#joel is angry about this yall | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexispunkkk · 4 months ago

Text

back where we started

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: dark!joel x fem!reader

- summary: joel is a horrible partner post-outbreak. he yells. isn't too nice. fucks.

- warnings: dark!!! dubcon, slapping, choking, hair tugging, unprotected piv (don't do this guys!), smut smut smut smut, degrading, yelling, no established relationship, rough sex, crying, unsafe sex, angry sex, joel has crazy anger issues, blood, huggeee nasty age gap (legal, though! your choice for age), public / outdoor sex, size kink, joel's got a massive dick lols, power imbalance, submission, no aftercare, squirting, dirty talk, thigh riding if you squint, manhandling, joel is just incredibly mean. total asshole.

- word count: 4.5k

- author’s note: feining for mr joel miller recently so i wrote this... my first joel fic!! its gross yall. have your fun though!

—————————————୨ৎ

Partnering up with Joel Miller wasn’t ideal. He’s always looking at you like you’re some problem he doesn’t know how to solve – like you’re just cargo he’s exhausted of having to drag along.

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s honestly an asshole. A real fucking dick, a mean bastard. To everyone else you meet, you’re a well loved, sweet girl. To Joel, though, you’re a burden. He’s a miserable person, and hanging around him only came with the positive that he knew how to hunt, how to keep you decently safe. But, hey, it’s better to be stuck with a brute of a man than to be infected. Right?

For whatever reason, the frustration has been building worse than usual for the past few days. You move like you’re on eggshells, do anything to not upset him, stay quiet when you’re asked and obey his every order. But it’s Joel fucking Miller. Nothing is ever enough with him.

You’re young, but that's not a valid excuse for Joel. He expects as much out of you as he would another man his size and seniority, which is totally unfair of a girl your age.

So every little mistake ticks him off. Really riles him up. His temper is really fired up today for whatever reason, and you’re trying your best to not exacerbate it.

—————————————୨ৎ

Joel should know now your most common flaws – he does pay attention, but that mind of his was too preoccupied with his fresh plan to head east to remember just how forgetful you tend to be.

You remember twenty minutes after you leave. Everything is packed up, rifle on Joel’s thick shoulder, sleeping bags taken from Bill and Frank’s now deserted house strapped to your backs. Everything but one thing. And arguably, the most important thing for the new change of route.

“Can y’get me out the map, girl?”

Girl. He always insists on calling you that. Rather derogatory, like he doesn’t wanna address you by a human name. Just girl.

At the question, your steps stutter. A little patch of dirt kicked up from your shoe hits the back of Joel’s calf, earning a soft grunt. “You fuckin’ deaf now? I said gimme the damn map.”

He knows what your silence means, and in that moment he's about to lose his goddamn mind. His feet stop bluntly, his large, brooding frame turning to face you.

Your pace slows soon after him, halting to a nervous stop while your gaze flickers from its usual spot on the ground up into his dark eyes. A warning look.

“Better not tell me you lost the fuckin’ thing.”

No words come out of your mouth, let alone even pop into your head; all you can seem to do is stare up at him like a mindless idiot, his height towering over yours when he takes a small step closer.

Again, your steps follow, this time backward. You stumble back half a foot, a twig cracking under the shift of your weight. Out of nervous habit, your left hand reaches for the right wrist, gently stroking the skin to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“Joel, I didn’t–”

His movements match your own, his large, calloused hands lurching forward to rip your hand off your wrist. It gets replaced with his own grip, but much tighter. Aggressive. Taut. Outraged.

“Y’didn’t what? Didn’t think for once how t’not be a goddamned idiot?” He snarls, his untamed fingernails digging into the skin for a moment and leaving tiny crescents into the first layer. “Why d’you always gotta be like this, girl? Fuckin’ stupid…”

He trails off, removing his tight grip on your forearm, but not without hostility. He lets go but ends it with a good yank. Not hard enough to pop it out of place, but hard enough to get a quiet whimper out of your shy throat.

You never know what to say when he gets like this. Whether to defend yourself, whether to stay shut up and take the tirade. But you sure know well enough not to fight back – that’s how to get your arm pulled out of the socket.

“I–I swear, Joel. I had it, I don’t know where it went.”

He never takes your stupid excuses. They’re useless, he’ll never believe you. He knows that you know you forgot it at the last spot you camped out. And this time, the excuse was a pathetic mumble, your eyes glued at your wrist and the mark he left when he gripped it. Even more to make your pitiful case unconvincing.

“Yeah, the hell you do. Quit lyin’, you know damn well where that map is.” He scoffs, brushing past you with a shove to the shoulder, his larger figure knocking you a few inches with a soft oof. “Back in the woods where you left it, ain’t it?”

Of course, you can’t plead your case anymore. You give in, nodding in submission and trudging after him once he turns around, back in the direction where you surely left the damn map.

“...Yeah.” You murmur, rubbing a dry hand across the bottom half of your face, against your snotty nose. Not because you’d been crying, this is nothing from Joel yet. Just because the month has been terribly cold and sleeping outside every night isn’t doing you well. “At our last camp. M’sorry.”

“Always fuckin’ sorry. Sorry for almost gettin’ yourself killed, sorry for forgetting somethin’ again and again. M’sick of your shit.” He grunts, readjusting the rifle strapped over his shoulder.

When you first met him, words like that got to you, as much as you hate to admit it. But now, everything seems to fade together. He’s just Joel. That’s how he is. And you’ve gotta live with it and try your best to not piss him off.

To your luck, he shuts up and stops berating you – at least until you’re close to the previous camp spot. Just silence, interrupted only by the awkward shuffling of your steps behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his longer strides and stay quiet to not worsen his anger.

But when you get close enough and he has to start looking for the damned map, his mumbling and annoyance boils over once again, infiltrating the somewhat comfortable silence that your ears just got used to.

“Map was the only fuckin’ thing getting us around… no goddamn compass.” Joel mutters under his breath. Not at you, for once, but just a natural spilling of his frustration. He’s always gotta be mumbling about something, even in his sleep. “Slow me down enough as is. Gotta lose everythin’, too.”

You joined aimlessly behind him, searching around the patchy grass, anywhere for the map that was stressing him out so terribly.

Minutes go by. He’s getting angrier by the minute, his hands flexing while he crouches down and searches. Mad, but still pretty tame for a pissed-off Joel Miller.

That is, until he glances up and actually gets a look at you for the first time in an hour. He normally avoids any eye contact, avoids even peeking over at you. At that damn little frame… so much younger, sweeter. He seemingly hates having you around because you always tick him off, but what he hates more is the temptation that comes with having a pretty little girl by his side at all times.

He finally lets his eyes fall on you. But this time, he can’t even get his usual peek at your lips or neck, because something else catches his eye. A familiar shred of paper – just the fucking corner – poking out the zipper of your backpack.

He genuinely slaps himself in the face, eyes turning dark and fists curling up in pure rage at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

He growls. Not a question, but a threat. His eyes are black at this point, breath speeding up while he takes another step toward you. Not cautious like he’ll sometimes let himself be, but warring.

