time is ten minutes.”

You heard one of your managers shout your name, and you turned to look at him.

“Hey, maybe you should go take ten, alright?” He suggested. “You need a cigarette?”

He held his pack of Newport’s in his hand. You rolled your eyes, snatched the pack from him, and walked away without saying another word. “Only ten!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You stepped out of the rear door and stood next to the side of the building, watching the ongoing traffic as you lit and puffed on the disgusting cigarette.

“Your daddy know you smoking?” You heard from across the parking lot. Your eyes adjusted and saw Joel standing there with Tommy, who seemingly got off of work not too long ago.

“Hey, pretty girl!” Tommy shouted before walking over to you. You held the cigarette away from him and gave him half a hug while he placed a kiss on your head. “Why you smokin’, huh?”

“Oh my God, it’s one fucking cigarette,” you exclaimed.

“Rough day?” Joel asked.

You rolled your eyes, looking away from the two men. “Yeah, shit. Sorry. I’ll seat you guys when I get back in there. You can go ahead of this dickhead in there interrupting me every five minutes.”

“We were just gonna get it to go—“

Joel interrupted Tommy, “He givin’ you a hard time?”

“I’m probably just over-exaggerating. I’m just hungry. And tired. You guys go in and get your food. I don’t want to keep ya.”

Joel hated seeing you like this: your eyes puffy and purple from stress, smoking a goddamned cigarette. Your focus both everywhere and nowhere.

He thought maybe it was his fault for not seeing you these past few weeks. It wasn’t because he was afraid. Work was just busy, and he wanted to spend as much time with Sarah before she spent the rest of the summer at her friends’ houses.

“No, we’ll stay,” Tommy offered, feeling almost as bad as Joel. “Haven’t seen ya in forever anyways. We’ll catch up when the rush is over.”

You offered Tommy a weak smile while Joel was grinning from ear to ear in his head. He was happy to at least see you. Joel took the cigarette from your hand and tossed it in a puddle. You turned your annoyed self around and walked inside through the back door.

“Hey, uh, Tommy, why don’t you go ‘head and order for us. I gotta take a leak,” Joel said.

Tommy agreed, walking off, and the second that he was out of view Joel pushed you back into the men’s restroom, manipulating your body until your back was against the door. You couldn't even catch your breath with how fast everything was happening.

He loosely wrapped his hand around your throat, then licked a firm strip along the curve of your neck to your earlobe before giving it a mean bite. You gasped as your nipples hardened.

“I’m sorry I haven't seen you, baby,” he whispered in your ear, moving his hand to your skirt. Flashbacks of the kitchen playing in your head.

“That’s okay, I know you’ve been busy,” you whispered as he lifted the fabric up. Your lips crashed against his ferociously. You moaned when the bitter taste of coffee fell from his tongue onto yours after you slipped it into his mouth.

“I think about you all the time, you know?” You nodded at his question and kissed him again, this time much more sloppy.

“I have to get back to work, J—“ You stopped speaking when he lifted your leg and began to grind his hard cock against your needy cunt. You inhaled too hard, having to suppress your moans. “Joel, I have to go back,” you breathed out.

“Just one more minute, baby, please,” he whimpered, grinding into you roughly, “just one more—“

This was more relief than he had gotten any time he fucked his fist at the thought of you. Being close to you, making you feel how hard his cock got for you — finally rewarding himself with you even if it was only like this.

He didn’t envision dry humping you in the bathroom where you work, but he waited weeks to have you against him and felt like he deserved a little gratuity for his patience.

His arms looped around your back, head laying on your chest. You snaked a hand through his hair and held him close, wanting to feel him writhe and tremble beneath you.

When he said one minute, he meant it. Your pelvis was already growing sore from how hard and fast he was grinding you, but it was worth it.

He moaned a little too loud and moved his mouth over your neck to quiet himself as his thrusts became less frequent and longer. His breathing was heavy and hard, back rising and falling from trying to hold himself up as his orgasm toppled his entire being.

You felt him push your panties down your leg and tried to stop him. You thought he was trying to have sex. “Joel, come on, we don’t have time—“

“This ain’t f’you,” he chuckled tiredly. He successfully got them off of you and fixed your skirt before he held your panties up by your face. “This is f’me.” He folded your soaked underwear and shoved them in his pocket, then smacked a kiss on your lips before walking into a stall.

You realized neither of you checked them before your quick hookup. You prayed that nobody else was in the bathroom. Your trembling legs miraculously carried you out to the dining room. You continued to work like nothing even happened.

“Back on time for once?” You boss teased.

“Only because your cigarettes are shit.”

“Thanks for the ride, Tommy,” you said from the backseat of the truck.

“Yeah, kid, anytime. Thanks for covering our dinner,” he replied.

You grimaced when you remembered you deleted their order from the system. “Yeahhh, do me a favor and don’t mention that to Mikey.”

The men chuckled, and Tommy promised he wouldn’t say anything.

“Night, Tom,” you said before climbing out of the truck with Joel following.

“Night!”

Tommy practically sped off, leaving you and Joel to stand at the end of your driveway. You looked up at Joel with a smile, untying your apron and bunching it up in your hand.

“You really are a perv,” you joked. Joel just pursed his lips, checking you out. “What ya gonna do with my panties anyways, huh?”

“I’m gonna use them,” he spoke.

You cocked up an eyebrow and laughed when the image of him using the garment to stroke himself popped into your head. “You have fun with that,” you said after walking past him.

“Oh, I will.”

He waited until you got inside safely before he entered his own home; he grabbed a bottle of water and checked in on Sarah, seeing that she was already asleep with her notebook open and a pen in her hand. He closed her notebook and took the pen, setting them on her nightstand. She shuffled a bit after Joel put the blanket over her but settled after getting comfortable.

Joel closed her door and then went into the bathroom, turning the shower on; he undressed and reached for the pocket in his jeans that held your panties. They were blue with a pink rose sewn into the center of the hem. He stared at them, wondering what the fuck possessed him to do something like that.

He couldn’t resist bringing them to his face, as dirty as it felt. He saw that they were laden with your discharge. He took in the scent of you while palming his limpness. He could smell many things: your tangy juices, your vanilla perfume. He even smelled a little bit of your sweat, and it fucking incapacitated him.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head while he tried to suppress the moan that left his hoarse throat. His dick quickly hardened after he gave your panties a few more sniffs, and it made him crave the taste of you in his mouth again.

He brought the panties down to his cock and lazily wrapped them around it; he leaned over the sink, trying to hold himself up as he imagined your pretty lips wrapped around his length.

He thought about different ways you’d suck him — would you smile? Would you use your hands or just your mouth? Would you gag and choke around him so much that it brought tears to your eyes?

Every scenario he imagined only made him stroke himself harder and faster. He was gripping the corner of the sink so hard his hand was beginning to cramp up.

His cock twitched, straining against the fabric of your panties, and he felt that familiar stretch in the pit of his stomach to indicate he was close. He can’t think of a time when he finished so fast just from fucking his fist and doing it without a magazine or a movie to help? He was drunk off of you and never wanted to recover.

What is this girl doing to me?

His mind switched over to chaste thoughts of you, and that stretch inside him only tugged deeper. You were such a sweet person: always wanting to help people out and trying to get people to smile. Your smile would light up the entire room, and your confidence was intimidating in the best way possible.

Even during the moment, you had been asking for help with your ‘boyfriend’ while trailing your foot up Joel's leg, you still managed to sound so sweet. Your eyes would tend to ask him if something was okay. The thing was that when he was with you, everything was.

This was no longer just you two sneaking around like a pair of high schoolers. This had become a kink for him. The feeling of shame he often felt only turned him on even more.

He bit his lip a little too hard when his cock began to throb, immersing him in strain and ecstasy. It was almost painful. His hips jerked as he fucked his fist, pumping the last of his cum into your panties.

Joel’s head hung low while he caught his breath so he could muster up the strength to step into the steamy shower after he tossed your panties on the floor next to his jeans.

Thoughts of you floated around in his head as he stood beneath the water; he looked out of the small awning in the shower, and his eyes immediately locked with yours.

The devious smirk on your face told him you knew just what he just did, and he was too embarrassed to smile back before you left his view.

It was Independence Day, and while you didn’t exactly care to celebrate it, it was a good enough excuse for you and your dad to have some family and friends over.

You were in the middle of forming burger patties when you saw Tommy, Sarah, and another girl her age enter the kitchen from the back door.

“Hi!” You chirped, letting Tommy hug you and kiss your temple. “How are you guys?” Sarah hugged your side as well, with you returning the gesture.

“Good,” they said in unison.

“Where’s your dad at? I need to see what kinda beer he wants,” Tommy said while stealing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What about what kind of beer I want?” You lightheartedly complained.

“What kinda beer you want?” Tommy said after a reluctant roll of his eyes.

“I don’t care, but ooh! Can you get me some wine coolers?”

Tommy pretended to be annoyed and walked upstairs after sassily saying, “Fiiine.”

“Who’s your friend?” You asked Sarah.

“This is Crystal. She’s my camp buddy,” Sarah introduced. You said hi and introduced yourself before Sarah asked, “Hey, do you still have that Cameron Diaz movie?”

You side-eyed her and tried not to smile. “The one that’s rated R?” Sarah gave you a hopeful smile, one that you couldn’t refuse. “It’s in my room, you can watch it in there. And hey! Keep the volume down, please.”

“Thank you!” She shouted before she and her friend ran upstairs, giggling adorably.

“What’re they giggling about?” Joel’s voice boomed as he walked into the room.

“Nothin’, just girl stuff.”

You were wearing a maroon-colored tube top and a black maxi skirt with wedge sandals. His eyes glossed over every curve and line of your body with how beautifully the clothes hugged your body.

You finished preparing the patties and turned around to wash your hands. Meanwhile, Joel’s hands snaked over your hips to cradle the base of your belly. Sheepishly giggling, you swayed your body in his arms and said, “Joel, someone could come down and see us.”

“That’s what makes it so fun,” he whispered, his voice vibrating against your ear, sending chills throughout your spine. “You look so beautiful today.”

You hummed with a goofy smile on your face. “Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You turned around in his grasp and held his face as if he were fragile. He was clad in a brown shirt that complimented his pretty brown orbs and his typical Levi jeans that hung perfectly around his hips. “I’ve missed my favorite pair of panties.”

“Those blue ones with the rose on ‘em?”

“Uh-huh, you know the ones you came in last week?”

He pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “Ohh, yeah. Yeah, right. I actually brought them here with me today.” He pulled said panties out of his pocket and held them out of reach when you tried to snatch them. “Gi’me a kiss,” he bargained, and you happily obliged.

Your lips landed on his with a tenderness warm enough to melt him inside. His lips swirled around with yours in an entanglement so delicious it made your cunt leak all of Joel’s favorite flavors.

He slipped his tongue out and slid it across your lips, asking for permission to taste you; you parted your mouth slightly enough for him to lick across your teeth. You giggled and slid your tongue out to mesh with his while both of you tried to keep quiet.

You felt how thick and dominating his tongue was, telepathically begging him to lick your pussy. His kisses were so docile for how your body was responding to them.

Tommy and your father could be heard coming down the stairs when you were about to deepen the kiss. Joel tucked your underwear back into his pocket as you gasped for air and he immediately retreated to the other side of the island while faking a conversation.

“So, d’you get to meet any fashion designers when you were in school?” He asked just when they walked in.

“No,” you pouted as you thought about it, “but we did get to go to Ready to Wear. We saw lots of big brands being modeled.”

Just then, your dad chimed in. “My baby girl’s gonna be the best fashion designer the world will ever know.”

You blushed when he pinched your cheekbones and thanked him. “Your burgers are done. I finished the potato salad and the lemonade. All I have to do is finish the pudding and go to the store for the peach cobbler and ice cream, and I would love to take your truck to go and do that.” You held your hand out with a persuasive smile, waiting for him to drop the keys in your hand.

You saw your dad purse his lips and glance back and forth between the two brothers. He hated being put on the spot so naturally you made it a habit to do that.

“Last time you took my truck anywhere, you came home with a court hearing and a forty-dollar ticket,” he grunted. You didn’t budge other than to further emphasize your smile; his sigh was full of resentment, but he ultimately pulled his keys out and placed them in your hand. “No speeding.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“No smoking.”

“Course not.”

“No drinking until you get home.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“No picking up friends.”

“Of course.”

“No picking up drugs.”

“Dad.”

“And Joel’s going with you.”

“Oh, great. A babysitter."

“Anything goes wrong, you call me.”

“Got it, Rambo. Can I have thirty bucks?”

He reached into his wallet and asked, “What do you need thirty bucks for?”

You happily took the money from him and said, “I just wanted to see if you’d give it to me.” He rolled his eyes and waved you off as he walked away. Tommy followed him.

“Okay, babysitter Miller, let’s go. And Tommy, don’t forget my Seagrams!”

The drive to the store was probably the most normal interaction you had with Joel since your arrival a month ago. Your experience attending fashion school sparked his curiosity, and you were eager to discuss it with him. As you were growing up, he rarely got to see you excited about anything, so he enjoyed seeing you passionate about something.

But as soon as you parked the car and looked at Joel, the normalcy melted away from the heat of the sun. He trimmed his patchy facial hair and got a haircut that (to him) was long overdue.

“You clean up nice,” you spoke barely above a whisper. He nodded as thank you, not moving any muscles on his leathering face. You got a whiff of his aftershave — or maybe it was cologne — not quite sure what the scent was, but it smelled rich and musky. “Smell good too.”

That got his smile to crack.

“I know I said it already, but you look very pretty today,” he replied. He began to stroke your chin while using his thumb to trace the outline of your jaw.

“Thank you.” You kissed the curve of his hand, making the hairs on his arm stand up. You felt a rush of embarrassment though you weren't too sure why. You closed your eyes and kissed his hand again. “Fuck, Joel. What are you doin’ t’me?”

He frowned. “What, baby?”

You shrugged, unsure of what to say or what you even felt.

“Do we need to stop—“

“No. No.” You looked to him again, hoping to find an answer or, at the very least, an explanation. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

He pulled his hand away, anticipating your next move. It never came. You just sat there boring your eyes into his, then the mood shifted; his smile was contagious, filling your lungs with lost air and pushing the anxiety away.

