#he had expected to make a tree house with Maria one day. not to be fighting his evil space dad over the fate of the world XD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sameheart-sameblood · 2 years ago

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Need You Now

gif credit: @javier-pena

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when your new life in jackson leaves little time for each other, you and joel sneak away looking for some privacy

words: 3.6k

warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, soft joel strikes again

a/n: apologies for this *gestures at the whole fic* i was horny and joel is hot

read on ao3!

You’re surrounded by people, yet all you can focus on is Joel. That’s not unusual. You could be in a room of hundreds and still hone in on his whereabouts in an instant, like some kind of heat seeking missile.

It’s how it’s always been with you two. He’s the heat, you’re the incessant missile. Being together for a few years, you’d think that your draw to him would have lessened slightly. But it just seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

Joel knows it, too. He remains in conversation with Maria and a group of her devoted followers but you can’t miss the ghost of a smirk as he senses your eyes on him. He teases you by bringing the beer he’s holding to his lips, leaving them lingering on the rim much longer than necessary.

Joel finishes his swig, running his thumb gliding across his lips to collect the residual beads of moisture left behind. Asshole. He’s toying with you and there’s nothing you can do about.

As you wander home from the party later hand in hand, you pull him aside. The shadows of the Aspen Trees lining the pathway gives you some seclusion as you press your lips to Joel’s. He grunts in surprise but quickly melts into your embrace. Only the sound of Ellie and Tommy calling your names make you break apart.

You hide for a moment longer as the hunger for each other threatens to overtake you once again. “I need you,” your voice comes out as a whimper.

Joel cups your chin, bringing your face up to meet his. He kisses you quickly, “I know, honey. Soon.”

******

Life in Jackson was peaceful and idyllic but it left a few things to be desired. The biggest problem was the lack of privacy. Tommy and Maria had been nice enough to put you up in their house the past few months. The one they offered you across the street from them needed repairs. All of the unoccupied houses in the community had varying levels of damage that needed to be addressed before you could move in.

They had let you pick out the house you wanted, a truly generous offer that had left you speechless. The last one you had seen was a milled log cabin on the bank of a large pond within the Jackson boundaries. The house was tinier than some of the other offerings but it just felt right. It felt like home.

One look at Joel had told you he felt the same way. The two of you gazed in awe at the cabin that would soon be yours, your arms encircling each other. The peace was broken by Ellie grumbling, “You guys would choose the most ‘old person’ house in town.”

You grinned, used to her saying whatever thought crossed her mind. “What would you expect from two certified old people?” Joel grumbled at being called old but kissed you on the top of your head, pulling you closer.

One arm still encircling Joel, you reached out to Ellie. “Come on. It won’t be so bad. You can decorate your room however you want.” She shuffled towards you, trying to hide how desperately she wanted to be included in the scene of domestic bliss.

“Can I get first pick of rooms, too?” she asked hopefully as she snuck into your embrace.

Joel reached around you to tousle her hair. “Not a chance, El.”

******

Your cabin, cute as it is, has a few pressing matters to deal with before it can be occupied. The cosmetic issues have been fixed but the roof is due to be completely replaced and the floor needs reinforcement. While those are finished, you’ve been crashing at Tommy and Maria’s house.

The one free bedroom they have to offer is your current home. The bed is shared by you and Ellie while Joel takes a mat on the floor. Ellie, to her credit, has offered to switch spots with Joel several times. But as she and you both know, he’s too proud to accept the offer. You’re his girls and he won’t have you sleeping on the floor if there’s any other alternative.

The close quarters have, to put it bluntly, put a dent in your sex life. Back in Boston QZ you at least had the privacy of your apartment to sneak away to. There was also no fourteen year old there to cramp your style. You love Ellie to bits but you’ve also never met a bigger cock-block before.

Since you’ve arrived in Jackson it’s been all hushed quickies that you were certain someone would walk in on at any second. Maybe a different person would thrive under that kind of pressure but you want Joel to yourself.

The morning after the party, you’re the first one up, probably because you’re the only one without a hangover. Well, you and Ellie. She’s still asleep, though, too. You decide to make breakfast as a thanks to your hosts. The pancake batter is resting as you begin to crack eggs for omelettes. A pair of arms envelopes you from behind as Joel’s sleepy voice croaks out a ‘good morning’.

You lean back into his chest for a moment, smiling as he hides his head in the crook of your neck. “Coffee’s brewing,” you offer.

“God bless you,” Joel murmurs as he releases you. You giggle as you watch him pour a massive cup and begin sipping without any sugar or cream.

The rest of the household wanders in soon after. Tommy catches sight of you working the griddle and pats your shoulder. “Stay as long as you want,” he grins through a mouth full of barely cooked pancake.

Around the table, the five of you fall into easy conversation. Ellie regales you all with a few of her latest puns and Tommy and Maria share their plans for the day. Eyes fall on you and Joel, waiting expectantly to hear what you’ll be up to. You open your mouth to admit you don’t know when Joel speaks for you. “We need to get some timber for the house. Thought we’d go scout some out.”

Tommy nods, “Good idea. I’ll come with you.”

Joel interjects, “No, you’ve done enough for us already. We can manage this ourselves.” He says it nonchalantly but you don’t miss the way he’s quick to refuse Tommy’s help. “Think we can borrow your truck?” Joel adds.

As Tommy, Maria and Ellie clean up breakfast, you pull Joel aside. “Timber, huh?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He grabs your ass, then leans in to whisper in your ear, “Had to find some way to get you all to myself.”

After the house clears, you and Joel prepare for your outing. You don’t know exactly what Joel has in mind but you know from the look in his eyes earlier it probably doesn’t require much in the way of clothing. Sifting through the pile of Maria’s clothes she had offered when you first arrived, you find a red sundress with white flowers dotted on it. It’s completely impractical. But you’ve grown tired of worn jeans and flannels. You want to feel pretty for your impromptu date.

Joel likes your decision too. He whistles in awe as he sees you walk up to the truck. Your face heats as you beam shyly at the approval. You duck into the backseat, stuffing your backpack full of sensible clothes to change into later into the footwell.

Joel grabs you from behind and turns you around, pressing your back against the car. He cages you in, kissing you fiercely. “You trying to kill me with that dress, honey?” he sighs.

You pat his cheek, then push him gently away. “Come on, cowboy. Can’t keep that timber waiting.”

The drive takes you past Jackson security. They wave you through after they hear where you’re planning on heading. Joel has to assure them that you’re fully armed and prepared for stepping outside of the safety of the community.

It’s been awhile since you’ve been past the safety of the walls. You should be nervous but all you feel is anticipation. For the first time in weeks, you have Joel truly all to yourself.

“You wanna tell me where you’re taking me?”

Joel smiles at you, “I saw a clearing by a little lake when we made our way into town last supply run. Think you’d like it.” You can tell he genuinely means it and you smile at him.

“How long will it take to get there?” you ask as you start rubbing his thigh, wandering dangerously close to his belt buckle.

He chuckles, “10 minutes or so. Think you can wait?”

No. You’ve been waiting long enough.

You shrug, face deceptively calm. “Might as well get started without you.”

Joel glances at you, smile falling away as he sees you toying with the straps of your dress. “What are you doing?”

You offer him your best doe-eyed look of innocence. “Nothing, Joel.” The strap of your left shoulder falls and you pull at it more to expose your breast. “Just taking care of myself since you won’t do it for me.” Definitely not teasing you like you did to me at the party last night.

Joel curses under his breath but doesn’t say anything else, his ability to string together a coherent sentence seemingly gone. You smirk as you pull the other strap down, completely exposing your chest. Your hands wander across your skin, paying extra attention to your nipples when you catch Joel side-eyeing you.

Chuckling at his expense, you pull up the hem of your dress. One hand wanders between your legs as the other continues to play with your hardened nipples. Your clit throbs as you rub it and you let out a relieved moan as you reacquaint yourself with the feeling of pleasure. It hasn’t been that long but god it’s felt like forever.

You sneak a glance at Joel and find his eyes trained ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. His jaw clenches and relaxes over and over. It gives you great joy to see how much you’re affecting him already.

The prairie fades away and trees begin to rapidly rush past your window. Joel’s doing his damndest to make it to the lake before he completely loses it. He won’t dare pull over a second sooner. It would give you too much satisfaction to win at this little game and he’s too proud to admit defeat.

At first, you play up your pleasure to get more of a rise out of him. But soon, the sighs and moans you’ve been exaggerating become very, very real. You don’t want to cum like this, not without his full attention. But you can’t stop now that you’ve started. Subtly, you slow down the rubbing of your clit and silently urge him to get you to your destination.

After a few more minutes that feel like hours, the car stops. You open your eyes and are met with a sight that makes you briefly forget what you were just in the middle of. The lake in front of you isn’t the biggest but it’s blue like a jewel, the hue bright and clear. It’s gorgeous and you can’t wait to go for a swim.

Joel has other plans at the moment, though. You hear his seatbelt unbuckle and he leans over the console, grabbing the back of your neck to make you focus back on him. Your gaze meets his and you know you’re in for it. His eyes, usually a soft, warm brown have turned almost black. They bore into you as he reaches over with his free hand to start rapidly rubbing your clit.

It’s so much better than what you were doing and you close your eyes, basking in the sensation. Joel stops his fingers and tuts, “You keep your eyes on me or you’re not getting anything.” Usually, you’d think about pouting. But you need him and so you just nod vigorously as he rewards you by beginning to rub again.

You settle in, angling yourself more towards Joel and spreading your legs to grant him better access. With his eyes still locked on yours, he moves his fingers down from your clit and shoves two inside of you. You gasp in surprise as he starts fucking you with them. Joel’s usually the lovemaking type but you’ve teased him too much and he needs to teach you a lesson. A lesson you will enjoy but a lesson nonetheless.

Never once do his fingers stop, aided by the slick you’ve built up on the car ride. Moans are drawn out of you, seemingly of their own volition. Your eyes travel down to gape at the sight of his hand working between your legs but he tightens his grip on the back of your neck. He pulls your face closer to his as he watches you, knowing you’re a goner.

Joel’s fingers curl inside you and you’re done for. You cum hysterically, eyes never leaving his. Joel slows his strokes but continues rubbing lazily at your walls, helping you down from your high. He pulls you gently to him and kisses you, back to sensitive Joel.

Finally, you close your eyes, relishing in your orgasm. Joel doesn’t stop you. You don’t even realize that he’s left the car until you hear your door click open. Still in a haze, you’re lead out of the front seat and ushered into the back. You watch as Joel climbs in to sit next to you and closes the door.

You grab for him, pressing your lips to his. It starts sensual and romantic, then quickly devolves into a sloppy make-out session. Joel pushes you to lay down on the seat so he can climb on top. Instead, you push him back into a sitting position so you can clamber onto his lap.

Joel steadies you while you get into position straddling him. It’s uncoordinated and you smack your head on the ceiling. Imagining how clumsy you must look, you let out a laugh. Joel joins in, caressing your face as you smile at each other.

Once the giggles subside, you take his face in your hands. “I’ve missed you.”

The admittance sobers him and he grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’m right here, honey. I’ll always be right here.”

It’s amazing how he can always make you feel as giddy as the first time you admitted your feelings to each other. Your heart leaps, fit to burst and all you can think to do is show him how good he makes you feel. Leaning down, you kiss him with as much passion as you can muster.

You could get lost in the feel of Joel but the sound of a muffled moan coming from him pulls you back to attention. Continuing the kiss, you reach down and start undoing his belt buckle. Years of practice have made you an expert at getting him out of his pants in seconds. But it’s been a minute since you two have done this and you’re so excited you find your fingers don’t seem to work.

Joel smirks as he reaches down to help. He undoes his belt but moves his hands aside so you can continue. Reaching down, you slip his cock free and encircle it, beginning to slide up and down at a languid pace. A soft thud brings your eyes back up and you see Joel has leaned back against the headrest.

Labored breathing fills the truck as you press your lips to Joel’s now exposed neck. You suck red marks along his skin that others back in Jackson are sure to notice. Joel curses but grabs your wrist to encourage you to speed up. You do as requested but soon feel a throbbing between your legs. “Joel,” you whimper and his eyes shoot open to see what’s wrong.

He reads your expression and nods, helping to lift you so you can position his cock at your entrance. Slowly, you lower yourself and the two of you groan in unison. The feeling of him and the realization that you can take as long as you want makes your head spin.

But it becomes apparent that this is gonna be a quick fuck too. “I’m not gonna last long,” Joel confesses.

He’s not the only one. Even just staying still with him inside you is making it hard for you to focus. “It’s ok. I won’t either,” you murmur.

Joel grabs at your sides to encourage you to start moving. You roll your hips against him and Joel’s head falls back against the headrest again. Smirking, you continue the pace. The realization hits you that Joel has entirely too many clothes on. Thankfully he’s wearing the denim shirt with snaps you love so much. You rip it open, exposing his weathered chest and lovely soft belly.

Joel comes to, watching in fascination as you bend down to start kissing his chest, leaving marks there for only the two of you to admire later. The roll of your hips stays consistent until you moan when Joel’s cock hits one of the more sensitive parts of your walls.

The sudden snap of his hips makes you stop in your tracks. You look up to meet his lust clouded eyes and recognize that he needs release and he needs it now. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you bury your face in his neck as he begins to fuck up into you.

Sobs cascade out of you as the pleasure begins to bubble up. They’re muffled into his skin, though. “I wanna hear you,” Joel orders and you nod, leaning back to let your wails fill the truck. They grow louder and more desperate when Joel slows his hips, bringing his mouth to your breasts, sucking on one nipple then moving to the other.

Joel gives one last kiss to each breast, then continues fucking you, hips pistoning up with a fervor you’re not sure he’s had since you’re first days as a couple. Your back arches as you cum, not even able to give him a warning before it happens. You stay that way, paralyzed with bliss as Joel chases after your orgasm.

Collapsing into his chest, you come down from your high as he ruts into you a few more times before spilling his release inside. His cock continues to pulse as he wraps his arms around you. Sighing, you turn your head, pressing your cheek to his chest. His rapid heartbeat soon slows and you lie there for a few minutes listening to its strong pulse. Joel hums a song you don’t know as he rubs your back.

“That’s nice,” you murmur, “What is it?”

Joel answers quietly not wanting to break your little bubble of serenity. “Just something that’s been floating around my head the past few days.”

You straighten up and kiss him. “You’re something special, Joel Miller.”

He looks up at you, a loopy smile plastered on his face. “You’re the only special thing about me, honey.”

A look of incnesed shock flashes onto your face, making Joel laugh. He might not truly believe that there’s nothing special about him but also…he very well could. His confidence and self-worth are maddeningly low for someone who most others would label “the whole package.”

Your thighs tremble from riding him and you long for a nap but you won’t rest until you’ve shown him just how much he means to you. A brush of your lips against his own makes his softened cock, still nestled between your legs, twitch with interest. He may not be as young as he once was but his lust for you never fails.

“Guess I didn’t do a good enough job just now of showing you how exceptional you are. Let’s try again, shall we?”

It takes a few more hours of fucking, interspersed with a brisk skinny dip in the lake, before Joel admits defeat. He concedes that, yes, he is unique, admirable and all of the other complimentary adjectives you’ve bestowed upon him.

The sun begins its descent towards the horizon and it becomes apparent that your day must come to an end. Joel slips back into his jeans and shirt as you abandon the dress to the bottom of your pack in favor of a more practical hoodie and khakis. You’re already going to get enough questions about how you spent a whole day in the woods and yet have no timber with you. Best not to give more fuel to the rumors by showing up in a disheveled sundress.

“So what’s our story for today?” you question, slumping back into the passenger seat.

Joel considers the question as he turns the key in the ignition. “The truth?” he shrugs.

You laugh and shake your head. “Yeah, we’re definitely not doing that.”

Joel puts his arm on the back of your headrest as he looks behind to reverse back onto the drive way. “I’ll take the long way back. Give you some time to think about what you wanna tell them.” You roll your eyes and he puts a comforting hand on your thigh as he drives. “While you’re at it, think of a few more excuses we can use for next time we need a day like this.”

“You planning on this becoming a regular thing?” you tease him.

Joel squeezes your thigh as his eyes crinkle with amusement. “Well, I’m no fortune teller but we will be sharing a house with a very nosy teenager… ”

Oh, right. You’re going to need a whole arsenal of excuses to get some privacy. But the thought of the three of you being a content, little family makes it all worth it.

******

#this fic is craig mazin's fault #he chose to have joel drive a car sexily and i had to do what i had to do #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou #tlou hbo #allie writes

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sweetercalypso · 1 year ago

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Around the Tree || Joel Miller

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: For their first winter in Jackson, Joel plans to surprise Ellie with a Christmas tree. When he runs into a problem with his decorations, he turns to you for help

Notes: no warnings! mutual pining, Hallmark level fluff, kissing, no reader pronouns

Winter in Jackson is like a scene from a movie.

The mountains surrounding the small Wyoming town are topped with fresh, white snow, embracing the settlement in a picturesque seclusion that lasts until spring breaks through the frozen landscape sometime in March.

The streets are lit with decorative lights and displays that take weeks to set up, and the townspeople are eager to spend the last days of the year outside despite the bitter cold and the icy conditions that should keep them indoors.

Their dedication to the holidays is an admirable feat in a world that has largely forgotten about tradition.

Shortly after settling down in Jackson, Joel realizes that Ellie has never experienced the joys of the holiday season, and he’s determined to show her what she’s missing. For his first gift to her, he brings home a Christmas tree.

Born and raised in the heat of the South, Joel hadn’t had much experience with snow until after the world had already fallen apart. By then, the winter season was a dreadful grievance rather than something to be celebrated.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen a Christmas tree, but the one in the center of town was clearly cherished by the community, and it inspired him to celebrate the holidays for the first time since he’d left Texas.

Finding the tree was easy enough, and getting it back to his house had only required a bit of goodwill from Tommy and the help of some neighbors he’d yet to learn the names of. They’d been more than happy to lend a hand, brushing off Joel’s offer to pay them back. Maybe there’s still some good left in the world after all.

The fresh-cut tree gets placed in the corner of living room, tall enough that it skims the ceiling, still smelling of fir and camphor from the thick, Wyoming forest. Joel scratches the growing scruff on his cheeks as he stands back to admire it’s grandeur.

Beyond the beauty of the bare Christmas tree, Joel’s house is decidedly lacking in holiday spirit. He’d scrounged up a handful of trinkets from the previous homeowners’ belongings, but there were surprisingly few ornaments left behind, making him wonder how many houses they’d cleared out to supply the festivities in the center of town.

This is a problem he hadn’t expected to face.

He’d found a stand for the tree and cleared a spot before bringing it home, and he’d even sought out a collection of comic books to wrap and give to Ellie on Christmas morning. But without any ornaments to decorate it’s many branches, the tree looked too rustic, too ordinary to fit the Christmas scene he’d envisioned.

With his jacket bundled around his broad frame and his pair of snow boots laced up tightly, Joel sets out to find the one person who might have a solution to his problem – you.

As their next-door neighbor, you’d been the first person to welcome Joel and Ellie after Tommy and Maria brought them to town. There weren’t many people who were willing to look past Joel’s initial gruff demeanor, but you’d never once doubted his slow and hesitant acclimation to life in Jackson.

Joel struggled to balance your friendly relationship and the growing interest he felt towards you, fearing that it’d snowball into something that he wasn’t ready for after twenty years of grief and persistent bad luck. Instead, he’d kept you at a distance, swallowing the feelings he had for you.

He finds himself checking his appearance in the reflection of your front room windows after he knocks, an anxious string of thoughts running through his mind. What if you have company over? What if you’re not home? What if you think this idea is dumb? What if-

“Joel?”

The scent of cinnamon and a nostalgic warmth greets him along with your voice, soft and cheery against the sound of winter wind.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s too cold to be outside- you’ll freeze.”

He shrugs and offers a sheepish smile, trying his best to look unbothered by the brisk temperature. Boston winters were brutal and grey, nothing like the crystalline scenery that graces Wyoming. Even still, the idyllic frost has been known to turn deadly.

“I, uh- I need your help with something.”

“Oh,” you reply, shifting to lean against the door. “What’d you need?”

He explains the situation in full detail and you grow more interested with each word, practically beaming by the time he finishes his story.

“I have just the thing,” you tell him. “I’ll be over in five.”

As if by some miracle, you’d found an entire box of Christmas ornaments when you were pulling out your winter storage earlier in the season, but you didn’t have a tree to display your newfound treasures. This seemed like the perfect way to solve both your problems.

You’re standing on Joel’s porch five minutes later, just as you’d promised, holding as many boxes as you could carry. Joel’s eyes widen when he opens the door, and he ushers you inside with a quite huff of laughter.

“What is all this?” he asks, taking his share of the boxes and guiding you towards the living room.

“I brought everything you need for your first Christmas in Jackson,” you reply, admiring his choice of tree with a nod of approval. “Ornaments, tinsel, wrapping paper – it’s all here.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as Joel turns his attention to the boxes strewn out in front of him. Maybe it’s the serenity of the holiday season, but it feels like you’re meant to be celebrating together rather than spending Christmas apart. Before you can make a move to leave, Joel surprises you by grabbing your hand in his.

“I really appreciate this,” he says earnestly, thumb rubbing across your knuckles. There’s a bright glimmer in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, one that you silently hope you get to see again. “Would you want to… stay?”

The burning apples of Joel’s cheeks betray his nonchalant demeanor, and you’re sure you look just as flustered by his unexpected offer. A warmth settles in your chest when you think about spending the holidays with the older Miller brother.

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a smile. “I’d like that.”

An hour later, you’re both covered in glitter and tiny strings of tinsel, laughing about the state of Joel’s Christmas tree.

A constellation of lights and shiny garland decorate the many branches, twisting around the tree in an awkward spiral that you’d given up on keeping straight halfway down. It looks better this way you tell yourself. More personal.

“Careful with this one, looks like it’s seen better days.”

Joel hands you a frosted glass bulb with snowflakes printed on it, one of the many ornaments pulled from the supplies you’d brought over. You find a place for it between a faded plastic reindeer and an angel dusted with glitter.

All of the ornaments seem to have a story behind them, each a sentimental piece of someone’s lost traditions. You hope you can add your own meaning to their cherished forms.

Joel hands you the last ornament and takes a step back to observe the whole scene, nodding to himself with one hand tucked in the pocket of his jeans. When you’re finally satisfied with the tree’s arrangement, you join him in admiring your handywork.

“It’s perfect,” you say, glancing over at Joel with a sincere smile. He turns to meet your gaze and he’s suddenly aware of how much he appreciates your presence. There’s always been an unspoken affinity between the two of you, but this day has made Joel realize that he wants more.

In a pleasant surprise to you both, Joel dips down and molds his mouth to yours, gently cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer. When you part, you’re too stunned to speak, opting instead to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He hums lowly and wraps an arm around your waist, content to stand here as long as you’ll stay with him.

This is exactly how the holidays are meant to be spent; not flaunted with flashy celebrations or spent alone in a QZ apartment, but rather by creating cherished moments with the people you care about.

Joel might’ve brought home a Christmas tree for Ellie’s sake, but he’s the one who needed it the most.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us fluff #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou fluff #tlou x you #christmas fic #christmas fluff

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jessthebaker · 3 days ago

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Everywhere You Go

Summary: Joel wants to bridge the gap between him and Ellie. It's Christmastime. What to do?

Rating: Teen, I guess?

Warnings: just angst, memories, dangerous levels of Christmas nostalgia.

a/n: This is for @bumblepony, the wisest and kindest of them all, and my wonderful secret santa! I know I already put this on AO3, but I also wanted it here so I could give you your moodboard too!

Title is from the carol "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas". Pure angst and fluff. No spoilers or canon events for TLOU2, we don’t know her. Happy holiday vibes only around here. I know nothing about tree chopping so just pretend it’s correct.

Dividers many thanks to @saradika @saradika-graphics

w/c 4.4k

Read on AO3

Joel knows they’ve had a rough few months together since returning to Jackson after the debacle at the hospital. There was that period after they came back that he doesn’t like to remember because he’s still ashamed of himself for it.

But...she was willing to give him another chance. Eventually. He talked, she listened, she...forgave, if not forgot.

He knows that their peace is tentative and he doesn’t want to do anything to shatter that. But. She is still cautious with him and it’s breaking his heart. He wants to do something, anything to bridge the gap between them.

It’s late autumn, close to first snowfalls, and he keeps coming back to the idea of Christmas with her. He knows the first time they were in Jackson that it was around that time, so she must have seen the giant tree in the main square and heard people mentioning it – but they were there for so short a time that it barely registered with him as ‘Christmastime’. He’s thinking it might be the same for her.

He goes to Tommy and Maria’s house one day in slight desperation. Tommy is out on patrol with Eugene, but Maria invites him in. Joel takes a seat on the couch while Maria settles herself on the rocking chair with TJ on her lap. TJ babbles angrily and reaches out for Joel; his entire top half is teetering dangerously away from Maria. She laughs and passes him to Joel before he can fall in his eagerness.

Joel sits up straighter on the couch, cradling his tiny nephew with hands that he never expected to ever use in this way again. His eyes soften as he gazes into the baby’s eyes, then looks back up to Maria.