You’re confused for a bit, as you hadn’t seen the map in your own bag. Or even thought to look before you turned around and walked a half hour back, a complete waste of your time. “Oh…”

He starts again, his voice much lower than usual. Dangerous.

“You wanna tell me…” Joel breathes, stepping towards you even more until he’s got you backed against a tree. Bark pushing your shirt and jacket up, scraping at the bare skin of your lower back. “Why the hell we just wasted an hour of our time, when the map was practically right in your fuckin’ hand!”

As he curses, your heart drops. You don’t have time to react before his hands are up, flying at you. You flinch, thinking they’re coming to hurt you, but they’re reaching into your backpack.

And sure enough, there it is. The map you spent so much valuable time fussing over. Right on your damn back.

‘I didn’t know, Joel. Didn’t think to check.” You whimper and choke out from the back of your throat, weak and apologetic. Again, he’s not one for excuses and apologies. He’s on you before you can even think, hand forcing the map in your face.

His palm hits your mouth when he shoves the paper, a direct blow to your jaw. Your lip comes in forced contact with your bottom row of teeth, tearing the skin and swelling instantly. The only thing that can escape your mouth now is a pained whimper, which agitates the furious man on top of you worse.

“Fuckin’ idiot. Wastin’ my damn time like always. Do you ever think?” He scoffs and backs up, maybe half an inch.

When he notices your slightly busted lip, it brings him a sense of triumph. You ticked him off and now you’re gonna pay for it. And you sure enough feel guilty enough to not stop him, so he’s got you trapped now.

You’re frozen in place against the tree, refusing to move or utter out even the smallest of another noise. Suddenly, Joel’s mind is more occupied by the girl under his grip, shaking like a damn leaf with a bleeding and busted lip.

“Asked you a question, little shit.” He grunts and lets his hand venture up to your jaw, pushing it around like a toy before settling with a tight grip, squeezing your cheeks and watching how the blood oozes from your lip at the pressure. “Said, do you ever fuckin’ think?”

Sure, he’s yelled at you plenty, disciplined you, maybe put his hands on you out of frustration a couple of times before. But it never feels like this. His hands usually let up after they land on you, but now he’s squeezing at your face and looking into your hazy eyes as if this is a challenge.

“Mm.” You whine, throat bobbing while you adjust to the feeling of his huge hand gripping your face. “N-no.”

Your voice is only the softest of a mutter.

“Speak up, girl. Didn’t hear ya’.” He rolls his eyes, giving your face a nice knead and jerking it to the side to jolt you up more.

A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, head jerking to the right at the flick of his wrist. He holds it against the tree, your ponytail getting caught on the rough edge of the bark, the lumber scraping your ear.

“No. Don’t–don’t ever think enough. M’sorry. Wasn’t… wasn’t thinkin’.”

You sigh, head lifting up while you feel the familiar sensation of your throat tightening up, eyes starting to burn. But you keep it in.

Joel hums, jerking your head again and shoving it harder onto the hard bark. “Damn right. Don’t think. A fuckin’ burden on me.”

He’s not doing it because he’s mad anymore. Hell, he’s already forgotten about the stupid map that caused all of this. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.

And you know that’s all he wants.

His gaze is different, his tone similar to but not matching the genuine anger you hear from him most of the time. There's a hint of more challenge in it, maybe even passion. The hand on your jaw only confirms that.

“Shoulda’ left you behind when I got the chance.” He mutters, knowing that threatening to leave you really gets under your skin. Honestly, he’s all that you have, and you’d be dead without him. So that always seems to hurt a little more than some name calling.

You don’t react, gulping and keeping still at his arduous words. Getting no reaction from you riles him up worse, his free hand coming down to strike at the wood above your head. You flinch, and a tear unpromptedly rolls down your cheek. You don’t feel it until Joel curses, laughing in disbelief and moving his hand from your jaw down to your throat.

He squeezes. Not tight, not yet. A groan escapes his throat, low and almost pained. And before you know it, he’s got his body pressed against yours, rubbing you uncomfortably into the rotting tree.

“Such a fuckin’ mess.” He grunts, one hand around your throat to cut off any words and the other moving to your chin to move your gaze up to him. “Cryin’ like a baby when you were the one that lost the map.”

Your pulse jumps when he degrades you, and he swears he sees something else in your eyes this time. Not the usual fear, but something that looks like arousal.

It sparks something in him, and he wants to see it again. His hand tightens on your neck, earning a pained gasp from your pretty throat. Your eyes lock, and he watches your head tilt back against the tree, your eyes fluttering slightly.

He can’t take much more. A tiny whimper comes out of you when his knee presses against your thigh.

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Joel growls. Low. Frustrated. He gives up on the choking, instead gripping the back of your head and taking hold of your messy ponytail. He tugs, tilting your head more, his big aquiline nose moving down to bump under your ear and rub along the cold curve of your jaw.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He whispers, his unkempt scruff that he calls a beard brushing up against you, scratching deep into the skin he just had a hand wrapped around. “Feel you gettin’ turned on. Fuckin’ slut, getting all worked up when I’m angry with you.”

You can’t do anything but take his advances and cry softly, feeling the cotton of your panties dampening each time his gruff voice comes out against your ear, his harsh breath biting at your neck.

“Don’t got time for th’shit.” He mutters, but you hear his resolve dropping. He’s getting less and less frustrated over you wasting time, but more frustrated over the fact that he’s got his knee between your legs and he can feel the heat seeping through the fabrics, even in the biting cold weather. “Don’t got time for you makin’ me… makin’ me–ngh.”

His words stop, replaced by a low grunt into your ear the second your body even twitches against his. The grip on your ponytail tightens, tugging backward and earning a needy whine from you.

As much as he wants to keep degrading you, making you feel worthless under him, he’s feeling pretty pathetic himself. And he never gets like this with women.

His nose bumps your ear one more time before he can’t take it – his lips crash into yours. It’s not friendly. It’s not intimate. It’s fucking rude.

He intrudes, letting go of your hair and grabbing your body instead to push you against the damn tree harder. Mouths battle, and he wins, nipping hard and tasting the metallic blood from where he busted your lip earlier. Yum.

“Joel.” You whimper, finally. It’s music to his ears, but he can’t show that. He has to be tough, not show that he’s into this. Not into the young girl he’s supposed to be training.

Joel grumbles, bringing a hand up to mindlessly slap at the side of your face at the sound of your whimper.

“Shut up.”

And you do.

You’d do anything he told you right now. The feeling of him slapping you, biting your lips, pressing his thick knee between your thighs has got you absolutely pathetic. It’s fucking disgusting, you know that. To be so grossly into the fifty-six year old man that’s been taking care of you, the one that relentlessly bullies you and makes you feel like a worthless burden.

But you like it. You’d be anything for him, even if it meant being a worthless, pathetic burden.

Joel’s got control. Obviously. His hand that slapped you runs over the heated skin in the same spot, almost to soothe it. What a gentleman. His lips slow on yours for a moment, latching onto the neck he had his hand around earlier instead.

In the deep woods, the only sounds heard are the birds above and his angry gasps against your skin, breathing like a madman. The softer sounds are interrupted by one of his belt clinking, being unbuckled mindlessly. And then the rustle of fabric. And then the unfamiliar sound of denim against Joel’s rough skin.