You leaned over the center console to kiss him; his hand cupped the base of your neck beneath your hair, swirling his thumb around the nap of your neck.

The kisses you shared were savory and slow, an occasional mewl leaving your throat. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling his muscles and heart beating rapidly. Your panties were coated in a chilling layer of slick from his tongue slipping against yours, and he pulled away before it got too out of hand.

“Come on, ‘fore your old man sends the army after me.”

“He was in the Navy,” you corrected.

Joel managed to be on his best behavior in the store with you. For a moment, it actually felt like he was in a relationship with you. It didn’t help when an older lady stopped you two to say you were a lovely couple. While Joel was taken aback by the compliment, you just said thank you and continued shopping like it was nothing.

You figured you two looked like a couple with the close proximity and lingering gazes, so it didn’t surprise you as it did him.

He enjoyed seeing you pick up makeup that interested you and look in the little mirrors to see if you liked it against your skin tone. He let you guide him through the store. He didn’t mind. Not when he got more time alone with you.

“You’ve changed a lot. You know that?” He said abruptly when you were looking at the ice cream. You asked how he arrived at that conclusion as you gave him a look of disbelief. “You seem to be a lot more yourself. More sure of who you are.”

You gave him a sad smile as you came to that realization. “You really think so?”

“I do."

You looked back at the ice cream and grabbed a french vanilla carton, telling him, “You changed quite a bit yourself too… You were a very disorganized person from what I can remember. You just seem to have a clearer head now than you were before.”

“I guess I just didn’t know how to deal with being a single father.”

“Well, I think you’re doing a good job raising Sarah. She… She seems sure of herself too. Like me I guess.”

“Don’t know where she got it from.”

“Well, it wasn’t your grumpy ass. That’s for sure.”

The rest of the day went without a hitch. More people from around the neighborhood showed up, and for most of the day, you were mingling with Sarah and Crystal, who raved about some lewd scene from the movie you’d let them watch.

While everyone was watching the fireworks, you started picking up in the kitchen, knowing your dad was too drunk off his ass to do it. You loaded the dishwasher and began putting leftovers away when the girls came inside.

“My dad is letting me stay at Crystal’s tonight for the weekend,” Sarah said, her tone giving away the sense that she wanted another favor.

“Yeees?” You taunted.

“Well. I was wondering if we could borrow a couple movies and maybe some makeup?”

You looked at Sarah, seeing that glint of eagerness that you remember having at her age. Curious about the world and boys and girls and relationships. You couldn’t say no.

“Which movies?”

“Thirteen and What a Girl Wants?”

“No and yes,” you answered.

Sarah was clearly not happy you said no to Thirteen. “What?! Why? But I’m fourteen.”

“You can watch Thirteen when you turn thirty,” you mothered.

“Ugh, okay fine. How about Hot Chicks? Crystal’s never seen it.”

You debated it in your head but figured it was better than what you let them watch earlier. “Okay, deal. And only take makeup from the top of the vanity!” You shouted after they were already making their way upstairs. Your dad appeared not long after. He hugged you after wobbling a little bit, and a wet kiss was placed on your forehead. “Ew, Dad!”

“Some of us are going to a bar downtown for a couple hours.”

“You’re not driving are you?”

“No, no. It’s just a mile up the road. I’ll get a taxi on the way back. I promise you.”

“Okay. Well, call me if you need a ride or get arrested.”

A few others came inside, and you saw how your Dad looked at one of the women; physically, she was the antithesis of your mom. He gave her a smile once she noticed him staring.

“Go talk to her, dumbass,” you whispered, giving him a nudge with your elbow.

“Oh, we’ll be doin' more than ta—“

“Don’t!” You interrupted. “Do not finish that sentence.”

He chuckled and hugged you goodnight. “Joel said he’ll help clean up.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have to do that,” you responded.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

You froze at his words slowly turning your head to him. “Uh…”

You could see it in his eyes that he didn’t really know why he said that. He was definitely drunk. “Anyways. Love you, kid. I gotta get me some tail.”

You grimaced and pushed him away. “Real classy, Dad. Really fucking classy.” You shook your head as he followed his friends laughing.

Joel had dropped the girls off at Crystal’s house before he made his way back to you. The second he left, you ran upstairs to clean yourself quickly, hoping that tonight would be the night you finally get to have him.

Joel’s footsteps were heard from the entryway trailing into the living room where you were watching TV. Your head turned, a smile already curling around your lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you said before clicking the television off. He could just hear it in your tone how horny you were. He stared at you like a deer in headlights, making you laugh, so you walked over to him, bare feet padding against the wood. You took his hand in yours and guided him upstairs. “Sit on the bed,” you told him.

He was a nervous fucking wreck and you acting so calm about the situation only made him more nervous.

You shut the door even though no one was home and turned off your big light, the only glow coming from some string lights and an old ambient light in the corner. As corny as it felt “setting the tone” you wanted to make this moment special because every other time was rushed and sloppy (not that you minded).

You stood in front of him, feeling exposed despite being fully dressed. You rubbed your clammy hands over your thighs.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Joel said a little loudly. He cleared his throat and tried to calm down. “Yeah.”

“We don’t—we don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to. If—if you want to. Shit, uh…” He chuckled, bashful at his poor attempt at easing the tension.

“Okay,” you tittered.

You reached for the rim of your shirt, lifting it slowly to expose your stomach. He watched your fingers slither over your skin, and you asked again, “Is this okay?”

How did I get so lucky?

He nodded.

You moved your shirt up more, exposing the underside of your breasts and part of your areola. “This okay?”

This is the first time, he realized, that I’ll see her tits.

He nodded again. You peeled the shirt from your body and let it drop to the floor.

Fuck. They’re perfect.

Your nipples were already stiff with anticipation, goosebumps scattered over your flesh. “How about…” Your thumbs broke the waistband of your skirt. “This?” You pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal that you weren’t wearing any panties.

She’s doing all this for me. To make me feel special.

The lump in his throat ran dry, and you didn’t bother waiting for another response. You let your skirt cascade down your legs to hit the floor. You teetered over to stand between his legs and pressed his face into your belly.

He pressed a kiss into your flesh and ran his hands over your thighs before firming a squeeze on your ass. His nails left indents while he sunk his teeth into your skin, wanting his body to mesh in yours.

Your knees slowly drifted to the floor; he let you fiddle with the opening of his jeans so that he could focus on tasting your sweet lips, getting lost in the feeling of being here with you.

You sucked his bottom lip roughly and palmed his growing erection over his boxers. He hovered over the bed for a moment to push his pants down enough to let his cock spring free.

Your eyes widened at his girth while his cockhead tapped his lower stomach. Your mouth watered as you watched it twitch a couple times.

He leaned back on his elbows and took in the sight of your intimidation from the size of his dick, smiling arrogantly when you licked your lip with the purpose to ready your mouth. You hummed after gaining a bit of confidence to praise how big he was.

“All for you,” he said.

You slowly blinked, then wrapped your hand around his velvety shaft. His cock was littered with veins. You licked your lips and drooled your salivation over his warm tip, letting it glide down a bit. You kept your eyes locked with his as you wrapped your swollen lips around him.

His cock felt hot and it pulsed with need once it came in contact with your perfect mouth. He fought the urge to moan, letting out his cries in a symphony of whimpers instead.

Your eyes rolled back at the sound of his wordless little pleads. You circled your tongue around his head relentlessly before surprising him by forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

His entire body flinched and he shouted out a few curse words. You gagged and pulled back; you allowed your spit to drip down his skin. You slurped around his tip and moaned when he flinched again. Then, you took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. You fell in love with how he tasted in your mouth as his salty precum oozed over your tongue. The gagging and slurping noises echoed in the room and he couldn’t keep his moans to himself anymore.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he whimpered, thrusting into your mouth gently. “Fuck. That—that feels so fucking good, baby. Yes baby, yes baby, yes.”

You moaned around the shaft, eliciting more obscenities from him. Your mouth was so full even though you hadn’t taken all of him. Your cheeks hollowed around him, creating a tighter vessel for him to fuck while you stroked whatever you couldn’t fit.

His face contorted with the anguish of not wanting to finish yet, but he couldn’t stop now, could he?

Maybe if I just get a little closer—just a little.

So lost in the pleasure, he felt the start of his climax rise causing him to gently pull you off of him.

A single streak of his cum shot onto your cheek. You flinched but laughed endearingly, helping his ego feel better about it.

“Fuck. Sorry.” His chest heaved with his mouth dry from his heavy breathing as you assured him it was okay.

He took a moment to gather himself before sitting up and wiping his cum from your face. You grabbed his wrist before he got the chance to wipe it clean; you impulsively sucked the milky release before swallowing it shamelessly.

Joel’s eyes were glossy and low. He could watch you lick up his cum for hours if you wanted to. You looked so sweet on the outside but inside you were dark, full of a lust that was forever unfulfilled by previous boyfriends.

Sometimes you wondered if you even knew what you want sexually, yet Joel was able to just read you and provide.

“You’re such a good girl for me," he asked with a devious smile, "aren't you?"

“Anything for you, Joel.”

Chuckling, he picked you up effortlessly and sat you on his stomach while he laid on his back.

“Use me,” he begged.

You blushed. “What do you mean?”

“You said your last boyfriend didn’t do the things you needed him to,” he explained, “so use me. Fuck me however you want. And I’ll fuck you however you need me to. Be as rough as you want. As mean as you want. Ride me, ride my face—I don—I don’t care. I just need you. Need you s’fucking bad.”

You saw in his eyes desperation, and it made your head spin. A man so brute and strong like Joel begging to be your fuck toy was a sight for your sore eyes.

You adjusted your body and carefully lined his cock up with your sopping entrance; he felt rewarded when your puffy walls clung to him. The stretching of your pussy burned deliciously inside of you.

You sat there for a moment. Not to get adjusted to his fat cock, but to just feel him. Feel him twitch and jerk, aching to pump you full of his seed.

You circled your hips slowly feeling his head bump against your g-spot. Your fingers pressed into his chest and you started to ride the slight curve of his shaft.

“Oh, my God. Joel,” you cried out, feeling how his cock stuffed you perfectly each time you rode down.

“That feel good, baby?”

As your eyelashes fluttered shut, you were pathetically nodding and reaching up to play with one of your breasts. “Yes,” you moaned.

With thick hands wrapped loosely around your waist and eyes fixated on you, Joel was under your spell. He loved being used by you. Submitting.

You appreciated the control he gave you over his body. He was of free use just for you, and you grew tired of being afraid of that. You fucked him however you wanted, just like he had asked, finding the inconsistencies of your movements titillating.

His long fingers drew random patterns around your back, adding intimacy to the connection. He looked so breathtaking beneath your tantalized body. His eyebrows furrowed into a pout that made your heart melt for him, and his pursed lips cooed out little praises.

"Yes," he whimpered, softly thrusting into you as you went down to create the perfect rhythm. "Yes, yes, yes," he continued. "Darlin', you're doing so good for me, yes."

"You feel so good," you moaned. "Your cock is so fucking big."

"You take it so well, baby girl. Ahh—fu… You're doin' so good f'me."

You leaned down to kiss his wet lips, moans pouring from you. "S'it feel good?"

"Yes, baby. Fuck yes, you feel so fucking good. Don't s-stop."

You gasped and twisted your nipple between your fingertips, feeling an ungodly amount of your precum seep between your bodies. A bundle of pleasure twinged in the pit of your stomach, making your hips stutter and mess up the rhythm.

“I’m gonna cum, Joel—oh, fuuck. I’m gonna cum,” you said in a hushed voice.

You felt his hands smooth over your ass, and he began thrusting into you a bit more forcefully, encouraging you to finish.

A calamity overtook you; your climax was full of distress and violence. You had never screamed so loud before. Your orgasm worked against you, releasing itself into the darkest corners of your body.

You felt it everywhere. Your toes curled. Your elbows locked. Your fingers went numb. Your neck warmed. Every inch of your body felt haunted by the orgasm you felt yourself fighting. Joel fucking lived for it.

You were a fucking mess above him and he couldn’t stop himself from overstimulating you. He held you still in his strong arms and pounded into you ruthlessly, with no care in the world for how loud you were.

You loved how it overpowered you, intensifying as Joel determined to make it last longer. It felt like an eternity. Your chest shook from your blubbers, your body full of amnesia of reality.

He intently watched you, waiting for it to become too much. Your eyes welled up with tears and your face hurt from how contorted it had become. It wasn’t until you took a big breath in that he slowed down causing you to collapse atop his chest.

Joel held you close, grazing his fingers over your back and arms to soothe you as you came down from your high. All he wanted to do was to feel good with you and make sure you were satisfied.

You lifted your flushed face from the crook of his neck to give him a passionate kiss; he hummed against your warm lips, bringing a hand up to hold your face so he could deepen the connection.

He slowly rolled your body over until he was on top of you. Your hands slid along his broad shoulders whilst he erratically pushed his pants down, kicking them to the floor afterward. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and helped him remove it.

He slipped back inside of you as he stayed on his knees, getting the perfect view of your alluring frame. Your makeup had begun to fade away, and mascara scattered around your eyes. Your hair was messily laid around your head and your eyes were heavy with fatigue.

“Your so beautiful,” he said before reaching to pinch your cheeks in his big hand to slightly embarrass you, “you’re such a fucking mess already.”

You grabbed his hand, snatching it from your cheeks and pushing it away; you sat up enough to grab a hold of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours as a dangerous looked filled your eyes. You dug your legs into his thighs to push his length deeper inside of you, it caught him by surprise.

“Thought you said I was in control, huh,” you whispered. Joel instantly pouted, the pathetic look on his face fueled your desire to domesticate him.

“Y-you—yes, yes,” he weakly responded. “Yes. You a—you are in control.”

You gave him a soft kiss despite your tough demeanor to help calm him. “Good boy,” you praised, tightening your grip. He thanked you and started to move his halted hips again, this time with purpose and force.

Your hardened expression cracked, faltering into a look of bliss and thankfulness. His skin clapped against yours as you felt his balls swinging against your ass with every thrust.

The moans spilling between your lips was music to Joel’s ears; he felt the swollen head of his cock breech even deeper inside of you after you hung your legs around his hips. Your walls fluttered around his pulsating cock making your cunt feel tighter.