He doesn’t dance around the subject now, because he knows Maria doesn’t have time for idle chit-chat. “What do y’all normally do for Christmas here?”

Maria thinks for a moment. “Well, we’ve been putting up the big tree in the square for a few years now and that’s pretty popular. We’ll do that in a few weeks. The teacher at the school gets the kids to make decorations, we string up lights, and we have a tree-lighting celebration with some carol singing. Whoever can play an instrument is welcome to play along. Hot cider, food from our winter stores. On the day, we serve Christmas lunch at the dining hall. Everyone in town is invited. Why do you ask?”

Joel’s arms tense slightly around TJ. “I know Ellie...me and Ellie, we’re doin’ better, but...I don’t think she’s comfortable around me yet. Not really, I mean. I want to try something different to try and...I don’t know. Surprise her. It’s comin’ up to Christmas and I thought it might...might be a good time to do it.”

TJ starts to fuss with being squeezed, so Joel takes a deep breath and deliberately loosens his hold. He ducks his head down to cross his eyes and make a goofy smile at TJ. The little boy breaks into a gummy grin and Joel bounces him gently on his knee, causing him to break into giggles.

Maria looks thoughtful. “Has Ellie ever experienced a Christmas before? Like a real Christmas?”

Joel scoffs. “I doubt it, from what she used to say about that FEDRA shithole she was dumped at in Boston. Don’t think they cared much about tidings of comfort and joy, you know?”

Maria gazes fondly at TJ, who is having the time of his life wriggling on his uncle’s lap. Then she looks back up to Joel.

“What about a Christmas tree for your house? The pine forest where we’ve been getting our trees from the last few years - the last patrol out that way said there’s quite a few trees that are a good size for houses now. Why don’t you see if she wants to get one and put it up with you?”

Joel feels himself nodding slowly. The idea of celebrating the holidays after everything he’s done, everyone he’s lost, hurts in a visceral way. But the pull of having Ellie laugh again, relax around him again, is stronger. He’s ready.

Three days later, Joel has managed to convince Ellie to go out of the walls for a ride with him. He doesn’t tell her what it’s for because he doesn’t know if she’ll be interested in ….that. She’s agreed to come but only if Tommy and Maria come too. Joel accepts; he knows it’s the best chance he has to get her to spend any more time with him than necessary.

Ellie’s unsure about what the fuck they’re doing out here if not on patrol. Joel’s brought a hacksaw and a hatchet from his workshop. Maria has brought an extra coil of rope and an old tarp folded up tight, and Tommy has brought his best (worst) uncle jokes. None of them will tell her what they’re really doing but they don’t let her turn back, either. She keeps a little distance between her horse and the other three and tries to keep her fuck off face firmly in place. But Tommy doesn’t make it easy.

“Hey Ellie, can a frog jump higher than a house?” he calls over to her. “‘Course it can, a house can’t jump!”

She smiles a little in spite of herself. “Shit joke, I knew that one already.”

“Hey Ellie, why can’t dinosaurs clap their hands?” Tommy grins at her suspicious look. “Because they’re extinct!”

She giggles for real at this one. “Three out of ten, dude!”

Joel is listening quietly to this exchange, thankful that Ellie’s finally starting to laugh and looks happy, instead of closed off and tense around him.

They arrive at the edge of the forest about four miles out of Jackson. Joel, Tommy, and Maria dismount. Joel unpacks his tools while Maria unfurls the tarp and rope from her pack. Tommy gathers the group’s guns to himself, checks them to his satisfaction, and prepares to stand watch. Ellie is confused.

“Okay, someone tell me what the fuck we’re doing here now. Is this like axe-throwing practice or something?”

Tommy and Maria both look at Joel. This is his plan, after all. He clears his throat, a little nervously.

“I was thinkin’ that the house needed something for...for Christmas. It’s kinda bare in there. And since we have a whole forest here, I was thinkin’ about a tree. And -”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “Shit, a Christmas tree? Is that what you wanted to do today?”

She looks back to the trees in the forest, eyes going distant with some memory, and Joel feels a momentary dread. She hates it, she wants to go back to Jackson. This was a mistake.

Then she looks back at him and there’s something vulnerable in her expression that he hasn’t seen in a while. “Yes. Let’s do it. I’ve never had a real Christmas tree before.”

The adults collectively decide that Ellie gets to choose the tree. She stalks up and down the scattered rows of trees, looking for the absolute perfect one. Maria walks along with her, while Tommy and Joel hang back and keep watch with rifles at the ready. The area has been cleared recently, but there’s no sense in being lax out here.

After a half hour or so, Ellie comes trotting back to Joel with Maria not far behind. She’s pink in the cheeks and missing her beanie. Her eyes are wide and her breath coming out in smoky puffs as she launches into speech. She’s practically vibrating with excitement but she manages to keep her voice down anyway.

“Dude, I found one! It’s the perfect fucking tree! You gotta come and look!” Joel feels his heart skip a beat at Ellie’s exhilaration.

He glances over at Tommy, who nods at him. “We’ll stay and keep watch, brother. You go on.” Maria stays with Tommy, pulls out her own pistol and assumes her watch position.

Joel takes a moment to hitch his rifle firmly over his shoulder and grab the hatchet and hacksaw. He follows Ellie back into the woods. Luckily they don’t have to go far beyond the treeline before he spots Ellie’s beanie hooked on the branch of the small tree that is clearly her chosen one. It’s not terribly tall, a little thin in the branches, but he isn’t about to argue with her interpretation of a “perfect fucking tree”.

He circles the tree, looking it over for any dead branches that need trimming off before he can start chopping. Ellie is watching him – taking it all in, as she does – so he finds himself starting to explain his method as he goes. It always feels easier for him to teach her something rather than talk about their elephant in the room – alright, forest – and this is no exception.

“You can’t just start hacking away at it, you hafta trim off the bottom branches to give yourself more trunk to work with. You also gotta check for dead branches and get rid of those before you cut the tree down. That way you don’t hafta haul them back with you.”

Ellie nods, listening hard. Joel finds a branch toward the bottom that he points out to her. “This one has to go, see how it looks all spindly and brown compared to the others? It’s dead, no point in keeping it.” He drops to one knee in the snow and hands her the saw. She looks uncertain, but he reassures her with a, “go on, you got it.”

He directs her where to place the saw and shows her how to get the motion started, holding the branch taut to help her. Ellie grunts a little with the effort of pushing the saw forward on the branch. After a few back-and-forth passes, it’s cutting cleanly and the branch soon falls to the ground with a thunk.

She crows in delight. “Take that, branch! You’re no good to us, bitch.”

Joel chuckles at that. He hoists himself up and reaches into the middle of the tree, grabbing the trunk and giving it a good shake. Some snow falls off the branches, but nothing else happens. “Okay, looks like there’s no bird nests or other critters livin’ in the tree, so that makes it easier to cut down.”

He takes the hatchet and drops to one knee again. “Here, you stand opposite me and just hold the tree back a little. You gotta pull back on it a little as I’m cuttin’.”

Ellie obliges, filling her hands with tree branches and leaning backwards with her arms stretched out. She has a small grin on her face. Joel hopes it’s because she’s enjoying herself and not because she’s about to let the tree go to whack him in the face. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He decides to trust her, and ducks his head so he can get a better look at what he’s doing. He takes a few small swings of the hatchet on the trunk to create a better target for himself. Then chop - chop - chop - chop, and he hears the tell-tale cracking sound.

“Okay, stop pullin' for a minute. We gotta switch spots now. I’m gonna chop from the other side of the tree while you pull again. That way the trunk don’t splinter too much.”

She obeys and scampers to take his place. It doesn’t take long before they have the tree felled and lying on the ground. Joel passes the tools to Ellie to hold. He rescues her beanie from the fallen branches, and plunks it on her head, pulling it down all the way to her mouth while her arms are full. He resists the urge to tweak her wool-covered nose.

“Dude, what the fuck?” comes the garbled cry as Ellie drops the tools and adjusts her hat back up so she can see. Joel throws her a mischievous grin and she scrunches up her nose at him. She doesn’t seem resentful, though, for which he’s grateful.

“Come on you, grab them tools and I’ll haul the tree back.”

He drags the tree backwards by the trunk and Ellie trudges alongside him, holding the saw and hatchet in her arms. She walks on his right side, he notices, a hold-over from when they were travelling Before. She would cover him from that angle because she knew he couldn’t hear well from that side. His heart swells a little at the open expression on her face.

They emerge from the trees together to find Tommy and Maria arranging the tarp on the ground. The rope secures the front two corners to each of their saddle horns. Joel drags the tree into place and shows Ellie how to tie it down with the other end of the rope, then helps her mount up.

The ride back to Jackson feels lighter, somehow. Joel keeps sneaking glances over at Ellie as they ride, and it feels like magic that she’s smiling again.

Once inside the walls, everyone dismounts and helps to put away the horses. Tommy and Joel drag the tree from the stables to the house on Rancher Street. Maria and Ellie follow, though Maria peels off toward her own home to check on TJ with the babysitter briefly before re-joining Ellie for the walk to their house. She’s carrying a large box in her arms.

“You’ll see,” is all she responds to Ellie’s questioning look.

It takes some wrestling from Joel and Tommy before the tree is inside and in the living room. Joel produces a tree stand from behind the couch that he’s been keeping out of sight until now – a good find from the community storehouse.

Maria pops the closed box on the floor next to the fireplace and pulls Ellie aside with an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s stay out of the way. Men seem to like to do this bit on their own for some reason.” They seat themselves on the couch, out of reach of the brothers fighting with the tree.

Tommy grunts as he and Joel heft the tree upright and plop it into the stand. As the tree settles, Joel kneels to tighten the long screws into the trunk that will hold it in place.

Ellie “helps” by calling out directions.

“It’s leaning over, pull it back up!”

“Too far, now it’s leaning the other way – ”

“Joel, I thought you were GOOD at wood stuff?”

Joel can’t take much more of this; his back is already pinching from the day on horseback and crawling around in the woods.

“Ellie. Whyn’t you go make yourself useful. Go bring me that spirit level from the workshop.”

“The long thing with the bubble in the middle?”

“That’s the one. Git,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Ellie retreats, shaking her head and muttering something about old man, old back, but she does return with the right tool. After this, the process goes much more smoothly.

When the tree is upright to everyone’s satisfaction, Joel straightens up with a grimace and knuckles at his lower back, ignoring Ellie’s smirk. He hauls Tommy up to his own feet and goes to pull away, but Tommy keeps hold of his arm for an extra moment. The brothers share a long look in silence, then Tommy quirks a smile and nods at Joel with slightly glassy eyes.

He turns to Maria and throws her a mock salute. “Ma’am.” He relaxes and softens his stance, turns to Ellie. “Enjoy your tree decoratin’, darlin’.” Then he’s gone, Maria following with a soft smile over her shoulder at them both.

With Tommy and Maria gone, Joel feels the silence in the house hang heavy again as he and Ellie look at each other. He’s not quite sure how to break the ice now that it’s just the two of them on their own again.

The tension breaks when Ellie remembers the box left by Maria. “Oh, shit!” She stoops to pick it up, then grunts in surprise when it’s much heavier than it looks. “What - the - fuck - is - IN - this thing?”

Joel helps her drag it over in front of the tree so they can sit on the floor and open it together. Joel hears Ellie’s gasp, but he’s too busy trying to keep his own heartbeat in check as he looks too. There’s a treasure trove of Christmas decorations inside, the kind of things he hasn’t seen in decades, as well as some unknown items neatly wrapped in old paper and twine. There’s a single folded piece of handmade paper on top of the pile with “Joel and Ellie” written in Maria’s tidy print. He opens this and reads silently:

Dear Joel and Ellie,

These are ornaments that people here have contributed to the community collection over the years. Most houses already have some decorations that were stored there from the people who lived here in the old days before we got here. But we also like to make sure that each household has something extra for their first Christmas in Jackson. We hope you enjoy these together.

Maria

Tommy’s signature is messily scrawled under Maria’s neat one, as if he couldn’t miss his chance at proving his contribution to the day.

Joel swallows down the lump forming in his throat and passes the note to Ellie. She reads it to herself with her eyebrows raised as if in disbelief. Without a word, she puts the note on the coffee table next to her with reverent hands.

Joel turns back to the box and the pile of ornaments and shiny objects that has been revealed. He picks each one up shakily and passes it to Ellie for her inspection. Her eyes get bigger and bigger with each item she touches. She doesn’t speak though - Joel thinks he understands why. The moment feels sacred, too special, too big for mere words.

Together, they unpack the whole box in silence and lay the contents out on the floor, the couch cushions, the low coffee table, the flagstones of the fireplace:

A very long crocheted chain of white woollen yarn, wound and looped around a metal star that probably used to be bright gold. The star has faded to a soft yellow with metallic grey spots showing through in places. Joel suspects the chain of yarn was made to be a garland.

A string of fairy lights with most of the bulbs intact, coiled in a neat loop under the star. He can’t believe these things are still around after twenty-odd years, much less in decent condition. A not-so-fond memory flashes through his mind of having to untangle the bastard one year after a tiny Sarah had “helped” put it away the previous Christmas.

A small parcel wrapped in faded tissue paper; Ellie reaches in over Joel’s hands before he can take it. She unwraps it carefully; even she can tell it’s fragile. It’s a small clay sculpture of a black-painted dog. There’s a line of blue and red sequins glued around its neck for a collar. She examines this solemnly for a moment before gently placing it on the coffee table.

A few plastic round baubles scattered here and there throughout the box. They still have their lurid red and green paint, with their little silver toppers and string looped through. Somehow they’re still shiny after all this time.

A dozen or so dried orange slices, sliced so thin Joel can see the light shining through when he holds one up to the window. Each one has a small hole bored into the top with a strip of precious yellow ribbon looped through it. He passes one to Ellie, who takes a sniff of it, and holds it up to look through the dried pane before carefully putting it on the floor with its fellows.

A final parcel of brown paper, tucked towards the bottom of the box. Joel lets Ellie unwrap this one. It’s a pair of flat wooden discs with a hole drilled into the top of each. Each disc has a shaky scrawl of paint in what looks to be a letter - one is a wavy ‘J’, and the other looks like a wobbly ‘E’. Ellie turns each over to see the words “love from TJ” and the current year, painted neatly in black in Maria’s hand. She hands them over for Joel to see.

He sucks in a shaky breath - it’s too close to what Sarah used to make for him at preschool - and swipes at his eyes, but he can’t prevent a tear from leaking out. Ellie tentatively reaches out to grasp his hand, and he squeezes hers back tightly. She looks into his eyes and doesn’t immediately look away. It’s been a long time since she did that. Joel can see now that her eyes are red and shiny too.

Together they stand and start putting up the ornaments, still not speaking. It’s as if neither wants to break the spell placed on the room. If the odd small sniffle interrupts the quiet as they work, nobody mentions it.

They work together, each handing an ornament to the other and placing it on the tree in turn. A swirl of Joel’s hands communicates to Ellie how the crocheted garland and lights are supposed to wind around the tree. They play pass-the-string around the tree with little grins. Ellie loops the orange slices onto tree branches at random, and the red and green plastic ornaments. She passes up the star to Joel so he can press it onto the topmost branches. He has to tie it in place with a spare length of twine. Ellie gently hangs the black dog statue, and then the ornament TJ had painted for her. Joel hangs his J next to Ellie’s E.

When all of the decorations are on the tree, Joel plugs the string of lights into the wall and they blaze on. Ellie turns off the overhead light and lights the candles on the fireplace mantel. They sit side by side on the couch and just stare at the scene for a moment, watching the play of light flickering over the decorations and across the walls.

Joel’s mind is racing with memories of Christmases past. As a boy with Tommy and their parents. Sarah’s first Christmas with him and a teenaged Tommy. All the subsequent years with Sarah as a toddler, a little girl, a growing young woman. The many painful Christmases he spent with Tess, gone unacknowledged and uncelebrated because neither of them could bare their hurts to each other.

His heart is back up in his throat. He gulps, swallows it down, sniffles some more. His eyes are aching with his unshed tears. He looks over at Ellie to see her eyes just as glassy as his. He silently stretches his arm out to her. She hesitates a moment, and then leans into him, allowing him to settle his arm around her shoulders. She slowly winds her arm around his middle and relaxes her head into his chest. Joel’s heart is thudding as fast as he’s ever felt it. Feeling the warmth of her small body, willingly cuddled next to his, is something he’ll never take for granted again, he promises himself.

Joel is concentrating so hard on holding himself together that he misses the sound at first. Ellie’s whisper is so quiet. She stops, clears her throat, and starts again. “I never - never thought I would have a Christmas. Riley used to talk about it, about when she lived with her family. Before - before they - died. Before she - ”

Joel’s arm tightens around her. She gulps a little and continues.

“She told me about how they would have a little Christmas tree, they put it up with like, lights and ornaments. They sang songs. They didn’t give presents because there were no fucking presents to give, but…she actually had Christmas. With a family. It’s not something I ever expected to exist. For me. It was always just a story for me. Kids with a real family get Christmas. Not me.”

She’s curled into him even further now, if that’s possible. Joel reaches back, one-handed, to the knitted blanket tossed across the back of the couch. He pulls it over them both and tucks it in around her feet. Replaces his arm around her shoulders and gives her a gentle squeeze. Clears his throat around the giant lump of his heart. Takes a shaky breath.

“It’s…it’s been a long time for me, havin’ Christmas - with a tree like this, and decorations an’ all. With - with - family. Sarah and Tommy used to go all out for decoratin’ and stuff. They were good times. I reckon the family part, that - that’s what makes it a real Christmas.” It wasn’t time that did it, he keeps to himself.

He looks down at the top of her head. She’s refusing to look up at him now, she’s buried her face into his chest and is burrowing into him as tightly as she can. She’s trying not to sniffle but he can feel the heaving of her shoulders.

Joel clears his throat again, rubs his hand up and down her arm. “If…if you want. We could…we could have Christmas here. In Jackson. You and me. And…and Tommy, and Maria, and TJ. All of us. Together.”

He feels her stiffen as he speaks, feels her pull away. His heart sinks again. Now it’s been replaced in his throat by his stomach. She sits up with tear-tracks down her face, fixes him with a severe look. “You’re for real? Don’t swear. Just - say it. Yes or no.”

He won’t swear. He can’t. He broke her trust once and he’ll never do it again, so long as he lives.

“Yes. Yes, Ellie, if you want it.”

She’s still for a moment. Thinking. Then her whole face beams as she launches herself into him with both arms, causing him to woof out the breath he’d been holding.

She’s crying again, and he’s finally crying too, and she’s hugging him so hard he’s afraid she’s going to break his ribs. He holds her tight and rocks her back and forth with old instincts re-awakening. He feels like the piece of himself he broke after Salt Lake City has been repaired. His heart is back in its chest, whole, where it belongs.

“Shh, babygirl, it's okay, it’s alright. I got you.”

#secret santa 2024 #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie angst #joel and ellie fluff #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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joels6string · 2 years ago

Text

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 5 - Search and Rescue

Summary: A chance encounter on patrol leads to intel too troublesome to leave uninvestigated.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.5k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix-it fic

Chapter 4 || Series Masterlist

The green that normally surrounded you had exploded into flames, the orange, yellows, and reds bursting from the trees and raining to the ground was a sight you’d never tire of. As the leaves had begun to change, the knot always present in your chest loosened. Joel and Tommy had repaired your roof, and cooking lessons with Indy were still ongoing but had proved somewhat useful as the jeans you’d been given upon arrival were passed back to the swap shop in favor of the next size up.

“Are you coming over tonight?” your favorite chef called from ahead of you, the next outpost on your assigned route coming into view, “Ellie was asking, guess she prefers my cooking.”

The smug look on your partner-turned-friend’s face said it all, Ellie’s budding relationship with her half Indy’s skill at cooking and half the fact that she let her sip at a whiskey that still went down rough during dinner.

“Only if you’re making that soup again,” you replied, your eyes following a leaf as it twirled through the sky.

“You want me to make that soup because Joel likes it,” her tone was teasing and all-knowing, “And I know you send your leftovers with Ellie to give to him.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“He brings me the containers back.”

It was true, Joel did like it, and no matter how hard you tried to remember just how she did it, the steps never stuck. You didn’t expect him to be the one giving you away. Although, Ellie was in on the ruse of telling him bringing him home a bowl was always entirely her idea.

Things had been tepid but pleasant after the summer incident. You’d spent two weeks letting the cut on your hand heal and Maria had taken too much time in forcing you out of your house and into society. You had a shelf of books now, your focus having improved enough over the last four weeks you could sit in the new armchair Tommy had found with you in mind for at least an hour at a time. Ellie supplied you with more than enough movies, opting to spend Fridays at your house now filling you in on her weekly favorites. Maria always made sure you had the day off.

You sat for drinks at the Tipsy Bison every Thursday, keeping quiet but sitting with the group as they conversed candidly. Indy had come to realize Joel was only someone to fear if you’d earned it, teasing him constantly about seeing another glimmer of that fire from the field again while Tommy teased her bravery for poking the bear. It all felt right and wrong at the same time, the walk back to your house Joel always insisted on accompanying you for the most natural twenty minutes of the evening.

“We’ll go to the market when we get back,” Indy said as she pulled the heavy steel door shut behind you, “You’re buying.”

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’ll even write the recipe down this time.”

In an abrupt motion that had your heart skipping, she bolted quickly to the open window, her rifle pointing up at the sky as you followed after her, ready to fire at whatever threat she’d spotted but finding nothing out of place or amiss.

“Oh,” she sighed in relief, lowering her weapon as your eyes darted around, “Sorry. Thought pigs were flying.”

“Fuck you,” you groaned, laughing as you shoved at her shoulder, finding the logbook on the table and pausing at the neat ‘Clear -J’ on the most recently filled-in line, “We all clear?”

“Just check the back.”

The floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you wove through the remnants of office furniture, your hand gliding over rotting wood just lightly enough to keep it from splintering into your skin. The fall air was crisp as you breathed it in, the cold of wintering hinting in the sweet aroma. It would frost soon, the mountains welcoming winter sooner than you would have liked for its extended stay well into the months you’d recognize as spring.

“Is anyone there?!” you heard a voice calling, the hair on the back of your neck prickling as you pulled your pistol from the tattered holster on your thigh, “Please!”

“Shit…” you hissed under your breath, your back colliding with the wall beside the door, your head peering around just enough to see a man in the clearing ahead.

“Please! I…I need help! Just…I saw horses!”

“Mother fucker,” Indy sneered as she took cover at the other edge of the frame, “I’m not falling for this. Tell me you’re not falling for this?”

Almost every single one of your razor-sharp instincts told you to hop on the back of your horse and bolt, save a single tickle at the back of your head. There was a tug on a thread that had been loose for months now, the reminder that at one point in the not-so-distant past you’d been a straggler collected by a man willing to take a chance.

“Jesus Christ,” Indy scolded at your silence, “Let’s go.”

“Who’s with you?!” you yelled through the missing glass, Indy groaning as she clicked the safety off on her weapon.

“Just my son!” the man replied, hope seeping into his voice, “Please! I’m unarmed!”

“Well that’s fucking stupid,” Indy muttered, earning her a dirty look, “He’s lying. Millie, he’s lying. Eugene barely made it home alive two weeks ago—“

“Show me the kid!” you demanded, ignoring Indy entirely, your fate now dependent on this momentary lapse in judgment.

When a boy no older than eight emerged from behind a tree that should have been too narrow to hide him, your spine straightened. You could hear Indy muttering under her breath as the frail child slid behind his father, peering out from around his hip with wide, terrified eyes. With your gun raised, you kicked the door open, Indy following closely behind and demanding for hands to be in sight at all times, the man obliging as he watched with fear and hope swirling in his gaze.

“Talk,” you instructed, the muzzle of your gun inches from his forehead as he dropped to his knees in surrender.

“We’re…looking for a place called Jackson,” his voice was shaking, eyes averted, “It’s a myth…but we couldn’t stay…had to chance it.”

“Are you bit?”

“No!”

“Spores?”

“Traveled in open air, I swear.”

“Anyone follow you?”

“We snuck past a camp three days ago, but they never saw us.”

“A camp?” Indy cut in, “Where?”

“By the river.”

Another problem added to the growing list. Maria and Tommy would want as much information about the visitors encroaching on the protected territory, risking Jackson’s people and resources wasn't something either of them took lightly. The possibility this man was a scout passed through your mind, flashing like a warning beacon as you felt Indy’s eyes staring. She’d left this decision up to you and was impatiently awaiting your verdict.

“Is this your dad?” you asked the boy, putting your gun back in its holster and hoping for the best as you kneeled to get on his level, “Tell me the truth.”

“How did you get that scar?” he asked after a nod, timid as a mouse, his big brown eyes so terrified it made your stomach clench.

“Bad people.”

“Like the people at the river?”

“You tell me.”

“They took mommy.”