He’s straining against his boxers. Hard. Harder than he thinks he may ever have, but you don’t know that. You can tell he’s big through the fabric. It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind maybe once or twice, but you would never have expected for it to be pressed against your thigh, dangerous amounts of precum slowly leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs.

You distract yourself while he gets busy attacking your neck and working your pants off – you don’t wanna believe it. Joel Miller is about to fuck you. He slapped you, choked you, degraded you, sure. That’s believable. But now he’s going to fuck you with that giant cock of his.

As if it helps you not give in too much, you look everywhere to try and distract yourself. Down. His boxers read CALVIN KLEIN at the top. Up. The top button of his flannel came undone. He’s got a lot of chest hair. Behind him. There’s a bird watching him gnaw at your neck and tear your pants off, watching his bulging cock rub against your covered thigh.

And the map is on the ground behind him.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He finally interrupts your private session of ‘I spy,’ breathing heavy against your skin and cupping your clothed cunt through your panties. “Look at me.”

You look up, gaze locking with his again. His eyes are equally as dark, but not with anger anymore. Desire.

He’s gripping extra hard, hands splayed across your waist – almost big enough to wrap around, to grip you real good. Joel’s eyes travel all down your body in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, your pants torn down and now discarded on the forest floor.

“Gonna fuck the stupidity right outchya’, yeah?” He chuckles, hoisting your body up to keep you settled between him and the tree. “‘N I want you lookin’ at me while I do it, kay’, girl? Eyes up. C’mon now.”

You can do nothing but oblige. Your eyes dart up, staying on him, even when he pulls his cock out that you so badly want to get a look at. The sound of him stroking himself, little grunts escaping his throat mindlessly, is so fucking tempting.

But you listen, eyes staying on him, hoping to get some kind of praise from him for the first time in your life. Or maybe you want to keep getting debased. Maybe both. You seem to like the shame of it.

“Gonna fuck you s��good you never forget anythin’ again. M’still pissed about that map, y’hear me?” He grunts, lifting you effortlessly to move his cock up into place. He’s so strong, and you’re so little. He can manhandle you however he wants, use you for his pleasure. And maybe you want that.

From your mouth slips an obedient hum, your head shaking in a little nod so he knows you’re listening. You swear you see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but he replaces it within half a second with a grumble to maintain the tough guy look.

His cock meets your slick after he pulls your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You’re not worth the time. Not after wasting that time with the map debacle.

The pulsing head of it drags along your slit, collecting a bit of you on the tip, making a filthy mix with his precum. It’s been a minute since any intimacy for Joel, but he can’t let you know anything. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. He keeps it in, biting his lip and grunting to avoid any embarrassing soft noises.

“Ain’t stoppin’ if you can’t take it, by th’way.” He grumbles into your ear, his tip just barely edging into your soaked cunt. You whimper, and he squeezes your waist in warning. If he didn’t have to be holding you up, he’d have hit you again.

But, the soft noises you let out make him want more. You seem to let them out when you’re scared – or maybe it's out of arousal. Only from when he totally degrades you. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fuck you senseless.

“Could break ya’ if I wanted. Little… tight fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, head hitting the tree next to yours when his cock finally slides in. It was a fight to get in, your tight walls not stretched enough for his fat dick to fit due to your lack of experience. “Take ya’ how I fuckin’ want.’

If this was any other man, you’d cry and beg for him to stop. But Joel. It’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller.

It hurts, but his threatening words seem to egg you on. They prod you to take it, try harder to take the thick cock that’s splitting your body right in half.

He doesn’t start slow like some guys. Joel doesn’t start slow. Ever. Joel Miller fucks, and he fucks how he wants. This isn’t about you, this is about him getting his worth back after you wasted all his damn time.

His hips slam into you at an alarming pace, no time for you to stretch out and adjust to the movement. He’s already hitting deep enough to where, if your shirt was off, you could see the print all the way in your stomach. But no. Your shirt is on. Joel Miller doesn’t care enough to worry about a shirt, that’s foolish. He just wants pussy – no, needs it. He’s a man with priorities.

You’re screaming, pain and pleasure. Usually he’d tell a woman to ‘shut the fuck’ up for being too loud, but you’re in the middle of the woods. Nobody around, except for the same fucking bird that’s continuing to watch you get destroyed and ripped open by a fifty-six year old. Great.

“God, baby. You’re fuckin’ helpless.” He grunts into your neck, resolve slowly slipping more. His noises get worse, louder. He doesn’t care enough anymore to pretend like this is some chore.

He’s fucking you and he means it.

Joel’s hips stutter after a few minutes, just in time with your own. Synced up perfectly. His rhythm is getting out of pace while you feel the pull deep in your core you haven’t felt in so long – white hot pooling in your stomach. You clench around him.

He can’t speak anymore, just like how you haven’t been able to for minutes now. All he can manage out are little grumbles into your hair, squeezing your body while he struggles with words. Getting pathetic himself.

“Fuckin’-- mm. Baby. Baby. Gon’cum soon.”

At least he warns you.

You could tell, anyway. The stuttering of his hips, the way he’s only hitting nice and deep now. But you’re in worse, you can’t warn him because your mouth is hung open entirely, spilling out the most pitiful string of moans that doesn’t seem to ever end.

Without warning, you clench again. He groans, but gets louder when he feels you spill. Burst. All over his aching cock.

“Shit, shit. You – you squirtin’?” Joel grumbles out, body spasming at the feeling of your liquids all coming out at once. Your legs are shaking, and he feels his own limbs join in. It was too much for him.

He cums. Hard. Maybe harder than he ever has before, but you don’t have to find that bit out.

The moment melts into a disgusting mess of simultaneous moans, whimpers, even from Joel. Despite the cold weather that was almost making you sick earlier, you feel hot. Sweaty. Both of you.

Joel’s head comes to rest atop yours, stroking the back of your ponytail that he’d been tugging at the whole time. And for a moment – just a short moment – you thought he’d maybe take care of you after. Like a real man.

But no. Apparently, you don’t know Joel well enough by now. He’s his own kind of man.

Once his breathing returns – somewhat – he’s back to ole’ Joel Miller. Grunts, huffs and drops you down by the tree. Tucks his spent cock back in. Before you know it, before you can speak, his pants and belt are back in place and his rifle is strapped back on his shoulder.

Your eyes shut, back scraped up from the rough tree he fucked you relentlessly against. Taking a shuddering breath, you rest for a moment, thinking that if he didn't give you any aftercare he’d at least let you have a moment to breathe.

But again, no.

“Fuck you doin’?”

Your single moment of silence is rudely interrupted by his southern drawl, entirely back to normal as if he didn’t have the most intense sex of his life only two minutes ago. As if forgetting it ever happened.

And the map is back in his hand. And he looks so normal compared to you. And it makes you want to cry for whatever reason.

There’s nothing else to do but hold back a pained whine from the soreness already building in your body, the blood you feel dripping on your back from the tree, and the metal taste of blood where he hit your lip. The slap on your cheek. The handprint on your throat. Fuck.