Combining that with your tight grip around his neck? Fuck. He wanted to cum so badly—

“Shit!” He shouted as he pulled out, not wanting this to end so soon.

You laughed at him more teasingly this time and let his neck go, using your legs to push him back inside with no effort.

He tried thrusting more slowly this time, but his body was just begging for release. He pulled out again and attempted to take a breather. You weren’t having it.

You pushed him into saint position and held his face firmly to make him look you in the eyes as you started to bounce on him.

“Baby,” he said, feeling the rise of his climax slowly build again, “I don’t wanna stop yet.”

“Your cock belongs to me,” you told him; he promptly agreed. “That means I do whatever I fucking want to. You’re gonna cum for me and let me keep fucking you.”

His eyes rolled back and his let out a moan of both desperation and relief. “Yes,” he whimpered, eagerly nodding his dazed head, “yes. My cock belongs to you. Only you—fuck—no one’s ever made me feel as good as you.”

You moaned in response, knowing you no longer needed to scold him.

He was so fucking thick. Not even all of your slick could help get used to his size. Your skin clung to his from the faint sweat coating both of your bodies. Your tits bounced against his toned chest stimulating your nipples, adding to the earth-shattering pleasure.

His breathing was shallow while he tried to hold off as long as possible. He then figured if he rubbed your clit you might be able to finish again with him.

You jolted when his thumb rubbed erratic loops around your clit, soon enough feeling your climax build again. And though it was not as powerful it hit you so much more quickly.

“Can you cum for me?” You asked nicely. “Fuck, I’m gonna cu—“ Your own gasps cut you off as you heard Joel say he was going to finish with you.

His forehead fell onto yours as the pressure finally exploded inside of you. Your body insisted on continuing to fuck him, your cunt pushing and pulling at his shaft as if you were trying to squeeze his cum out yourself. He painted your walls with his hot white load, filling you up even more as if you weren't full enough.

He held you tight and leaned his head onto your shoulders so that your shivering legs wouldn’t completely give out.

All of a sudden Joel grew an urge to eat you out before his cum spilled out.

He tossed you onto your back and got down on his stomach, barely letting you breathe before his tongue covered your throbbing hole.

You cried out his name shamelessly, feeling his tongue curl up inside of you. He watched you arch your back and grab at the sheets with your head thrown back and mouth opened.

At first, he only tasted your tangy cum as it lay thick and heavy on his tongue. But after a short while, he tasted was he could only presume to be himself. The taste was mostly brine, but a little sweet, and permeated along his tastebuds. He couldn’t get enough of how good the two of you tasted together.

He devoured every last drop he could manage before pulling away from you, feeling how hard his he still was. He wanted to make up for finishing so soon.

You wanted to come down—you were so fucking wore out. But you felt Joel twist you around onto your stomach and lift your hips up before shoving his cock back inside of you.

You groaned at the stretch feeling stronger than before, clawing at the bedsheets as he wasted no time to fuck you again. His hips clapped against your ass when his hands pushed into your waist, deepening your arch.

He would slowly pull back to where his beaming cockhead was only inside of you, then he'd thrust strong enough to make your body bounce a little on the springy mattress. He fucked you slow but hard, wanting you to feel every inch of him.

“Fuck! Yes, Joel!” You shouted.

“Like that, baby? Hmm?” He spanked you when you didn’t answer.

“Fuck, yes, you’re so good to me!”

Your moans turned into whines from the brute force of his body. Tears danced along your eyes as your pussy ached with overstimulation and rapture.

“My cock belongs to you? Hmm?” He said indignantly. He was already yours. He belonged to you. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

You moaned lustfully when he started going fast enough to make his balls hit your clit. He reached to grab your neck and beckoned you to get on your hands as well, keeping the grip loose enough for you to breathe.

“Yes, Joel, your fucking cock belongs to me," your voice was lame as you tried to regulate your breathing. Your sore pussy yearned again, asking for relief just once more. “Give it to me, please, give it to me.”

He looked at his dick thrust in and out of you, groaning at the smooth ring of your cum wrapped around the base of his shaft.

“You wanna cum again?” He asked. You begged and pleaded and cried for him to keep going.

He didn’t even try to comprehend when another orgasm was building for him. He ignored the anguish the second climax was bringing him, even if it was becoming too painful to bear. He didn’t care enough. He just wanted to keep listening to those pretty sounds you were making.

He never had an experience come close to this one. To being with you. Never imagined doing something as dirty as tasting his own cum, let alone after releasing it inside of his partner. And then to cum twice in the span of a few minutes? He knew then and there that no one would be able to satisfy him like you.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You moaned in a high pitch that Joel thought was cute; your back arched and tensed, your whole body shaking with a third orgasm that felt instinctual. Your eyes filled with stars and you were lightheaded.

He let himself feel every aspect of his orgasm once the pain left his body. It was warm and made him a little hazy; he was so overwhelmed with euphoria that he could hardly react to it. He was persistent in finishing you both off with sloppy thrusts as he whispered sweet praises to you about how good you felt.

Your body collapsed making Joel’s dick slip out of you; he rested next to you once you laid on your side and put his arm around your head. You lay there in a bittersweet silence for a few minutes, savoring the sound of each other’s breathing and sleepy hums.

“I’m so tired now,” you lazily said.

Joel chuckled and pulled the blanket up to cover you. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“I don’t wanna,” you said tiredly; he chuckled again and kissed your head, wishing that this wasn’t casual. “Was it good for you?” You asked after looking up at him, the craving for sleep evident in your pretty eyes.

He couldn’t put into words how at peace he felt right now. He was tired too. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“I wasn’t too mean, was I?” You worried.

“No, baby,” he cooed, stroking your head. “You were perfect.” The way he said it ensured you it was the truth.

“I was perfect?” You giggled.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “We should go out some night. Have a little fun."

"Joel Miller, r'you asking me on a date?"

"It ain't gotta be," he answered.

You giggled again and curled into his body some more. "Sure, Joel. Take me out to a bar so I can dance on sleazy men in cowboy hats to make you jealous."

He laughed, "You love makin' stories up, don't you?"

"It won't be a story for long."

Read part 3 here.

🏷️ @paleidiot @sarap-77 @mmeerraa @ssweetart42

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou smut

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coffeexxlord · 4 months

Text

Hola, Here's My Ph1LzA Minecraft™ Family Tree:

So okay this is -mostly- going off of what the man himself said about his Hardcore world, SMP Earth, DSMP, and Qsmp (In that order, then back to Hardcore) all being the same guy. I also take into account some instances outside of the SMP's.

(Keep in mind, I don't know everything about Ph1LzA's Hardcore world lore when it comes to the relationships so anything to do with that is me guess-timating. Feel free to correct me with some sources if I mess up ﾍ(･ _|)

(Also I'm not Ph1L so don't take this as canon, think of it more as an AU of mine i guess?)

Non-Colorcoded Version at the bottom If this Makes your eyeballs bleed.

I finished this at like 1AM so there's probably some spelling errors or smth.

Versión en español

QSMP Masterlist

-----WARNINGS: Wilbur Soot is included exclusively for story telling purposes. I will only be calling him [Redacted] because I no longer consider him apart of the family.

Rose:

So Ph1LzA starts in his hardcore world by being spawned in by Rose (Earth/Overworld Deity?), shes his Spawn Deity. Shes kind of his Mother in the sense that he exists there because of her, but shes not his ACTUAL Mother and they don't refer to her as such. But since shes ~kind of~ his mom Ive included her on this list.

Kristin/Miss Trixtin:

Shes the Goddess of Death and his Wife (Romantic). due to her job being literal death itself, they don't get to see each other that much when hes in a SMP, they see each other when he goes into his head, the void/underworld or when she possesses him to see the living world.

They're relationship is both a romantic marriage and like religious worship, an Angel fully devoted to his Goddess. a lot like Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Technoblade:

The Legend Himself, he was the vessil for The Blood god, giving him the same status as a demi-god. They meet when Techno is like a teenager, say 14-16. They stay together through out SMP Earth as the Emperors of The Antarctic Empire, separate for a bit as Ph1LzA goes back to his hardcore world, then reunite for the last time on the DSMP.

Technoblade and Ph1LzA are what I would call Platonic Soulmates. whether it be as Father and Son, best friends, or as brothers. No matter how you choose to see it they are family either way. He's also Ph1LzA's favorite.

[Redacted]:

He was considered as Technoblade's younger twin by a few minutes despite there being no biological relation. He was Ph1LzA's only biological child and was the father of Fundy and Tallulah. Was married to his now Ex-Wife Sally The Salmon.

[Redacted] is not Kristin's biological child. [Redacted] was born from Ph1LzA and Samsung Fridge. A Literal Fridge.

Tommyinnit:

Met Ph1LzA through SMP Earth and attempted to assassinate the man, after failing Loony-tunes style a bunch of times he eventually annoyed Ph1L and Techno into liking him. Techno and Tommy have a more brotherly relationship despite Techno rejecting the family canon in DSMP.

Tommy is the Father of his adopted son Shroud, a spider, and is Kristin's favorite Son.

Fundy:

The Child of [Redacted] and Sally The Salmon, Fundy has a rocky relationship with his family other than his son Yogurt. Hes siblings with Tallulah though he has never met her.

Shroud:

Tommyinnit's adopted son

Yogurt:

Fundy's adopted son.

MissaSinfonia:

Hes a Mexican artist and musician. He and Ph1LzA met on the QSMP and were partnered to take care of they're adopted Egg Chayanne. Missa is Ph1L's Husband (started as Platonic, though labels don't seem to work for them anymore), though they don't see each other much due to Missa's job as a grim reaper. Later Missa adopts Tallulah as well.

Missa's brother is SpreenDMC and his Mother is Dama Muerte (Lady Death). His "Boss" Is Kristin.

Chayanne:

He was adopted by Ph1LzA and Missa, with his favorite parent being Missa. He loves cooking and sees himself as a responsible older sibling to all of the other eggs.

His younger sibling is Tallulah and he heavily idolizes Technoblade.

Tallulah:

Was the adopted Egg child of [Redacted], and was later adopted by Ph1LzA and Missa when [Redacted] left her. Her favorite parent is Ph1Lza and she loves animals, flowers, and music.

She doesn't know Fundy and is unaware that he is her brother.

Dama Muerte (Lady Death):

Missa's Mother (this isn't her actual name, I couldn't find anything for her so I gave her one.) and the Goddess of the underworld. She rules over the land of the dead but isn't actually death, Kristin is. Think Hades and Thantos, God of the Underworld and God of death.

SpreenDMC:

Hes Missa's Brother (I don't know the exact relation). Hes a fighter that prefers PvP to RP, he was the unwilling partner of FitMC and father of Ramón. he left and went "missing" for months. He was later revealed to be dead.

He may come back due to his Mother though.

FitMC:

Father of his Egg Ramón, Widow because Spreen died, Is dating Pactw. Old friend of Ph1LzA's since SMP Earth and a Veteran from 2b2t. Adopted Richarlyson.

Pactw:

Brazilian man dating Fit and adopted Ramón. Half of Tazercraft and Platonic Soulmates with MikeTheLink. Father of Richarlyson.

Ramón:

Son of Fit and Pac, Has a Mustache and he loves CreateMod. Hes friends with Chayanne and Tallulah. Adopted brother of Richas.

MikeTheLink:

Platonic Soulmates with Pac, Married to Barbmine, Goddess of Creation. Father of Richas.

Barbmine:

Goddess of Creation and Wife of Mike and Mother of Richas.

Richarlyson:

Brazilian Egg, loves chaos and is the son of Pac, Mike, Felps, Cellbit, Barbmine, and recently Fit.

I could have gone farther with the Family Tree but ill save it for another post, this one is long enough as is. ill link it when I get it done.

Again this isn't exactly canon, take it as an AU more than anything.

I Mostly just made this cause I saw someone else's post on this that excluded Missasinfonia entirely but included Chayanne and Tallulah and it kinda pissed me off especially since some people like to exclude the Spanish speakers on the Qsmp cause they didn't play as often and only referenced them as relationship pieces to their Egg partners.

Missa is just as much apart of Ph1LzA's Family as Chay and Lullah. THEY LITTERALLY CALL THEMSELVES THE DEATHFAMILY AND TALK ABOUT MISSA SO MUCH YOU CAN'T JUST IGNORE THAT!

Well... you can, I can't control you and you can do whatever you want and this isn't meant to be an attack on anybody I just needed to say smth about it.

Anyway Non-Colorcoded below.

================================================================================================================================================

Hola, Here's My Ph1LzA Minecraft™ Family Tree:

(Also I'm not Ph1L so don't take this as canon, think of it more as an AU of mine i guess?)

I finished this at like 1AM so there's probably some spelling errors or smth.

-----WARNINGS: Wilbur Soot is included exclusively for story telling purposes. I will only be calling him [Redacted] because I no longer consider him apart of the family.

Rose:

Kristin/Miss Trixtin:

They're relationship is both a romantic marriage and like religious worship, an Angel fully devoted to his Goddess. a lot like Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Technoblade:

[Redacted]:

[Redacted] is not Kristin's biological child. [Redacted] was born from Ph1LzA and Samsung Fridge. A Literal Fridge.

Tommyinnit:

Tommy is the Father of his adopted son Shroud, a spider, and is Kristin's favorite Son.

Fundy:

The Child of [Redacted] and Sally The Salmon, Fundy has a rocky relationship with his family other than his son Yogurt. Hes siblings with Tallulah though he has never met her.

Shroud:

Tommyinnit's adopted son

Yogurt:

Fundy's adopted son.

MissaSinfonia:

Missa's brother is SpreenDMC and his Mother is Dama Muerte (Lady Death). His "Boss" Is Kristin.

Chayanne:

He was adopted by Ph1LzA and Missa, with his favorite parent being Missa. He loves cooking and sees himself as a responsible older sibling to all of the other eggs.

His younger sibling is Tallulah and he heavily idolizes Technoblade.

Tallulah:

Was the adopted Egg child of [Redacted], and was later adopted by Ph1LzA and Missa when [Redacted] left her. Her favorite parent is Ph1Lza and she loves animals, flowers, and music.

She doesn't know Fundy and is unaware that he is her brother.