Caught in a lie, the man began to stammer in defense as Indy doubled down, her gun still raised as she took a menacing step toward him. He detailed their journey, the narrow escape from the hunters camping on the water banks, and the loss of his wife who had been taken as the child's eyes remained transfixed on the long scar slashed across your nose and cheeks. He promised none had followed, swore on his life, begged for at least the boy, James, to be taken to safety or spared, your own intentions becoming murkier to the survivor who had begun to weep.

“Let’s go,” you snapped, “Give me your pack, the kid can ride with me.”

“So I get to ride with the weirdo?!” Indy chastised as you began to search through the man’s bag, finding food that had been stretched too thin and clothes worn down enough to be sheer.

“Where are you taking us?” you were asked as Indy helped the small boy up to sit in front of you in the saddle, her grip on the father's coat collar rough as she tugged him towards her own waiting mare.

“It’s your lucky day, Simon,” she taunted, “We’re headed to the mythical land of Jackson.”

The first face you saw as the wooden gates of Jackson closed behind you was unexpected, Joel bursting out of the stables and running with Tommy hot on his heels.

“Who the hell is this?” he growled, placing himself between you and Simon as if you hadn’t just ridden miles beside him on a horse.

“Simon,” you answered, the way the new gray and black flannel Joel was wearing hugged his shoulders slowing your speech, “and James. They come bearing bad news.”

After scans to the backs of their necks, the Tipsy Bison welcomed them just as it had you almost three months ago. They devoured the food put in front of them unlike you had, Tommy and Joel immediately planning the scout of this supposed encampment for the following morning at dawn.

“They’re armed,” Simon warned, his face falling at the decision to take on the hunters head-on.

“So are we,” Joel replied, his tone hard and menacing, “You two comin’?”

“Of course!” Indy answered with an air of sarcasm, “Who could refuse?”

With the help of Simon, an ambush was planned, Tommy thanking you for having the judgment to trust the stranger enough to bring him back. It had gone against every one of your most basic instincts, trusting a man in the wild like that, and your eyes drifted over to Joel as you contemplated exactly why that was. You hadn’t trusted him either, and he hadn’t trusted you, but here you sat beside him in a bar enclosed in the safest stronghold the United States had to offer.

“Is your wife alive?” Joel asked Simon as Tommy began to lead him and his son to the inn for the night.

“Last I knew,” he answered sadly, the reality of why that was settling onto Joel’s face in a furious scowl.

“Can you handle a gun?”

“Joel…” you scolded, this man clearly in no state to be storming into the trenches, “He’s not up for it. If there are women there, we’re getting them all out regardless.”

Your tone left no room for argument, and Joel’s surrender was swift as you turned to follow Indy to finally begin your evening plans, “Yes ma’am.”

“She’s terrifying,” Simon muttered when you were just out of earshot, a smirk ticking up one corner of Joel’s lips.

“She is, ain’t she?” he chuckled, smiling fondly as you disappeared further and further into the gray autumn dusk.

An impatient Ellie was seated on the stoop of Indy’s single-story home, her face lighting up when you rounded the corner before bounding down the street to meet you. Her “you’re fucking late” had you smiling, your arm slinging around her shoulders as you explained yourself honestly, promising to make it up to her Friday when she came by.

“I already picked the movie,” she bragged as you dropped the bag of groceries onto Indy’s counter, “Something with planes.”

“Talk to me, Goose!” you recited, a toothy grin breaking onto Ellie’s face.

“Goodness gracious great balls of fire!” Indy chimed in with a bushel of carrots as a microphone, Ellie promptly inviting her to join the Friday festivities and beaming once again when it was accepted.

The lessons in the kitchen were just as much for you as they were for Ellie, her dinner postponed dinner party having ended before it began when Joel walked into his kitchen so filled with smoke it had left his eyes red for two days after. You’d teased him about it passing him at the stables after patrols, for a man that had tossed smoke bombs he scrounged up from expired explosives and sugar, he certainly had gone soft.

“This is what you’re missing,” Indy informed as she tossed a bushel of green herbs in front of you, “Thyme.”

“Guess it’s time to start learning how to grow herbs in my backyard,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face through the terrible joke that had Ellie practically on the floor and Indy giving you a dead stare that reminded you of someone else.

Gardening was something that had piqued your interest, it always had. You’d tried to maintain a small Pothos in your dorm room, the lack of light killing even the most hearty of plants, and then the world had gone to shit. Ellie had griped about her hatred of farming rotation, but every time you passed Maria in the streets or saw her at the Bison, you were tempted to request a week here or there in the greenhouses. Winter was approaching, but a book on the subject sat waiting by the armchair in the living room, Joel having accompanied you to the swap shop with the last of your venison from his freezer to exchange for the pile of to-be-reads.

“Don’t chop food with that!” Indy screeched as the familiar click of Ellie’s switchblade broke through the comfortable silence, “You kill things with it!”

“I washed it!” Ellie defended, grumbling to herself as she pocketed it, picking up the provided knife laying beside her on the counter.

All you could do was laugh at the exchange, your fingers staining green as you plucked at the thyme you’d been thrown. The prep went quickly with three hands, the pot bubbling on the stove as the deck of cards was quickly brought out, a lively round of blackjack ongoing between Ellie and Indy as you dealt.

Clean-ups and laundry services were wagered, with Ellie bringing home the big win of Indy’s hand in clothes washing for the next week, a full basket waiting to be scrubbed back at her little converted garage. After dinner was shared, Ellie was sent home with two containers, one for her and one for Joel, with Indy sliding you a third with a knowing smirk.

“Before you go,” she blurted out as you followed Ellie out the front door, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t listen to me today.”

Quickly you spun, running out onto the porch and almost knocking Ellie straight onto the ground, “Oh,” you sighed in relief, “Thought pigs were flying for a second.”

“After I fed you dinner.”

“See you bright and early.”

“Can’t wait! Nothing like the smell of gunpowder in the morning.”

When Ellie asked where you were going as you walked her home, you skirted around the subject. There was no need to worry her, she’d already been particularly on edge since the incident six weeks ago. You knew she could tell you were lying, and as much as it ate away at you, it was for the best. Her life had become exponentially easier and less burdened once the walls of Jackson had welcomed you, but you knew the years of freedom from worry would be short for her already being 15, she could savor the time she had to be carefree.

As you rounded the corner from the greenhouses to the back gate closest to her little house, soft notes of music greeted you, the sight of Joel on the porch gently plucking the strings of an acoustic guitar lit by the dull orange glow of his backlight held your gaze as Ellie bid you goodbye. She laughed while your brain caught up to her words, a quick, nervous goodbye mumbled as you quickly glanced at her teasing expression before returning to what would be seared into your memory. Your feet carried you subconsciously toward him, his eyes finding yours in the dark.

“Hey,” he greeted, gruff but soft, tuning the instrument in his hands with subtle turns of the pegs, “Thanks for walkin’ her home.”

“Sure,” you choked out, your mouth dry, “I didn’t know you could play guitar.”

“Yeah. Been playin’ since I was a kid. Haven’t touched one in some twenty years now though.”

“Sounded fine to me.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

With nothing but a gesture, he welcomed you to take the empty chair on the porch, a round table with a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler set between the two seats. He picked up where he’d left off, unbothered by your intrusion, his shoulders relaxed and his features serene as his fingers ran off of muscle memory untainted by decades of disuse.

“Help yourself,” he offered, his chin ticking towards the amber liquid to his left, and you filled the empty glass halfway at his invitation.

The whiskey was warm as it settled in your stomach, the cool night air nipping at your nose and cheeks as you settled back in the chair, your eyes fluttering closed as the notes of his song traveled with the breeze. This was contentment you hadn’t felt in a very long time, not one you could vibrantly remember anyway. Your thoughts calmed for a moment, each twang of the guitar recentering you in this serenity, your fingers tapping absentmindedly on the glass now sitting ignored in your lap.

“I ain’t carrying you home,” he teased, one of your eyes opening into a slit to peek at him.

“Can I have a blanket at least?” you jested in return, enjoying the toothy grin stretching up on his face.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Another gulp of liquor preceded your meditative state returning, his song continuing longer after finding the perfect harmony. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when silence roused you from tranquility, his fingers pulling the glass from your lazy grip.

“No, keep going,” you mumbled, it was almost a whine, but a breathy laugh followed the request.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It seemed darker, a little cooler, Ellie’s lights were still on but some of the surrounding windows that had been illuminated before were now black. Joel seemed indifferent to the late hour, decades of long, days-long stretches without sleep still wearing on him, the dark circles beneath his eyes improved but not indiscernible. His hair had grown longer, the length now closer to what you recognized from your time on the road, the curls behind his ears beginning to reappear.

“You should get home,” he announced, pouring a glass of whiskey and downing it in one shot, “We got an early mornin’.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, already missing the state the night had put you in and hoping it lasted long enough to get you to sleep, “Okay.”

“Want me to walk you?’

“No. I’m okay. Thank you though.”

A restless night followed, the faint hint of a song replaying in the back of your mind enough to at least stop you from screeching into the gray morning light as it filtered into your windows, the cold sweat coating your skin enough to remind you of the horrors that had filled your nightly rest. You dressed quickly, eating breakfast slowly as you watched the clock tick closer to 7 AM. The sun greeted you a little later each morning as autumn approached, the air still with its overnight frost stinging your lungs as you took off towards the stables. Joel’s house was on your way, the hope of crossing paths with him inflating in your chest like a balloon all to be popped as he was nowhere to be found despite your slowed steps.

The stables were bustling with the team of six heading out, the Miller brothers, Indy, Paulie, and Eugene all prepping their horses during your apparently late arrival. Indy teased you while you scrambled to fill your quiver and grab a few magazines of ammo for your handgun, your breathless thank you to her as she passed the reins to your saddled horse to you putting you in her debt. “Ellie’s laundry is now yours.”

“That is not a fair trade-off! For putting a saddle on!? Are you out of your mind?” you argued to your laughter, “I’ll help you. Best you’ll get.”

Despite the stakes and danger that lay ahead, the ride was surprisingly lighthearted. When the river came into view, however, business took over. Tommy and Joel had established that the hunters had likely moved closer, opting to camp for a few days between shifts. Jackson might have been a myth to some men, like Simon, but to others, its lands were a hunting ground for unexpecting survivors eager to regain some normalcy. Hunters, slavers, and cannibals alike stalked the woods preying on the innocent. Fear that this group was a faction of slavers was high, few groups took women and kept them alive.

“Okay, listen up,” Tommy announced, a plume of smoke visible from the shoreline of the river less than half a mile away, “Indy, Arrow, find the women. That is your job. Take out who you can, but the four of us will clear you a path. They ain’t gonna want to see any of us, it’s gotta be you. Understood?”

Not that you were a soft place to land, but you understood the sentiment.

“Joel and Paulie, take right, Eugene and I will take left,” Tommy finished, Joel’s grumbles of protest were heard throughout the group as you suppressed a smile, “We’re all making it out. No questions asked. Be safe. Be smart. Home for dinner.”

“I am not cooking,” Indy butt in, “Not this time.”

“Well, the Bison it is then,” Eugene conceded, “I could use one of Seth’s sandwiches. Haven’t had one in a bit.”

“Okay, focus,” Joel snapped, “We can worry about dinner when we’re all out. Alive.”

“You’re insufferable when she’s around…” Paulie mumbled what he though was only to himself, Tommy’s arm immediately shooting out to stop his brother from lunging, “Eugene and I can take the right! He’d get me killed keeping his eyes locked on his prize.”

“I swear to God!”

“Shut the hell up! Both of you!” Tommy snapped, “Joel, with me. Jesus Christ.”

“You should look a little less excited,” Indy whispered in your ear, your jaw snapping shut at her warning.

Gravel cracked beneath your boots as you crept towards the muddy bank, not a soul spotted mingling about yet, red flags waving in all of your heads as you continued the approach. Indy was muttering under her breath about how fucked this was, there was no way this wasn’t a trap, and you were inclined to agree.

“It’s too quiet,” you hissed at Joel as the two of you took cover behind a large boulder, the camp completely visible and notably deserted, “Something is wrong here.”

“Yeah,” he growled, “Shit.”

“Look, camp’s empty,” Paulie spoke too loudly, everyone’s wide eyes shooting to him filled with confusion and rage, “maybe they left something behind.”

“Push forward,” Tommy commanded, you and Joel both sighing in disagreement, “We gotta at least look around.”

With weapons drawn, you crept forward, noting that even though this camp was haphazardly put together, it was expansive. Someone had no intention of leaving here anytime soon, the question was where that someone might be. The silence was deafening, your leg throbbing as memories clawed at your fragile psyche that had just begun to shoddily repair. It had been silent that day too, until gunfire echoed through the neighborhood and the pain became too much to resist.

“Hey,” a deep southern voice rumbled from beside you, “I got you.”

“He asked me to bring her back,” you choked, recalling the ride back to Jackson with Simon and James in tow, “either way.”

“And we will.”

If only the confidence in his voice was reassuring.

Muffled voices were heard, halting all of you in your tracks, cover being taken as Joel went ahead alone, your heart hammering as your eyes stayed locked on him, your finger twitching against the trigger of your gun as every muscle tensed waiting for the need to strike. When Joel halted and crouched behind a pile of firewood, his arm shot up, four fingers pointing up towards the sky. Six on four was no concern, in fact, it was probably almost too easy.

“Okay,” Tommy began, the plan now being set into full motion, “Ladies, you know your job, we’ll do the rest. Search every tent, they gotta be in one of ‘em.”

“There has to be more than four,” Indy warned, pulling you back down to the ground as you rose, still staring at the man ten yards ahead of you.

“Maybe. Maybe not. They’re probably out huntin’ and this our time for an easy strike. We pick those four off and take the rest out at the wall when they come lookin’. Easy.”

The logic made sense. It was now or never, with or without Indy at your side. As she went to press her argument with Tommy, you took advantage of her distraction, taking off uncaring of who followed. You and Joel had taken out more than four hunters in your day, you could do it again. The sound of your boots had him rising to his feet, his finger pointing to a larger tent off in the distance, the one the men were closest to. There was no doubt in your mind he was right.

With a nod, you were off, Indy hot on your heels as the men engaged the four sitting around a fire, somehow managing to finish the job without a shot going off in an attempt to not alert anyone who may still be lurking nearby. The tent you and Joel had assumed housed who you were looking for turned out to be filled with supplies, ones you hoped you had the time to search through later, leaving you and Indy to search the remaining half a dozen tents.

“Nothin’?” Tommy asked as your head emerged from the third with a downtrodden expression, “Shit.”

“Maybe they’re deeper in the woods,” you suggested as Indy came back from searching the final three with nothing, “It would make sense. Isolate them, make them feel stranded, helpless.”

“Okay. Fan out, whistle if you need. No more than ten minutes and we regroup. I’m serious. I don’t like this.”

Stress and tensions were high as you and Indy walked deeper into the woods, her warnings it was time to turn back went unheeded; they had to be here, they had to be somewhere. A whistle from your right set your feet into a sprint, Paulie and Eugene standing outside a dilapidated shed sealed with too shiny a padlock. A hand stopped your gun as you raised it, Joel coming to stand beside you with a look of warning in his eyes.

“Be smart,” he cautioned in a low voice, knowing how you got in high stake situations, “I’ll get it.”

The butt of his shotgun took out the lock in three blows, the edge of the door shattering at the impact. You went in first, your blood running ice cold in your veins at the sight before you.

“Oh my God…” you muttered, Indy’s equally shocked breath echoing beside you, “Joel…”

“Christ,” he exhaled, his hand pulling you slightly behind him as he surveyed the group of eight all staring at you with wide, terrified eyes, “We’re here to help…and we don’t have much time.”

Indy took over, the group sighing in relief when everyone was on their feet. At least they could walk. The walk back to the horses was quick and guarded, the six of you forming a perimeter around the women all huddled together, one visibly pregnant but you doubt she was alone in that. They were understandably skeptical, but somewhat hopeful it seemed, all of them looking to you like a beacon of hope, of reason.

“Get them on the horses. Indy, Arrow, can you share one?” Tommy strategized, with fourteen people and six horses, this had turned into a predicament, “Paulie, Eugene, get on the last one. Joel and I will walk.”

“I want to check that tent,” you reminded them, Indy staying back to help get everyone loaded up to go while you, Joel, and Tommy advanced, Paulie and Eugene staying planted in the middle ground.

There was some food that would come in handy, various boxes of ammo you stuffed into packs uncaring of what it was, you’d find a use for it, and one little canvas sack of what felt like dry beans that had your lips lifting into a smile when you brought it to your nose.

“Hey Tex!” you called out, tossing Joel the bag as soon as his attention was on you, his brow furrowing as he peaked inside, the contents setting his face aglow.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he sighed, grinning so wide it sparkled into his hazel eyes.

“Hey,” Paulie snapped, “Why’s he get that?”

“Cause Deacon has a favorite,” Eugene answered with a wink in your direction.

“Deacon has a debt actually,” you corrected, movement catching in your peripheral.

The whistle of your arrow through the air caught everyone’s attention, the cry of a man taking a bolt to the chest cavity setting off a row of dominoes on a trail to disaster. As more men emerged from the trees, panic set in. Five turned to seven and then seven to twelve… Tommy was screaming at Indy to take off, don’t even slow down until the walls of Jackson were well in sight while Joel bellowed at you from behind a stack of firewood to get to the god damn horse, but as a chain of automatic gunfire cracked through the woods the world fell away.

Standing like a target in the middle of a field, the rattling of the assault rifle had you frozen in place. The echoes of FEDRA soldiers, the rumbling of a tank, the smell of smoke, gunpowder, and decay, the screams of the QZ citizens caught in a war zone…

“Tommy!” You didn’t know a Tommy. Who was Tommy? “Cover me!”

Cover him. You could cover. You knew how to cover. Your pistol was heavy on your thigh and cold in your fingers as you pulled it from its holster, firing off in front of you despite having no target in sight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Maybe there was a target.

Whipping around wildly in search of him, your ears began to ring as a flash bang went off, shrouding your surroundings in a smoky haze. It all came flooding back as the piercing shrill grew louder, the smoke growing thicker as you began to choke, and you weren’t sure if the tears streaming down your face were a product of the burn or the memories that now went hurtling to the forefront of your mind and trapped you in your nightmares here in the light of day.

An arm wrapping around your middle pushed what little air you’d been able to bring into your lungs, your feet forced to shuffle as it pulled you backward, your back hitting something jagged and splintering as you were tossed to the ground and caged in. You couldn’t hear a thing, your eyes locked on the dirt as your body focused on its need for air. Someone was in front of you, you could feel the heat radiating off of them, something was grazing against your cheek, a jacket maybe, or the edge of a knife. You couldn’t be sure. Bullet shells rained down from above you, one brass cylinder falling into your lap, smoke still billowing from the searing metal, at least whoever it was wasn’t shooting at you.

“Joel, get her out of here!”

That name... You knew that name.

“Joel?” It was a plea, an anchor, a place to ground yourself.

His canvas coat was rough in your fingers as you realized it was gripped between your knuckles, the comforting sight of a red and black flannel coming into view as you breathed in the familiar scent of leather and wood. Joel.

“Move,” it was a command, his voice hard with what could be anger or focus, you couldn’t be sure.

A large palm swallowed your upper arm whole as you were lifted to your feet and forced to take off into a sprint you weren’t prepared for. His grip kept you upright every time you tripped, the whinny of a horse startling you as you were lifted and tossed into a saddle.

“You ride and you don’t look back, you understand?” he instructed, shooting his eyes over his shoulder, “Do you understand?”

With a snarl at your lack of response, he slapped the horse’s back end, your hands forced to grip the horn of the saddle for dear life as the horse took off in a gallop.

“Joel!” you yelled as you steadied yourself enough to look back and see him disappear into the trees and gunshots, “JOEL!”

Chapter 6

Pretty art of them from this chapter that makes me swoon (why is tumblr eating the quality of images worse than usual today. annoying.)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years ago

Text

Come Home Chapter 5

Joel Miller x F!Reader.

Angsty slow burn. Your first day in Jackson goes as well as expected. Word count 3255.

Warnings for descriptions of the effects of PTSD and battling panic attacks (these are PURELY based on my own personal experiences).

I had to split this chapter into two so Joel isn't here much, but from next chapter he will be very present. Thank you for reading and sticking with it!

Come Home

Chapter Five - Asphyxiated

Welcome warmth hits your face as the girl pushes the door of the town’s watering hole open, and you stamp your boots free of snow and slush before crossing the threshold.

The Tipsy Bison is an old fashioned, homespun kind of place. With its mix of wood panelled and stone walls, decorative antlers and soft, yellow lighting it could be straight out of an old Western - although thankfully the low level of chatter does not fall to silence as you enter. There are more than a few curious glances directed your way, though. The girl seems not to notice and makes a beeline straight for Maria who is talking with someone - presumably the barman, given that he is behind the bar and polishing glasses with a dishcloth. He is an older man with a shock of white hair and a dour expression.

“-you’ll be okay to do that, Seth?” you hear Maria ask as you approach. The barman nods once, firmly and then jerks his head extremely unsubtly toward you, clearly warning her of your approach. They were discussing something to do with you then. Or the group you came in with. It didn’t really matter. You were planning to stay well out of the politics and machinations of this place.

Maria turns to you, a tiny smile curling the edges of her mouth. “How’s it going?” she enquires, supremely unconcerned that she has been caught talking about you.

“Good. Weird. The Christmas tree. Is weird.” You sound like an idiot to your own ears, unable to form a proper sentence, but Maria takes it in her stride.

“Guess it is if you’ve not seen one in a while,” she concedes gracefully. “Have you had a look around elsewhere? Seen anywhere you might want to sleep other than the barn tonight?”

“Uh…yeah. I think. There’s those houses down near the cemetery-“

“Oh shit! That’s where I live!” interjects the girl excitedly. You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“You like it there?” you ask.

“Its ok,” she replies, tempering her early exuberance with a now-casual air. “Not too many people around. I like it that way.”

“Me too,” you confess. “So I think I’d like to take one of those houses…if that’s okay with you,” you add hastily, talking to Maria this time.

She nods. “Joel said you might be asking about a house round there-“ she begins. The girl interrupts her, speaking to you and sounding excited once more.

“You spoke to Joel?”

“She sure did.” That voice again. Deep and dark and threatening to drown you in its sin. You peer past Maria toward the end of the bar and how did you not spot him before? That imposing form was still mightily broad even when it was stood mostly out of sight behind a wooden pillar. Now that you had noticed him, you saw that half smile make an appearance again and he raised a mug of something hot in a gentle toast in your direction. “Told ya I’d put in a good word,” he grins.

So. He’s Joel. And when the girl approaches him to talk and playfully punches him on the arm in response to some quiet remark he makes, you hear him call her Ellie. Joel and Ellie. Your new neighbours. They seem to be very friendly together and you wonder if they too are family.

As promised, you’re able to get some food from the bar, though when faced with the prospect of actually drinking alcohol you swiftly go off the idea. Better to keep your wits about you, especially so soon after arriving. Everyone seems happy and well-adjusted here, but you can never really tell. When you ask Maria how you would go about paying for what you’ve eaten the discussion evolves into talking about what you would be willing to do to contribute to Jackson and what skills you can offer.

“I’m a good cook,” you shrug. “And I can knit. I’ve never farmed before, but I had quite the flourishing garden growing once upon a time. I’m not afraid to explore and map places. And I can kill infected.”

Movement catches your eye as Ellie departs, and you return her brief wave with a smile as she heads back outside into the freezing afternoon. Your eyes slide back over to Joel to find him looking pensive but happy, now sitting at the bar and staring into the depths of his mug as he swirls its contents around.

“We’ll trial you with a scouting group for now.” Maria’s voice breaks into your thoughts and your attention snaps back to her. “If all goes well you can be paired with someone and they can show you the trails we keep clear and the outposts we have. We never go out solo. Always at least two. But for now, we want you to settle in. Rest. Recuperate. Get your strength up. So eat. Please.”

You do as you’re told, savouring the steaming bowl of winter vegetable soup and thick slices of fresh bread. Appetite - as opposed to hunger - was something you thought had been cut off, left behind somewhere as you travelled across the wasteland of what once was. But in this setting you could feel yourself relax and begin to actually enjoy what was in front of you. Maybe it was just the novelty of not eating the contents of a tin for once.

As you eat, Maria continues to speak. “Once you’re done we’ll get you sorted with some fresh linen, towels, clothes, food, toiletries. The basics. I’d like for us to check in with each other once a day for the first week or so. Just to see how you’re settling in.”

To your surprise hearing this offer brings a tightening of your throat. It sounds…genuine. Like this woman actually gives a shit about your wellbeing even though she just met you. You swallow the lump away and tune back into what she’s saying. “-could just check in with Joel if you want. He’ll look out for you.”

Upon hearing his name you sneak yet another look over only to find the space vacant, the only sign he was ever there at all the mug left on the bar. A brief brush of disappointment hits you before you pull yourself together to focus on the conversation.

“He mentioned the garage,” you interject. “I mean, he mentioned someone lives in his garage. That they made it into a living space. If its possible I’d like to do something similar.”

“What you do with your house is your business,” Maria replies, and though the words are abrupt, the tone is soft. “Joel’s garage had been remodelled before everything went sideways. We just had to clean it up. If you want to remodel too, feel free. As long as it doesn’t interfere with whatever work you’re assigned.”