“C’mon, little shit. Gotta hurry. Now you wasted an hour of my time.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut #joel miller smut #degrading k1nk #choking #manhandling #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou joel #joel x reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader

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filthyjoelslvr · 1 month ago

Text

The Other Woman (3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Content: jackson!tommy x reader; jackson!joel x reader (previous chapter)

Synop: Tommy isn't the same after you told him about you and Joel. His heads hung low, his smile falters, his eyes scream of the pain he feels. You keep running into him and each time breaks you a little more than the last.

Then, Joel tells his ex wife of the affair. And the whole town knows. They stare, they whisper, and Tommy can barely stand it.

Warnings: pinv, fingering, tommy spits in your mouth, tells reader i hate you during sex?, sad tommy, guilty joel, physical fighting (mentions blood), very small mention of SA (past), death of mother, prob forgetting some

Word Count: 10K!

(dividers by: @cafekitsune)

a/n: guys i hope you like this one!! i was in such a stump and then got a random burst of inspiration so i hope i did a good job blending it all together. i literally wanna turn this whole series into a chapter book!!! but i made this so long so another part is coming soon im so sorry yall, ik ik i need to chill. but..... should you have tommy's babies ???? AHH DONT COME FOR ME IM INTO THAT

It had been twenty-three days since you last spoke to Tommy.

Not that you were counting, but every night bled into the next without him, and each morning you woke up hoping the ache would be duller than the day before. It wasn’t.

The last time you saw him — really saw him — was the night everything fell apart. The night he looked at you like he didn’t know who you were. Technically, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, not in those exact words, but you didn’t need him to. You knew it. Felt it in every look, every late-night visit, every time he held you like the world might end before morning. You were his. And he was yours.

But now… now you were nothing.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen the way it did. You never meant to hurt him, never wanted to be the cause of that devastation you saw in his eyes that day. The memory of it still clawed at your insides.

You heard the footsteps before the knock — heavy, sure, familiar in a way that made your throat tighten.

When you opened the door, there he was. Tommy. Sunburned cheeks, wind-worn jacket, smile so big it made your chest ache. “Told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

You had launched into his arms. Laughed. Let him spin you like a girl who hadn’t done the unthinkable. You buried yourself in him because you didn’t know how to be anywhere else. Because you were scared.

You tried to tell him. Tried to say the words. But he kissed you — kissed you like nothing had changed. And you let him. You let him love you, worship you, fall deeper when you knew the truth would tear him apart.

And when he finally said I love you, you broke. You couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Tommy, I slept with Joel.”

You watched him come undone in real time. Disbelief. Rage. Pain. That gut-wrenching, final line: "Stay the fuck away from me. We're done."

And then the door slammed, and you felt yourself unravel.

Now, three weeks later, you saw him again for the first time.

You hadn’t planned to be in town, but someone had asked for help dropping off supplies. Just some cloth and thread. It was supposed to be a quiet errand — quick. Anonymous.

But then you saw him.

Tommy walked through the square, not ten feet from you. And the sight of him made your stomach flip and your eyes sting.

He looked terrible.

Not rugged or tired. Wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes hollow. Posture slumped like the world weighed heavier than usual. Tommy, who used to light up Jackson just by passing through, didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t speak. He just walked — silent and angry and broken.

Then he looked up. Just for a second.

Your eyes locked.

It was like being struck. His face flickered — just barely — before he looked away again, fast. Like you were something painful to behold. Like remembering you hurt worse than forgetting.

You didn’t move. Didn’t follow. You couldn’t.

You’d seen the damage. You saw what you did. How far he’d fallen from the man who used to dance with you in the kitchen just to hear you laugh.

You broke him.

So you let him go. Again.

You turned away, heart hammering, eyes blurry, breath shallow.

You wanted to run after him. To explain. To beg. But that wasn’t love — not anymore. Love, real love, was giving someone what they needed. And right now? Tommy needed space. Distance. Time.

Even if it killed you to give it. Even if he never let you close again.

Because if he needed time to hate you before he could begin to understand you, then that’s what you’d give him.

Even if it meant losing him forever.

The first time you ran into Tommy again after that morning in the square, it was by accident. You turned a corner near the stables, arms full of fabric bundles, and nearly collided with him.

He stopped. Looked at you.

Just for a second.

And then he walked around you like you weren’t even there.

It knocked the breath from your lungs. You stood there, holding that stupid cloth to your chest like it might keep you from falling apart.

After that, it kept happening.

At the gate post. By the greenhouse. Outside the mess hall. Always unplanned. Always painful.

And always the same.

He’d glance at you, just once — eyes heavy with something that looked like grief — and then look away, jaw clenched, chest rising a little faster. Sometimes he’d adjust his jacket, or rub at his mouth like he could scrub the memory of you off his lips.

Each time you saw him, he looked a little worse.

Like he was unraveling slowly. Skin paler. Beard uneven. His usual spark — gone. Tommy had always been a light in Jackson. He made people laugh. Made things feel easier just by being around.

But now? Now he barely spoke. He avoided crowds. Didn’t show up to half the community meetings he used to help run. And when he did, he’d sit in the back with a far-off look in his eyes like his body was present, but nothing else was.

It was like he couldn’t stand to be in a world where you also existed.

And still, you said nothing.

You wanted to run to him. To beg. To explain it all again. But you stayed quiet. You gave him the distance he so clearly needed, even when it felt like it was killing you a little more each day.

Sometimes you’d go to the trade stalls to stay busy. Sort items. Help with repairs. Anything to get out of your own head.

That’s where you’d see Joel.

Not often. Just enough to notice.

He never stayed long — always stopping by for parts or ammo, sometimes to drop off gear from a patrol. When he saw you, he’d nod once. Give you a polite hey or mornin'.

Nothing else.

No private talks. No apologies. No pressure.

He had stopped coming to see you, just like you asked.

And the silence between the two of you felt like a second kind of punishment. A colder one. Because even though Joel had been the cause of it all, he wasn’t the one looking at you like you’d destroyed him.

That was Tommy.

And somehow, seeing the pain still written across his face every time he caught your presence — like your shadow alone was enough to make him sick — it hurt worse than anything you could have imagined.

Because you were the one who did that to him.

And you didn’t know if you’d ever get the chance to make it right.

The silence didn’t get easier.

If anything, the more time passed, the heavier it got. It filled the corners of your house like smoke. Settled into your sheets. Clung to your skin.

Some nights, it felt unbearable. So you started writing.

Not because you expected him to read it. Not because you thought it would fix anything. But because keeping it all inside was rotting you from the inside out.

The first letter was messy — half tears, half ink. You didn’t even bother starting it with his name. Just dove straight in. I think about you all the time. I keep seeing you in crowds. Sometimes I think I hear your laugh and then remember you haven’t laughed in weeks.

You didn’t mean to keep going, but you did. The words kept spilling out. Page after page. You wrote about the little things — how you still caught yourself reaching for his favorite mug when you made tea. How you didn’t listen to music anymore because everything reminded you of that night he danced with you at the town square. How you couldn’t stop replaying the sound of his voice when he said, Stay the fuck away from me.

You folded that one and tucked it into your dresser drawer. Told yourself you’d burn it later.