Dama Muerte (Lady Death):

SpreenDMC:

He may come back due to his Mother though.

FitMC:

Father of his Egg Ramón, Widow because Spreen died, Is dating Pactw. Old friend of Ph1LzA's since SMP Earth and a Veteran from 2b2t. Adopted Richarlyson.

Pactw:

Brazilian man dating Fit and adopted Ramón. Half of Tazercraft and Platonic Soulmates with MikeTheLink. Father of Richarlyson.

Ramón:

Son of Fit and Pac, Has a Mustache and he loves CreateMod. Hes friends with Chayanne and Tallulah. Adopted brother of Richas.

MikeTheLink:

Platonic Soulmates with Pac, Married to Barbmine, Goddess of Creation. Father of Richas.

Barbmine:

Goddess of Creation and Wife of Mike and Mother of Richas.

Richarlyson:

Brazilian Egg, loves chaos and is the son of Pac, Mike, Felps, Cellbit, Barbmine, and recently Fit.

I could have gone farther with the Family Tree but ill save it for another post, this one is long enough as is. ill link it when I get it done.

Again this isn't exactly canon, take it as an AU more than anything.

Missa is just as much apart of Ph1LzA's Family as Chay and Lullah. THEY LITTERALLY CALL THEMSELVES THE DEATHFAMILY AND TALK ABOUT MISSA SO MUCH YOU CAN'T JUST IGNORE THAT!

Well... you can, I can't control you and you can do whatever you want and this isn't meant to be an attack on anybody I just needed to say smth about it.

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modelbus · 2 years

Note

streamer!reader who doesn’t like spending money on themselves x tommy who loves to spoil his gf

The man who refuses to spend money on himself spending it all on his gf… I like it.

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Fem!Reader

Spoiled Streamer

You aren’t sure why he’s like this.

Tommy won’t even spend money on himself! His biggest purchase was a hundred-dollar lightsaber he adores, and even then he still calls it stupid that he bought it. All signs pointed to him being a stingy motherfucker.

So why, exactly, did he buy you practically everything you use to stream?

God, if only you had the answer.

He just walks in, chucks something at you, then walks out. Sometimes it’s small, a thing of your favorite candy or a stuffed animal. Other times it’s the three-hundred-dollar headset that’s been sitting in your cart for months.

It’s not that you don’t love the gifts, or that you don’t appreciate them, it’s that you can only allow him to buy you so many things before you start protesting. Really, you don’t need anything he gives you! You keep it all, obviously, but still.

And it’s impossible to hide from your viewers. Once, you mentioned wanting a lava lamp on stream. After a moment, you had stated you’d never actually buy one, considering how you just never seemed to get around to it.

So how the fuck were you meant to explain the lava lamp that appeared next stream?

Tommy isn’t even trying to hide the fact he’s spoiling you to death from your fans. He threw a stuffed animal of your favorite Minecraft mob at your face on stream! On three separate occasions!

So you might’ve started fighting with fire. He gives you a random mousepad? You give him a set of raccoon stickers. For some insane reason, you thought it would genuinely work.

Instead, you started a war.

On this fine Monday morning stream, you’re anxiously awaiting him to discover your latest comeback to him buying you a whole goddamn shelf. Not one, not two, but three giant Lego sets.

He’d probably be so in awe that he wouldn’t even strike back. It was the perfect plan! So, you weren’t too worried about him interrupting your stream. Until he does.

“How did the sheep escape again?! Where are they getting out?!” You scream, waving your hands fiercely at the screen. It was like magic! You look away and they're all over your house!

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, popping his head into your streaming room. He’s holding two bags, and you sigh.

“Hi, Toms. What’s up?”

“So, Wil was talking to me ages ago about back support or whatever. I completely forgot about it until today, Y’know?”

“Uh-huh…” you’re not sure where this is going exactly, but you have an idea.

“So I bought you a back pillow for your chair!” He exclaims, holding the item up.

“Tommy!”

“It’s for your health! And I bought myself one too!”

Oh, if he bought himself one, then it was fine. It wasn’t part of his spoiling war. You didn’t know when he started caring about back support or posture or anything, but maybe it’d actually be helpful. Especially because of how bad his posture was.

“Oh, and you know the gaming chairs we were looking at?”

“Weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I bought you that one you liked. It’ll be here in two days; I got the fast shipping.”

“The one I- Tommy!”

“Bye!”

He waltzes out, shutting your door behind him and leaving you gaping. The chair he was referring to was about the same price as the three Lego sets you bought him. And it was a single chair!

This was absolutely ridiculous, and you aren’t afraid to voice that to your stream.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” You groan. “I don’t need a new chair! Fucking insane! He’s fucking insane!”

Secretly, you’re just a little excited. It was a really nice chair, okay?!

“What do you guys think? Why are you all laughing? Stop! Stop laughing at me!”

You stop reading chat, fighting the smile that wants to show at the messages. Because even you have to admit: Tommy spoiling you? It’s sweet.

But you can’t let that show, you have to play up your act. So you flit your eyes back to your screen and what you were doing originally. It wasn’t like you could fight Tommy on the chair, he was quite the stubborn person.

“My sheep!” You cry out, realizing even more escaped. “No!”

“Oh, forgot these!” Tommy exclaims, opening your door just to throw a box of candy at you then shut it.

“Ah!” You exclaim, barely managing to catch it. “TOMMY!”

From outside the door, you hear him laugh.

#tommyinnit imagine #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #dsmp tommy #tommyinnit x you #mcyt imagine #mcyt #dsmp #tommy innit #tommyinnit mcyt #tommyinnit dream smp

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lemotmo · 3 months

Note

Another really good one, I like this because we're starting to see a lot of this redemption thing in the BT tags. This was a question about Gerard and his connection to Tommy. And now that we know they're not upset about us sharing their answers I feel okay sending it to you.

A. Happy Friday to you as well! Unfortunately, based on your question, I don't think you're going to like my answer, but I promised you guys my honesty so here goes. Gerard is not here for Tommy. Gerard is not here for a Tommy redemption arc. Mainly because we (the audience) are not meant to see Tommy as needing redemption. Tommy is a general audience character. Meaning everything we're supposed to know or care about where Tommy is concerned is what the show told us in season 7. He is the guy Buck is currently dating and he used to work at the 118 before Bobby took over. That's it. That's all the show needs the audience to care about, at least right now. Fandom people are the only ones who remember his exact history, and no offense to anyone, they didn't bring him in for us. He is there to serve a specific story purpose so his individual history is irrelevant. Gerard is there for Bobby, and increasingly I think, Eddie. The Bobby stuff is obvious, but Ryan has mentioned Gerard now in a couple of interviews so I think he's giving us a clue that Eddie and Gerard will be some kind of story.

The Tommy stuff depends on whatever reason the show decides to give for his breakup with Buck. And yes, I do genuinely believe that is what's coming. If he's meant to be the one responsible for Buck figuring out his feelings for Eddie then I don't think his history with Gerard will be brought up except maybe as a scene or two in passing (if it's not necessary for the breakup, it probably won't be mentioned at all). If Buck is the one they want to end things, and have him figure out his Eddie feelings another way, then I think Tommy's past with Gerard will play a bigger role in their breakup. Especially if he tells Buck to deal with him by just keeping his mouth shut, and his head down and ignoring him. We all know Buck won't do that, especially if Gerard makes Eddie a target. So it depends entirely on the reason for their breakup. They don't need Tommy in a ton of scenes to accomplish either scenario, which is good because I do think he will also be filming SWAT and his availability won't be great. If he's supposed to figure out the Buck and Eddie thing, and point it out to Buck, we will need his reaction to at least some Buck and Eddie moments, (or at least his reaction to Buck's reaction to some of those moments), so they might need him for a few more scenes if they go that route for the breakup. Either way I don't see him lasting past the winter finale. Whatever the plan for Buck, I think he'll be ready for Eddie by the break, maybe even before. I think the second half of the season will be getting Eddie ready and then building up to Buddie. I don't see them dragging the Buddie thing out all season but I do think it will be the latter part of the back half of the season. Depending on Lou's availability he may be done sooner than the winter finale. We just don't know yet. But as someone who has watched the show from the beginning I don't know what other direction the Eddie storyline could be going. It's he's queer, or they're writing him as never going to be in love again because he was that in love with Shannon (which would be god awful television), or he becomes a devout Catholic (absolutely not). Those are kind of the only outcomes they've given themselves. And I'm sorry you don't like them, but Buck and Eddie learning to navigate an actual relationship, given Eddie's intimacy issues, inability to communicate his feelings, and his family/upbringing, as well as Buck's abandonment issues and need to fix everything is interesting storyline after interesting storyline. No one will force you to watch. And you're correct that lots of people will be pissed off, but many more would love it. They're very well liked by the general audience, people have got to stop trying to convince themselves otherwise because it's simply untrue. They're popular, people like them and most people would be interested in watching that storyline play out. It feels earned. Earned by Buck and Eddie and the audience. I know this answer has probably upset you and many others, and that is never my intention, but I also don't believe in telling people what they want to hear when the canon events seem to be leading in a different direction.

*chef's kiss* love it love it love it

Hi Nonny, thank you for sending in this really interesting message from the ‘anonymous blog I love’.

For those of you who have missed it, the OP of these very interesting posts on BT and Buddie has contacted me yesterday. They are a BT shipper that also like Buddie and they are okay with me posting their messages. They do however, wish to remain anonymous because they don’t want to attract any more negative attention. Their inbox is probably already a minefield, so let’s not add to their stress and respect their wishes. Thank you.

If you are interested in the OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

Now, let’s talk about this answer:

The answer above is very interesting to me. They talk about Tommy’s role in the whole Gerrard saga and I fully agree on most of it. They point out again that Tommy is there to serve a purpose in Buck’s story, so essentially he is there as a plot device in Buck’s narrative.

As for Tommy’s role in Buck’s story, I am of the belief that Tommy will be the one to tell Buck to just ‘Keep your head down, your mouth shut and pretend it isn't there.’ as he complains to him about Gerrard and how he treats his friends on the 118. This is something Buck could never do. He isn’t like Tommy, he can’t just accept and tolerate his friends being bullied by their new captain.

I agree with OP that Tommy will probably be gone by the end of 8a. His arc will be finished and the queer Eddie/Buddie arc will be in full swing by then. This arc won’t find its satisfying ending until well into 8b though. There needs to be drama first. And I do believe that there will be a lot of drama before we actually get the payoff of the Buddie storyline.

The fact that Eddie’s arc is most likely to go into the direction of him realising he’s queer seems unavoidable. It’s like OP said: It’s either queer Eddie with eventual Buddie or ‘never again in love’ Eddie. Two options and we all know which one will bring along the most press and a whole gaggle of new viewers. 😉

Now, as a treat, I have a second post from the OP for you today. This was sent to my mutual and friend @buddiebeginz and she has kindly allowed me to use her post on my blog in order to centralise all the posts from the OP. Thank you Justine!

For context I’d like to relay to you why this post was sent to Justine. She received an ask earlier which she replied to here. I urge all of you to read her reply as well, as it was very insightful and I do agree with most of it.

Anyway, someone else sent her an anon ask later on as a response to the post she made. This anon had found a reply from the OP as to why they thought that Tommy is ‘good’ for Buck ‘right now’ and why they enjoy the character’s role in Buck’s story for as long as it will last.

Keep reading under the cut. I didn't want to clog anyone's dash with too long of a post.

Here is that ask with OP’s answer:

I admit I really like this answer. The way they break down Tommy’s role in Buck’s story as Buck having a ‘fun and light’ first experience as a newly out bisexual, before the more ‘heavy’ Eddie and Buddie story will start. I understand it and I can see how that could be some valuable life experience for Buck, so he is strong enough to tackle the next part of the Buddie journey. I can logically 'perceive' that this is what the writers originally intended for the BT storyline.

Does this mean that I suddenly like Tommy and the BT arc? No. Definitely not. And I think the problem can be found in the way that Tommy and BT was written. He wasn't written as a very appealing character. I don’t see the chemistry between him and Buck and I think they don’t fit well together. Their ‘energies’ just don't match. I don't see enough proof of him truly caring about Buck in any of the episodes. So, I admit I can't see the 'light and fun' experience OP talks about. To me Tommy is just weighing Buck down with too much negativity.

And let's not forget about how we were all introduced to Tommy in season 2 and the way he treated Hen and Chimney. The man was never meant to be a 'nice and likeable' character with a questionable background like that. They tried to redeem him somewhat with the helicopter cruise ship rescue storyline, but to me it fell kind of flat.

And yes, of course there is also the ‘Eddie factor’. I have been shipping Buddie for years now, so whether I like it or not, I am biased towards Buddie. I am also not a multi-shipper. I just don’t have that in me. Once I latch onto a ship I never let go. 😊

So yeah, ultimately… different opinions make for more interesting conversations, right? And I love reading about OP’s opinions. Sometimes they match my own and sometimes they don’t, but I still respect them and value their view on 911. That’s what fandom should be about: sharing opinions, respectfully agreeing or disagreeing with each other, listening and learning from each other. It’s so much more enjoyable than sending anonymous hatred to someone’s inbox.

Anyway, once again I ask everyone to not post any hate towards the OP in the comments or reblogs. I do highly encourage a civil conversation about the topics discussed in this post. 😊

#anonymous blog I love #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie speculation #season 8 speculation #insight into 911 fandom & season 7 and 8 #911 abc #nonnies galore

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

New in Town - Ch. 8: First Thanksgiving

Sarah comes to town for the holidays. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-7 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 6.7k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You’re sure?” Joel asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he held you close.

“I’m sure,” you smiled a little and he sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Not lookin’ forward to not seeing you for a few days,” he said, his skin warm and soft on yours.

“I’ll be around all the time,” you laughed a little. “I’m coming over for dinner and for the Christmas stuff Sarah has planned…”

“Not the same,” he replied. “Can’t just touch you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want… You sure you want to wait to tell her until after the holidays?”

Joel’s face was drawn and concerned and, if it didn’t make him look so sad it would have made you laugh. It was just a few days. A few days of not being together all the time, a few days of sleeping apart, a few days where the tangle your separate lives had knotted themselves into had to untwist and exist independent of each other.

Joel was, apparently, not a fan.