Your heart sinks a little at her words. Maria notices but misunderstands. “Hey, those houses are really nice,” she says, smiling encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll be happy in whichever once you choose. And if you need a DIY project to keep you busy, there are plenty of people in this town who would be happy to help.”

All too soon you’re standing back in the cold, on the porch of a beautiful two storey house, indistinguishable from the other two storey houses in the neighbourhood except for yours has a coat of relatively fresh green paint over its timbered front. When you touch a gloved hand to it and give Maria a questioning look, she shrugs.

“Other people sometimes need DIY projects to keep busy too. Its why we have a pool of empty houses so readily available. Not everyone feels comfortable going outside the walls. So they keep busy inside them.” She opens the door and you step inside.

Its…a lot. And yet not enough. You’ve raided plenty of houses for supplies over the past twenty years. Most of them were decrepit or broken in some way, a few stood tall, layers of grime and cobwebs the only clue to the time that had passed. This one is clean and tidy, though it still smells a little like dust and disuse.

An open plan living room is to your left and you can see where the wooden floor turns to pale kitchen tile beyond. To your right and through a doorway is what was once presumably a dining room, though its table and chairs are notable by their absence. Some mismatched and basic furniture has been supplied – a peach coloured couch, two dark blue squashy looking chairs, a small wooden coffee table, a few lamps resting on various surfaces, a bookcase with some pre-chosen literature on it. An open fireplace is against one wall, a stack of chopped wood waiting next to it. Stairs directly ahead of you lead up to the next floor and you can feel the weight of the empty rooms up there, each doorway leading to a black rectangle of the unknown –

“You okay?” Maria’s question is brief but loaded with meaning. You inhale deeply and do your best to release your fears along with your breath.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good. Its just going to take a while to get used to this again. I haven’t lived alone since…I-I mean I haven’t lived in a proper house since…” You trail off for a second time, both unwilling and unable to complete the thought paths necessary to finish your sentences.

“Joel and Ellie are right next door,” Maria says comfortingly. “Go to them if it gets difficult. You have my permission.” You were right. They are family.

“Don’t I need Joel and Ellie’s permission?” you joke weakly.

“Didn’t I tell you I was in charge?” she jokes back. “Come, look.”

She steps back on to the porch and points at the white-painted building next to yours. You had recognised the property earlier as the one Joel had emerged from when you had been exploring and would be lying to yourself if you said that the green paint was the only thing that had attracted you to this particular house. Wanting to be away from people didn’t mean you wanted to be completely alone. The four years spent with Chris had sometimes actually been fun in between the struggle for survival. Before that…well you knew you didn’t want to go back to a completely solitary existence.

“Right next door,” Maria repeats, and you nod as you try to quell the nerves in your stomach. They only get worse when she departs, holding an arm up in a farewell before she disappears back into the centre of Jackson. You close the door, but can’t seem to release the handle afterwards, standing there with your forehead pressed against the cool wood, eyes closed and trying to breathe normally.

A whole house. A real house. Of your own. Not a tiny cabin, or a barricaded room, or a tent exposed to the elements, or a hastily made camp in an old office building, or an abandoned military truck. A house.

A home?

Exhaling a shaky breath you finally turn your back to the door and slump against it as you survey your tiny kingdom. No, not a home. But a safe place to eat and sleep, and that was a good start on one. Before you step away from the door, you bolt and lock everything that can be bolted and locked. Just in case.

The pale, washed out grey of the winter afternoon sun was now struggling to pierce the gloom of the interior and though you could still just about see, the kitchen was starting to look decidedly shadowy. As if drawn by some unseen entity, your eyes once more travel upward. Where the stairs begin to reject the fading light and transmute into pure blackness…

With a shudder, you tear your gaze away and step further into the living room. Your breath is coming faster again and you realise that the darkening space around you is starting to feel suffocating and absolutely unbearable. Hurriedly, you rush to the kitchen to lock up the back door too, switching the lamps on as you go and checking every window is secure before closing the curtains against the outside world. You close the door to the dining room too, but only once you have checked inside it. It wasn’t likely that a bloater was lurking undetected, but at least now you knew for sure.

You build the fire, for something to do as much as to ward away the cold, and while its settling into the grate you make some…well tea is perhaps too strong a word for the weak brew you manage to eke out of the tiny bit of dried peppermint that you allow yourself to use from the supplies you have been gifted. But you make it on the hob, not over a fire, and the novelty of that is enough to keep the shadows at bay a little while longer.

Unpacking is another good distraction - putting the tins in the cupboards, the perishables(!) in the fridge(!!) and putting the toiletries off to one side, trying once more to ignore the stairs, the thought of a whole other floor of the house, and the inevitable time when you would have to go up there.

It loomed but somehow also lurked. The rooms. The darkness…Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about that. Just focus on the tea. The tea and the fire and a sofa and a book. Like a human being and not a cowering, broken thing.

And after a couple of hours of relative peace, once your bladder is painful and can no longer be ignored, you stand at the foot of those stairs and again stare up into the unknown. Your gun is now in its customary place at your hip. The biggest kitchen knife you could find is in your hand. The small torch you use to explore the world outside Jackson is affixed to your shirt.

A large part of you knows that this is foolish, that this house would have been cleared and checked not just once but many times over. The person who painted it, the person who ensured the plumbing and the electrics worked, the person who placed those books on the bookcase, the person who swept the dust from the floor – all of them moved through here. All of them would have noticed infected roaming around. Hell, Joel and Ellie have lived around here for a while and you doubted they would put up with neighbours like that for long.

And yet you know you won’t be able to sleep until you’ve checked every room yourself. Until you’re certain that the noises that have occasionally broken into your concentration are of the house settling and not footsteps. It is foolish. But it will hopefully bring a certain peace of mind that you desperately need.

The first creaking step up sends an unpleasant tingle across your scalp, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you force away the feeling of wrongness you’re battling. You force yourself to move. One more step. Another. You trail your fingers along the wall, the feeling of stippled paint under your fingertips the slimmest of tethers to reality. The light behind you is fading and ahead your world narrows to the powerful beam of your torch - your only guiding light. The thoughts running through your mind become clipped as you try to quell the feeling of nauseous panic that is threatening to overtake you.

A little further.

Nothing wrong.

Your house.

No one else here.

Of course, the upstairs was entirely ordinary. Old world ordinary true, but nothing was hiding in the shadows or tried to eat or shoot you. As soon as you reach the top landing you lean across to flick the light switch, noting the five doors that are now illuminated by the sickly yellow light coming from behind the ancient lampshade - three ajar, two closed.

The one directly in front of you is a bathroom – you can see the tell-tale gleam of white porcelain within. The two doors to your left lead into bedrooms where you can see carpets and beds and dressers and all the other furnishings you would expect. You explore them as thoroughly as you had the dining room and discover the hitherto unseen ensuite that resides in one of them, before drawing their curtains and closing their doors, your mind only a little less frantic than before.

That left two.

The first is easy - the set of slatted double doors gives it away. A closet with some random detritus inside – an ironing board leaning against one wall, a pathetic looking abandoned scarf draped across a hanger, some old cardboard boxes that you have no intention of looking in.

Then there was one.

Your hand hovers over that doorknob for seconds that pass to minutes.

The corridor

No.

The endless black.

No!

The thin beam of light from your torch when you flicked it on, barely even able to illuminate a halo around what is closest to you.

Nonono!

The shine. The gleam of light on the remnants of gloss paint and broken glass in the door ahead-

NO!

You wrench your shaking hand away and pound back downstairs to the merrily blazing fire, throwing yourself face first into the soft embrace of the sofa, heart racing as you stare into the orange of the crackling flames as if they could burn your memories away through your eyes. Two words run through your mind, trying to blank out the encroaching terror.

Nothingtherenothingtherenothingtherenothingthere

Eventually you control your breathing. Eventually your heart rate reduces and you don’t feel as if you might keel over at any moment, though your mind is still numbly racing. You had lived out there. With the monsters and the bandits and the cannibals and the warlords. So why did this somehow feel worse?

Distantly, as though it was coming through a barrier of water, you hear a knock at the door.

Well, it was more of a brash thumping really. As if the person had been there a while and was getting impatient with being on the wrong side of it.

You lie there, momentarily frozen in the throes of your previous fear. Who could want to see you mere hours after you’d moved in?

Another, louder, round of thumping finally snaps you free of the paralysis. Pushing yourself up to a vertical position, you manage to stand on shaky legs. You decide that its probably Maria coming to check on how you’re settling in.

The thumping starts up again but swiftly abates once you begin the process of unbolting and unlocking the door. What could you say to her? That you were fine? That you had tea and a book and were warm and that all of that was objectively wonderful? That in reality it only served to make you feel more dead inside because you were also freaking out over doors and shadows, trying desperately to stave off another panic attack? No. Tell her what she wants to hear and then…then you can think about just getting through the night.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories

As you pull the door open, you attempt to plaster a smile on your face to give credence to the lies you’re about to say. Instead it freezes into a rictus grin as you come face to face with deep brown eyes and shaggy dark waves.

Next chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f! reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou x female reader #joel tlou x f! reader #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #joel miller x you #come home #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou angst #joel tlou fanfic #joel tlou fanfiction

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annasinterests · 1 year ago

Text

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

so i get out of bed ♫ put on my shoes and in my head

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: going back and revising can either be the best or worst thing in the world i stg lmao. i'm honestly surprised with how quick i got this one out?? anyway, thank you all for the likes and reblogs so far on this series! i hope you're all enjoying where the story is going!! if you have any questions, comments, or even suggestions (even if its like grammatical stuff), please let me know bc i'd love to hear some feedback <3

word count: 4.1k (where da freak did that come from?!)

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, angst, reader midkey being a little shit, reader also being a mom, swearing, lil fluff here n there, pining, looming threats — please tell me if i missed anything!

Winter turned to spring.

Spring turned to summer.

And Ellie found her purpose again.

She volunteered to help all around Jackson when she wasn’t out on patrol with you or Joel, going above and beyond what was expected of her. At least twice a month, the three of you would go over to Tommy and Maria’s for family night, consisting of food and games for a couple hours. Sometimes even Dina, her now-official girlfriend, and Jesse joined– At Ellie’s request, of course.

You tried your best to have meals as a family, taking the time to share details of the day or week, or simply just enjoying each other's presence in silence. Ellie had made it a point to spend time with you and Joel separately once a week outside of work, whether it’d be having lunch, going for a walk, or watching a movie together.

It was like life breathed into her, and your house felt like home again.

Whenever you’d get lucky enough to all be home at the same time, the three of you would be in the living room together but be occupied with your respective interests. Joel would be on the couch with a guitar and rag in hand, delicately cleaning and polishing the instrument, while Ellie sat on the window seat across the room with her notebook and pencil. You’d be curled up on your reading chair between them with your nose in a book while cradling either a mug of coffee or tea. Sometimes the quiet would be broken by Ellie peering up from her art and seriously prompting Joel with a question that was so obviously from her book of puns and you'd watch as she eagerly waited for him to take the bait. You couldn't tell what was better, when Ellie would make herself crack up, or watch Joel shake his head in disbelief with a grin on his face. The best, though, was when Joel would answer with the punchline and laugh as he watched Ellie's face fall with contempt.

Things had just fallen back into place.

The general rule in Jackson was that everything had a set schedule and was planned in advance, no matter how big or minuscule it was. So when Maria had called in for all patrol, leaders, and committee members to meet at first light this morning, you knew it had to be something important.

On your walk over to town hall, you took the extra time to appreciate your surroundings. The sun shined a bit brighter, and the air felt fresher. The trees were regaining their green leaves in full, and weeds sprouted in the cracks of the streets and sidewalks. You waved to fellow settlers sitting on their porches and drinking their morning cups of coffee, many of whom you’d come to know as good friends.

The room filled up quickly and the air hummed with anticipation and light conversation. People arranged themselves according to their role in Jackson, but you only paid attention to the groups you belonged to: The committee, who sat before the podium, and patrol, who lingered near the back. And it just so happened that you were administration duty this week, so you took your seat in the front row. You scanned over your shoulder for Joel and spotted him off in the corner with Tommy, in what seemed like typical brotherly conversation. The two faced each other, Tommy talking passionately about something while Joel shook his head in annoyance, which slowly turned to reluctant nods and a hand up in defeat. You wondered what he’d been going on about.

Your attention was drawn back to the podium by the tapping sound of the microphone that was amplified through the speakers, Maria's favorite way of commanding the room's attention. But when you looked at her, she wasn’t her typical self. In all meetings, planned or not, she always exuded an unmatched confidence and possessed a let's-get-to-business attitude. That she wasn’t phased by the sheer amount of responsibility that rested on her shoulders, being the backbone of Jackson.

But now, something was off. She was bothered, and it showed. Her hands that normally folded in front of her now gripped the sides of the podium with such a strain that you could see her knuckles turning white and her thumb repeatedly scratching at the wood. Her eyes anxiously darted around the room, looking at all the bodies staring back at her, but not really seeing them.

"Thank you all for being here on such short notice," she tried to mask her concern with a bright smile, "I wanted to bring you all together to discuss an important development that has come to our attention."

She paused for a moment, as if to reel in everyone's attention moreso, though it was probably more for herself. You tilted your head and squinted at her as she nervously peered around again, wondering what the hell had gotten into her.

"Recently, some of our patrol has been encountering a group little ways beyond our walls,” she allowed her words to sink in, “but they’re not like our usuals– they’re more organized. Dangerous.”

And? Jackson’s dealt with savagery before, what’s so different now? Maria glanced at you briefly, as if she heard your thoughts.

“They pose a significant threat to us. One greater than we’ve ever seen, and one that we cannot underestimate.”

Without missing a beat, you looked over your shoulder between the sea of people that were exchanging uneasy looks and words for Joel, finding his eyes on you. He shared the same apprehensive expression as you did, with steady eyes and scrunched brows.

Maria held up her hand to quiet the murmur that had rippled through the room before speaking again, but you drowned out her words. The most you were able to put together was something about unsettling information, the community being built on unity and resilience, and stricter security measures.

For all the times you came across people, how many of them had been the company that played a hand in this? How many times had you walked away from someone who harbored ill intentions? How many times had you unwittingly brushed shoulders with death at the hands of these people?

You sat still as ever, eyes locked in front of you, but your body was beginning to shut down as more thoughts crammed themselves into your head. Your heart rate picked up, being able to feel the pulse just about everywhere, and your vision began to blur in and out.

Your hand ghosted over the void in your stomach. You could handle being out there. Fuck, you could come to terms even getting caught out there. But it made your blood run cold knowing that Joel was out there facing those same risks as you, and– fuck– even Ellie too.

One question still lingered: What was it about this group that set them apart from the rest?

“Hey sweetheart-” you were startled by the sudden hand on your knee, jerking your head to the left to look at the woman next to you, Charlotte. She frowned at you, “Are you alright?”

“I’m-” you shook your head to a nod, “I’m- Yes. I am.” She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t pry either. Instead, she gently placed her hand on top of yours.

You liked Charlotte, and not just because you had to for the sake of the committee, because God, there were quite a few that fell under that obligation. You actually respected her. She was sweet and southern as they made them, and everything she did was always handled with grace and poise. You’d also be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t slightly envious of her. To be soft and benevolent well after the end of the world? You could only wish to be those things.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, I could really use Ellie’s help at the school today.” She took her free hand and gestured about the room, “Just ‘ought to prep some things in light of all.. this.”

You placed your hand on top of hers, "Ellie would love to."

“And have Dina go too,” she gave a warm smile and squeezed your shoulder as she stood. She leaned down as if she was confessing a secret, sending you a wink. “I’ve always liked those two.”

It was when she walked away that you noticed the meeting had ended. People were standing clustered in groups, and you were unable to decipher what each conversation had really been about as you were preoccupied with finding Joel before heading out.

He’d still been near the back with Tommy and other patrolmen Samson, Milo, and- oh, great- Fitz.

You’d been paired up with Fitz on several occasions, only getting to know him well enough to stand him for an entire shift, but still struggled to do so. He was a patrol leader around your age, but still acted like he was in his twenties, in the sense of that he wanted to fuck every woman available in Jackson. Every time you’d turn him down, he’d have another girl on his arm the week after, and then a different one after that. And just when you thought he’d given up, he made his rounds back to you in hopes that you’d give him a chance to get in your pants.

Tommy's back had been to you, the four men around him listening to whatever story he'd been telling. You gently patted his shoulder and you stepped beside him so as not to spook him, to which he pulled you in for a side hug/cheek kiss combo and quick good mornin' as he carried on his story. Joel had been on the end of the semi-circle of men, leaving you a spot to settle in next to him. When Tommy got to the height of the tale, the three men erupted in laughter, Joel only shaking his head with a curled lip.

In a moment of reprieve, Fitz took the opportunity to draw the attention to you with a mischievous grin.

“Miler, how’s it that you’ve got the most beautiful woman in Jackson livin’ under the same roof as you, and yet you won’t even claim her?”

Fitz’s tongue poked his cheek as Joel’s jaw tightened at the slight. You caught Tommy giving Joel a smug look before looking down at his feet to hide it. He’d teased Joel for the same thing before, but never as direct or harsh, and definitely not in front of other people. Fitz redirected back to you, “Listen, if he won’t touch ya', I’d be happy to-”

“Who said he didn’t?”

You wanted to punch yourself in the throat immediately, but the wild look on Joel’s face made the lie so fucking worth it. You kept the smirk on your face and stared at Fitz until he grew uncomfortable enough to break contact, ignoring the wide eyed expressions from the rest of them.

“You could probably take some pointers, honestly.” You jerked your thumb at Joel.

Joel continued to burn holes into your head as Tommy, Milo, and Samson tried to stifle their laughter. Fitz rolled his eyes as a redness spread on his cheeks, mumbling an insult and withdrawing himself from the group. You smiled and bit your lip as you watched him walk away, letting out an airy laugh once he was out of sight.

“So, when were you guys gonna-” You and Joel both gestured defensively at Tommy as excuses fell out of your mouths by the second.

“No! We’re not-” you glanced at Joel quickly. “No. That was just to get Fitz to quit his shit.”

Knowing Fritz’s reputation, Tommy didn’t require anymore persuasion, saving you from having to over-explain yourself and wind up looking like a fool in the process. “Well.. we're havin' a thing at the Bison on Friday. Why don't you come down?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, looking at Joel for confirmation if you heard him correctly. “Shouldn’t we.. I don’t know, not be having a thing? Especially after what Maria just said?”

Tommy nodded his head and sighed, knowing exactly that’s what the invitation sounded like. “It’s not- It’s supposed to be a.. morale booster, fuckin’ whatever– it's Maria’s idea, not mine. I'm just supposed to get the word out."

While it felt a little odd, you could understand why she wanted to do it. "I don't know, Tommy, I-"

"Great! See y'all there!" Tommy smirked as he looked between you and Joel and began to walk away. You turned to Joel with disbelief, but he was unphased, conveying how Tommy had roped him into this way before you walked over.

As the room emptied out, you all took it as your cue to leave and begin tending to your responsibilities for the day. Joel had disappeared too quickly for your liking, but you didn’t have the time to sit and chat with him either.

You stopped home to find Ellie, Dina, and Jesse in the kitchen eating breakfast together, chuckling at the idea of the other two essentially being your adoptive children as well for how much they were over.

Ellie offered you a strawberry off her plate and inquired about the meeting with genuine curiosity. Carefully, you explained to them the importance of being aware of their surroundings for the next couple of weeks, and to not stay out past curfew no matter where they were. Meaning if they needed to crash at your house for the night, so be it, and so on and so forth. They found your propositions to be odd, understandably as you didn’t give the proper context as to why, but nonetheless they didn’t question you.

"So.. are you going to the thing on Friday?" Jesse’s inquiry took you by surprise.

"How do you know about the thing on Friday?" You asked like a mother asking her child about something they weren't supposed to know about.

"I ran into Fitz before I got here.”

You rolled your eyes. Fuckin’ Fitz. Of course he’s going. You shifted your weight against the counter, crossing your arms. "Yeah, I am. Why?"

"'Cause we were gonna sneak in if you weren't." Dina mumbled behind her glass of juice.

You tittered at her honesty, your eyebrows now furrowed together. "And why would you guys have to sneak in?"

"Because Fitz said that Uncle Tommy said it was only for adults? Like, older than us." Ellie gestured to the other two and shot you a look of confusion, like you were already supposed to know.

Your expression stayed the same, but your eyes shifted around the room as you thought about the new fact she presented you.

Huh. Only for adults.

Your mouth closed and curled up. It was on brand for Tommy to not have added that important piece of information.

Ellie watched as the gears turned in your head, but you didn't give her the opportunity to pick at your brain as you changed the subject to Charlotte's request.

“Well, Ms. Charlotte needs you two to help her today.” You pointed your fingers at the girls, who shared an excitement to be with the kids. Keeping one finger on them, you averted the other to Jesse. “And you need to get ready to head out, Mr. Almost-Patrol-Leader.”

The kids rushed to clean up their dishes and grab their bags to get to it. Before running out the door, they each gave you their own special way of saying goodbye.

“Thanks for letting me eat your food!”

“See you later, love you!

“Love you more than Ellie does!”

You beamed at the door after it closed.

For some reason, you thought Joel would've been home. You imagined that if he had been present for the conversation, he definitely would've dropped a sarcastic remark somewhere to illustrate his dismay for Fitz or the party. But he wasn't, and it made you feel off.

You were still leaning against the counter in deep thought, feeling.. oddly familiar in the spot. It had only been months ago when you stood here, tea in hand, sharing a.. moment.. with Joel. You stared at the empty space where he had left the jar of honey that morning, a memory of yet another stolen moment.

The silence overwhelmingly contrasted with the energetic scene you were just part of, forcing you to realize just how empty the house was.

You shook your head, rousing yourself from your thoughts.

Go. Go out and get some work done.

You spent the rest of the afternoon and evening walking through the bustling streets of Jackson, checking in with other leaders and taking note of their preparations for the coming weeks to report back to Maria. You wanted to gather as much information as possible to keep her adequately informed, but it also gave you a reason to push Joel far away from your thoughts.

Through your interactions, you couldn't help but admire the unity and spirit of Jackson. The sense of vigilance permeated the community, there was a collective understanding that every measure mattered in ensuring the safety of everyone. From rigorous training sessions led by guardsmen, sharpening their combat skills and marksmanship, to the meticulous maintenance of weapons and ammunition, no detail was overlooked.

Before returning to the town hall, you brought yourself to the stables. It sat on a hill that overlooked the town with no other buildings near it, making it the perfect getaway when you needed a break from all the noise.

It'd been empty with the exception of a handful of horses in their stalls. In relaxed movements, you swiftly picked up a bucket and flipped it upside down as a makeshift seat, plopping yourself down on it. Hues of red and orange brushed across the sky, the sun sitting just over the top of a mountain far out in the distance. You sat quietly, listening to the buzzing and ticks of nature.

"Can't beat that view." A gentle voice came from behind you, registering as Joel.

The sound of his boots on the floor let you know he approached your side, shoving his hands into his pockets. You nodded in agreement, not seeing the use for words in the moment. Neither one of you looked or even glanced at each other, focusing your attention to the sunset in front of you. The sun descended behind the mountain, dragging the bold colors with it and allowing new hues of blue and purple to replace it. The town lights began to come on, flickering up and down the streets. A soft yellow glow illuminated the stables.

You hadn't seen him all day after the meeting, but now here he was, joining you in your small time of solace. Honestly, you didn't expect him to be there. If he had gone out for his shift around noon, he wasn't supposed to be back for another few hours. You thought that maybe Tommy switched his shift last minute, or that you just remembered his schedule wrong for the week. Either way, you weren't going to poke and prod. Your thoughts had pivoted back to this morning.

“Do you think she’s not telling us something?”

He furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before relaxing. “Maybe.”

You stood up and slid the bucket off to the side, beginning to pace at the edge where the wood met the grass. Joel watched as you brought your hands to your hips and your eyes stared down at your feet, placing themselves one in front of the other as if they threatened to trip over thin air.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this. It all felt so sinister. You wanted to be mad at yourself– How could you have gone so long without realizing that there’d been people out there watching, judging, and assessing every move? But also, how could you have known? What were the signs you were supposed to be looking for?

“People hide things when they’re scared.”

His words stopped your pace, and fuck if they hit a little too close to home. You faced him with a perplexed expression etched on your face and a light desperation in your voice. “But why is she scared?”

You weren’t looking for a legitimate answer, you just wanted him to see where your train of thought was at. You searched his eyes in hopes that he shared the same doubts. That something bigger was in the picture.

“Tommy thinks they’re tracking us on patrol.” He shrugged his shoulders again, his eyes first glancing down at the ground before landing on you. He shifted his weight to his one foot almost cautiously. "Seems that way, I guess."

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you tried to take deep breaths. Your hands ran through your hair to stimulate the light-headed feeling that was spreading quickly. No fucking way.

“How long?”

Your eyebrows were knitted together and your eyes narrowed at Joel's. He brought his hands to his hips and turned himself towards Jackson, staring off into the distance, where somewhere between all those mountains, rivers, and forests, danger lurked. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air, a tangible presence that seemed to amplify the gravity of the situation.