But you didn’t.

You kept writing.

A second letter. A third. A tenth.

Some were long, aching pages of apology. Others were just fragments. You looked tired today. I saw you touch your ribs — did you get hurt? You smiled at someone. I was both relieved and sick over it.

You never sent them. Never would.

But writing them was the only way to keep yourself from going to him.

Because the truth was, every time you saw Tommy — every time he looked at you and then looked away — it felt like losing him all over again. The glances were killing you more than outright silence ever could. Like he still felt something, but it hurt too much to let it show.

You knew that look. You wore the same one when you were begging for Joel's love.

So you wrote. Because writing didn’t cost him anything.

You gave him his space, his time, his absence. Even though it made you ache. Even though you missed him so much it sometimes felt like you couldn’t breathe.

And still, he didn’t speak to you.

Which meant you were alone. So you wrote. Even if the only one who would ever read the letters was you.

The bell above the trade stalls door jingled, breaking the quiet rhythm of your work.

You didn’t even look up at first. Most people came in for standard barters — thread, blankets, maybe a new pair of gloves. But something in your chest tightened before you even saw Joel because you knew today you'd talk to him.

He hesitated in the doorway, like he was unsure if he should even step inside. Then, with that familiar heavy gait, he walked toward one of the side shelves, not looking at you.

You let a beat pass. Then another.

“…Hey,” you said, voice low but steady.

His head snapped up like you'd thrown a rock at him. “What?”

You stepped out from behind the counter slowly. “I was... wondering how you’ve been.”

He blinked at you, completely thrown. “You told me to stay the hell away from you.”

“I know,” you said softly, glancing down. “I meant it, at the time. But… I also meant what I said back then — that you needed to work on yourself.”

He frowned, jaw tight, arms crossing. “So what’s this? Curiosity check-in?”

You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe. Just figured if we were gonna keep running into each other, we didn’t have to pretend the other didn’t exist.”

Joel snorted under his breath, leaning a little against the shelf. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to start a damn conversation, I’ll tell you that much.”

You watched him carefully. “So… how have you been? Really?”

He scratched his beard, eyes narrowed like the question was somehow offensive. Then he exhaled, slower this time. “Better. Some days. Worse on others. But I’ve been tryin' to get my shit together.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

Joel nodded, grumbling like the words hurt to say. “Ain’t drinkin’ as much. Talked to people about helpin’ out more on the patrol rotation. Saw a counselor a few times, if you can believe that.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Didn’t talk much at first, but… I’m listenin’ now. Tryin’ to understand why I did the things I did. Why I kept goin’ back to pain like it was comfort.”

You studied his face, and for the first time since all this began, he looked almost… vulnerable. Not proud, not defensive — just tired and trying.

And it hit you, suddenly, how much further behind you were.

“I’m happy for you,” you said. “I really am.”

He tilted his head. “And you? You look like hell, no offense.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes even though they weren’t crying. “That obvious, huh?”

Joel’s face softened slightly. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

You hesitated, and when you answered, your voice was small. “I’m not. Not really. I miss Tommy so bad it makes me sick.”

His expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t speak, so you kept going.

“I told him. About everything. The night he came home. He told me he loved me and I—” your breath caught. “I told him what happened. With you.”

Joel’s face fell. “And?”

“He walked out. Said we were done. That he doesn't want to see me again.”

Joel looked away. “Yeah… I figured.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

He took a breath through his nose like he was bracing for something. “Tommy came to my house that night.”

You stared at him. “He what?”

“Stormed in like a damn fire. Said he wanted to look me in the eye before he broke my nose.”

Your breath caught.

Joel gave a dry, humorless laugh. “And he did. Couple times.”

“Joel…”

“I didn’t stop him,” he said simply. “Didn’t raise a hand. Just let him. Took everything he gave me.”

“Jesus…”

Joel nodded. “Threw me into a wall. Told me I broke the only good thing in his life. Asked me how long I’d been watchin’ him like a damn vulture, waitin’ for him to turn his back so I could crawl into bed with his girl.”

You felt like you might be sick.

“I tried to tell him it wasn’t like that,” Joel continued. “That it wasn’t planned. But he didn’t want to hear it. And truth is, he had every right not to.”

You pressed a hand to your stomach. “I didn’t know he— God, Joel."

Joel shrugged. “He said what he needed to with his fists. We haven’t talked since. Tommy is scary as hell when he wants to be.”

The silence hung thick between you, full of shame and pain and words neither of you could take back. You remembered that night you told the lie about the guy harassing you — how Tommy's expression turned unrecognizable. You know now Tommy meant it when he said he could find the guy.

Joel looked at you again, more carefully now. “You still care about him?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

He nodded once, solemn. “He’s stubborn as hell, but he ain’t made of stone. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have shown up at my door.”

Your eyes welled, and this time, you didn’t stop the tears. “I think I already lost him.”

Joel shook his head. “I really am sorry."

You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded. The two of you stood there for a while, surrounded by the quiet buzz of the shop, the weight of everything still hovering — but maybe just a little lighter than before.

Joel finally turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’m trying,” you said softly.

He nodded once, then stepped out, the bell jingling behind him like punctuation on something that wasn’t quite closure — but maybe something close.

You didn’t want him.

Not in the aching, dizzy way that once made you forget what was right and wrong. Not in the sleepless, guilt-laced quiet after you let him crawl into your bed like a ghost begging to be remembered. That part of your story was over. Done. You weren’t his. Not anymore.

But watching Joel now — steady-voiced, clearer-eyed, softer somehow — still felt like swallowing glass.

Because he looked like someone learning to live. And you? You were still just surviving.

It wasn’t envy, not quite. Just a strange, heavy sorrow. Like watching a storm break over someone else’s house while you’re still knee-deep in floodwater.

You were proud of him. You were. Even if it felt like a betrayal to admit that out loud. Because Joel was trying. For once, he wasn’t running from the damage — he was naming it. Owning it. Carrying it like it was his to hold. And maybe that’s what made it harder: he was finally becoming the man he should’ve been before he met you.

But the part that hurt most didn’t live between you and him anymore.

It lived in the space between two brothers.

You hadn’t meant to tear them apart. You didn’t want that. God, you never wanted that. But when Joel told you — quietly, without flinching — about the fight, your stomach dropped so fast you thought you’d be sick.

Tommy had come to his door with all the fury a broken heart could hold. No words. No warning. Just fists.

And Joel had let him. Didn’t block, didn’t swing, didn’t shout.

He just took it.

Because he knew what he did. What you both did.

But knowing it doesn’t make it easier to live with. It doesn’t unmake the silence that now stretches between them like a scar across the years they’d built.

You’d already lost Tommy.

But knowing you might’ve helped him lose Joel too — that settled differently. A dull, throbbing grief you couldn’t outrun. You had touched something sacred, and you hadn’t been careful. And now they both carried that weight in their own quiet ways.

Joel with his guilt.

Tommy with his silence.

And you… with both.

You watched the wind roll through the trees above you, aching in your chest like you’d been hollowed out.

You didn’t want Joel. You never would again. But you wanted them to find each other. Somehow. Someday.