In his defense, neither were you. Though you were taking it better than Joel. But you didn’t want to change how things had been going any more than he did. In the few weeks since the football game, you’d practically been living together. It just wasn’t at any house in particular. Joel had a drawer and a razor at your place, you had a dedicated corner of the closet and a whole separate set of skin care products and makeup at his. You’d started doing everything together, not able to really get enough of each other, the only time you were really apart when the two of you were at work.

The last hurdle your relationship had was talking to Sarah, something Joel was far more ready to do than you were.

You’d had one good scare right after the football game while snuggling with Joel the next morning. You were reading the news on your phone and sipping coffee he’d been nice enough to get out of bed to make after fucking you silly. You hadn’t even put underwear back on, considering asking for round two by just sucking him off when you got a text from Sarah.

“Have fun at the Longhorns game?” She wrote.

“Oh shit!” You yelped, sitting bolt upright so fast your coffee sloshed out of your mug and onto your comforter.

“You alright?” Joel frowned as you set your mug on your bedside table with a little too much force.

“Sarah knows,” you looked at him, eyes wide, turning the phone so he could see the text. “She knows, Joel. She knows and she found out from someone who isn’t us, oh my GOD…”

He took the phone, his hand in the middle of your back as you quietly panicked.

“She just knows you were at the game,” Joel said, handing you your phone and kissing your bare shoulder. “She could have just texted Tommy and maybe he mentioned you.”

You took the phone back and read the message two more times.

“Right,” you said, your heart still racing. “Right, OK…”

You texted back.

“It was a blast! How’d you know I was there? Haven’t talked to you in a few days. How’s Tinder boy btw?”

You gnawed on your lower lip while you waited for the text back, your stomach in knots.

“Saw you on TV!” She replied. “Or my friend from HS did because she recognized my dad. She got excited and texted to tell me with photo evidence that he was famous now lol”

You suddenly remembered the kiss cam. Your stomach sank.

“Can I see the pic?” You sent back. “Gotta see me as a TV star!”

It took a minute but she texted you a picture of a zoomed in crowd shot. You were looking intently up at Joel as he gestured to something down at the field with a serious look on his face. It was probably while he was explaining the game to you, before you’d blurted out that you were in love with him. It would be perfectly platonic if you didn’t read into the look on your face.

“Oh thank fuck,” you flopped back down in the bed, leaning against Joel. “It’s just this, sounds like she didn’t watch the game. We’re safe.”

That had been the big push behind figuring out how to tell Sarah. You both agreed it had to happen and sooner rather than later. You loved Joel too much to give him up and he seemed to feel the same about you.

It had been Joel who proposed telling her over Thanksgiving. She was coming to town and he wanted to talk with her in person. Get her on board and then have you over as his girlfriend for the holiday.

You’d vetoed that.

Not that you didn’t want to tell Sarah. Or want Sarah to know, at least. She was your best friend and you weren’t good at all the sneaking around this relationship apparently required. You wanted her to know and be happy and excited for you and to be able to tell her how fucking happy you were.

But you’d always envied Sarah’s relationship with her father and she’d told you just how important the holidays had been for the two of them.

“My dad always really tried,” she’d told you once, when Christmas decor had started going up around Seattle and she was feeling nostalgic. “He made it all magic, you know? Now that I’m all grown up and shit, I know money was tight but he always made sure I had the perfect Christmas. He learned to cook a turkey so we’d have actual Thanksgiving, he always watched the parade with me and made those cinnamon rolls that came in a can and we always decorated for Christmas the day after then watched a bunch of Christmas movies. I hate to think of what he had to give up to make sure I got what I wanted under the tree but I know he must have.”

It was the kind of relationship you’d dreamed of having with your parents when you were a girl. Not even the part where they scrimped and saved to give you whatever toy you were clamoring for at the time, just the part where they cared enough to make the world seem like there was magic in it. Things like ornaments and cinnamon rolls and watching Christmas movies with purpose instead just because they were on TV and your aunt was bored with channel scrolling. Now that you were an adult, you thought it was probably because your mom couldn’t afford anything that she just pretended Christmas wasn’t happening. The fact that there were no gifts was less noticeable when there was no sign they should be there at all.

But regardless of the reason, it left a hollow place in you where you felt like some sort of fond memory - some echo of the childish notion that the world was soft and good - should be.

You didn’t want to disrupt that for Sarah and Joel.

If you waited until after the new year to tell her, you figured that would give her some time to move past it before it would be too disruptive to their lives. Because of course she would need to move past it.

Sarah had every reason to be upset about this. Regardless of the fact that you were in love with Joel and he with you, that you made each other happy, that you were starting to hope that you’d get to love him forever, you’d still gone behind her back and fucked her dad. The person she loved most and was closest to. It was a betrayal of trust you weren’t sure she could move past. You wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

Your biggest concern with it all was how she would feel toward Joel after she found out. The fact that he wasn’t all that much older than you - just 12 years, about the age you tended to seek out, anyway - you didn’t think that was going to matter much to Sarah. She was your friend and he was her father and you were terrified that she might think less of him for going after a woman who was her peer.

If your relationship caused a rift between Sarah and Joel, you weren’t sure you’d ever forgive yourself for that. Of course you wanted to keep Sarah in your life, too. You didn’t have many friends, losing most of them when you moved because adult life wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining dozens of long distances friendships and you stayed off social media to dodge your father. But Sarah was different. You’d spent more time with her when you were in Seattle than you had with other friends in other places. You’d kept in touch more since you left. She’d become interwoven into the fabric of your life in ways other people never really had and you treasured that.

But if she hated your relationship with Joel so much that she needed to cut one of you out, you’d let her and Joel go before she even needed to make the call. There was no way you’d let yourself be the thing that ruined the father-daughter relationship you’d wished you had your entire life.

No, it was worth spending the holidays on your own if it meant preserving Sarah and Joel’s relationship and giving them both a chance to have another year of the traditions that meant so much to them both.

While you thought just avoiding Joel while Sarah was in town was the smart thing to do - you’d gotten too in the habit of touching him and kissing him all the time - Sarah hadn’t left you much choice. She’d all but begged you to come to Thanksgiving on your most recent FaceTime, her eyes looking almost suspiciously wide when she did.

“I know you don’t have plans,” she said when you’d tried to say no.

“Maybe I already have dinner reservations,” you said. “Maybe I have a boyfriend I’m going to go with.”

She scoffed.

“I know you,” she rolled her eyes. “If you had one of those you’d have gushed to me about his dick already.”

You almost choked on your coffee at that. The only reason you weren’t with your boyfriend that second was because you were going to his place that night and he was still at work. And you certainly weren’t about to talk about his dick with Sarah.

“I just don’t want to crash in on family time,” you said once you stopped coughing and had wiped your phone screen clean of the splatter. “I know you’ve got your traditions and shit, I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“It’s just my dad and Tommy and Maria,” she rolled her eyes. “Not like it’s tea with the queen. And you’ve hung out with them already. Come on! I want to see you! And you should have a nice Thanksgiving, too! Don’t make me beg, I’m really obnoxious when I beg.”

“Fine,” you sighed, flopping back against the couch a little harder than you should. “I’ll come to Thanksgiving…”

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory. “Believe it or not, my dad makes a good turkey. And you’re going to love the Christmas movie marathon, we always eat popcorn mixed with the holiday chocolate…”

You frowned.

“I said I was coming for Thanksgiving,” you said. “Not the whole weekend.”

“Black Friday is part of Thanksgiving,” she waved you off. “You eat leftovers all day, it’s basically the same thing. And you already said yes so you’re coming. I can’t wait!”

Sarah’s plane was landing in two hours. Well, just under. One hour and 57 minutes but who was counting. You were soaking up the last of your time with Joel before the holiday started. You’d fully intended on doing something besides fuck him but that had quickly fallen through, the two of you ending up in bed before you could even fully discuss where to possibly get food.

“I know you’re worried,” he said softly and you sighed.

“She has every reason to be upset about this,” you said. “And I’d rather the issues come up when there’s time and space to work on them, not during the holidays where she might feel like she has to get over stuff too soon and ends up resenting it.”

And there was, of course, the things you weren’t saying to Joel. What if she didn’t get over it? What if she gave Joel an ultimatum: you or her?

Of course he would choose her. He wouldn’t even hesitate to choose her. And he should choose her, you wouldn’t even try to fight him on it. If he called and told you it was over because of Sarah, you’d be heartbroken but you’d understand it and then you’d be without them both.

What if it didn’t come to that but things got so rocky between the two of them that he made the call that it had to end? Joel was nothing if not an amazing father, he would always do whatever he could to do right by his daughter and that would include cutting you out of his life.

You weren’t ready to face that possibility. You wanted a chance to brace yourself for it first, have some more time with Joel first. Something you could hang on to if you were stuck starting from scratch and had to download the stupid dating apps again.

“She’s going to be happy for us,” he brushed your hair back, his large hand warm and comforting against you. “She might be freaked out at first but she’ll be happy that we’re happy.”

“And you know this because the large sample size of ex girlfriends you’ve introduced to her?” You asked, brows raised. He glared at you. You knew he’d never had anyone he’d even considered introducing to Sarah before. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“It’s going to be OK,” he said, kissing you again. “Promise it is. But we’ll wait if that’s really what you want to do. This is about us, not gonna do anything without you.”

You walked Joel to his truck when he had to leave for the airport, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in as he held onto you.

“See you in a day and a half,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Miss you already.”

“Miss you too,” you said, separating from him reluctantly. You stood in front of your building, watching his truck drive away until he was out of sight.

***

The turkey was in the oven, Maria had volunteered pies and sweet potatoes, you were bringing rolls and green bean casserole, there were a few hours before potatoes needed to go on the stove. Joel was pretty sure he had things under control.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and added the Bailey’s Sarah had insisted on picking up the day before before putting a few cinnamon rolls on a plate and joining her in the living room.

“Remember how much SpongeBob annoyed you when I was a kid?” She asked, holding up the other side of the blanket she was curled up under for Joel to join her.

“Hard to forget,” Joel smiled a little, sitting beside her. She draped the blanket over his legs before getting her spiked coffee off the side table. “God, that voice was so annoying.”

“He’s been a balloon in the parade almost 20 years now apparently,” she said, smiling a little smugly as she nodded toward the giant yellow sponge on TV. “Looks like you’re the odd man out.”

He smiled broader.

“Used to that,” he replied.

Joel loved having Sarah home, especially this time of year. It felt right, like the two of them were always supposed to be together. They didn’t need to even be doing anything special, just sitting at home and watching TV or having dinner. It seemed like they were meant to live their lives side by side, sharing in all the highs and lows.

But, for the first time around the holidays, it felt like something was missing. Joel just kept picturing you there, where you were supposed to be. He reached over and searched for your soft warmth when he woke up, disoriented when he didn’t find you. He almost made you a cup of coffee this morning on autopilot, some part of him knowing that you were supposed to be there, too. You were supposed to be there the night before when he and Sarah made the annual pre-Thanksgiving fridge clean out meal, finding a way to eat through anything that might disrupt the placement of feast leftovers the next day as the turkey finished defrosting in the sink. You were supposed to be there laughing at the stand up comedy Sarah put on while they cut up carrots and celery and onions for stuffing before going to bed. You were definitely supposed to be there watching the parade, tucked against his side and drinking coffee while the balloons and the floats went by.

He loved you so much he wanted you in every part of his life. You were supposed to be there, making all of it better.

“Everything OK?” Sarah frowned as the parade went to commercial.

“Course,” Joel said, putting his arm over the back of the couch so she could lean against him. She’d know soon. Then you’d be here, too. “You’re here.”

You came over a little early. Sarah was in her room getting ready when the doorbell rang and Joel all but raced to answer it. Your hands were full and he took a dish from you before pulling you in for a hug and a kiss, your eyes wide as he did.

“Sarah’s getting dressed,” he said quickly before giving you another kiss. “Gettin’ it in while I can.”

“Oh, well in that case,” you smiled against him, kissing him deeply before stepping back. “I do need to use the oven. Or at least the toaster oven. Which is why I came by early.”

“Oh, is that why?” He teased, leading you inside and closing the door behind you.

“Yes,” you said, following him to the kitchen. “No ulterior motives at all. Just wanted to make sure things could work logistically, I’m nice like that. Very weird ringing the doorbell, by the way. Don’t think I like it.”

“Know I don’t,” he said, putting the dish on the counter. You set the other one next to it. “Gave you a key for a reason. Like you just comin’ in like you live here.”

“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip and backed into the counter before you took a handful of Joel’s button down shirt and tugged him against you. Your eyes were practically shining and you looked so fucking pretty, your hair all done up, a soft velvet dress that hugged your curves that Joel desperately wanted to shove up around your waist so he could fuck you deep. “Like me in your house?”

“My house,” he kissed you and pressed himself against you. “My bed.” He kissed you again. “My whole damn life.”

“Was that the door bell?” Sarah yelled from her room and you practically shoved Joel back from you. He leaned in and gave you a final kiss to the temple.

“Just me!” You yelled back. “The best friend you insisted on having around, don’t rush on my account!”

Joel smiled a little. Everything was going to work out. One day, you’d be living here and Sarah would come over and he’d smile while the the two of you talked like the old friends you were. It was all going to be OK. He could feel it.

Sarah shrieked as she hurtled into the kitchen, sliding on the tile and slamming into you as you laughed, hugging her.

“It’s so good to see you! Want a drink?” She stepped back before checking her watch. “I’m still on Irish coffee but it’s not too early to move on to wine. Oh! Or! I found this Thanksgiving cocktail recipe online the other day, I’ve got enough to make a few pitchers and there’s no reason we can’t start that right now.”

“Coffee sounds great,” you smiled. “And then we can talk about the cocktails because I want to see this recipe of yours.”

“It’s not a Miller Family Thanksgiving without plenty of booze,” Sarah laughed as she poured you a mug of coffee and got the Bailey’s out. “But in a fun way, not a dysfunctional way.” She handed you the mug and you took a sip. She smiled. “There. You’re officially a Miller now. Give me like two minutes, I’m only half way done with my hair, be right back.”

She went back to her room and you raised your brows at Joel over your mug.

“Hear that?” You teased. “I’m a Miller now.”