“Been runnin’ into the same people for a couple months, at least.”

Months. They had fucking months on you. And only now had Jackson realized it. Yet, Joel seemed indifferent in conveying this to you. You felt that all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, and you turned away, dragging a hand down your mouth to cover your mouth, muffling an oh my fucking god. You reverted back to how you thought about how blissfully unaware you were about all the times they could’ve taken or killed you, or Joel, or– you whipped around to him.

“She cannot go on patrol anymore.” He looked at you with a somber expression, his gaze growing with concern as the lines on his forehead deepened. You didn’t notice as he drew closer to you as you began to think of the worst case scenarios. “I’m sorry, Joel- But she can’t. God forbid something-”

You’d been talking a million miles a minute and staring right into his chest, yet didn’t see his hands coming up to cradle your face and make you look up at him. In his eyes, you saw his worry as you lost yourself in your own head. He saw how troubling you found the entire matter to be, and knew that it would eat at you until it was put to rest.

“Please, don’t let her.” Your hands wrapped over top of his as your voice broke in a final plea.

His hands were rough and calloused, yet when they held you, you’d think that he’d held everything in life this softly. His thumbs ran over your cheekbones, eyes flickering between your own. If the circumstances were different, maybe you’d take your chance and crash into him. But when he looked at you like this? Man, it didn’t get much better than that.

“Yes ma’am.”

In his response that probably should’ve made either of you withdraw, neither of you did. His eyes quickly glanced down at your mouth, and you involuntarily did the same to him. You said his name, but it was barely audible. He brought his hand to the back of your hand and guided you into his chest, wrapping his arm around you.

“Hey,” he cooed, “we’re gonna be okay.”

His words had a profound effect on you. Those simple words said with such an assurance and sincerity that you so desperately wanted to believe him without question. It echoed in your head.

We're gonna be okay.

You don't know when, but at some point over all the years with Joel, it became something more than just surviving together. It became that you were unofficially his, and he was unofficially yours, with no room for anyone but Ellie inbetween. But still, you found yourself wondering if it would ever be more than just that. If he ever felt the same pull, the magnetic force that constantly drew you towards him.

You couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depth of your own feelings. If he grasped the significance of these moments that left your heart racing. Did he know how often you spent thinking about him, replaying conversations in your mind, searching for hidden meaning in every word and gesture like you were right now?

You buried your chest into his chest and nodded, a silent acknowledgement at best, allowing his words to sink in for what they were worth.

"Yeah, we're gonna be okay."

You didn't believe yourself for a second.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

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bluestar22x · 1 year ago

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The Tree

Summary: Joel and Ellie pick out and decorate their first Christmas tree together (follows canon unless Season 2 contradicts it)

Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams (Joel POV)

Rating: 13+

Warnings: Some fluff, some angst, fowl language, and a mention of a character from game 2 (a friend of Ellie's is named - that's it).

Word Count: 2,600 (ish)

Author’s Note: I didn't expect to make two TLOU oneshots for Christmas, but this one popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Update: 2nd one is now posted.

xxx

If anyone had told Joel during the previous twenty years that someday he'd find himself prepping to put a Christmas tree in his house again, he'd have called them crazy.

Celebrating Christmas was simply not a luxury he'd had since the outbreak, not that he would have wanted to. Whenever he had been in a place where he could track what day it was, the memories that rushed him during the Christmas season had him wishing desperately that he didn't know. What had been one of the most joyful times of the year had become the third worst, after his and Sarah's birthdays. Remembering her overzealously helping him decorate the tree and placing the latest handmade ornament she'd made at school on a branch of her choosing usually had him reaching for the nearest liquor bottle at record speed because she was dead and he wasn't.

This year was different. He was in Jackson now, where most days it was almost easy to forget that the outside world wasn't full of infected and corrupt people. Almost. He'd made a point not to forget. Had made a point to stay sharp for when the world found Jackson. Though he didn't voice it, a part of him thought it's fall was inevitable, there was simply no way the world would let Jackson stay hidden and safe forever, but that didn't mean he thought it was pointless.

He'd joined the patrol as soon as he could, not just to keep an eye on his little brother, not just to remind himself that Jackson was still surrounded by violence and death, but also to keep the town safe for as long as possible. As long as he was out there, as long as he was breathing, no one or thing would jeopardize what the town had, what his family had.

Family which now included Ellie, without a doubt. The girl he'd once begrudgingly taken on was now as much of a daughter to him as Sarah. And she was the only reason he was willingly diving into Christmas traditions again.

She had asked for a tree after having heard half the town talking about getting their own back in November, and he hadn't needed much convincing in the end. He couldn't deny her of the full Christmas experience when she'd never had it before. Maria had even lent them some colored lights the town had stored away. Typically Jackson households skipped having lights in their trees because they were in short supply and they already had the town square tree, but since it was Ellie's first official Christmas she had graciously loaned them a few sets of lights for the month. The ornaments Tommy had brought over the day before however, were gifts from their own personal supply and his brother had assured him that they did not need to be returned.

With the decorations in hand, all Joel needed to do was grab some gear and head out with Ellie just beyond the walls to cut down a tree to put them on.

He'd set time aside on the first Saturday of December to do it, waking with the sunrise and packing his bag up. He and Ellie weren't going far sure, but he never liked to go beyond the walls unprepared. Extra clothes, extra bullets, and metal water bottles were all thrown in among other things.

He woke Ellie up after for a simple breakfast of eggs and toast and then they headed for the stables to saddle up a pair of horses.

"I'm going to ride Luna today," she declared, approaching the silver dappled mare in the first stall to scratch her behind the ear. The mare, who was probably his age in horse years, leaned into her touch like an itchy dog, making Ellie giggle and the sound made the edges of Joel's lips quirk up. He'd never get tired of hearing her laugh. He'd never take it for granted after everything they'd been through since they met.

"You riding Caliber?" she guessed.

Joel nodded, giving the young solid dark bay stallion a brief pat on his neck as he passed his stall. Cal had been his go to horse to ride on patrol the last few months and he'd secretly become attached to the horse. He was smart and very dependable for his age. He didn't easily spook and was less accident prone than the other horses that were fresh out of their teenage years.

Ellie followed Joel into the tack room and they grabbed saddles, saddle pads, bridles, and brushes for the horses. It took them fifteen minutes to groom the horses properly and tack them up before they mounted and plodded towards the gate.

Joel waved up at the guard on duty, a young woman named Hannah who was also a patrol member, and she waved back before gesturing for two other community members on top of the wall to open the gate.

Then they were on their own, and even though he knew the guards were watching, even though a patrol was out, and even though they weren't going out of sight of Jackson's walls Joel's senses kicked into high gear, used to having to watch his back all the time. Even before his hazardous cross country trip with Ellie there had been the quarantine zone guards and the other shady people he and Tess had bartered with, and before that there were enemy raiders and infected when they had set out for Boston. The general safety of Jackson was foreign to him after two decades of the world being anything but.

Joel took a moment to make sure he had his gun secure and nudged Caliber into a jog, one that Ellie mirrored with Luna at his side.

When they reached the tree line they slowed to a stop and hopped off their horses, looping their reins over a couple strong branches so the horses wouldn't think of wandering away. Jackson's horses were trained to ground tie but every once in a while they didn't follow the rules. Not unlike a certain someone.

"So what makes for a good Christmas tree?" Ellie asked loudly. "Besides being a spruce."

"Other kinds of evergreens can be used as Christmas trees," Joel informed her. "I just prefer spruce. They're classics for a reason. They have good color and they shed less needles. Ya know what we're looking for?"

She rolled her eyes. "I know what a spruce tree looks like, Joel."

"Good," he said, adjusting the strap to the rifle he was carrying over his right shoulder. "Find one that's got character and is six feet tall or less."

Ellie took the search seriously, taking her time as she trudged through deep snow to examine each spruce tree they passed that might work. She passed a lot that would've been fine to decorate, but he had told her to look for something unique and it looked like she was up for the challenge.

It took a half hour of Joel following her around patiently before she finally stopped in front of a nearly six foot fat spruce tree with a chunk of empty space at the bottom. "This one."

"That one has a bunch of missing branches," he pointed out.

"You said find one that had character," she reminded him, gesturing to the tree. "This one does. It may not be the prettiest tree out here, but it's special because it is different."

How could he argue with words as wise as that? He smiled at her softly and nodded. "Alright, let's get to cutting it down then."

He took care of that part, using the axe he had on hand to expertly carve the trunk so that it broke and fell away from them into a small gap in the forest.

"Were you a lumberjack in another life?" Ellie inquired, eying him curiously.

"Only at Christmas time," Joel answered with a chuckle. "Sarah and I went to the local Christmas tree farm every year and I always cut down the one we picked out myself."

It had always been one of his favorite days of the year, seeing Sarah giddily dart tree to tree in search for the perfect one, hair flying. He could picture it now, for the first time in over twenty years, Ellie having resurfaced the memory. It was a gift. One she hadn't intended, but a gift all the same, and Joel was grateful. He was grateful about a lot of things when it came to Ellie.

"Did you drag the tree out by horse back then too?" she quizzed.

He shook his head. "No, that's new." He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders along with the rifle and plucked some rope out of it. "Now help me tie it up. We'll have to carry it out to the horses, but after that I'm wrapping the tree up in the tarp and Cal's doing all the work."

Ellie nodded and did as told. The tree was a fair bit heavy for its size, but they managed to haul it over to the horses and secured it in a tarp that Joel had rolled up on Cal's back. With a bit more rope he soon had set up a little rope system so Cal could pull the tree with the connecting rope around the horn of the saddle.

Then they made the short trip back to town, the same group of people on the wall opening the gates back up to them.

Joel and Ellie rode the horses to their house and lifted the tree up the stairs and into the kitchen before they returned to the stables to give their mounts another good brushing and an armful of hay to munch on once they were alone in their stalls.

"Is there a special way we have to string up the lights in the tree?" Ellie questioned as they walked back home.

"Not in particular," Joel replied rubbing his gloved hands together. It was freezing outside, even for early December. "Everyone has their preferences. Some like to string them down, or across, let them hang from the branches or keep them tight over them. You can do it whichever way you want to."

The tree was probably going to end up chaotic looking if he left Ellie to her own devices, but then he wasn't doing all of this for himself. Whatever way she strung up the lights, that's how they'd stay.

As soon as they were back home Ellie untied the ropes around the tree and helped Joel carry it into the living room so he could secure it in a Christmas tree stand. She hung onto it until they were both sure it wouldn't fall over and he began to untangle the smaller branches. Ellie observed him quietly and started to do the same once she understood what he was doing. He smiled at the way she was concentrating, clearly afraid to break the branches if she didn't.

"Are the lights next?" she asked after they finished up.

"I've always put up the topper first," he told her. He wasn't sure why; half the time he'd needed to straighten it back out after all the decorating was completed.

"Topper it is."

The topper they'd been gifted was a silver star, and Ellie fetched it from the decorations box while Joel set a step stool in front of the tree. He showcased it when Ellie turned around to face him. "Honors go to you since this is your first Christmas tree."

She beamed at him, making his heart swell, and eagerly climbed to the top of the stool, placing the star over the tree's top center branch. "Like this?"

"It's a little crooked," Joel noted. "Try to tip it a little more to the left."

"Okay, better?" Ellie inquired after adjusting it slightly.

It looked good to his eyes, but Joel chose to ignore that. "A little more left."

She listened and he hummed. "No, that's not it. Move it back a little to the right now."

He couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he did manage not to laugh as Ellie obeyed again, and she wasn't facing him to see it.

"Good?"

"A little back now."

Ellie sighed dramatically but adjusted the star again anyway and Joel kept making random suggestions until she finally caught on a minute or so later. "You're fuckin' with me, aren't you?" she asked as she glanced over at him, a hand on her hip.

He smirked. "Guilty."

"Asshole."

"You fell for it," he countered.

"Shut up." She hopped down and pointed at the box of lights. "If you're done messing with me, can we now add the lights?"

Joel nodded back at her. "After we untangle them."

She groaned, already having had her fill of menial work, but she dug into the box as quickly as she could, anxious to get it over so she could see what a tree looked like with lights in it. Her friends at the school in Jackson had promised her that she was going to love it.

"Gonna just stand there, old man, or are you going to help?"

"Pass me a bunch," he ordered, gesturing for her to hand some over and she carried a bundle to him. He sat down on the couch and got to work while she took the floor.

It felt like longer for them both, but they managed to get the lights straightened out in just over twenty minutes.

"So how are ya going to hang them?" Joel questioned. "Have you decided yet?"

Ellie mulled it over for a moment. "I think I want to string it across, but tightly. That's what Cat said she prefers."

Cat was one of her friends. Her best friend. Ellie hung out with her the most out of the whole little group she'd joined once she'd started going to school.

"If you're sure."

She nodded quickly. "I am."

"Alright, then, let's get started."

Joel gave Ellie suggestions as they circled the tree, the bulk of lights in his hands, but she was otherwise completely in control the whole time as she unfurled them, and it turned out for a first timer, she really had a keen eye for it. When they finished putting in the last set of lights, plugged them into a power box and turned it on, he was honestly impressed by the results.

Ellie looked pretty proud of it too, a smile spreading out across her face, brightening up her eyes. "Nice."

"Turns out Cat was right," Joel mused.

"Don't tell her that though," she pleaded and he chuckled.

"I won't if you tell me one thing, and you're honest about it."

She blinked up at him blankly, not sure of what kind of question to expect.

He smiled slightly at her reaction and tilted his head towards the tree. "Is it everything you hoped for?"

Ellie's face broke out into a broad grin, recalling two of the few pleasant memories they had of their journey across the US as she examined the tree before her once more. Joel could see the red, green, yellow, and blue lights shining in her eyes, making them sparkle, and it was beautiful.

"I can't believe how long it takes to put lights in a tree," she told him as his eyes followed to where hers were looking, "But you can't deny that view."

Joel glanced over to her again, studying her radiant expression.

She was right. He couldn't.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed, @morallyinept

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

#The Last Of Us (HBO)#TLOU Fanfic #Joel Miller Fanfic #Ellie Williams Fanfic #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #Fanfiction #Mine #Yes Joel's Favorite Horse Is Based On Game Callus

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tmuses · 29 days ago

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"Wonderful! The more, the merrier."

The first rays of the morning sun began to stream through the club windows, signaling just how long they'd been sitting at the bar top. They'd long since closed the doors to customers, but none were all too eager to head home themselves. With Christmas in a few days, the club had stayed open far later than usual to accommodate the flood of customers feeling lonely. Saint, among a few of the others, had stayed after for drinks and a riveting discussion of how much their lives sucked. For many of the girls, the holidays served as a reminder of what they'd had to give up when they chose to pursue this lifestyle. Some still met with their parents for eggnog and presents, but many of them were returning to an empty home and no one to celebrate with. Unfortunately, his situation wasn't all that different.

Saint brought his glass of whiskey to his lips, swallowing the rest of it down in one easy gulp. He knew he needed to be heading out, but a part of him was dreading going back to his apartment. He hadn't spoken with Maria in a week and a half, and from what little conversation they did have, it was obvious he wouldn't be seeing her or their daughter over the holidays. His ex-wife had done her best to write him out of their lives, entirely despite his desperation to remain in it. Sometimes, he wondered if it had been worth it and if he'd make the same choices had he been given the option to do differently. The answer was unequivocally yes, but it didn't make the sting of losing his wife and daughter any easier. This was his first Christmas out of prison, and he hadn't even bothered to buy a Christmas tree for his apartment, let alone make plans.

He'd asked Maria if he could at least bring the presents he'd gotten by the house, but she'd told him no. He'd had to settle for sending it in the mail, and honestly, he half expected the packages to end up back on his doorstep. With a subtle sigh, he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He was about to set the bottle back down on the counter when he realized he hadn't offered any to Babydoll. Kitty and Xiomara had left the moment they locked the doors, but Cherry, Babydoll, and a couple of the other girls had stayed after. Most of them had cleared out, but Babydoll was still there, slowly sipping away. She was uncharacteristically quiet tonight, and Saint couldn't discern if it was because of her or him.

It was pretty evident that Saint was having a rough time. He was always quiet, more of an observer than anything, but he was at least friendly. Throughout the week, he'd been agitated, quick to anger, and downright aggressive with the handsy customers. Babydoll hadn't been herself either, however. On stage, she acted the same as she always did, but when the lights went down, he could see that faux happiness faded, even if it was for just a moment.

He twisted ever so slightly to face her, offering the bottle though she quickly shook her head in response. He set it back down on the bar top and brought the now full glass to his lips to take another swig. He could hear Babydoll clearing her throat, now interested in getting his attention. He turned to face her once more, brows raised as he waited patiently for her to say something. "So," she offered with a nod, "do you have any plans for Christmas?" He almost laughed at how timely the question was, but the sobering mood of the room wouldn't allow it. "You a mind reader or something?" He mused playfully. That brought a smile to her lips, her energy already rising. "What?" She asked excitedly, "No, i'm not, I swear!" Where you thinking about Christmas?"

Saint finished off his glass again, this time pushing it towards the back of the counter so he wouldn't be tempted to pour another. "Yeah," he sighed with a nod, "I don't have plans--To answer your question." Her brows knit together, lips forming a pout, "None?" Her question brought an uncomfortable silence as he thought about how much he wanted to share with her. It wouldn't be fair to bring her down any more than he already was. His lips pulled together into a tight smile before finally replying, "No. Not this year." The tone of his voice was enough to prevent Babydoll from asking anything else. "Well," she started, clearly thinking over her words, "Kitty has a get together every year. It's a bunch of the girls from the club, and we open presents with Q, and it's super fun. You can come, if you want to? I doubt she'd mind." She gave him an eager nod and a smile as she awaited his answer. "Uh...sure, I'll think about it," he offered with a slight shrug. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, bringing her hands together, "The more the merrier!"

#t; meme #m; Saint #Saint & Babydoll #c; Saint

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notsowrites · 3 years ago

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Untitled 3x02 Coda #1

If RNM isn’t going to give us Malex, fine. That’s what fanfic is for.

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Outside the cave, far enough that Jones can't hear him, Michael lets go of all the anger and frustration that's built up over the past several hours. Hears tree limbs snap and rock tumble and crash around him, and when he opens his eyes it looks like a small tornado has passed through the area. His truck is untouched, right where he parked it outside the cave entrance, and Michael runs a hand over the driver side door, taking a deep breath. He does feel slightly better now, his skin no longer feels too tight, his mind isn't racing quite so quickly.

He drives. Away from Jones, and away from the caves. He thinks of stopping at the Pony, drowning himself in alcohol - except for the fact that Maria is still angry at him. But he won't apologize for that. He still can't believe how reckless she was, jumping off the roof of the Crashdown in some dumbass attempt to trigger her visions.

Thinking of her reminds him of her words again, how she'd pointed out he never seemed to have any ill effects from using his abilities. How had he not noticed? How had Max and Isobel not noticed? Had they chalked it up to the booze and acetone? Did they really think he was that much of a drunk to never say anything as they chugged acetone after using their abilities?

Alex had made comments. Several, over the past couple years. Ones that struck him to his core that Alex would assume something like that. Maybe he deserved it, choosing booze and acetone to quiet the chaos of his mind, needing to silence it somehow and not knowing how.

Even when he tries not to think about Alex, his mind eventually settles there, and Michael tries not to think too hard about that. What it means.

He realizes he's a block away from Alex's house, and turns down the street. The lights are off, except for the yard lights, and Alex's SUV is missing. He lets the truck idle, as he looks over the house, mentally scolding himself why he'd ended up here of all places. Alex doesn't need to hear about Michael's issues.

It's probably a stupid decision, Michael thinks, as he turns off the engine and pushes open the door, walking around to the rear of his truck and pulling down the tailgate. He's spent enough time tonight sitting outside his trailer, lost in his thoughts. The change of scenery might be good - even if this is where he ended up.

What Michael doesn't expect is Alex's SUV to appear not soon afterward. And what he really doesn't plan on seeing is Alex in his dress blues uniform as he steps out of the car. The shirt is open, hanging loose and revealing a white tshirt underneath. There's something clutched in his hand that Michael can't make out, and thinks maybe it doesn't matter.

"What are you doing here, Guerin?" Alex sounds tired. About as tired as Michael feels.

"I was trying to clear my head, and I just-" he stops and shakes his head, realizing how stupid this was. "I'll get out of your way."

"No, that's not-" Alex takes a step forward, his hand reaching towards Michael, like he's going to stop him. "That's not what I meant. Sorry, it's been a long day."

Michael laughs. "Tell me about it." He nods at Alex, trying to indicate his uniform. "Fancy Air Force thing?"

Alex bites his lip, and turns away, like he's debating talking about it at all. And Michael knows Alex has his secrets, doesn't always tell people what he's doing - hell, he up and left for a year to clean up Project Shepherd and barely told anyone. "Something like that."

Michael nods, understanding. But he also knows Alex is lying, he just doesn't understand why.

"You've been gone so long - there's a lot happening here too."

"Kyle told me about Max. I'm so sorry, Guerin."

"You know, last year, after everything, after nearly losing him, I thought things were getting better. Maria broke up with me, you disappeared - but I had Max and Isobel. And now-" Michael hates how deeply it hurts to think about losing Max again. For good.

"But he can't be saved again?"

"He doesn't want to be."

Alex looks taken aback, and Michael just feels frustrated. How much does he even want to tell Alex? Everything? He doesn't know. But maybe - maybe when Alex said he wanted to be friends, this is what he meant.

"How could he not?"

"His body is rejecting Noah's heart. He's known since last year, and never said a goddamn word about it." He hopes Alex can read what he's not saying, the words he can't bring himself to say - about how angry he is at Max for this decision, for not saying anything, for not letting them try and figure out a way to save him. Because he doesn't know what he's going to do if Max dies.

Michael's not sure he can stand losing anyone else.

"And there's no other aliens to do a heart transplant," Alex says quietly. sitting down on the tailgate next to him, fidgeting with the thing in his hands until Michael realizes it's part of his uniform as the light reflects off a Captain's bars badge.

Except there is someone.

There is someone in a cave out in the desert, locked up behind a cage that he built. Someone who is a replica of Max, who shares his DNA, who could be an exact match for Max.

"That's not - there might be someone."

"What?"

Taking a deep breath, Michael closes his eyes and stubbornly chooses not to look at Alex. "Last year, out in the desert, we found the stowaway who crashed the ship. My mother - Isobel and my mother - they had locked him up down in a cave."

"A year ago?"

Yeah, Michael realizes how ridiculous it probably sounds to somehow else.

"Iz and I have been trying to get answers from him, about where we came from, and why we're here-"

"Everything you've wanted to know."

This is where it gets difficult, and Michael pushes up off the tailgate, pacing around the driveway, rocks kicking up beneath his boots as he walks, Alex's gaze on him, but Michael can't focus on that right now.

"Maybe not! Because everything he says makes me wonder if anything Tripp wrote in that journal was true. Because according to him, she and Isobel's mom engineered Max as a weapon to fight back against some sort of planetary dictator, and kept him a prisoner."

"Guerin," Alex says, cutting into his rant. "I was there with you that day at the prison. She loved you. Even I could see that. So maybe it's not as black and white as you think."

"He said she chained up a kid, Alex," he snaps, his skin suddenly feeling too tight, his mind racing too fast. "What part of that isn't black and white?"

Too caught up in his pacing, in the chaos building in his mind, Michael spins on his heel and almost runs into Alex, who is standing in front of him now, hand held out in front to keep Michael from plowing him over. But it doesn't matter, because he feels himself shatter from the inside out, the tears in his eyes spilling over. He'd already cried once today over what he thought he knew about his mother, wasn't that enough?

"She loved you," Alex insists, his voice sounding annoyingly firm. "She found a way to travel across the universe because she loved you."

He hates how Alex makes it sound so simple, as if that love should be enough. But when has love ever done him any good? He'd told Isobel once, love is the worst thing that ever happened to me and hates that it's still true. His mother had loved him, and ended up here, where she'd died without ever getting to see him. He loved Alex, and that had been nothing but pain and heartache. He loved Maria, who instead had broken up with him. He loved Max and Isobel, and yet now Max was deciding to leave him.

"To escape a dictator! To escape someone who is my-" Michael stops short, pulling his words back. He doesn't want to call someone who is a dictator his father. He doesn't want to use that word. "I'm just the product of my mother needing to convince the dictator she was on his side."

Alex reaches out, taking his left hand, the hand still covered by the bandana because of Max's stupid decision to heal it without permission. The hand that he needed to keep the reminder that it's not worth it to think there's good in anything. Michael is glad when Alex doesn't try to remove it, just wraps his fingers around the palm and holds their hands up against his chest, near where Alex's heart is.

"Even if that's what she did, it doesn't mean she loved you any less."

He hates how convinced Alex sounds, as though the rest of it doesn't matter. He wishes it were that simple, that he could just forget everything else.

With one last squeeze of his hand, Alex lets them drop, and nods towards his house. "It's been a hell of a day - wanna come in and I'll tell you about it?"