Even if it meant you never stood between them again.

Tommy,

I saw you again yesterday.

You didn’t say anything. You never do. Just that same half-second glance before your eyes drop like you’re afraid of catching something from me. Like I’m the infection now. And maybe I am.

I wish I could tell you that I’m sorry in a way that mattered. I wish I could hand you my heart in pieces and let you see how much of it still belongs to you. Even now. Especially now.

You looked tired. Not just the kind of tired that sleep can fix, but the kind that lives in your bones. I used to know how to make you laugh. Now I can’t even make you look at me without flinching.

It guts me, Tommy. Not just what I did. But what it did to you.

And about Joel.

I never meant for you two to stop speaking. I never meant to wedge myself between blood. I didn’t think. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t protect either of you.

And the worst part? You were both trying to love me in your own broken ways.

I still can’t breathe when I think about that night. You holding me like I was something soft. Something yours. And I was. God, I was. Even if I didn’t know how to show it right. Even if I let the wrong person tell me who I was and who I didn’t deserve.

You told me you loved me. I never said it back.

Not because I didn’t mean it.

Because I meant it too much.

And now you won’t even let me get close enough to say your name.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if I’ll ever have the courage to hand it to you.

But I had to write it.

Because pretending I don’t miss you isn’t working anymore.

Love always

Thanksgiving in Jackson wasn’t about turkey or cranberry sauce — not really. Not anymore.

There hadn’t been a turkey in years. Probably never would be again. The food had changed, stripped down to what the community could grow, trade, or salvage. Beans, rabbit, maybe dried cornbread if they were lucky. But it wasn’t about tradition — it was about normalcy. Or the illusion of it. About carving out a moment that felt familiar before the world lost its shape.

The whole town pitched in — tables made from repurposed wood dragged into the square, covered with mismatched cloths and cracked ceramic dishes. A makeshift fire pit burned low in the center, its scent curling into the air, a poor man’s incense for the ghosts of better holidays.

You almost didn’t come.

You’d stood by the door for a long time with your coat half on, debating. But in the end, the thought of free food — and a few hours outside of your own damn thoughts — pushed you out the door. You told yourself you’d stay thirty minutes. Just enough to show your face, eat something, maybe even smile like your bones weren’t aching with guilt.

But the second you stepped into the crowd, you knew something was wrong.

The air was wrong.

Too still. Too sharp. The way it gets before a thunderstorm or a fight.

People were looking at you. Not glancing — staring. Some subtly. Others, not at all. A few whispered to each other, heads bowed close like conspirators at a wake. Their eyes flicked up every few seconds, straight at you, as if you’d grown horns or started bleeding from the mouth.

You tried to convince yourself it was in your head. You hadn’t been around this many people in weeks. Of course it felt overwhelming. Of course everything felt too much.

But then it kept happening.

Someone who normally smiled at you — a woman you’d traded flour with two weeks ago — turned her head sharply when you passed. Wouldn’t even meet your eyes.

A man you used to laugh with at the greenhouse suddenly got real interested in a plate of carrots.

By the time you reached the food table, your chest felt like it had been filled with wet cement. Your hands were shaking. Your skin hot and cold all at once. The walls of the square seemed to close in, every table too close, every whisper sharpened like glass.

“…heard it was Joel…”

“…Tommy’s girl, wasn’t she?”

“…no wonder he looks like hell…”

You weren’t sure if you were going to faint or vomit.

And just as you turned to leave — just as you told yourself forget it, just go home — a hand gripped your arm and tugged you sideways into the alley behind the mess tent.

You barely had time to react before your back was against the cool stone of a wall and Joel Miller was standing in front of you, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

His voice was low, urgent. “You okay?”

You blinked at him, disoriented. “What—? What are you doing?”

“Could ask you the same damn thing,” he muttered, eyes scanning your face. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You swallowed hard. “People are… looking at me. Talking. Joel, what’s going on?”

He shifted, jaw working. You could see it — that hesitance. That frustration.

“I told her,” he said finally. “My ex-wife. ’Bout us.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I told her. Sat down and told her the truth. ’Bout me and you. About what I did.”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came.

Joel continued, voice rough, like gravel dragged over pavement. “Didn’t expect her to forgive me. Sure as hell didn’t think she’d tell the whole damn town. But… she fuckin’ did.”

The words crashed over you like cold water.

Everyone knows.

The whispers. The stares.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, feeling sick. “God.”

“She said people had a right to know,” Joel muttered. “Don’t know why she thinks it’s their business but it’s not like I could’ve stopped her. Didn’t know she was gonna do that.”

You backed against the wall, head swimming. “She’s not wrong. She— she has every right to be angry.”

Joel nodded slowly. “Yeah. She does.”

You were quiet for a beat.

Then you whispered, “But if they’re looking at me like this… then what about Tommy?”

Joel’s expression tensed.

Your eyes burned. “He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t do anything wrong, and now he’s being looked at like he’s broken, like he’s the idiot who got played—”

“Hey.” Joel took a step closer, softer now. “I know. Believe me. I know.”

And just as you were about to say something else — to ask what Joel had seen, if Tommy had said anything — someone stumbled into the alley behind you.

Fast. Breathing hard. Gasping like he’d run the whole town.

You turned sharply. And there he was.

Tommy.

He didn’t see you at first. His hands were on top of his head, fingers laced as he paced two frantic steps forward, then back, trying to slow the breath rattling out of his lungs.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, voice low and wrecked. “What the fuck. Fuck." He put his hand across his heart as if to slow its beat. He looked like he was having a panic attack.

You froze. Joel did too.

He looked like panic made flesh — red-faced, eyes wide, shoulders shaking. His clothes were damp with sweat despite the chill, curls stuck to his forehead, his chest rising and falling like he’d outrun his own thoughts.

And then — he turned.

His eyes landed on Joel first. Then you.

His whole body went still. And the silence that followed was sharper than any scream.

At first, he just stared. Then — he laughed.

But it wasn’t the kind of laugh you remembered. Not the soft, throaty one he used when he was teasing you in the garden, or that boyish chuckle when you surprised him with a joke. This laugh was sharp, broken at the edges. It didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like something inside him finally cracked.

He kept laughing — once, then again, a breathless huff that collapsed into a sniffle. Like he was going crazy. He dragged a hand across his face, but his eyes never left the two of you.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking,” he said, voice hoarse.

He took a shaky step closer. His eyes were bloodshot, wide and dark like they were drowning in everything unsaid.

“Back here?” His voice trembled, then rose. “Hidin' back here, together, while the whole goddamn town is whisperin' about us?”

“Tommy—” you stepped forward, but he flinched.

“Don’t.” He pointed at you, then Joel. “Don’t do that thing where you act like it’s nothin'.”

His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts. “You two back here doin' — what? Fuckin' again? Thought you’d sneak off for another round while they’re out there lookin’ at me like I’m a fuckin’ stray dog that got kicked in the ribs?”

Joel stepped forward too, hands half-raised in surrender. “It’s not like that, Tommy. We were just talkin’, I swear—”

“Yeah?” Tommy barked. “Just talkin’? Like last time? Or the time before that?”