Joel’s heart soared at that thought. You with his name, you in his house, you living your life alongside his.

“We should be so lucky.”

You, Sarah and Joel laughed and drank and finished making dinner until the doorbell rang again and Joel went to answer it, leaving you and Sarah alone at the kitchen table.

“Hey hey!” Tommy said, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a pie in the other when Joel opened the door. “Smells good in here!”

“Sure hope so,” Joel laughed, taking a casserole dish and a pie from Maria. She turned to her husband as she took off her coat.

“Tommy, do not mention anything about Joel and…”

“I know,” he smiled but sounded exasperated. “You’ve drilled this into me. Lips are sealed. Course seems like a moot point because we all know he’s gonna fuck her in the bathroom before dessert…”

“Tommy!” Maria hissed at him. Joel glared.

“What!” He laughed. “Just sayin’, don’t think they’re gonna keep their hands off each other, it’s gonna come out…”

“If it comes out because of you, I’ll deck you,” Joel said. “Mean it.”

“Fine, fine,” he waved him off. “Told you, your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t think it’s all that safe with you.”

Joel ground his teeth a little at that but he had to acknowledge that Tommy had a point. You were here, so close and he couldn’t touch you. All he wanted was to touch you. When Sarah had gotten up to use the bathroom, the second the door clicked shut you grabbed Joel’s shirt again and pulled him in for a deep and desperate kiss. You licked into his mouth and he tried to hold back the needy moan that slipped from his mouth to yours.

“Sorry,” you panted after a second, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his skin. “Just… needed that.”

“Never apologize for kissin’ me,” he said, a little breathless himself. “Always want you kissing me.”

At dinner, you sat next to Sarah and Joel sat across from her so at least he’d have some distance. He hoped it would make things easier. Instead, it meant that he was just stuck looking at you all through dinner, wishing you weren’t going back to your place after it was done.

“Seemed like y’all picked a great game to go to by the way,” Sarah said as everyone ate. “Texas is having a good season this year, they’re definitely getting a bowl game.”

“Oh, definitely. Always fun to watch those. Would the two of you wanna come over for it?” Tommy asked, looking between you and Joel.

You froze mid chew and your eyes darted to Joel. He looked quickly to Tommy, whose eyes went wide.

“That’s right!” Sarah laughed, not noticing the small meltdown happening around her at the table. “You’re a Longhorns fan now!”

You coughed a little and cleared your throat.

“Yup, basically a college football expert,” you said. “I definitely know what a down is now, for sure.”

Tommy mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ at Joel once Sarah was focused on something else and Joel tried to keep calm. He should have just talked you into telling her now. This felt like a ticking time bomb and Joel was already tired of acting like you were something he should hide.

“Told you you’d have fun!” Sarah said, giving you a hug as she and Joel saw you to the door. “It’ll be even more fun tomorrow. I’m getting roped into going out with a friend from high school for a late lunch but I’ll be home right after and then the movie marathon can begin!”

“Can’t wait,” you gave her a squeeze and gave Joel a smile over her shoulder.

Joel went to hug you goodbye, too. It wouldn’t be that strange, right? Sarah knew you hung out at least occasionally, after all.

“Come by early,” he whispered in your ear before stepping back and speaking at a normal volume. “Good to see you again. Thanks for comin’.”

“Thanks for having me,” you smiled, looking at him with those shining eyes of yours. Fuck, he loved you.

Which is why he wanted you to come over early.

He and Sarah got up at damn near the crack of dawn and hauled the Christmas decorations down from the attic, setting up the nativity scene that was as old as Sarah was, putting out the pictures of her with Santa, the little North Pole village made out of cardboard with paper glued to the side that he and Sarah had colored in when she was nine. She held the ladder still while he strung up the lights outside and they went together to get bagels and coffee and pick out the tree.

Joel remembered getting the tree with Sarah when she was little. He steered her toward the imperfect trees, talking about how much character they had, how the gaps in the branches were perfect for ornaments. He could usually talk the guy in the tree lot down in price because of it and Sarah was excited to have a perfectly imperfect, one of a kind tree.

She still gravitated toward the imperfect trees. Looking for the evergreens with patches and brown spots and finding the tree that looked least like the others on the lot before taking it home and lovingly covering it in tinsel and ornaments until it looked like the most beautiful tree you could find anywhere.

He wanted to share this with you, too. When Sarah had called to tell him that she wanted to invite you for Thanksgiving and for Christmas movies, she’d told him things he didn’t know about you. Things he could have guessed, especially now that he knew about your family, but things that hadn’t occurred to him until she said it.

“She never really did the whole Christmas thing, I don’t think,” she said. “When I asked her about it she just shrugged and said they didn’t celebrate it and I asked if they had some other holiday and she said no, they just didn’t. Isn’t that sad?”

“Some people just don’t enjoy the holidays, baby girl,” he said, even though his heart hurt for you.

“I don’t think that’s what it is, though,” she said. “Come on, we have to invite her for Christmas stuff. She should get to do the fun shit at least once!”

Of course he said yes. He’d want you there anyway but especially now. Even if it was hard with Sarah, he’d want you there.

But Sarah going out for a bit with her friends made it easier. He was usually very selfish with her days at home, having to consciously avoid guilting her for spending time with anyone who wasn’t him. Now, he was thankful for the chance to see you for a little bit without the watchful eye of his daughter there.

Because Sarah was right. You did deserve to have the fun stuff, at least once.

You knocked when you got there while Sarah was gone and smiled when Joel answered the door.

“Hey,” you said, looking at him like just him being there made your entire day.

“Hey,” he said back before grabbing you and kissing you, his fingers knotting in your hair, holding you close to him. He pulled back from you a bit, just to look at you. “Damn. I’ve missed doing that.”

You laughed.

“Me too.”

You went inside and gasped at the living room, your hands covering your mouth.

“What?” He asked.

“It’s gorgeous!” Your eyes were wide. “It’s like the North Pole in here!” You walked slowly around the room, stopping at the little Christmas village and bending over to look at it closer. “Did you make these?”

“Yeah,” Joel smiled, going to stand next to you. “Sarah saw one of these little village things at a friend’s house and wanted one but those damn houses were like 80 bucks a pop. But she really wanted a village, so I brought some empty boxes home from work and got some printer paper and drew out some Christmas house looking patterns on it and we colored it in and glued it all together. I gotta do the annual patch up yet, there’s some peeling paper on the corners…”

You stood up and turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, all gentle at first but then needier, harder.

“Don’t think we have much time,” you said, your voice think with want. “Should probably take your clothes off.”

“As much as I’d love to fuck you,” Joel said, kissing you once more before pulling back from you just a bit, close enough that his nose still brushed yours. “That’s not why I asked you to come over.”

You frowned.

“It’s not?”

“Got something for you,” he kissed you again before separating from you entirely, going to a cabinet against the wall. Inside was a plain white box, tied with a bow. He handed it to you and you smiled a little, taking it.

You untied the ribbon and he watched it float to the floor for a second as you carefully opened the box and you gasped, looking inside it for a moment before looking up at him.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears in your eyes.

He smiled a little.

“I’ll hold the box,” he said, taking it from you so you could use both hands. “Sarah said you didn’t do Christmas as a kid. Thought you might want to here. So you needed a few things…”

You pulled the first piece out of the box, a little ornament of the Chicago flag.

“For where you went to college,” he said. You laughed wetly and set it aside, pulling out the little blown glass bottle of Tabasco sauce next. “Because you love your spicy foods.” You laughed harder at that, actually crying now, and turned the delicate bottle over in your fingers before setting it aside, too. Next was a little metal Space Needle and you laughed, holding it up and watching it glint in the light. “That’s for obvious reasons.”

“Clearly,” you laughed again, drying your eyes with the ornament still in your hands. “Joel…”

“Should be a few more in there,” he said, smiling. You gave him a look and went back into the box. There was a little Texas ornament with a heart over Austin and you held it up, turning it back and forth in the light. “Figured the lone star state needed representation…”

“Of course,” you laughed, setting that ornament next to the others and pulling out the last one. “Oh, Joel…”

It was a little couple with the words “Our First Christmas” written on a ribbon over their heads. Joel’s name was painted on the scarf of one, yours on the other.

“Since I was kinda hoping you’d be around next Christmas, too, thought we could start a collection,” he said. “And now you’ve got a few ornaments of your own.”

“This is…” you said running your thumb over the little people in your palm. “I don’t even have a tree!”

“Sure you do,” he said, nodding to the one in the corner. “You heard Sarah. You’re a Miller now. One more thing in there, Beautiful.”

You frowned, setting the ornament down and nudging aside tissue paper until you got to the bottom. You gasped again and Joel smiled at the sound as you pulled a stocking out of the box. It was simple, red velvet with a forest green trim and a white fur top, your name embroidered across the top of it.

“Not Christmas without a stocking,” he smiled.

You held it in your hands, your fingers running over the soft fur at the top, tracing the gold thread of your name. He set the box aside and put his hands in his back pockets.

“No one’s ever…” your voice was thick and wet and you looked up at him. “This is incredible, Joel. I don’t even know what to say…”

“Just say you’ll spend Christmas with me,” he said. “At least this Christmas. Hopefully a lot more, too, but we’ll start with this one.”

You laughed.

“Good luck getting me to spend time anywhere else now,” you kissed him, your arms around his neck, pressing your front tightly to his. He held you close, his arms going around you, fingers gripping your ribs and hip tight and he kissed you back, kissed you like he never wanted to stop kissing you. Because he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever.

Not even when the two of you realized Sarah was standing in the entry way.

***

“What the fuck?”

The sound of Sarah’s voice made you jump. You all but leapt away from Joel, your eyes wide and wet, the stocking still in your hand.

Joel’s gift had been so damn thoughtful and kind and perfect you’d completely forgotten that Sarah was in town and due home eventually. Even though she arrived a bit earlier than you or apparently Joel had expected.

The gift really had floored you. No one had ever done anything like that for you, had found things just for you, put something together for you so you could be a part of something like a holiday. The only time you’d ever been gone to things like this it had been on the fringes, tacked on as an extra. Which was fine, you understood that. But feeling welcomed into the middle of it all was something else entirely and you were so in love with Joel at that moment it felt like your heart might burst with it.

And then Sarah was there.

“Sarah…” your voice cracked. “I… This…”

“Have you two seriously been fucking this whole time?” She gaped at you.

Your eyes darted to Joel who looked back at you, eyes wide. He clearly wasn’t ready for this conversation right now either.

“I should go,” you said quickly, all but running for the door. “Let you two talk…”

“No, wait!” Joel called after you but you ignored him, ducking around Sarah and out into the yard.

It had gotten dark since you’d come to Joel’s and the Christmas lights on the neighboring houses had turned on, the red and green and white twinkling in the dark as you fought to not sob on your boyfriend’s lawn.

“Shit,” you swore when you realized you’d left your purse inside the house and had no way to get into your damn car to drive yourself home.

Your phone was in your back pocket at least. You pulled it out and went into Uber to order a ride. You could come back later to pick up your car. And your purse. And you had some credit cards loaded on your phone and the corner store down the street from your apartment accepted that at least so you wouldn’t be totally screwed if you needed something before Sarah left town….

The Christmas lights on Joel’s house flipped on and the brightness of it made you flinch.

“Hey,” Joel called and you turned without thinking, wiping your tears on the backs of your sleeve. He was barefoot, his breath rising on the air in front of him.

“I’m leaving,” you managed, holding up your phone. “Go back in, talk to Sarah…”

“Don’t go,” he cut you off, hands up as he cautiously reached for you. “Come back inside, we can all talk and…”

“I’m not going to ruin your relationship with your daughter, Joel,” you sniffed, looking down at the stocking that was still in your hand. “I love you both too much for that…”

“You love him?” Sarah was in the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist as she jogged over to you both. “Ugh, it’s cold out here!”

“Sarah…” you tried to find the words. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t… It’s not like… I know you’re upset…”

“What?” She gaped at you and laughed a little. “Babes, I’m not mad!”

You sniffed and dried your eyes with your sleeve again.

“You’re not?”

“No!” She laughed. “I mean I guess I’m a little ticked that you both hid this from me but I’m just glad I’m not insane!”

“What do you mean?” You shook your head. “I don’t…”

“Bestie!” She came and grabbed your shoulders and met your eyes. “It was a set up! I’ve thought you two would be a great couple for fucking years but I knew you’d freak out if I actually told you that. I kind of hoped things would get there on their own and that you two would hit it off and be friends, why do you think I was so let down when you said you weren’t `hanging out?”

“You…” you frowned, the tears finally slowing. “You were trying to set us up?”

“Yes!” She laughed. “I mean, yeah, it might be a little weird - and please don’t talk to me about my dad the way you have past boyfriends because ew - but you two are my favorite people! You have so much in common and you both deserve something good and I know you’ll be good to each other. I just felt like I was insane for thinking you two would want to hang out once you met and then you didn’t. But I was right!”

“You’re such a dick!” You laughed and she laughed too. “I’ve been freaking out for like two months!”

“Well that’s what you get for not telling me everything,” she smiled. “Except you’ll need to find someone else to talk to about sex now. I might be weird enough to set my best friend up with my dad but even I have my limits. Also, I’m not going to call you mom.”

You laughed and Joel draped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head.

“Shouldn’t be so sneaky, baby girl,” he said, but he was smiling.

“Well you never listen any other way,” she said. “Now I’m still cold and there’s hot cocoa and snacks waiting inside…”

“Oh!” You said. “I forgot, I have something in the car…”

You ran back inside and grabbed your keys and pulled some covered dishes out of the back seat. Sarah frowned, her arms still around her waist.

“It might be dumb, but…” You held up the containers. “I made a bunch of gingerbread and frosting and got candy and stuff…”

“You brought stuff to make gingerbread houses?” Sarah practically squealed. “Knew you’d make a great Miller!”

You laughed and Joel took the dishes from you as the three of you turned to head back inside. You stopped for a second and looked up at the house, the whole thing trimmed in colorful lights, a family of light up reindeer in the front yard. You smiled at it, looking like the home you always wished you had as a girl.

“You really made something amazing here, Joel,” you said.

“Did my best,” he shrugged. “But now that you and Sarah are here? It’s perfect.”

You smiled at him and your best friend before going inside to hang your stocking up next to theirs where it belonged.