Alex's military service is something Michael has never been fond of. The fighting, the rules, the fact that it's the reason Alex got injured - but maybe, he thinks, maybe tonight it'll be a good distraction for him.

He nods, and follows Alex inside.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #can be read as a sequel to my 3x01 coda i guess #just gonna imagine a happy place #where malex are talking #even if we haven't seen it on screen yet

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rivendellsstuff · 3 years ago

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𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | Because Grisha Jaeger had placed a lot of expectations on all his children, but especially on (Y/N).

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1790;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. Inspired by the song “Brother“ by Kodaline; and, yes, that is part of a story that I will never publish.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! This is the second time I have ventured into writing a story in English. I hope, with all my heart, that I am managing to evolve and that the text is understandable. If you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

────── ▎She had no other pleasure that morning than to walk barefoot on the grass, still damp from the light drizzle that had occurred the night before.

She was lightly shaking a small basket, which she had made herself the year before from the thinnest branches of a cherry tree, while she sang a quiet melody among the bushes and trees that began to surround her. It was a very hot and humid afternoon. On the way to the apple tree, the light was so intense that she shielded her eyes.

The aroma of ripe apples began to gather strength around her. With her fingertips, she gently caressed the fruits she loved. They were ready to be picked, and she smiled, satisfied.

A slight rustling from the right side caught the attention of Grisha Jaeger's eldest daughter, startling her, causing her eyes to quickly search for the source of such.

It was Mikasa.

Her gray dress was a shade darker than her eyes and her black hair shone in the sunlight, her hands closed around her red scarf. She knew it was Mikasa's habit to do this to make sure it was always hanging around her neck. Somehow, it seemed to calm her.

''Hey,'' (Y/N) greeted the younger girl. ''Is everything okay?''

At the present moment, she barely spoke to her adopted sister, although everyone seemed charmed by her. Mikasa was an incredibly intelligent and strong child, no doubt she had managed to escape a terrible situation, the mere mention of which made (Y/N)'s stomach clench and her heart soar in her chest. The most remembered mark on the girl's personality, however, was her incredible sense of loyalty to Eren. Of this, anyone who had spent at least two days with her could tell.

And, yes, it was true that the two did not know each other very well, but in light of the short time they had been together, she had found out enough to know that Mikasa was real and part of the family.

''Yes,'' Mikasa answered, shyly, after a minute of silence. ''May I... accompany you?

''Oh, I don't see why not,'' the older woman smiled tenderly.

The two sisters raised their eyes to the apple trees and began picking them by the bunches. The sun was high enough to illuminate the whole place, although its light was in the treetops. A very beautiful and welcoming place. Beside her, Mikasa seemed to think the same, with a small smile on her face and barely blinking her little eyes, wanting to memorize every detail. Even under the intense heat, fatigue didn't seem to discourage either of them.

''Amazing, isn't it?'', (Y/N) inquired to the younger girl, who blinked twice before turning to her. ''Here, hold this.''

Mikasa nodded and held up the small basket.

As (Y/N) tried to balance on the higher branches, Mikasa brought one of the red fruits to her lips, tasting the acidic freshness in her mouth, and her eyes narrowed at the slight acidity that characterized them, while her ears didn't seem to want to part with (Y/N)'s frustrated gasps.

''Oh, no, no!''

Mikasa's eyes widened as (Y/N) falls to the ground. While the girl still had her mouth open in surprise, her sister began to laugh. She remained on the floor, not caring about the wetness, but she didn't let the shadow of a smile escape Mikasa's face.

''Oh, so you think that's funny?'' she asked, and she wiped a single tear from her eyes, shaking her head negatively at her own shame.

With her tiptoe, she pushed the younger woman's heel hard enough to make her fall beside her.

A second lost, and then another.

Finally, letting go of her surprise, she let out a laugh, still holding the basket. It was a happy afternoon, the happiest in a long time for the two sisters, and before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

It was a happy afternoon, the happiest in a long time for the two sisters, and before they knew it, the sun was starting to set.

''We'd better go, little one. Mother will be furious with us if we're late for dinner,'' she said, smoothing her dress over her body. ''Let me fix this.''

Mikasa raised one of her eyebrows.

She ran her fingers over the scarf, smoothing it over her body, then lightly pinched the younger girl's nose, just like her mother used to do once upon a time.

The fall of Wall Maria marked the end of an entire era. It was a tragedy; an atrocity. On the day that so many people were torn from their homes and their lives, a permanent shadow shrouded the hearts of Grisha Jaeger's children.

There were no songs in that land that could tell the pain of (Y/N). There were no songs that could tell of Eren's anger. There was no song for the darkness that was submerged in the hearts of the Jaeger's brothers.

Eren and Mikasa were just two children when tragedy struck, and Grisha Yeager's eldest daughter, whose light once lit up the old house in Shiganshina, suddenly becomes an adult plagued by responsibilities too great.

Long weeks after the tragedy, (Y/N) was always trying to protect those kids. To keep them safe. Grisha and Carla never had to tell her that, but (Y/N) always felt like that was her responsibility. She just wanted Mikasa and Eren to be children. Just for a little while longer.

But then there they all were, watching in terror as a crowd was dragged in to reclaim the lost lands. There was no excited shouting or cheering. There was only an annoyed and doubtful murmur from the rest, because everyone seemed to know that it was just a way for the government to get rid of mouths to feed. Men and women, young and old; people with those who had lived for many years, pale and with eyes glistening with tears.

That day, Armin lost his only family.

That day, (Y/N) hugged the three boys and pulled them close, and begged - to whatever divine creature there was - that they would get through it.

Little Armin made no effort to stop the hot tears that wet his (Y/N) clothes when the gates were closed. The hat in his hands, once so light, suddenly seemed to become too heavy, too big. His knees trembled and he fell to the ground.

I am tired of losing friends.

Mikasa tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Her gaze was not childish, but knowing, sad, frustrated - no child should have that look. Eren, whose eyes were fixed on his friend's back, felt as if the air was caught in his throat, as if he was suffocating himself.

(Y/N) crouched down at Armin's height. When he raised his face, (Y/N) saw hers eyes mirrored in his blue eyes. She stroked the younger man's face without saying anything, just trying to calm him down.

"I am with you, Armin," she whispered. "I am with you."

''We did it!

The graduation of the 104th Recruit Squadron was a highly anticipated date for Eren, (Y/N), Mikasa and Armin. The date had arrived together with cold and humid weather, with light rains and the presence of little lightning and thunderbolts, but whose noise echoed throughout the place.

Everyone felt something different; Eren was struck with such great courage that he felt as if he could face anything from that moment on. Armin was overcome with a sense of a job well done, mystery, and curiosity about all the things that might be on the other side of the walls. Mikasa felt as if she was doing exactly what she was born to do, and although she didn't show it in words, she was pleased with the prominent position she received among all the other recruits.

After the formal introductions and dinner, the Jaeger's brothers gathered outside on the steps and the moonlight illuminated the entire clearing. There, where they stood, hardly any trees grew. It was cold, but not cold enough to make them sick, only to make them shiver.

For a long time, the two brothers remained sitting on the stairs. Neither of them started a conversation, but they were satisfied that way. After all they had done to survive, they couldn't help but wonder what they would become. Their whole lives had turned upside down after the fall of Wall Maria. They were survivors. They were soldiers.

Whatever they would become, (Y/N) just wanted to be there for Eren. For all of them.

Finally, the older woman put her right arm around Eren's shoulders. Although he was startled by her unexpected attitude, Eren relaxed his muscles and leaned over her. And in the end, that small gesture had been enough.

''I'm proud of us, man. I'm proud of what we've done,'' she said.

Eren nodded.

He listened attentively to her and understood everything she was saying. They had traveled a cruel road, where friends and family were left behind. They had suffered, but they would not give up easily.

Because we are the Jaeger. We don't run.

They fought to survive. They fought to complete their training. They fought to get what they wanted: to join the human cause. This caused many scars.

Eren was just a child like many others, but he had been forced to grow up. (Y/N) was an adult. She could have gone away. There were all the opportunities and all the desires to take what had been promised to her since her late teens - from suitors to the opportunity for study. She could have lived elsewhere and had a family with them, become an ordinary woman. Eren knew that. It would be stupid for her to reject that, foolish for her to keep running.

But she was his sister, and one brother doesn't let the other wander off alone.

Suddenly, Eren remembers. The younger man remembers when they were little, and she would tell a stupid joke to distract him while she put on a bandage after getting into a fight with the bullies who harassed Armin. He remembers how she would take over some of his work in the settlement, or how she would divide the food among the three youngest.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, sis."

That's her nature, he thinks.

And his nature to protect her now. There is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for her.

Eren hugs his sister tighter.

At that moment, what mattered wasn't the graduation. It was that the two siblings were together that night, in that place, looking out into the rainy night and thinking how proud their parents would be.

#aot x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger imagines #mikasa ackerman x reader #armin arlet smut #armin arlet imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan imagine #shingeki no kyoujin imagine

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damn-stark · 3 years ago

Text

The Trouble ch.7

A/N- sorry it’s taken so long to post but I plan on finishing this now, so expect more frequent posts. :)

Warning- angst, talks of death, ptsd, blood, light fluff

Pairing- Jesse x fem!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

You could still see it, as clear as day. You could still hear the sound of the gunshots, and the sound of his body thumping the ground.

That’s the only memory you could see now. The memory of Jesse's face contorted into that single painful memory of his death. Everytime you tried to recall a happy and blissful moment, he appeared with his bloody face and the wound that killed him.

As much as you tried to forget, his death haunted your dreams and your mind every waking hour. It wasn’t as bad as it was in the first couple of months after you returned home, but you still couldn’t be the same. You could never be the same. No one who went and came back with you was the same.

Sometimes...you could even see him appear to you…it was so strangely vivid, it seemed like he was actually with you. But you knew he wasn’t, he couldn’t be.

“Y/N, hey kiddo….” You look over your shoulder and notice Tommy welcomed himself inside the house.

You weren’t even aware when he walked inside, or if he even knocked. He most likely did, you just didn’t hear. Albeit sometimes out of instinct, he just walked inside the house; it happened once when Maria was home, she didn’t say anything though, he was the only one embarrassed.

“...I thought you’d be holed up in here,” he continued as he set down the tupperware filled with food.

You turn off the sink and completely turn around to face him, leaning back on the counter and shrugging nonchalantly. “I was just going to go out, you just caught me in here before I could.”

Tommy rests his hand on the counter across from you and releases an airy chuckle. “Right, with which friends may I ask? Maria says you’ve lost them all.”

Your eyes flicker away from him and you scoff as you nod slowly. “They lost me...man,” tears fill your eyes and you feign a grin, “..they...lost me.” You clear your throat and raise your head, letting out a quiet sigh and changing the mood before the tension rose. “Anyway, what’s with the surprise visit? I thought we were meeting for patrol later this week?”

“Well,” Tommy says as he shrugs and averts your gaze. “Just thought you might like the visit.”

You cross your arms over your chest and nod stiffly, smiling softly and then clicking your tongue. “Sure did. But,” you begin to say as you narrow your gaze on him, noticing he looked strange; his stiffened posture, his perplexed expression beginning to show itself on his face. It was hard to tell, he hid his true intentions well, but you saw the truth. “...you’re not here just to visit are you?”

Tommy stands up straight and drops his head to shake it without having to face you. “No,” he mutters before he moves his hand to search the pocket hidden inside his jacket, slowly scrummaging through it to pretend he was looking for something, when in reality he only had one thing, a folded up map. “I wanted to show you this.” He puts the map on the countertop and unfolds it on the surface to flatten it out and show a part of some state, he doesn’t reveal it right away, he instead just waves you over and waits for you.

However you don’t move right away, first you let your eyes scan the wrinkled paper, noticing the marks and the city names. You didn’t recognize the cities so you didn't instantly catch what his intentions were—it could be just some city he needed some supply from, some part of the state where he wanted to visit for some reason, you truly didn’t know. If you were being completely honest you didn’t want to know. Something was telling you to not press further. But you did.

After a couple seconds of hesitation you walk up beside him and take a better look at the map he was showing you.

“First of all, before I get to explaining, I want you to know that I’m not asking anything of you, you don’t owe me anything, okay?” Tommy explains as he turns his head to look at you, waiting in silence for you to assure him. “You understand that?”

“Yeah,” you nod hesitantly. “I understand...why?” You lift your eyes from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he swallows thickly. “Recently this guy who’s heard my story, shared to me that while he was moving through California…..” he pauses and looks back at the map, waving his hand around as he chooses to continue. “He traded with a woman that he described was built like an ox.”

“Okay,” you nod, feeling the explanation he gave instantly matched with the women that also plagued your mind, knowing that he was referring to no one else but her.

“He said she was traveling with a kid with scars across his face.” Tommy proceeded to then shift the map around, pointing to a part of land by the ocean. “He said they were living along the coast in a beached sailboat. Right here.” Tommy says as he points to the specific location. “That’s gotta be her.”

Your eyes flicker up to him as you let silence take over for a few minutes as you tried to collect your thoughts, as you tried to process the news and what he was really asking of you.

“Is this…” you ask slowly as your eyes remain away from him. “About Joel?”

“No,” Tommy instantly answers, “not for you anyway...this is about Jesse.”

“I see,” you nod as you step back, feeling your throat begin to burn and your eyes begin to cloud with tears. “I see.”

And it’s at the sound of his name that you see him appear close to Tommy.

Jesse looked so real, so insanely real that it really seemed like he was there listening to Tommy with you. But that was the point, right? The game your mind tortured you with.

The only thing that distinguished him from actually seeming real was that he appeared to you how he was when he died; with the bullet that punctured his face, and the blood that poured from it. Otherwise you’d have a hard time actually believing he wasn’t real, otherwise you’d always be looking at his illusion your mind created, unlike how you were now, you couldn’t even fathom looking at him for more than a second before you looked away in horror.

Tommy noticed that reaction but he didn’t hold back. He was too mad to do so.

“I went to Ellie about Joel, but she let me down.”

“What?” You gasp as you snap your head up to look at him. “You went to Ellie? Why would you do that?” You demand with anger beginning to lace through your voice.

“Because she promised she’d do something about her.” Tommy remarked, making you shake your head and blink in disbelief.

“But why would you break that peace she’s trying to find? That’s why she and Dina moved.” You snap. “Why would you go to her with this?”

“That peace she’s trying to find his bullshit,” Tommy scoffs as he grabs the map and begins to fold it. “You know that.”

“That doesn’t matter!” You interject furiously, “why would you go to her?”

“Because she needs to do something about Abby, just like you do too. Are you really going to let her get away with killing jesse?” Tommy counters, instantly making you stiffen and feel your breath hitch at the sound of his comment. You wanted to talk back, but you were struck with disbelief and grief to manage to muster anything out.

All that you could show was the pain on your face, in your tear filled eyes. Tommy noticed that and hesitated, he stepped back and wanted to try and apologize, but he waited too long. Maria walked in and didn’t want an explanation, she recognized the pain on your face that she saw everyday since you returned. She, unlike Tommy, knew more of what you were struggling with and she wasn’t going to allow someone to just worsen the pain. Not even Tommy.

“What do you think you’re doing Tommy?” She demanded after she also took note of the map in his hand.

“Just came here to talk to her,” Tommy said as he hid the truth. “That’s all.”

“Well,” Maria scoffed, “then that’s enough for today. Get out.”

Said man didn’t argue, he stopped under the kitchen doorway to add one last thing to you. “Think about it y/n, you know I’m right. And then go talk to her. Do what’s right.”

You slowly look up at him and catch a brief sight of the anger burning on his face before he turns and limps out of the house, leaving you a scrambled mess and only causing you to see him again. It was brief, but you saw Jesse's dead figure under the doorway right before Maria broke you from your stupor and didn’t hesitate to embrace you, trying to comfort your withered soul. But not succeeding. Not like the times before.

——

“I’m giving you ten minutes.” Jesse informs you as he leans by the tree trunk a few feet away. “You better have your eyes closed already.”

“I’m already asleep,” you add sarcastically, “you just keep talking to me so.”

Jesse scoffs and keeps talking to you even after he gives you a time limit to take a very short nap. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste here if we want to catch up to Ellie and Dina.”

You pull the small blanket over your head and sigh. “If only we did have time. I’d love to stay here. It’s very pretty.”

You hear Jesse's feet shift and you imagine he was now looking at you over his shoulder, but you couldn’t know with your back turned his way. All the indication you had to know that he was still listening was the fact that he responded without thinking of his answer. “After we find them on our way back home, we could get “lost” and just arrive a few weeks after them.”

You open your eyes, but you don’t turn to face him, you keep yourself facing the forest you stopped in to rest and smile as you continue to play along. “They’d be worried.”

“Yeah, but we’ll go back, we’ll just be a few days, or weeks late.”

“You’re right,” you say as you turn back and close your eyes again. “And we won’t tell them that we just wanted to spend time together.”

“No,” Jesse agrees, “it’ll stay between us.”

“Sounds good,” you finish with a content sigh and a giddy smile. Jesse doesn’t answer, but you didn’t need him to know he agreed with you. You were content with the quiet comment he made a few minutes after the comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

——

“Goodnight...Jesse.”

You shift around in your bed and face the ceiling, wiping the tears off your cheeks and watching as the sun slowly begins to peek inside the room, slowly reflecting the soft light on the ceiling. You had gotten a few hours of sleep, but not so much, not as much as you would before. And well it seemed that Tommy’s words kept you up. You just couldn’t stop thinking of the fact that he had gone to Ellie, that he had tried to put salt over the wound.

You just couldn’t help but think of what she was doing. It had been months since you heard news of Abby, since anyone heard news of her, and it’s not like you or anyone else expected it, that part of everyone’s life was supposed to be over. That meant no chasing revenge schemes.

Yet here Tommy was, wanting people to chase after a woman he couldn’t. Knowing that he shouldn’t put such a heavy burden on anyone, knowing that you wouldn't do it, you weren’t that person….however that’s why he didn’t come to you first, that’s why he went to Ellie, because he had hoped she would.

Only you hoped she wouldn't….she went through so much, she has a happy life, a good family. Joel wouldn't want her to throw that away, not for some revenge plan that could end up with her dying this time—you hoped she knew that. You wished Tommy would realize that.

Yet...something told you she didn’t….shit—you let out a deep sigh while you sit up and swing your legs over the bed to quickly slide off. You hesitated continuing for a bit, but you needed to do this, you needed to talk to her.

No more holing up in your house, no more avoiding.

——

“This is it.” You mutter under your breath as you stop in front of the porch, looking away from the land that surrounds the house and looking at the house. “No more avoiding.” You draw out a small breath and walk up the stairs to make it to the front door, hesitating again but this time with your knuckles hovering over the door. Your eyes slide to your fist, and you’re tempted to pull it away and just walk back home since no one seemed to know you were here.

But, no. You needed to remind yourself that you were here for a reason. So you let your hand go and knock on the door and wait. And it actually didn’t take long before you spotted someone peeking out the creaked door, before they spread the door open and revealed their face.

“Y/N, hi,” Dina greets you with a very faint smile and swollen eyes. “What a surprise.” She steps forward and wraps you in a hug, seeming to use all the strength she could muster to keep you close.

“I know,” you smile as you return the embrace. “I’m sorry, it’s just been….hard,” you sigh, letting her be the first one to pull away after some minutes. “How’s JJ?”

“Good,” she assures you as she steps to the side. “Come in.”

You do so slowly to take in the nicely decorated space you’ve seen so far.

“He’s just sleeping,” Dina continues as she walks further into her house, while you come to stop in the living room and keep searching, this time for Ellie; “water? Tea?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” You assure her while you watch her peek her head out the kitchen. “Thanks. Uh, Dina, where’s Ellie?”

Suddenly at the sound of her name you see Dina stiffen once she’s out of the kitchen, she drops her gaze and shakes her head before she continues to walk and join you in the living room. “She’s...not here.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you take a step towards her to press for a clearer answer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she left.”

“What?” You queried ere as you blink in disbelief, for the first few seconds not getting why. Not until it hit you. That’s when you let out a deep sigh and dropped your own gaze. “I’m guessing this had something to do with Tommy.”

“Something like that.” Dina scoffs.

You nod slowly in comprehension and clench your fists, choosing to share what happened to you too. “Yeah,” you scoff, “he came to me too. I came here to tell her not to go, to remind her that...Joel wouldn't want that for her.” You look up and see Dina was now closer to you, her eyes were watery and her frown was deeply formed. “But I’m late.”

“You know nothing would’ve changed her mind,” Dina shares as her voice quivers. “She’s stubborn.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I know. But at least then I could’ve tried something else.”

Dina stays quiet for a moment while her eyes search your face, her own seeming to come to a realization. “Don’t do it, y/n. Don’t go after her.”

“I,” you pause and think to yourself; you didn’t even think of doing so at this ínstant, the intention didn’t cross your mind. But it was beginning to slowly break through your mind, you suppose she got that impression before you did. Now it’s the only thing you could think of.

You exhale deeply and your impulse answers for you. “My friends' problems are my problems."

Tagged- @protect-lev , @expecto-nox, @vintage-and-hypnotic , @kokomaesadie , @0j-b0, @itsyellow , @minheoly @traceylader

#the last of us #the trouble #Jesse tlou #jesse fanfiction #jesse x reader #jesse imagines #jesse imagine #Jesse #tlou Jesse x reader #Jesse tlou fanfiction #Jesse tlou imagine #tlou Jesse fanfiction #the last of us imagines #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #tommy tlou #tlou Tommy #dina tlou #dina the last of us

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years ago

Text

The House in the Pines Where the Road Ends

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, The Reyes Family

Rating: K

Summary: Four sisters. Nine nieces and nephews. Dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Carlos has a big, loud, over-the-top family, and T.K. is about to meet all of them at the annual Reyes Family Barbecue. It's a day that promises food, fun, and lots of nosy questions. All T.K. wants is to make a good impression and all Carlos wants is for his family not to scare off his boyfriend. When a stray baseball ruins the fun, both T.K. and Carlos will discover that neither of them ever needed to worry.

A/N: I am so happy to FINALLY introduce you to my version of the Reyes family. They have become a character all their own and I love them very dearly. Get ready to see and hear more about them in upcoming fics! I cannot say enough thank you's to @bluenet13 who has read this fic approximately a billion times in all its different stages, has beta'ed the heck out of it, and still wants to be friends with me.

For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Sports Injury

Read on Ao3

“Wait, but are you sure this shirt is okay?” T.K. asked, twisting around in front of the mirror to look at it from every possible angle.

“Do you really think my family is going to decide whether or not they like you based on your shirt?” Carlos asked with a laugh.

“It’s their first impression of me,” T.K. said, fussing with the hemline, trying to get it to lay exactly right. “I just want it to be good.”

Carlos came up behind him, wrapping his arms around T.K.’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “They are going to love you.” He pressed a kiss to T.K.’s cheek.

T.K. turned in his arms so they were face to face, anxiety trickling through his veins. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” Carlos told him. “I love you too.”

“Your family is important to you and I guess I can’t help feeling like…there’s a chance that if they don’t like me…”

“T.K…” Carlos sent him a look of fond exasperation.

“I know!” T.K. said quickly. “I know it’s ridiculous. But if they don’t like me, I don’t know where we go next.”

“I don’t think we need to borrow trouble like that,” Carlos said. “You already know my parents love you. And so do Elena and Elías.”

They’d had dinner at Carlos’ second eldest sister’s home a few weeks back. It had been fun to meet her and her husband along with their daughter, Carolina, and twins, Marco and Diego. Marco was rambunctious and spunky while Diego was more mild mannered and T.K. had enjoyed watching Carlos chase them around the backyard, playing baseball, tag, and wrestling.

But meeting one sister and her family was completely different from attending the annual Reyes Family Barbecue where there would be hundreds of aunts, uncles, and cousins to try and remember.

“Trust me,” Carlos said. “Elena will have spread the word and you’ll already have pre-approval before we even get there.”

“What if I call someone the wrong name?” T.K. asked. “I still think you should have written up a family tree like I asked you to.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “There’s no point. We’re adding to it like every day there are so many of us. You’ll never be able to remember. If you’re not sure just call them Gabriel or Valentina. There’s a forty percent chance you’ll be right.”

“This isn’t fair,” T.K. said, burying his face in Carlos’ shirt. “I have like, four family members. The playing field is so uneven I don’t even have a chance.”

Carlos kissed his forehead. “Just relax and enjoy the food. That’s all anyone expects of you.”

“I seriously doubt that,” T.K. grumbled.

“Listen, if anybody should be concerned in this situation, it’s me,” Carlos said.

“You?” T.K. raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“You just said, you come from a small family. My family is big and loud and all up in each other’s business. Francesca alone might be enough to make you run all the way back to New York.”

Carlos had talked before about his wild child fourth sister, Francesca. Apparently she was a force to be reckoned with and had caused quite a bit of trouble as a kid. According to Carlos every time he’d gotten in trouble, it had actually been Francesca’s fault. Well Francesca and Adriana, Carlos’ cousin who was more like a fifth sister. She and Francesca had been born within weeks of each other and been an inseparable duo ever since.