“It’s not what you think—” you tried again.

“It’s exactly what I think!” he shouted, voice cracking. “’Cause I know what it looks like. I know what people are sayin’. Do you have any idea how many people came up to me today, eyes all soft and sorry, like I just got left at the fuckin’ altar?”

You felt it then — a deep twist of guilt in your gut. His pain wasn’t subtle. It was all over him, in the way his arms stayed stiff at his sides, in the way his mouth kept twitching like he was trying not to break right there in front of you.

“They’re lookin’ at me like I’m pathetic,” he spat. “Like I’m too stupid to know what’s good for me. And you two—” his voice caught, and he finally blinked away the first tear that slipped free, “—you’re just back here. Hidin'. Doin' whatever the fuck this is.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Joel said, voice low.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him. “You’re the last person I want to hear from.”

Joel fell silent.

You stepped forward again, slower this time, heart in your throat. “Tommy, please. Just listen. I didn’t know she was gonna tell anyone. I didn’t want this—”

“You did it though,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And now the whole town knows. And I get to be the fuckin’ punchline.”

His face crumpled, a fresh wave of hurt surfacing just beneath the surface — but he swallowed it back down. Didn’t let it rise. He didn’t yell again. Didn’t cry. He just looked at you like you were someone he didn’t recognize anymore.

And then he turned.

You reached for him without thinking. “Tommy—”

But he stepped out of your grasp. “Don’t,” he said, not angry anymore — just tired. “Just… don’t.”

And he walked away.

Not fast. Not storming. Just… left.

And it hurt worse than if he’d screamed.

You stood frozen for a moment after Tommy disappeared into the crowd — like if you stayed still enough, maybe time would reverse itself, maybe he’d come back. But he didn’t.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Even the wind seemed to hush around you, like the whole world had heard what just happened.

Joel exhaled slowly beside you, his arms hanging limp, eyes downcast. “Well,” he muttered, voice rough and low, “that went to hell real fuckin’ fast.”

You didn’t answer.

Your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears. You could still see the look in Tommy’s eyes — disbelief, betrayal, something splintered and sharp, like it physically hurt him to look at you. You hated it. Hated knowing you put that expression on his face.

“I shouldn’t’ve said anything to her,” Joel added, more to himself than you. “I knew she’d be pissed, but I didn’t think she’d… tell the whole goddamn town.”

“She had a right to be angry,” you murmured. “We hurt her, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair, “I was ready to deal with her bein’ angry. Not every fuckin’ person in this settlement looking at us like we pissed in the water supply.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. “You alright?”

You shook your head. “No.”

And for once, he didn’t press. Didn’t try to smooth it over. He just nodded.

“I know you said you were working on yourself,” you said, your voice quiet and thick. “And I believe that. But I’m not… I’m not okay, Joel. I haven’t been okay since that night. Since I lost him.”

He looked away. You could see the guilt set heavy on his shoulders.

“I'm lost,” you admitted, eyes stinging. “And now… now he thinks I’m still sneaking around with you, after everything. After I tried so hard to give him the space to heal.”

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, scowling at the dirt. “He’ll calm down.”

You frowned. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice dry. “I don’t.”

You both stood there in the quiet, the sounds of the Thanksgiving celebration still echoing faintly beyond the building — laughter, music, a child yelling for another piece of bread. It all felt miles away.

Joel finally spoke, gravel in his throat. “I didn’t wanna make things worse for you. I know what people are sayin’. I know what it looks like.”

You turned to him, heart aching. “I don’t care what it looks like for me. I care what it looks like for him. He didn’t do anything wrong, and now he’s the one people are whispering about. Staring at.”

Joel didn’t respond.

You crossed your arms over your chest, squeezing them tight. “He looked like he was about to fall apart. He was—he was running, Joel. From them. From all of it.”

Joel’s eyes closed for a beat. “I didn’t think he’d take it this hard.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You should’ve. We both should’ve.”

Another long silence.

“I deserve it,” Joel said finally. “The looks. The talk. Whatever comes.”

You nodded, a bitter smile tugging at your mouth. “Maybe we both do.”

But even as you said it, your stomach twisted with something else — not guilt, exactly. Not shame. Something softer, sadder. Regret.

Because maybe you did deserve the judgment. But Tommy didn’t. He just loved someone he thought he could trust.

And now?

Now he was alone in it. And you didn’t know how to fix that.

Tommy,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this.

Maybe I’ll leave it in a drawer with the others until the paper yellows. But I needed to write you — even if it’s only into the quiet.

I keep thinking about your hands. How they never reached for me in a rush. How they held me like I was something worth protecting — not because I was fragile, but because I was yours. You made me feel steady, even when the world was still shaking under my feet.

You loved me like I had never been broken.

And I think… I think that’s part of why I broke everything.

It doesn’t make sense, I know. But love like yours — it asks you to rise. And I didn’t know how to. Not then.

I was still mourning something I couldn’t name. The future I’d lost. The person I used to be. There was a storm in me I didn’t know how to quiet, and sometimes when Joel and I sat in that silence together, it felt like breathing underwater — wrong, but familiar. He knew the dark. I think I mistook that for safety.

But please believe me. I loved you.

Even when I was with him. Even when I chose wrong. Even now.

It wasn’t about choosing someone over you — it was about losing myself. And in the wreckage, I hurt the one person I never meant to. You didn’t deserve it. You never did.

I remember the way your voice softened when you said my name. The way you smiled when you thought I wasn’t looking. The way your fingers brushed the small of my back like you were memorizing me. God, Tommy — I loved you so quietly, I think you never realized how loud it lived in me.

And now I’ve stained it. I’ve stained us.

The worst part is knowing I can’t take it back. That no matter how many times I whisper your name in the dark, you won’t be there to answer it anymore.

I don’t expect anything. Not forgiveness. Not understanding.

But if there’s a part of you — even a splinter — that still remembers what we were when it was good… please hold onto that. Not for me. But for you. Because what we had was real, Tommy.

Even if I broke it.

I need you. Still. And always a little too late.

Love always

It had become a cruel joke at this point — how often you and Tommy ended up in the same room. Same roads. Same shops. Same town that felt smaller and smaller every time he looked through you like you were a stranger.

You hadn’t seen him at the counter when you walked into the diner — your mind too tired to scan for him, your stomach louder than your anxiety. But there he was, three seats down. Hunched over a half-eaten plate of food, nursing a cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t leave. You couldn’t. The place was packed, and you were already late.

Tommy didn’t acknowledge you, but you saw it. The way his jaw tensed. The way his fork slowed down just slightly. He knew you were there. Of course he did. And the silence between you throbbed louder than the low hum of conversation around you.

You just wanted a quiet breakfast. Something warm. Something simple.

The man who sat down next to you smelled like sweat and old cigarettes. When he noticed you, he looked at you like you were a meal he’d already half-finished and didn’t particularly respect.

“Well, look who it is,” he muttered, loud enough for the next table to hear. “Didn’t think you’d show your face again.”

You didn’t look at him. “Not interested.”

“Bet that’s what you told Joel the first time, too. And Tommy. And who knows who else.”

The words hit you like ice water.