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHHHH Sarah finally knows and YES, for those playing along at home, it was indeed a set up from the start. She's sneaky, that one!

Also, in case you're wondering, the ornament Joel gets Beautiful for the two of them? A variation on something like this. Isn't it the fucking cutest thing???

I hope you've loved this fic because I've loved writing it. Just one chapter left to put a bow on everything! Thank you so much for reading and for being here. Love you!!

Taglist: @fanficismydrug

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #new in town

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myosotisa · 1 year

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scoops steve is a mood so can I request scoops steve??

you absolutely can, my friend!! here is some jealous!Reader with some Scoops Ahoy Steve

New and Different

ǁ summary: You visit your boyfriend at work for the first time and catch him talking with an old classmate. Your envy takes over.

ǁ tags: implied fem!reader, jealousy, happy ending, fluffy, content warning for scoops ahoy shorts because they are simply too much

ǁ word count: 1.8k

One of the problems with Steve working at Scoops Ahoy is that stupid little outfit he has to wear every day.

The two of you had only been dating a few weeks when you decided to visit him at work for the first time. You’d seen the outfit before, of course, but only in the privacy of your own home where it felt like all the thigh on display was completely for your own enjoyment. Seeing him wearing it in public leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you are reluctant to acknowledge is a burning pit of jealousy.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” his smile is absolutely radiant in the bright overheads of the shop the moment he sees you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of getting to see such a babe during my work day?”

“That depends,” no one is waiting to order so you walk right up to the counter, hands pressed to the vinyl as you lean in toward him, “how many free samples are you allowed to give out?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you as the corners of his eyes crinkle in joy. “For you? I’d sample every flavor.”

The sentiment makes your heart warm as it thumps in your chest. A bit shy, you ask, “Even though you hate people asking for a ton of samples?”

“What can I say?” His head tilts to the side, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

It’s your turn to laugh, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Okay, smooth operator, why don’t you–”

“God, will you two STOP.” Robin pushes her way out of the swinging doors to your left with a dramatic flourish, hands in the air as she gives you her most exasperated look yet. “We get it, you’re in puppy love, you’re making us all sick with your shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest as he leans a hip against the counter to tilt toward her. “You’re just jealous you’re sad and alone.”

“Wow, dingus, that really hurts,” she retorts in a total monotone, “how will I ever recover from being attacked like this?”

“Sorry Robin,” you offer to try and limit their bickering, an apologetic smile flashed her way. She seems to appreciate the gesture at the very least as she goes to grab what she came to the front for before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Steve is quick to offer you an apology on her behalf that you insist you don’t need and the two of you go back to awkwardly flirting while he puts together a two scoop bowl of ice cream for you. He has a break in 15 minutes or so, encouraging you to take a seat so he can join you when he is able to relinquish his post.

Having no plans this afternoon, you’re quick to agree, settling into a booth on the left hand wall with a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Unfortunately, you are not the only one vying for a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Honestly, you don’t even remember her name. Someone from high school that had never said two words to you but probably was an attendee at all of Steve’s parties in his big, empty house on the edge of town. He’d told you recently that people from high school hadn’t treated him very kindly since he started working at the mall – after his falling out with Tommy, his breakup with Nancy, and his failure to get into college, he had changed a lot. So you can see the apprehension he is trying to hide as she approaches the counter and he greets her.

He looks utterly delighted when she not only remembers him, but also seems happy to see him. Acting like old friends catching up and not just 2 people who were acquaintances catching up barely 2 months after graduating in the same class. He’s all bright smiles as he takes her order and they keep talking and you really, really want to be happy for him. You should be happy that he is finally interacting with someone who knew him at King Steve and isn’t being rude or dismissive of him now. That is what a girlfriend should want for her boyfriend.

But she is laughing too brightly and airly. Her hair is twisted around her finger and she looks way more popular – and therefore more attractive – than you. She’s watching him too closely, her gaze shifting down to his ass and thighs in his stupid little shorts when he turns around. And when he hands her the waffle cone she ordered, her fingers linger a little too long on his. Plus, you bet she doodled her phone number with a little heart next to it on her receipt when she slid it back to him. Bitch.

Okay, wait. Hold on there. The little green monster of envy that you try to hide deep in your gut very quickly took the reins of your thoughts for a few moments there. You trust Steve and you know he would never do anything to encourage someone flirting with him or do anything to betray you like that. He probably has no idea she was flirting/checking him out and he doesn’t even look twice when she struts out of the store and calls back to Robin that he’s taking his break.

Which doesn’t leave you nearly enough time to try to recover from your jealousy and the shame that accompanies it before he’s sliding into the booth across from you.

“Hey honey, is this seat taken?” He asks, like a loser, even though he is already sitting in it.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to fully reset yourself, you offer your best attempt at a flirty retort. “Actually, I was saving it for my boyfriend.”

And there’s that lovesick smile again, the apples of his cheeks dusting pink as he runs a hand through his hat-hair. “Well isn’t he a lucky guy?” You hum an agreement before returning your attention to your almost entirely uneaten ice cream that has been steadily melting in front of you since he handed it to you 15 minutes ago. “You’ve barely eaten a bite, did you end up not liking what you picked? Because I can go and grab something else–”

He’s halfway out of his seat again when you hold out a hand to stop him. “No, no, it’s good. Totally fine. I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” Falling back to sit, he takes your outstretched hand in his own and rubs his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “What was so distracting that you let award winning Scoops Ahoy brand ice cream melt?” He can barely say it with a serious face, and he makes sure to draw out the word distracting like he knows the answer. And he’s probably assuming you were distracted looking at him, which, in a way, you technically were. Just not in the way that he thinks.

“That girl who was just in here,” his eyebrows raise, pink lips forming a small ‘o’ in surprise, obviously having not anticipated this topic of conversation, “I don’t remember her name, but she went to school with us, right?”

“Yeah, Anna Jakobi. She said she was doing some shopping for some party on Saturday at Carla’s, asked if I wanted to go.”

It feels like your heart drops into your stomach. “Are you going to go?”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, obviously confused. “No? I work in the afternoon and then we are going to see a movie with Dustin before he leaves for camp. That’s still the plan, right?”

Although slightly relieved, you still don’t feel entirely settled. “That was the plan but if you’d rather go to this party at Carla’s then you can, I won’t stop you–”

“Hey.” You return to making eye contact with him, not realizing you’d been avoiding doing so for the last few minutes. He looks confused and concerned, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Did I do something wrong? It kinda feels like you’re mad at me.”

“No!” You try to assure him, way too quickly to sound normal, as you bring your other hand up to rub at your forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, you’re perfect, I promise.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

How are you going to get out of this one?

After taking a few moments to try to find an excuse, you settle on: “I just know you’ve been kinda bummed about losing some of the people you talked to in high school as friends so it sounds like a good opportunity to, I dunno… Reconnect with some of them.”

He chuckles again, a small smile returning. “I don’t really know if I would call a lot of those people my ‘friends’. But you’re right, I was pretty bummed.” A long exhale leaves his nose, his eyes falling to watch his thumb as it continues its gentle glide across your knuckles. “Still, I would much rather spend time with you and Dustin than go to some party.”

You want to believe it. You really do. But the jealousy had linked hands with your insecurity and muddled everything up. “You’d probably have a lot more fun with them,” and you follow it up with an awkward laugh. If only you could bring those words back into your mouth and swallow them so they were never heard from again.

“No way,” he shakes his head, honey shaded eyes returning to yours with a certainty that makes you feel all warm inside, “nothing’s more fun than spending time with my girl.”

The ice melts further, your posture visibly relaxing at the term of endearment as you layer your other hand on top of his. He looks relieved at the smile that returns to you before you see an idea visibly click behind his gaze. “Wait, were you jealous? About me talking to Anna?”

The way you quickly squeak out a “No” makes your case in no way convincing.

And where you’re expecting disgust or anger or maybe pity, you find none. If anything, he looks delighted at this discovery. “You were jealous. That’s why you sat here that whole time without eating any of your ice cream.”

Embarrassment piles on top of your shame, your mood plummeting. “Don’t be mean, Steve.”

He just shrugs, his delighted expression never falling. “I don’t know, honey. It’s kind of a turn on.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, sitting up straighter as you blink your widened eyes rapidly. “What?”

“You seeing me talking to a girl and getting all possessive over me? That’s hot, actually.”

Your heart is absolutely hammering in your chest as you mirror the smile on his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he confirms a little too enthusiastically, grabbing the attention of someone walking in before you both duck your heads and giggle when they look away. “You can get possessive over me all you want, babe. I’m yours and you’re mine. My girl.”

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 1 year

Text

I don't want to hear thoughts... Unless they're yours.

Chapter 10: You're worth it. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.6k Warning: I don't think there are any here? Just so much fluff. Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: A day around the pool with the Maximoff family and and evening with your favorite neighbour, is just the perfect way to spend a Sunday. Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 ; Part 9; Part 10; Series materlist Masterlist of all my works

You couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda the entire night. You thought of the day you had with her as you showered, random moments replaying in your mind and making you smile, you thought of the way she kissed you, while you lay in bed, the hungry way her hands pulled you towards her, the warm feeling of being in her presence. She was so dreamy. But you knew that about her, you just never allowed yourself to really feel it, scared to get infatuated with a woman, who wouldn’t want you back. But she did! She kissed you! God, it felt so good to be kissed by her. You were practically melting, just remembering it. With all those thoughts, it took hours to finally fall asleep. You kept thinking about the next day, thinking of what you’ll do together, what kind of lunch you’ll prepare, what to wear, if the house was clean and orderly enough. With all of it, it was a miracle you fell asleep at all. It certainly wasn’t easy… When you woke up, you started with preparations, coffee and getting the house in order, picking an appropriate bathing suit, checking the fridge if you had enough food and running to the shower, so you could shave. It felt like time was flying by and soon enough your doorbell rang and you were met with the happy faces of the Maximoff family. Wanda, listening to your thoughts, had been the same mess, but she looked so much more composed than you did. She wore a charming sundress, the straps of her bathing suit peaking out around her neck. She looked lovely. But it was her smile that you thought made her look so beautiful. It was what you looked forward to the most. Billy and Tommy were right behind her and they greeted you with enthusiasm, excitedly telling you that they had floaties now, barely waiting till they could jump in the water. You watched Wanda help them settle, while you made her a coffee, remembering the first time you invited them over. They looked more relaxed now and so did you. Although, the kiss you shared with Wanda the previous night had you on edge a little. Did she want that to happen again? You hoped so, reasoning that she probably wouldn’t have come to your house if she didn’t. The kids were just jumping in the water when you brought out the coffee, setting it on the table next to Wanda and pulling off your dress, before you lost your courage. Sitting on your lounge chair opposite her, you watched her do the same, confident and perfectly composed. She looked gorgeous and you wondered if you should tell her that, when her voice interrupted your thoughts and brought you back to her.

“Thank you for having us again, Y/N. The boys were over the moon when they heard we’re coming here.” She said with a smile. “It’s my pleasure.” You smiled back at her. “I see that they’re enjoying their new floaties.” “Yes, they were very happy when they arrived.” “They seem to be.” You smiled, looking over at the two boys. “I’m also very happy to see you again.” She said with a knowing look in her eyes. “So am I.” You said, trying to look away from her eyes. She turned you shy so easily, that you weren’t sure how you were going to last a whole day in her presence. “I had a great time yesterday. I hope you know that.” Wanda continued, wanting to reach out and take your hand in hers and finding herself too far away to do it. “So did I. I’m so glad you invited me.” You nodded. It seemed that she wanted to reassure you and show you that her intentions haven’t changed and it was working, easily melting you into a more relaxed state. “I might have had an ulterior motive for that.” Wanda smirked, fixing you with a knowing look. “Miss Maximoff!” You feigned shock. “How unbecoming of you, to invite me to your house under false pretences.” “Oh honey…” She chuckles, low and seductive. “You have no idea how lucky you are for that interruption… Without it, I might have taken advantage of you.” She says, a glint of longing in her eyes, as if imagining herself doing it right as she spoke to you. Right as she looked you in the eye. “You’d do such a thing?” You let out an overly dramatic gasp, smiling that she played along with your joke. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” She says with a mysterious look on her face, fixing you with one last stare, before she lays across her lounge chair, her perfect body on display in front of your hungry gaze. Her words are so alluring, so tempting and you find yourself hoping to find out what exactly is that woman capable of and something tells you that’s what she wanted. She knew she was putting a dangerous thought in your head and she knew you would spend the next minutes that passed, thinking of nothing but the things she might have done to you, had you stayed last night. God, that woman was a tease. And she was good at it too. You tried and failed to ignore the urge to think back on last night, laying down on your lounge chair, just as she had, while your mind wandered back to the way she held you, the way she touched you, the way she made you wrap your legs around her as she kissed you. The feeling of her had been electrifying, almost leaving you in a daze, had it not been for the interruption. What would she have done, had this not happened? How far would she have gone? What about you? How far would you let her get, while drunk on her lips?

“Save those thoughts for later.” You heard Wanda’s voice, which pulled you back to reality. The woman was smirking again, playful eyes studying you curiously. For a moment you stood frozen in place. The cockiness of that woman! She was so sure of herself and it made you want to prove her wrong, even if she wasn’t. “What makes you think I was thinking of you?” You asked, returning her smile. If Wanda wasn’t a mind-reader, your comment would have made her jealous. You weren’t meant to think of anyone but her. But her power gave her the confidence she would have lacked otherwise and she knew you were simply pushing her buttons, trying to rile her up, just as she was doing. “Call it intuition.” She said, winking at you. “You’re very sure of yourself, Miss Maximoff.” You countered, taking a sip from your now cold coffee. “It’s what you like about me.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that right?” She challenged. “I have to say, it is very attractive on you.” You admitted. You didn’t mind telling her that, especially since it was true. You usually didn’t like conceding so quickly, but you had to admit that you liked her. You liked how freely she talked with you, you liked that she was interested from the start, the she came to see you, that she took the time to talk to you, to take care of you, even when you were stubbornly refusing her. You liked her confidence too, her easy grace, you liked her inner strength too, but what you liked most of all was how comfortable she made you feel in her presence. Now that was a rare quality and you were grateful for it. Not that you had much time to think. Between Wanda and the boys, lunch came quickly and you found yourself easily mesmerised by the image of the redheaded woman, cooking in your kitchen in only a bathing suit and a pareo on top. She looked so homey and relaxed, smiling as she once again took charge, even if she was in fact in your house.