“New York is a pretty long way to run,” T.K. said. “And I’ve gotten kind of used to sleeping with you. I don’t really want to have to break in a new mattress. Oh, and for all I know you’ve gotten kind used to having my exercise bike in your dining room and I would have to buy a new one of those, plus moving costs are out of sight and I am on a civil servant’s salary here.”

Carlos kissed him again. “Come on. We’re already late and if we don’t get there soon then I will be in trouble.”

T.K. had already visited the Reyes family ranch a handful of times, but he had never seen it quite like this. Cars lined every inch of the drive up to the house, from pick-up trucks to mini-vans and everything in between. “Is this a family barbecue or a Lady Gaga concert?” T.K. asked as they got out of the car.

Carlos laughed and reached for his hand. “I told you.”

“Yeah I hoped maybe you were exaggerating a little bit,” T.K. said as they walked toward the driveway. As if he hadn’t been nervous already, now he felt overwhelmed. He was generally charming and good with people, but this was…a lot.

Carlos tensed. “Come this way,” he said, voice low as he tugged T.K. more to the side of the driveway, where a row of cars hid them from view of the house.

“What are we doing?” T.K. asked in confusion.

“We’re—”

“Carlitos don’t you even try! We see you over there!” a feminine voice called.

Carlos winced and looked at T.K. “I’m just going to say ahead of time that I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Two women came around the line of cars, each of them holding a drink. “You weren’t trying to hide from us were you?” the taller of the two asked.

“No I was just trying to get T.K. inside without the third degree first,” Carlos said, giving each of them a pointed look.

“Carlitos we’re not going to give him the third degree,” the second woman said, her many earrings flashing in the sunlight. “We’re just going to try and prepare him for what he’s about to face.”

“You don’t need to prepare him,” Carlos said with a sigh of long suffering. “There’s nothing to prepare for.”

“Oh my god Carlos, you cannot just drag him in here without some proper preparation,” the first woman said, turning to look at T.K. “So, you’re the firefighter stripper, huh?”

T.K.’s eyes went wide and he looked to Carlos who had closed his eyes and was shaking his head. “For the last time, he’s a paramedic now and he has never been a stripper.” He opened his eyes and took a breath in a clear attempt to calm himself down. “T.K. I would like you to meet my sister Francesca.”

“His youngest older sister,” Francesca clarified looking T.K. up and down. “You’re hot enough to be a stripper.”

“And my cousin Adriana,” Carlos said loudly in an attempt to stop his sister’s comments.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” T.K. said with a smile, hoping to diffuse some of the awkwardness. “Carlos has told me a lot about you.”

“Is it about how we were always getting him in trouble when he was a kid? Because that’s a lie,” Adriana said.

“Total lie,” Francesca echoed. “So, how has it been, living in sin with my brother?”

“Oh my god Francesca can you just let us get through the door first?” Carlos cried.

She shook her head and grinned. “Nope. This is way more fun. Besides, Adriana got to know about him first, so I wanted to meet him before everyone else.”

“Did Carlos tell you not to tell Tía Maria you’re living together?” Adriana asked.

“Um, no, he didn’t mention that,” T.K. said, looking once again to his boyfriend.

“I didn’t really think it was necessary,” Carlos said.

“Tía Maria has strong religious opinions,” Francesca said.

“Oh is she not…” T.K. began to pull his hand from Carlos’ but his boyfriend held on firmly.

“Tía Maria is fine with the gay, she’s just not all right with fornication,” Adriana said with a grin, eyeing T.K. for his reaction.

“Oh my god, forget it, we’re going home,” Carlos said, trying to turn around, but Francesca grabbed his other arm.

“Nuh uh hermano,” she said sweetly. “Mom and Dad are expecting you. I already texted them and told them you’re here.”

“Wait hold on, I’m confused,” T.K. said, feeling slightly panicked as the conversation moved so quickly around him. “What do I need to know about Tía Maria?”

“Tía Maria is very against pre-marital sex,” Francesca said.

“In her mind we’re all pure, sweet, innocent little virgins, waiting to give up our virtue to our husbands on our wedding nights,” Adriana said, her face suggesting that she’d rather throw up than submit to that particular lifestyle. “Little does she know that ship has sailed.”

“Under the bleachers with Jake Thompson in the eleventh grade,” Francesca said.

“In Mike Kowalski’s backseat…”

“After prom with Sebastian Chavez…”

“Okay that’s enough of the sexcapades thank you,” Carlos said, looking disgusted.

“You didn’t think I needed to know this?” T.K. said looking at Carlos.

“I am not ashamed of us living together,” Carlos told him. “I don’t care if Tía Maria knows.”

“Ugh barf,” Francesca said. “God I wanted to be mad at you for caving and leaving us all alone at the singles table but you’re so grossly in love I don’t even want you there anymore.”

“Can we go in now?” Carlos asked. “Is this little interrogation over with?”

“Oh you can go in, but it’s far from over,” Adriana said, wrenching T.K.’s arm away from Carlos and tucking it into her own as she walked him toward the house. “So, T.K. What can we get you to drink? Beer? Margarita? Or are you a wine snob? You look like you could be a wine snob.”

“He’s from New York, they’re all wine snobs there,” Francesca said.

“T.K. doesn’t drink,” Carlos called from behind him. “You already know that.”

Adriana nodded. “Just checking. That’s cool. I did the sober thing for like six months once. My skin was so great.”

“Okay, I’m taking T.K. inside now,” Carlos said, rescuing his arm from Adriana’s grip. “You two can go back to wherever it is you came from. I’m going to guess…the gates of hell?”

“So rude Carlos,” Francesca said with a roll of her eyes.

“Come on Cesca, I need another margarita,” Adriana said, pulling her toward the back of the house.

“But I have more questions!”

“Questions later! Margarita now!”

They disappeared around the side of the house, leaving Carlos looking embarrassed and T.K. feeling like he’d just been through a whirlwind. “You can literally ignore everything about them,” Carlos said as he opened the door. “Just pretend they don’t exist. That’s what the rest of us do when they get like this.”

T.K. had a feeling neither Francesca nor Adriana liked to be ignored, but Andrea greeted them immediately as they walked inside, leaving him no opportunity for further questions or conversation. “T.K.! Carlitos! Welcome!”

There were a few other people milling around inside, but it seemed like most of the family was in the backyard. T.K. could hear music playing and the smell of barbecue wafted through the glass slider doors that led to the oversized back patio.

“Sorry we’re late Mama,” Carlos said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s my fault,” T.K. said. “I had a shift and it ran over.”

“No apologies necessary,” Andrea said, waving a hand. “I understand the important work you boys do. I’m just sorry your dad couldn’t make it T.K.”

“He said to tell you hello and that he will be here for sure next time,” T.K. told her with a smile.

It had been a huge relief to find out that the party was scheduled while his dad was on shift. The last thing he needed was one more thing to give him anxiety about meeting Carlos’ family.

Andrea caught his face in both hands. “We are so glad you’re here T.K.” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, let’s get you something to drink. I’ve got lots of that fancy water you like.”

The back slider opened as Andrea pulled a water from the refrigerator for T.K. “Boys! Bienvenidos!” Gabriel boomed as he stepped inside, bringing the scent of barbecue with him.

“Gabriel close that door before the air conditioning gets out,” Andrea scolded.

“Of course mi amor,” he said. “I was just looking for another set of tongs. Daniel is going to help with the second grill.”

“They’re in the pantry,” Andrea said. “Where they always are.”

Gabriel paused to kiss her on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve?” Carlos suggested with a cheeky smile as he grabbed a grape off the counter and popped it in his mouth.

Gabriel snorted. “Probably.”

“All right now you two, head on outside and join the party,” Andrea said. “You don’t want to be stuck in here with me.”

“Are you sure?’ Carlos asked. “We can stay and help.”

“No, no,” Andrea said quickly. “Gloria will be back in a minute. Go! Enjoy! Introduce T.K. to the family.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell Tía Maria that you live together. You know how she gets and I do not need another lecture on how I raised my children with loose morals.”

“Yes, for everyone’s sanity, please keep that to yourselves,” Gabriel said, reappearing with the tongs in hand. “No need for my sister to know that you are breaking the commandments.”

T.K. turned and looked at his boyfriend. “Everyone seems very concerned about this.”

Carlos shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Everyone is overreacting. Tía Maria isn’t that scary.” He kissed T.K. on the side of his head and grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Besides, there are so many people here, we might not even see Tía Maria.”

They stepped out the door into the backyard. To the left was a play set that dozens of children were taking advantage of. To the right were several grills, all smoking away, the tables next to them already piled high with food and drink. And underneath sprawling oak trees dozens of picnic tables and lawn chairs had been set up, all of them full of people talking, laughing, and eating together.

“I knew you should have made that family tree for me,” T.K. said, starting to feel really nervous now as he saw exactly how many people had scattered across the backyard.

They made it about four feet before they were accosted by well meaning relatives. Cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone seemed to want to meet Carlos’ new boyfriend. T.K. smiled and nodded and tried in vain to remember everyone’s names. Carlos hadn’t been exaggerating, there were a lot of Gabriels and Valentinas.

“Ay, okay, leave the boys alone,” a woman finally said, interrupting the melée. She sported a longer version of Carlos’ curls and T.K. remembered her face from some of the family photos. “Shame on all of you, they haven’t even eaten anything.”

She turned a warm smile on them as the crowd dispersed and went back to their merriment. “Hola T.K. I’m Teresa.”

Carlos’ oldest sister. She and her husband Javier lived in San Diego with their four kids, Valentina, Eva, Gabriel, and Bianca. Their visit to town was the reason the barbecue had been scheduled for this particular weekend.

“Nice to meet you,” T.K. said, immediately feeling the same warmth and comfort radiate from her that he did from Carlos.

She turned and pulled her brother in for a hug, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. “Come on. You can sit with us. I’ll fend off the nosy relatives,” she told them.

“Thank you,” Carlos said in relief. “I didn’t think it would be quite this bad.”

“You never do,” she said with a smile as she led them to the picnic table where her husband Javier was sitting with another couple that T.K. thought he recognized.

“T.K. this is my husband Javier. And have you met Lucía and Justin yet?” Teresa asked.

Ah, Lucía. Carlos’ third oldest sister. She and Justin lived with their kids in McKinney and had driven up for the weekend. They had been set to attend the dinner with Elena and Elías but one of the boys had ended up in a soccer championship so they’d had to cancel.

“So T.K. I hear you’re from New York? Nice to have another East Coaster join the party,” Justin said.

“Oh yeah, Carlos said you’re from Philly right?” T.K. asked.

“Born and bred,” Justin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t cheer for the Giants do you?”

T.K. smiled. “I’m more of a Mets fan actually. Football’s not really my thing.”

“Well that means I don’t have to hate you, but don’t say that too loud in Texas. Football is life here,” Justin told him.

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. replied.

“Tío Carlos!” a gaggle of kids ran up to the table all of them clamoring for Carlos.

“Tío Carlos I got on my soccer team at school!”

“Can you come play baseball!”

“Did you know my tooth is falling out?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Everyone talked at once and Carlos seemed to take it in stride, giving hugs and ruffling hair, looking at loose teeth, and promising to come and play in a minute.

“Hey, all of you, adiós,” Elena said. “Leave Tío Carlos alone. He’ll play with you later.”

It took a few more admonishments from their parents, but eventually the children dispersed to different corners of the ranch. “We’re doing you a favor T.K.,” Lucía told him, rocking baby Nicolás back and forth. “Once Carlos goes with the children he doesn’t come back.”

“He’s their favorite uncle,” Justin explained.

“And for good reason,” Javier added. “His knees are young and spry.”

“You guys are exaggerating. The kids love everybody,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

Teresa shook her head. “It’s okay to admit that you’re their favorite Carlos. You’ve earned the honor.” She looked at T.K. “Carlos is too modest.”

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. said fondly and he could see Carlos blush a little bit.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Carlos said. “We’ve been here half an hour and no one has offered me any food. What has happened to this family?”

The situation was fixed immediately and T.K. found himself with more food than one person could possibly hope to consume, sitting and listening to the Reyes siblings recount stories from their childhood.

T.K. felt the bench next to him shift and turned to find Francesca and Adriana joining them.

“Did Carlos tell you about the time he ran away from home?” Teresa asked.

Carlos groaned. “No, do we have to tell this story every time?”

“Yes, because it’s hilarious,” Elena said. “He was what, about six at the time?”

“I was sixteen so yes,” Teresa said. “Carlitos was mad because all of us sisters got to go to a movie and he didn’t. So he wrote a note saying he was running away and never coming back.”

“And then he disappeared for seven hours,” Lucía chimed in. “Mom was beside herself. They checked the entire house, called all his friends, she was sure he’d been eaten by a coyote.”

“Well I was the one who found him,” Teresa said with a smile. “Up in that tree,” she pointed several feet to the left, “crying because he’d climbed up too high and couldn’t get down.”

“We had to call the fire department to come and get him,” Francesca said with a smirk.

“And when they got him down, did he get in trouble?” Elena asked. “Nope. Because Mama was all—“

“My baby!” all four women chorused together.

“Carlitos never gets in trouble,” Adriana said. “Ever. All he has to do is bat his eyelashes at Tía Andrea and she starts talking about how innocent and sweet he is and how he could never start a fight or break a window…”

Carlos had put a hand to his forehead and looked like he was in physical pain. “Are you done now?” he asked.

“No way,” Lucía piped up. “We still have to tell T.K. about the time you drove the tractor into the pond.”

“The pedal was stuck!” Carlos cried.

“That’s what he says every time,” Francesca told T.K. “It’s a lie.”

Carlos burst forth in a tirade of Spanish, likely exonerating himself from the tractor-pond fiasco and all of the women immediately began to contradict him. T.K. wasn’t sure whether to smile or intervene as they all talked over each other. His high school level Spanish could only pick up the occasional word.

“This happens every time,” Elías said. “They’ll calm down in a minute.”

“A minute?” Javier said. “Forget a minute. We can all leave, they’ll be at it for at least half an hour now.”

Things really came to a head when Francesca stood, slammed her hands against the table, and shouted, “I did not put that goat in Lucí’s bed, that was Elena!”

“I watched you do it!” Carlos yelled back.

“Well then your brain is broken because that is not what happened!” Francesca said, pointing a finger at him.

The argument was broken up by the arrival of Andrea, followed closely by another woman T.K. didn’t recognize. “Girls! Ya basta! Qué esta pasando? Arguing in front of our guests, what is wrong with you?” she said, setting a large plate of taquitos in front of them.

“Disculpa Mama,” they all muttered, but T.K. caught Francesca giving Carlos the finger under the table and then she jumped a second later when he pinched her leg.

“Honestly,” she scoffed at them. “I am ashamed of all of you. T.K. I apologize on behalf of my daughters. I did not raise them to be like this.”

“See?” Lucía said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re all in trouble, but Carlitos is completely innocent.”

“Of course he’s innocent, he would never argue in front of guests,” Andrea said. “Did you all say hello to Tía Maria?”

“Hola Tía,” they all chorused.

“And Maria, this is T.K., Carlos’ boyfriend,” Andrea said with a smile.

T.K. felt himself stiffen under the intense gaze of Carlos’ infamous aunt. But he smiled and waved a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said. She turned and looked at Teresa and Javier. “Cuándo será la primera comunión de Marco y Diego?"

T.K. caught a glimpse of Francesca who smiled at him and raised her eyebrows in an “I told you so” kind of way.

“Later this summer,” Elena said smoothly. “We will send you an invitation of course.”

“They are a bit behind, no? Why the delay in this important milestone?”

“Tía, with Covid and everything it all just got pushed back. Don’t worry,” Elena told her.

“You’d better get a move on,” Adriana said. “We wouldn’t want them to miss out on all the blessings of the Lord.”

Tía Maria’s eyes narrowed as she picked up on Adriana’s sarcasm. “Is there something wrong with wanting my nephews to grow up properly in the church?”

“Of course not,” Andrea said quickly. “And they are Maria. Very good, pious little boys.”

T.K. saw the mischievous glint in Francesca’s eye as she opened her mouth. “So T.K., you live with your dad?”

Everyone at the table froze and turned to look daggers in her direction. “Ah Maria! The watermelon! We forgot it inside, come on,” Andrea said quickly, glaring at her daughter over her shoulder as she ushered Maria away.

“Cesca!” Teresa chastised as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I was just trying to take the pressure off of Elena,” Francesca said innocently, taking a sip of her mojito.

“You were trying to stir up trouble,” Lucía said as the baby began to fuss.

“Well someone has to keep things fun around here!”

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Marco and Diego ran toward them, kicking up dirt as they skidded to a stop by the table and interrupted the conversation.

“Mom can I have another cookie?” Marco asked.

“I want a drink but Carolina said I can’t have a soda, but can I?” Diego asked.

“And Tía Teresa, Gabriel wants to know, can he get his Switch out of the car now, because he said you said he could get it later and now it’s later,” Marco spoke up on behalf of his cousin.

“Okay, hold on, everybody take a breath,” Teresa said.

The group momentarily broke up as everyone went to tend to their children’s needs and make sure they had eaten something besides cookies and chips.

“So, are you ready to run back to New York yet?” Carlos asked when they were the only two left at the table.

“I think I’m holding my own all right,” T.K. said. “You were right about Francesca though. She’s…something.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not that actually was her being on her better behavior. I swear you’d never know she was working on a masters in biochemistry.”

“She’s fun,” T.K. said. “And she and Adriana clearly have the most dirt on Carlitos.”

“Maybe we should leave now,” Carlos said with a groan. “They’ll keep at it as long as you’ll listen.”

“I like it,” T.K. said, taking a sip of his mineral water. “It’s fun seeing you like this. Baby brother Carlos is a whole new side of you.”

Carlos blushed a little bit. “The way they’d talk you’d think we were all still kids.”

“It’s sweet. They adore you.”

“I—”

Carlos was interrupted by Valentina, Teresa and Javier’s youngest, who came running over, crying so hard she was hiccuping instead of breathing. “Tío Carlos!”

“Valentina, qué pasó?” Carlos asked worriedly, gathering her into his arms and sitting her on his lap.

“Marco me dijo que no podía jugar pelota con él,” she sobbed, her little heart so clearly broken over her cousin’s refusal to let her play ball with him.

"Lo siento, Valen. That's not very nice." Carlos hugged her close and kissed her hair. "Pero no le hagas caso. What if we get you a cookie, will that help?”

She shook her head, lip stuck out in an adorable pout, fresh tears threatening to spill over.

“Two cookies?”

She held up three little fingers and Carlos opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. “Tres?! Ay Dios mío.” He shook his head. “Come with me, pero no le digas a mamá.”

He slid Valentina off his lap and offered her his hand, which she grabbed onto eagerly. He looked at T.K. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” T.K. said, watching them walk over to one of the tables.

Carlos pointed to several different options, Valentina shaking her head at each one until he found the kind of cookie she liked best.

T.K. felt a presence next to him and turned to find Francesca had returned. She had a strange look on her face. “You know he’s never brought anyone home before. Not like this.”

T.K.’s breath caught in his chest. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s happy,” Francesca said. “Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” She turned and looked at him. “You make him happy.”

“I do my best,” T.K. said. “He makes me happy too.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her brother again, adding some fruit to Valentina’s plate. “He wants kids. You know that right?”

“I do,” T.K. said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re good with that?”

T.K. looked at his boyfriend who was tenderly wiping the last of the tears from Valentina’s cheeks. They had talked about it of course. A few times. In passing. He knew where Carlos stood. And he knew that he wasn’t sure what kind of dad he would be, but also that he would do anything to make Carlos happy; including facing his own fears about being a father. “He’ll be a great dad,” was his answer.

She squinted at him, then squared her shoulders. “I’m only going to say this once and if you ever tell anyone I will deny it and shove your balls so far up your ass you won’t know how to get them out again. Carlos is special. And I know you’re all city boy, New York, squeaky clean, firefighter paramedic, or whatever.”

“But if I hurt him you’ll kill me?” T.K. asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” she looked at him like he was crazy. “Teresa will. She’s like his second mom. She’ll take you down so fast you’ll never even see it coming.”

T.K. laughed. “I have no intention of ever breaking his heart. I promise.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.” She cocked her head the way Carlos did when he was about to say something he knew was funny. “You’re pretty great for a stripper.”

“Okay, one more time. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work, but I have never been, and have no intention of being, a stripper,” T.K. said firmly.

“That’s what they all say!” she tossed over her shoulder as she got to her feet and flounced away to find Adriana.

“What was my sister telling you?” Carlos asked as he returned, Valentina now seated happily with some other cousins at a kid sized picnic table. “Oh god, was she talking about the time I got arrested for skinny dipping in the lake because there is so much more to that story than the way she tells it.”

“No,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows, “but now I want to hear the rest of that. No she was just…being a good big sister. You’re lucky to have so many people watching out for you.”

Carlos softened, his hand seeking T.K.’s. “And now I have you too.”

T.K. squeezed gently. “Yes, you do.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All in all the day was going well. T.K. had handled every nosy question, every argument, every weird thing his sisters or relatives did with his usual charm and self-confidence. He fit in.

All Carlos had really wanted was for T.K. to like his family, but seeing them like him right back…it was doing strange things to his heart. He hadn’t known until this moment how much it meant to gain his family’s approval of his relationship. He’d convinced himself that he was fine either way, and he probably would have been. But seeing them all joke and talk and laugh together was beyond his wildest dreams. And it was making him think some pretty crazy things about the future.

They’d chatted some more with his siblings and a few other family members who’d stopped by the table. But now Lucía had gone to put the baby down for a nap, and Teresa and Elena had been pressed into kitchen duty with his mother, while the men of the group had been enticed inside by a game on TV. Which left only Adriana and Francesca at the table.

“So, T.K., now that the boring adults are gone, tell us everything,” Francesca said, a sneaky smile on her face.

“Ooh yes,” Adriana said, getting comfortable on the picnic bench. “Tell us all your dirty secrets T.K. You lived in New York so do you actually work for the mob? And how hard was it for you to learn to put gas in a car at such an advanced age?”

“Unfortunately no mob connections, although that probably pays better than firefighting or being a paramedic,” T.K. said with a laugh. “And the learning curve on driving was actually pretty quick. We have to fuel the engines, even in New York.”

“Well that’s boring,” Francesca said as she picked up a tamale. “Come on, you have to be more exciting than that. Any secret lovers you’re keeping back there on the side?”

“Cesca!” Carlos said sharply.

“I’m watching out for you!” Francesca cried. “I mean if you two have an open relationship or something that’s your business, but if he—”

“No,” T.K. said quickly. He looked at Carlos. “There’s no one in New York. Or anywhere else.”

Adriana and Francesca both wrinkled their noses, but Carlos hardly noticed, too busy looking at T.K. who was gazing at him with so much tenderness and love. He was taking it all in stride, the insanity, the prying. Questions that might have set him off a year or two ago he now brushed off like it was no big deal.

“Ugh, come on!” Adriana said. “There has to be something. You basically grew up on the set of Gossip Girl. You have to know at least one Kardashian or something.”

“Yes, how many private helicopter rides have there been?” Francesca asked eagerly. “Or penthouse ragers? You have to have been to a penthouse rager of someone famous!”

T.K. shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Adriana pouted. “So boring. Not one secret?”

“Oh, I have secrets,” T.K. said with a grin. He laced his hand through Carlos’. “But only Carlos gets to know them.”

“You play dirty, Strand,” Francesca told him with an approving smile.

Carlos had had enough. “Come on,” he said, pulling T.K. to his feet and away from the women without a backward glance or apology.

“Where are we going?” T.K. asked and Carlos wished the answer was a dark corner somewhere that he could kiss his boyfriend’s face off and show him how much he appreciated his efforts today. But that would not be happening anywhere on the premises. Francesca and Adriana could sniff out a couple having a quickie from a mile away. They’d caught Teresa and Javier in a Sunday School classroom during Elena and Elías’ wedding and had never let them forget it. Although Bianca had been born nine months later so apparently getting caught hadn’t been too much of a turn off. He definitely wasn’t risking it though.

He pulled T.K. over to the patio where the music had cranked up to an all time high now that his cousin Rafael had arrived and was playing DJ.

“Okay,” T.K. said, looking nervous all over again. “You know I can’t really dance right? That first night at the bar, that was all just to get in your pants, you know that right?”

“What?” Carlos feigned surprise and then rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know. And considering that you managed to get into my pants about half an hour later, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

“Not the point Carlos.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You’re fine,” Carlos told him.

“Yes in the club!” T.K. told him, eyes wide as he took in the way some of Carlos’ relatives were dancing around them. “This is like something out of Grease! Did you all rehearse this before you got here?”

“Look, Justin’s dancing.” Carlos nodded to where Lucí had managed to get a moment free from her children and pulled her husband onto the impromptu dance floor.

“Justin’s been in your family for five years. He’s had practice.”

“You’re just going to follow my lead,” Carlos told him confidently as he pulled T.K. close. “Relax.”

“I can’t relax. Your Tía Maria looks like she’s about to come over here and remind us to leave room for the Holy Spirit,” T.K. hissed.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t care what Tía Maria thinks. I haven’t for a long time. I just want to dance with you.” He cocked his head and turned on his most charming smile, eyes pleading a little bit.