“Would you hand me the flower, dear?” You heard her say, pulling you from your trance-like state of admiration. “Sure.” You said, biting your lip in hopes of covering how much you were actually looking. “And how is the salad coming along?” She asked, one hand on her hip, while the other was taking the bag of flower from you, a pointed look directing you at your cutting board with half a tomato waiting to still be sliced. She might have looked a little cross, had you not seen the playful smile on her lips. “Almost done.” You smiled back, directing your attention at the task at hand. Wanda only hummed, holding back any further remarks she might have had. She liked your eyes on her. She wanted your attention more than ever and she didn’t mind using some of her tricks to get it. She would touch you, casually placing a hand on your lower back, or your shoulder, she’d take small pieces of food from your cutting board, sometimes to take a bite, but sometimes to feed them to you. Her breath would hitch every time your lips touched the tips of her fingers and she practically saw flashes of your thoughts, as you pictured yourself sucking on those long, slender digits of hers, leaving her even more eager to fully have you. Having to behave herself was driving her crazy and she briefly considered just pulling you in for that kiss she’s been craving from the first moment she saw you today, but the sound of her sons, splashing each-other with water and laughing outside made her stop. She wanted to keep this between the two of you for a little while longer. When the meal was prepared, the four of you ate together, the conversation dominated by the boys. They were full of energy and eager to play, like every day, so they did their best to finish their meals quickly and you found them some games to enjoy, while you and Wanda continued to talk. She got more and more comfortable around your home, picking out a playlist of hers and singing along to the lyrics while the two of you cleaned up and you found yourself thinking that you liked it. You found it nice, to share your space with the family next door, to share your things and your days with them. You liked having Wanda sing in your kitchen with a spoon for a microphone. It was heart-warming. The boys however found it funny and soon, all four of you were holding ridiculous objects, singing along with the music that played. “I have to say, this is one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to.” You tell Wanda, as the two of you sit on the couch and watch Billy and Tommy perform one of their favorite children’s songs, one of them holding a glass, while the other had found one of your small decorative vases and held it up to his mouth as he sang. They were hilarious.

The redhead didn’t dare say otherwise, looking at her two boys with love and adoration in her eyes, although they sometimes darted towards you and she found herself beaming with joy that you were genuinely enjoying yourself. Of course, the two of you weren’t spared and had to perform and your jaw almost dropped, when Wanda picked an alternative rock song and proceeded to perform the guitar solo in the air for a minute straight, leaving you speechless. “That was… Unexpected.” You said as she sat beside you, while the boys were picking another song. “More unexpected than telling you I used to play on an acoustic guitar?” She asked with a raised brow. “You did?” You asked, your eyes growing bigger at the news. “I did.” You watched her nod in confirmation. “I would have never guessed.” You smiled, body turning more towards her. “Do you still have that guitar?” “No… Not anymore.” Wanda confessed, though it seemed that it didn’t bother her. “So I guess I shouldn’t ask to hear you play sometimes?” “Some things will just have to remain a mystery.” Wanda sighed dramatically and gave you a sly smile as she once again fixed her eyes on the boys. “Watch this. The dance is to die for!” Wanda whispered, as if sharing a secret. It turned out she was right. The dance really was funny and it set the tone for more games in the pool, all four of you jumping in the water. The rest of the day passed quickly like this, though this time Wanda made sure to pull you away from the kids from time to time and have your company just to herself. She loved it. She made sure to share the sunset with you, your eyes getting this dreamy quality as you looked up at the sky. “A sloop of amber slips away Upon an ether sea, And wrecks in peace a purple tar, The son of ecstasy.” You found yourself reciting, before you could stop the words from spilling out. A little embarrassed, you didn’t dare look at Wanda for a few moments, your cheeks tinted pink. “That was beautiful.” She said with a note of softness and awe in her voice. “Emily Dickinson.” You shrugged. “Her poetry is always beautiful.” “I think that you are beautiful.” Wanda found herself saying, a whispered, yet honest admission.

The compliment would have made you look away again, but you couldn’t this time. Wanda’s gaze was holding you in place, her eyes searching yours as she took your hand in hers, getting closer, until she was sitting right next to you. You could see the honesty written on her face, you could see a longing within her as she looked at your lips, you could practically feel the pull between the two of you as she shortened the distance between you and connected your lips. The kiss was sweet and full of gentleness and tender passion, and you found yourself responding eagerly, your body melting against her, as her other hand found purchase on your cheek, cupping it softly and refusing to let go, even when her lips pulled away. “I wanted to do that since this morning.” Wanda found herself admitting, a small smile playing at her lips, when your blush only deepened. “I hoped you would.” You said, as you allowed her to get closer to you again. You hoped for another kiss, you hoped you would taste her again, even if just for a moment, but the sound of Billy and Tommy running outside, their laughter and playful teasing, as they chased each-other around the pool signalled you both to pull away and the redhead gave you one last apologetic look, before she look your hand in hers and led you towards where the children played. “What have I said, boys? No running! Go inside and wash your hands. We’ll have dinner on the table soon.” She instructed, confidence pouring from every word as the two of you moved towards them. “OK.” They agreed defeatedly, dragging their feet a little as they made their way inside. “Sorry for the interruption.” She gave a nervous laugh. “But I do hope that you’ll let me make it up to you.” She whispered in a sultry tone, once again getting closer, her hand wrapping around your waist, until you were flush against her. “I like the sound of that.” You smiled, your arms wrapping around her neck as you looked at her. Wanda didn’t wait for a second invitation, the last of her patience shattering at the feeling of your barely clothed body right against hers. She could feel your warm skin against her, smell the sun lotion and chloride, she could sense the anticipation within you as she held you and she needed to kiss you again, or she was going to explode. This time, she didn’t hesitate to take control of the kiss, deepening it quickly and letting out a soft little moan, when she felt your tongue glide across hers. You were so responsive to her, letting her in and giving her full control, allowing yourself to give in to this moment completely, to savour everything she offered, until you were both breathless and panting against each-other. “I want a proper date.” Wanda said, her eyes never leaving yours. “I want you all to myself.” Her hands wouldn’t let go of you either, fingers itching to roam freely across your skin. “We should arrange that.” You agreed, your face inching closer to her again, in hopes of receiving another kiss from her. “Hopefully soon.” Wanda insisted, before shortening the distance between the two of you once more. The kiss was brief, but full and the two of you pulled away breathless. Wanda’s hooded eyes were even more mesmerising than usual, her features soft and almost blissful. She held you in her arms a little longer, content to just look at you, a slender hand reaching up to stroke your face. “So beautiful.” She whispered, a gentle, genuine smile taking over her features.

The pink that spread across your cheeks at her words gave her a boost of confidence and Wanda tucked your hair behind your ear, almost leaning once again, when the sounds from inside the house signalled you both that the two boys were getting impatient and she reluctantly pulled away from you, taking your hand in hers, and leading the way inside. “I really mean what I said about arranging a date.” Wanda looked back as she made her way through the door. “I’d be happy to.” You nodded, but before the two of you could actually set a plan, the boys were all over you both and you knew that it would have to wait until after dinner. Wanda wasn’t surprised that the boys were exhausted fairly quickly after your meal. They had skipped their afternoon nap and played all day, so when they started rubbing their eyes tiredly, she slowly started to get them ready to leave, despite their many protests. “Let me put them to bed and I’ll come by to help you clean up?” Wanda asked at the door. She was hoping to get you alone for a little bit, even if it was just to talk. “You don’t have to. I probably won’t stay up long either, I have work early tomorrow.” “Well, I’ll try to swing by and help.” Wanda insisted. She knew that you were refusing her offer for help out of politeness. Something you did often. Which is why, she had decided that she’d listen to your thoughts, not your words. As soon as you exchanged your goodbyes and you watched Wanda herd Billy and Tommy into her house, you quickly started to put everything in order, filling the dishwasher and starting a program, throwing your bathing suit and towels into the washing machine, setting everything to its rightful place and straightening the house. By the time Wanda came back and rang the doorbell you were done. “Hey!” She greeted with a kind smile. “I hope I didn’t take too long.” “No, you’re just in time. I was thinking of opening a nice bottle of wine. White or red?” You offered smoothly. “You finished already?” She asked a little surprised. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me, by keeping me company.” You shrugged, taking down two wine glasses from the shelf. “Well, in that case, it’s you who should pick the wine.” She said, joining you in the kitchen. “White it is.” You smiled, pulling out a bottle from the fridge. Once you poured and handed Wanda her glass, the two of you sat together on the couch, sipping slowly and sharing a nice conversation. You could feel the energy between the two of you, the tension, that wave of desire that washed over you as you watched her lick her lips, or casually compliment you. She was smooth, seductive and effortlessly beautiful and you couldn’t help but admire her.

“I like it when you look at me like that, pretty girl.” Wanda remarked, leaving her glass of wine on the table and sitting herself closer to you. “Makes me wonder what you’re thinking of…” She said as played with your hair. You followed her lead, leaving your glass and focusing your attention entirely on her. “I’m thinking of you. And how beautiful you are.” You said honestly. “It’s the first thing I thought when I met you, actually.” You admitted a little shyly. Wanda smiled, soft and sweet, while she remembered that moment. How she stood at your door, apple pie in hand and how the first thought that crossed your mind when you saw her was that she is beautiful. “You’re such a sweet girl.” She found herself whispering, her body moving forward slowly. She cupped your cheek in her hand, feeling the softness of your skin and the way your breath hitched, she could sense the anticipation within you, a sort of longing for her to kiss you again and she couldn’t help but oblige your unspoken request. When your lips connected, Wanda did her best to take things slow, to just let herself enjoy this moment of intimacy that you shared. She tried to keep the thoughts of your fantasies at bay, to keep her own ideas at the back of her mind, so they wouldn’t take hold of her and make her act too quickly. When it was time for her to take you, she wanted you to be desperate for her, wanted you to be so needy, she wanted you to crave her so utterly, that you wouldn’t be able to stand another moment without her touch. When the time came, she wanted you eager and yearning for her. And God, you were making it so hard for her to hold back. You were so pliable, so eager in her hands, your body leaning backwards, until your back hit the couch cushions and you took her down with you, letting her lay on top of you, as she kissed your lips. She could taste the wine you had just been sipping, rich and delicious, just like you and she loved it. It didn’t take long for Wanda to deepen the kiss, manoeuvring your leg around her waist, just like she had done yesterday at her house, settling between your legs and letting her hands explore you. She felt so good, carefree and full of desire, full of hope for you and her and she loved it. She wanted to hold on to it, as much as she could, letting the minutes pass in nothing but kisses. She could hear your gentle moans and pants, feel your hands hold on to her back, or scratch at her shoulders, nimble fingers playing with her hair and teasing the hem of her shirt. By the time she pulled away, panting, you were an absolute masterpiece. Your lips swollen and wet from her kisses, your eyes hooded and full of desire, your breasts rising and falling in heavy breaths as you looked up at her. Fuck, she loved it. She could picture it already, how beautiful you would look while she ruined you, how cute you would look, all cuddled up, between her sheets, how good it would feel, once she has her arms wrapped around you, while you sleep peacefully. Yes, she could picture it all perfectly. You were the one.

Which is why, she needed to take it slowly. Needed to give you some more time, to really adjust to the thought of you and Wanda. She knew that thought used to scare you, used to make you feel uneasy and she didn’t want such a thing to stand between you. She wanted you to be sure that you want her, when she takes the next step. She also needed to know why, needed to understand you a little better. And for that you needed time. “You’re so gorgeous like this.” She commented as she still hovered above you, watching your cheeks turn pink once more. “Thank you. So are you.” You said softly. “I should probably head back home.” Wanda continued, studying your face and seeing a flash of hurt and self-doubt pass through your eyes. “I hope you know I want to stay.” She added quickly, hoping to reassure you. “I just want to move things slow.” She admitted. “I want to do this the right way.” She added. “Take you out and show you how serious I am about this.” “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone has done for me.” You said, suddenly surprising the woman with such words. “No one else told you that you’re worth the wait, baby?” She asked, watching you shake your head. “Well, you are.” Wanda said with conviction in her eyes, finally getting up from her position on top of you and offering you her hand, so you could sit up. “Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” You whispered, feeling vulnerable and exposed under her gaze. To your surprise, the other woman pulled you towards her, hugging you tightly and holding you against her chest, her arms wrapping around you securely. She ran her fingers through your hair soothingly, listening to the thoughts that passed within you. Past hurts, disappointments, regrets, all the people who wanted you for nothing but your body, all the people, who didn’t think you were worth the effort. She could see them all. And she wanted to erase every trace of them and show you how much better she could treat you. She felt the inner struggle too, the way you fought to push those memories aside and look at Wanda with eyes, unburdened by the past. You want to give her the chance she deserved and it melted her heart. You had so much strength, so much determination, to push all that aside and remain strong, to not show her, how much something so simple had affected you. “I’m really happy that I got to spend today with you.” She said, when you managed to pull away from her embrace. “I really loved it.” “So did I. It’s always a pleasure to see you and the boys.” You nodded, smiling at her. God, she really liked that smile. “I hope to see more of you.” She added. “Hopefully soon.” “Of course.” You nodded. “Well, all right, I’ll leave you for now.” She said, seemingly more to herself, as if she had to talk herself into leaving, before she stood from the couch, once again offering you her hand and helping you up. “Good night, Y/N.” She spoke in soft tone, pulling you closer to her again. “Goodnight, Wanda.” You smiled as you once again landed in her arms. “Will you let me kiss you again?” The redheaded woman asked tentatively, the only betrayal of insecurity you had seen all day. Instead of an answer, it was you who shortened the distance this time, claiming her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You rose to your tip-toes, arms wrapping around her neck gingerly as hers circled your waist once again and she held you tightly to herself, unable to let go for a long moment, even after the kiss finally broke. “Sweet dreams, Wanda.” You said with a smile, showing Wanda to the door. “They certainly will be, after that kiss.” She said as she stepped outside. “They certainly will be.”

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