T.K. rolled his eyes and groaned. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Exactly,” Carlos allowed himself a full on smirk.

He put one hand on T.K.’s shoulder, the other on his hip and gave a comforting little squeeze. “And now you just follow my lead.”

He took a half a step forward, slowly, not following the music at all, encouraging T.K. to step back with his opposite foot. They managed fine for about three beats until T.K. stepped wrong and they stumbled over one another’s feet. “Sorry,” he said, face going slightly pink. “I told you.”

“You’re tense,” Carlos said. “You can’t dance when you’re tense. Relax. It’s all in the hips.”

“I’m from New York. I barely have hips at all, let alone beautiful, sexy, latin caderas like yours.”

Carlos laughed and bumped up against T.K. with said caderas. “You like my caderas?”

“You know I love your hips and normally I wouldn’t complain about anything you do with them, but everyone is staring at us.”

“They are not.” Carlos took a quick glance around the area and found that indeed, many of his relatives were staring, and he could read wedding bells going off in their eyes. “Okay they are but that’s because they’re nosy, not because of your dancing. Don’t worry about them. Focus on me.”

“Just don’t blame me if I break your toes,” T.K. said nervously.

“I think I’ll survive,” Carlos told him. “I’ve never seen you like this before. I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Completely off your game,” Carlos told him. “You never approach anything with less than one hundred percent confidence and charm.”

“Well I only do things I’m one hundred percent confident in,” T.K. said. “That way I never have to look like I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ahhh, now it all makes sense,” Carlos said with a laugh.

The music changed and Carlos shifted so that they were closer together, one hand entwined with T.K.’s, the other on his lower back. “So. Tell me the truth. How glad are you that your dad didn’t come today?”

T.K. laughed. “Oh god so glad. You know how he is. He and your sisters would have spent the entire day trying to one up each other on embarrassing stories about us. And he might have won.”

“Oh I doubt that. We’ve got about two more hours until my sisters bring up the bathtub incident.”

T.K.’s eyes widened. “The bathtub incident?”

“Let’s just say it was very expensive and mostly Francesca’s fault.”

“You know, your sisters seem to take a lot of the blame in these stories even though you have a starring role in all of them. I’m starting to wonder who’s really telling the truth here.”

“Shh,” Carlos said, pulling him a little closer. “I’m a cop. I’m very trustworthy.”

“Uh huh.” T.K. looked amused.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Carlos leaned forward so his lips were touching T.K.’s ear. “You’re dancing.”

And indeed he was, their bodies swaying back and forth, T.K. following all of Carlos’ movements without any trouble. T.K. opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by the reappearance of Adriana. “I take it back,” she said, causing them both to pause their movement.

“Take what back?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“There’s no way he’s a stripper. Not with dance moves like that. Yikes.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted,” T.K. said.

“Good,” she said, giving him a mischievous wink. “I like to keep people guessing. Now step aside gringo and let us show you how it’s done.”

She grabbed Carlos’ hand and before he could protest she’d pulled him out to the center of the dance floor, yelling at Rafael to put on something they could really move to. Rafael smoothly transitioned into a song Carlos recognized and Adriana grinned as she began to salsa, clearly expecting him to partner her. He rolled his eyes, but obliged, catching her around the waist and moving back and forth in time with her.

“We approve,” she said as he spun her back and forth.

“Of my dancing?” Carlos asked.

“No, of T.K.,” she said with a smile. “We really like him. Me and all your sisters.”

It should not have warmed his soul so much to hear the words, but it did anyway. “Good,” Carlos said. “Is that why you pulled me out here? To tell me you like him?”

“No, I pulled you out here so he could check out your ass while you dance,” she said, looking over his shoulder, her grin widening. “Which he totally is by the way.”

“Adriana, shut up,” Carlos said, but he smiled anyway and dipped her, really letting loose as the music hit the chorus. Because apparently he was not above showing off for his boyfriend.

By the time the song ended he was sweating and breathless and so was Adriana. “You’ve still got it cousin,” she said. “Now go on. Go over there and take a victory lap with your boyfriend and his puppy dog eyes.”

Carlos looked over to find T.K. looking suitably impressed at the edge of the patio. Carlos shook his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as he walked over. “Well someone’s been holding out on me,” T.K. said when Carlos got close.

“It’s just dancing,” Carlos said.

“Just dancing? Carlos that looked like…I don’t even know, but it was freaking amazing!” T.K. said, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could dance like that. Why are you over here dancing with me?”

Carlos rolled his eyes and pulled T.K. close to him. “Trust me, Adriana might be a state champion in Salsa, but I prefer dancing with you any day.”

“She’s a state champion?” T.K. asked in surprise.

“Yep,” Carlos said, pulling him back onto the dance floor. “Three years in a row.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, Adriana is good at pretty much anything she decides to be good at. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t explain where your dance moves came from,” T.K. said, looking expectant.

“I um,” Carlos thought for a half second about lying before he decided to give in and tell the truth. “I may have partnered her for a few years.”

“How long is a few?”

Carlos sighed and squeezed his eyes closed. “Like fourth through seventh grade.”

T.K.’s jaw dropped. He pointed a finger at Carlos’ chest. “I can’t believe you’ve never told me that!”

“Well it’s not like it’s relevant to everyday conversation! When would it have ever come up?”

“I don’t know!” T.K. shook his head. “What made you stop?”

Carlos shrugged. “I’m good, but I’m not championship level good. And I was getting into baseball. And Adriana is…really difficult to work with.”

“Carlos! T.K.!” They both turned to find a very welcome presence interrupting their conversation.

“Tía Luci,” Carlos said, pulling back from T.K. so he could give her a hug. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Well you know I had a date querido. T.K. mi amor! It’s so good to see you!” The many bracelets she was wearing jangled loudly as she hugged T.K. with equal fervor.

T.K. had been to several Sunday dinners at this point and Tía Luci had accepted him exactly the way Carlos hoped she would, with nothing less than complete and total love. She’d always encouraged Carlos to be exactly who he was and love whoever he desired. It helped of course that she’d had four husbands of her own and was currently single and dating with astonishing frequency.

“It’s good to see you too Tía Luci,” T.K. said with a smile.

“I thought mom said you had a pottery class,” Carlos said.

“I had a date at pottery class,” she said and then leaned closer. “And the clay wasn’t the only thing that got handled, if you catch my meaning.”

Carlos’ cheeks burned as T.K. laughed. His aunt was a free spirit and that meant she was pretty free with most things. Including her sex life. And while Carlos didn’t judge, he definitely didn’t always need all the…details she provided.

“Oh don’t look so scandalized,” she admonished, squeezing his arm. “It’s not like you’re a saint either, sobrino. With a boyfriend like this you must get up to all kinds of nonsense. And if you’re not you should start. You’re only young once!” Someone caught her attention and she waved. “I must go see Alejandro, but you two have fun dancing.”

“How about we run away to New York together?” Carlos asked as she floated away.

“You love her,” T.K. said knowingly.

“I do. But I don’t need to know every detail of her dating life. And no matter how many times I tell her that she doesn’t quite seem to get the message.”

“Seems like Francesca and Adriana come by it honestly,” T.K. said. “Oversharing runs in the gene pool.”

“Yes along with nosiness, a strong desire to meddle, and a life long obsession with the Astros,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

“And yet somehow you have none of those qualities,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was being sarcastic.

“Me?” Carlos said. “What are you talking about? I don’t do any of those things.”

“Maybe not so overtly. But when you found out Mateo’s house had blown up, you organized all those donations to help out him and his roommates.”

“Because it was the right thing to do!”

“Of course it was. But it was also meddling. Kind meddling. But meddling. And we’ve talked about the cow eyes.”

“What do the cow eyes have to do with anything?” Carlos asked, slightly annoyed.

“When you want to know something that I don’t want to share, you waste no time turning them on. And you know that neither I, nor anyone else can resist. Nosiness.”

“That’s not nosy! It’s…digging for information.”

“Information your chosen suspect may or may not want to share. The suspect being me. Admit it Carlos. You’re more like your family than you’d like to believe.”

“I—“ Carlos struggled to come up with a reply. “I don’t like that you’re siding with my sisters. That was not the point of bringing you here. You’re supposed to back me up.”

“Oh I will never speak to your sisters about this,” T.K. told him. “I’ve got your back. I just want you to know that I know.”

Carlos opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a small body hurtling into his legs so hard he almost fell over. “Tío Carlos!” Marco practically yelled. “You said you would come in an hour. It’s been more than an hour. Will you pleeeeeeeeeeeease come throw the ball with me? You promised!”

Carlos looked a T.K. who smiled and nodded toward Marco. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure I want to leave you alone with my sisters after what you just said. I’m scared about what other things they might put into your head.”

T.K. laughed and gave him a little push. “Go. I’ll try not to be swayed further to their side.”

“You heard him! Go! Go!” Marco pushed Carlos from behind over toward the grassy area past the picnic tables.

“Marco, Marco, relax,” Carlos said, breaking away from his nephew’s aggressive pushing.

“I waited all day,” Marco told him with a glare.

“And you’re going to wait longer if you’re not polite,” Carlos told him.

Marco looked only slightly chastened. “Sorry.”

“Mhmm.” Carlos tried not to roll his eyes. “Do you have a ball and a glove?”

“Yes!” Marco ran ahead and grabbed them off a picnic table. “Here. This one’s yours. Abuelo got it out of the garage for me.”

Sure enough it was Carlos’ high school mitt. It was beyond worn out, but it would do for a quick round of catch before he rescued his boyfriend from the clutches of whichever sister had decided to grill him next.

“Okay you go over there and I’ll go over here,” Marco said excitedly, running several yards away, ball clutched in his hand.

His first throw took Carlos by surprise. “Whoa! You’re getting really good at that,” Carlos said as he tossed it back.

“Dad says I might make the travel team this year,” Marco said excitedly as he delivered another throw that made Carlos’ palm sting.

“Yeah I think you’ve got a good shot at it,” Carlos told him. “How’s your fast ball?”

“So good! But I have to work on my curve ball. It doesn’t always go the right way.”

“Ah, I’ve got a trick for that. Let me show you.”

It didn’t take long for all of Carlos’ nieces and nephews to realize he had left the adult table and was available for fun. After he finished with Marco, a game of tag was requested by his other nephews. Then Bianca and Elena wanted to show him the crafts they’d been working on and make him a friendship bracelet which he immediately put around his wrist.

Nearly an hour had gone by and Carlos began to look around for his boyfriend, feeling guilty for having left him alone for so long. But just as he began making his way back to the picnic tables, Carolina found him and wanted to tell him all about a school project she’d finished recently.

One minute he was chatting with her about orca whales and the next something was colliding with his skull, hard and fast. He felt his head snap to the side, fingers automatically going to touch the spot directly behind his ear.

Carolina had frozen her eyes wide. “Tío Carlos? Estás bien?” she asked tentatively.

The world seemed to tilt and he sank down slowly onto a picnic bench, fingers fumbling against the weathered wood as he tried to aim successfully and not miss and fall to the ground instead. “Sorry!” Marco called, running over.

Oh. The baseball. That’s what had hit him. That explained the extreme throbbing that had started and why he could already feel a knot growing at the site of impact.

“You hit Tío Carlos right in the head!” Carolina scolded.

“I didn’t mean to!” Marco protested back. “I just threw it, that’s all! I was working on my curveball! It wasn’t my fault!”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Carlos said calmly, even though his vision was starting to blur at the corners. “It was an accident.”

“See? It’s fine!” Marco told her.

“I’m telling Mom!”

“No you’re not!”

The two continued to squabble and Carlos closed his eyes as their raised voices cut through his skull like a knife. “Carolina,” he interrupted finally. “Can you go find T.K. for me? Tell him I need to ask him something.”

“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at Marco. “I’m still telling mom,” she hissed, causing him to take off after her as she ran away.

Carlos swallowed against the sudden queasiness in his stomach. He was regretting the number of tamales he’d eaten now.

The sunlight was really starting to hammer into his skull so he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his nose, trying to keep his stomach from becoming violent. A hand on his knee startled him. “Carlos?” T.K.’s voice was quiet and concerned.

Carlos opened his eyes and found his boyfriend or rather, several blurry versions of his boyfriend, looking up at him. “Hey,” he said quietly. Even talking seemed to hurt his rattled brain.

“Are you okay? Carolina said something about a baseball.”

“It was an accident,” Carlos said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Okay,” T.K. said slowly, clearly trying to gauge the situation and read between the lines of what his boyfriend wasn’t telling him. “Where did it hit you?”

Carlos took another slow breath in through his nose as his stomach clenched. “Behind my ear.”

“Which side, this side?” T.K. asked, lifting a hand and gently probing at Carlos’s skull.

His fingers found the knot almost immediately and even though his touch was gentle it sent a stab of pain shooting through Carlos and his stomach lurched. He jerked away, unsuccessful in suppressing a tight lipped moan.

“Okay, hey I need you to talk to me, all right?” T.K. said, his voice going serious as his fingers instinctively sought the pulse point on Carlos’ wrist. “How bad is your pain?”

Carlos had had concussions before; you couldn’t play varsity baseball without the occasional injury. This was ten times worse than he remembered. “Like a seven?” His voice was shaky and opening his mouth at all felt like a huge risk given the discontent happening in his stomach. “And there are about four of you right now.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Carlos squinted at him. “Are you really asking me that?”

“Answer please,” T.K. said, eyes serious.

“Carlos Nicolás Reyes Moreno.”

“And where are we?”

“My parents’ ranch.”

“Good. And what’s your badge number?”

Carlos opened his mouth and found his mind strangely blank. “I—”

“You can’t remember?” T.K. asked.

“I—no.” He felt panic start to well up in his throat. “T.K…”

“It’s okay,” T.K. said calmly, gently cupping the non-injured side of his face. “You’re going to be all right. But we need to go to the hospital, okay?”

“Oh god,” Carlos groaned partly from pain and queasiness and partly from panic. “Any chance we can sneak out of here without telling my family?”

“Oh, babe, I think that ship has sailed,” T.K. said sympathetically.

“Carlitos? What happened?” Andrea approached at a rapid pace, the Reyes sisters flanking her along with Adriana, Tía Maria, and Tía Luci. He was sure his father wasn’t far behind.

Even as pain clawed at the inside of his skull Carlos tried to assuage their fears. “I’m fine, just a little accident,” he managed.

“Carolina said Marco hit you in the head,” Elena said worriedly.

“Head injuries are very serious,” Tía Luci told them. “I once dated a tennis player who got a concussion.”

“He got hit with a tennis ball?” Elena asked.

“No, we got a little overly enthusiastic in the bedroom. No half assed sex from that one!”

Carlos heard Tía Maria start muttering a prayer.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Is he all right?” Predictably Gabriel had caught up with the group, a large grill spatula still in his hand.

“Let’s just give him a little room to breathe,” T.K. said calmly, holding up a hand to keep them from coming in closer to smother him with concern. “Francesca if you could go get me some ice and a towel please.”

She disappeared in an instant toward the back of the house.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Teresa asked.

“I am fine,” Carlos insisted again, squeezing his eyes closed as another wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. He would be. As soon as he was away from his coddling family and in his bed at home.

“Carlitos you be quiet and listen to your boyfriend. He is a professional,” Andrea scolded, worry coloring the sharpness of her tone.

“Yes, T.K., what does he need?” Gabriel asked.

“We’re going to get some ice on here and go from there,” T.K. said. “I don’t think an ambulance is necessary at this point.”

Francesca returned with ice and a towel. “Thank you,” T.K. said, wrapping the ice up tightly and then ever so gently pressing it against Carlos’ head.

He hissed in pain, knuckles gripping the edge of the picnic bench so hard he felt splinters of wood begin to dig into his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” T.K. murmured sympathetically. “We need to try and get the swelling down.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t thought it was possible for his head to hurt more, but the added coldness of the ice was proving to be too much and he felt the tight hold he had on his composure starting to slip. He wanted to leave, he wanted to lie down and sleep, he wanted T.K. to hold him while he cried like a baby because everything hurt like a motherfucker and he was embarrassed as hell about it.

His family was still carrying on around him, he could hear them asking questions and making plans, but all he focused on was T.K.’s free hand, the one that wasn’t pressing ice to his skull. That hand was resting comfortingly on his knee, thumb moving slowly back and forth. Thank god T.K. was here to mitigate the chaos.

He didn’t realize he was starting to drift away until T.K.’s hand squeezed his knee more tightly and then moved up to his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Hey, hey, no, don’t go to sleep,” he said urgently.

Right. Sleep was not a good idea. Carlos forced his eyes open and tried to focus on his boyfriend’s worried face, but it swam in front of him and made his stomach churn. “T.K…”

“I’ve got you,” T.K. said firmly. He turned and looked up at Andrea and Gabriel who had come to hover a little closer. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

“I’ll drive you,” Andrea said immediately.

“You’re entertaining all these guests mi amor,” Gabriel said. “You stay, I’ll take the boys.”

“We’re all coming,” Lucía said immediately.

Carlos felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of his entire family standing around in the hospital waiting room and the kind of chaos that would cause. He didn’t need to worry though. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” T.K. said quickly. “There’s no reason to believe this is anything more serious than a concussion. It will be quick, not worth everyone coming out.”

“I will update you the entire time,” Gabriel promised.

“Text messages every five minutes,” Andrea ordered.

“Can you stand?” T.K. asked and Carlos nodded his affirmative, immediately regretting the motion when the throbbing in his skull increased.

T.K. took his arm and Carlos got up on wobbly legs. He made it about two steps before his knees began to give out and he felt his father grab his other arm. “Steady mijo,” Gabriel said.

It seemed like an eternity before they passed through the house and into the front driveway. Out of sight of his family Carlos felt the last of his control slip away. The blood drained from his face and he gagged.

“Whoa!” T.K. said, quickly lowering him to the ground as he began to heave out the contents of his stomach onto the concrete.

By the time it was over Carlos’ pain had ratcheted up to somewhere in the nines and he heard himself letting out a pathetic whimper as his brain exploded inside of his skull. “Easy Carlitos, easy,” his father said, the words barely registering as he and T.K. lifted Carlos back onto his feet and basically carried him the rest of the way to his dad’s truck.

He ended up with his head in T.K.’s lap, his boyfriend continuing to hold ice against his head with one hand, while the other ran soothingly up and down his arm. “Stay awake for me, all right?” he said.

“Trying,” Carlos said, his voice sounding cracked and broken. Mostly he was trying to breathe because he really didn’t want to throw up again. Every bump in the road, every touch of the breaks, sent pain ricocheting through his head. “It really hurts.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there,” T.K. said softly. “You’re all right, keep breathing, okay?”

Gabriel pulled directly up to the ER doors and he and T.K. helped Carlos into a wheelchair. If he’d been in any less pain he would have found the entire thing humiliating, but every bit of his energy was currently being spent on staying awake and not vomiting all over the floor.

“I’ll park the car and meet you inside,” Gabriel said as T.K. pushed him through the doors.

The next few hours were a hellish blur. They ran a battery of tests including an MRI and a CT scan, asked him dozens of questions, all of which he was able to answer thank god.

Despite his best efforts, he threw up twice more, T.K. holding a basin in front of his face each time, then rubbing his back comfortingly as he curled into a ball, knives stabbing through his head after such violent movement.

He hated being reduced to a shaking, moaning mess, especially in front of his father, but there was no help for it. The pain was only growing worse and there was no relief in sight, not until the tests came back.

“Breathe,” T.K. said, running a thumb back and forth over Carlos’ hand. “Carlos you have to breathe and try to relax.”

“I can’t.” The words came out on a whimper. “It hurts.”

“Carlitos, you have to try,” his dad said, sounding beyond concerned. “The more tense you are the worse it will feel.”

Tears slid down his cheeks as the pounding in his head beat on relentlessly. It had been hours and there was never any relief to the waves of pain, just a constant throbbing, knifelike agony. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself, ragged, stuttering breaths tearing from his chest.

“I’m going to go find the nurse,” Gabriel said. “My wife and daughters might be better at nagging, but I’m sure I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

He disappeared out the door and the next thing Carlos knew the bed was shifting as T.K. climbed in with him, wrapping his arms tightly around Carlos’ body. “What are you doing?” Carlos choked out.

“Taking care of you,” he said, his lips by Carlos’ ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Breathe. Just a little bit longer and we’ll get you some medication. I promise.”

T.K.’s fingers stroked up and down his arm and he continued to murmur soothing words into Carlos’ ear. Carlos felt his muscles slowly begin to unclench one at a time. The agony in his skull began to ease, just enough that he could breathe easier and think a little more clearly.

His dad must have given someone a piece of his mind because within fifteen minutes the doctor had returned. “Okay, Mr. Reyes we are looking at a grade two concussion here. All your scans came back clear so while painful, your recovery should be pretty easy.”

“No brain bleed?” T.K. asked.

“No. No brain bleed, no skull fracture.”

He could see T.K. and his father sag in relief. They were both putting on a good front, trying to be strong for him, but in that moment the worry in the room finally lifted off like a cloud, dissipating into calm.

“We’re going to keep you for a little bit, start you on some strong Tylenol to help manage the pain. I’ll come check on you in an hour okay?”

It was another two hours before they were finally able to go home, Gabriel dropping them off with promises to bring Carlos’ car over in the morning.

He was more steady on his feet now and the medication had helped both his headache and the nausea, so with T.K.’s help he was able to manage the stairs without too much difficulty.

T.K. sat him on the bed and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I can do it,” Carlos said, but his boyfriend gave him a stern look and continued.

This behavior persisted until Carlos was settled in bed, an extra pillow behind his head, a glass of water on the nightstand along with additional Tylenol. “Better?” T.K. asked as Carlos leaned back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Carlos told him. The lights were dim, causing his splitting headache to dull to a throbbing one instead.

He heard his phone buzz for the thousandth time in the last few hours. “Do you want to see who that is?”

He couldn’t look at the screen without feeling like someone had stabbed a knife through his eyes. Hopefully that would pass quickly. It was only a grade two concussion and most of his pain was coming from the actual injury itself, not his brain rattling around in his skull.

T.K. punched in Carlos’ passcode and then scrolled through. “You have forty seven unread texts. Most of them are from your sisters. A few from your mom and aunts. And one reminding you to vote next week.”

Carlos groaned. “You’d think I was dying. This isn’t even as bad as the time Elías flipped the four wheeler over while we were on vacation. He broke his leg in two places and had to have surgery and nobody was all over him.”

“Oh, the texts aren’t about you,” T.K. said, eyes lighting up with mirth.

Carlos squinted at him. “I’m confused then.”

T.K. cleared his throat. “You listen to T.K. and do what he says. That one is from Teresa.” He scrolled a little further. “Congratulations on picking someone who’s not a dick. He actually comes in handy, that’s Adriana.” He snorted. “And this one from Francesca just says, ‘Remember not to fuck again until your brain is better.’”

“You know, Tía Maria campaigned pretty hard to send her to a convent when she was a teenager. Some days I think we should have let her,” Carlos said.

“The rest are variations on how great I am and how you need to eat a lot of soup and get a lot of rest. And I have a text from your mom.”

Carlos cracked one eye to look at him. “Are you going to share?”

“Mm…I’m not sure you can handle this one.”

T.K. was grinning from ear to ear, clearly beyond proud of himself and delighted to have information Carlos didn’t.

“T.K. just read it. I can see that smug look on your face.”

He cleared his throat. “T.K. thank you for taking care of our Carlitos. You are such a blessing to our family.” T.K. grinned. “They like me.”

“Of course they like you.”

“They really like me.”

“Yes, T.K. My family loves you. Just like I always knew they would.”

“Well I appreciate that. But you really didn’t have to get hit in the head with a baseball just so I could endear them to me with my paramedic skills.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Marco,” Carlos said. “He’s the one with an arm like a Major League baseball player.”

“Yeah he can really throw huh?” T.K. said, brushing a gentle hand through Carlo’s curls, careful to avoid the area the ball had struck. “How’s your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Carlos said.

“And the nausea?”

“Better,” Carlos said.

“Good.” T.K. seemed relieved. “Listen, next time you want to get out of a family activity, you can just tell me. You don’t need to give yourself a grade two concussion. Just say the word and I will fake an emergency and get us out of there.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t fake an emergency after hour one,” Carlos said. “Thank you for today. You getting along with my family it…” Tears threatened to close his throat and he forced them back because he really wanted T.K. to know what he was feeling. “It means everything.”

“They’re easy to get along with,” T.K. said. “And we have a lot in common.”

“Oh?”

“We all love you.”

38 notes · View notes

mysoftboybensolo · 3 years ago

Text

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl @cazzyimagines, @scuttle-buttle, @violetmuses @flutterskies @sokoviandelights @rumblelibrary @fictionlandslanddreams @somethingthatsaysbubbles @alindeluce and @barnesxnobles

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #fanfiction

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luthienne · 4 years ago

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Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

#ask #anon #quote compilation #emotional courage #words #lit #poetry #long post #of hope to bite on like a bullet #yeah ok i have no chill #also no explanation for how my brain works and ties all of these together #compilation

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