“Please leave me alone,” you said under your breath.

“Why?” he laughed. “Ain’t like your legs were closed before. You really gonna act shy now? After the whole town knows you were screwin’ around with both Miller brothers like it was your own little soap opera?”

You stiffened. People were starting to look over. The volume of his voice was rising, and so was your shame.

“Heard you like it rough. Heard you like to beg. How’d the Millers allow a little slut like you to ruin their family?”

You looked down, eyes stinging. The whispers were back, growing louder. You could feel them clinging to your skin.

"Ever think your mama died just so she wouldn’t have to watch her daughter turn into a whore?"

You felt it before you heard it — a sudden, unnatural stillness beside you.

The scrape of a stool. Then the sound of wood skittering against tile.

Tommy was on his feet.

Not rising — erupting.

His chair tipped backward, clattering to the ground, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t look down. His eyes were locked onto the man beside you, and there was nothing soft left in them. Not anger. Not pain. Not grief.

Just something unhinged.

Something raw.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Tommy said, low and dangerous.

His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was quieter than you expected. Quieter than it should have been. But somehow, it carried through the room like a warning bell — low and deadly, the kind of tone that makes your stomach twist before your mind even catches up.

The man — greasy, smug, half-drunk — let out a laugh. He spread his arms like he was performing for the audience that was already starting to gather.

“Jesus, man, I’m just sayin’ what everyone else is thinkin’. You’re the one who got played. She—”

He didn’t finish.

Tommy’s fist hit his jaw so hard it made a crack like splitting bone.

The man reeled back into the counter with a grunt, clutching his mouth — but Tommy was already on him, fists flying with brutal, bone-breaking precision.

One. Two. Three.

You heard flesh meet flesh. Heard the man groan, then whimper, then go quiet as Tommy drove his fist into his face again and again — not just to hurt, but to erase him.

Curses spilled from Tommy’s mouth like venom. His breath ragged. His whole body shaking as he pressed forward, knuckles smeared red, eyes burning with something wild.

“Tommy!” you cried out, voice cracking.

But he didn’t hear you. He didn’t hear anything.

It was like watching someone drown from the inside out — a man unraveling, coming apart blow by blow.

The man had fallen to the floor now, barely conscious, one eye already swelling shut — but Tommy kept going. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him partway up just to drive another fist into his ribs. The sickening thud echoed like a gunshot.

Someone screamed. A chair scraped. Then another.

It took three grown men to finally drag Tommy off — his fists still swinging, legs kicking, his voice hoarse and cracked with rage. He struggled like an animal in a trap, teeth bared, his breath coming in ragged bursts that sounded more like gasps than anything human.

You stood frozen, rooted to the spot, hands trembling.

Tommy’s face was smeared with blood — some his, most not. His eyes darted around the room as they held him back, chest heaving, fists still clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white beneath the blood.

And then — it stopped. Like someone had pulled the plug.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The diner had gone completely still. Forks hovered mid-air. Half-eaten food sat forgotten. Every eye in the room was on him — on the blood, the wreckage, the man everyone thought they knew.

Tommy looked down at his hands, and something in him shifted.

Like he’d just realized where he was. What he’d done.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing more blood across his cheek. His gaze found you — just for a second.

And in that second, he didn’t look furious anymore.

He looked shattered.

Then, without a word, he shrugged off the hands holding him, turned, and walked out the door. Leaving silence and blood in his wake.

And you sat there, tears brimming, your heart in your throat.

It wasn’t just the shame that burned — it was the truth.

He was still protecting you.

Even now. Even after everything. And it was killing him.

The cold hit you first. Bitter and sharp against your skin, the kind that makes your lungs ache. But you didn’t care. You just ran — out the diner, past the wooden porch, boots scraping against the icy gravel road as you tried to catch up to him.

“Tommy!” you called, breathless. “Tommy, please— just wait!”

He kept walking. Fast. Determined. Like if he didn’t stop, none of this could catch him. Like if he just moved fast enough, he wouldn’t feel it. Wouldn’t feel you.

But you weren’t giving up this time. You couldn’t.

“Tommy—!”

He spun around so fast you almost ran right into him. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving from more than just the fight. His voice, when it came, was fire and fury and grief all wrapped into one.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, sharp enough to cut you in half.

You staggered a step back, breath catching in your throat. He looked like he could explode all over again — jaw clenched, hands curled at his sides like he didn’t know what else to do with them. You’d never seen him like this. Not even the night he left.

“Tommy, I— I needed to talk to you. I just needed to say—”

“I’m losing my fuckin' mind,” he cut you off, voice shaking now. “You think I wanna feel like this? You think I like that I can’t stop giving a shit even when I want to?”

He laughed then — a dark, miserable sound that cracked somewhere in the middle. “I feel so goddamn stupid, you know that? All this shit people are saying about me— whispers, stares, fuckin' sympathy— I should be brushing it off. I shouldn’t care. But I do.”

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

“And you know what that means?” he continued, stepping forward like the weight of it was too much to carry still. “It means I’m a fuckin' idiot. ‘Cause it proves I never got over you. That I thought I could, and I couldn’t. That maybe I never will.”

The words hit you hard, hollowing you out from the inside. But he wasn’t finished.

“I hate that I care about what they’re saying. But I hate it more when I hear them talkin' about you like that. Like you’re nothin' but some goddamn whore.” His voice cracked, his face twisting. “And after what that guy said in there…”

He looked down at his hands — still bloody, still trembling.

“I don’t even remember throwing the first punch,” he admitted, softer now. “I just saw red. Thought about everything. The whispers. The looks. Thanksgiving. You and Joel. I was already chokin' on all of it. And then that bastard had the nerve to bring up your mom and it just— snapped.”

He ran a hand through his hair, turning away. “And I lost it. I fuckin' lost it.”

You stood still, barely breathing. You could still feel the tension radiating off of him like heat. Still hear the echo of fists on skin, that sick, awful crack that had made your stomach twist.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, so quietly you barely heard it. “When I saw your face after, the way you looked at me…”

You stepped forward before he could finish. “I was scared,” you said honestly. “But not of you. I was scared because I didn’t know how much more either of us could take.”

His eyes met yours, and in them you saw something flicker. Guilt. Sadness. Love that hadn’t gone anywhere — it had just been buried under the rubble.

“And I need you to know,” you continued, “what you saw at Thanksgiving? With Joel? We weren’t doing anything. He was just warning me… that his ex wife told people. That everyone knew. That’s it.”

Tommy looked away, jaw tight. “Didn’t feel like nothin'.”

“I know,” you said. “But it was. I swear it was.”

A long silence stretched between you, brittle and cold. You watched him breathe, eyes fixed on the horizon like it could offer him answers.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he muttered eventually. “You broke my heart. I don’t even know if I can forgive you yet.”

You nodded, your chest aching. “I’m not asking you to. I just… wanted you to know the truth. And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

He stared at you for a long time, the anger slowly bleeding from his features. Replaced by exhaustion. By wariness. By that familiar softness that hadn’t quite died, no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

“I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do now,” he admitted, voice rough.

“Me either,” you whispered. “But maybe we figure it out. Or maybe… we don’t. I just didn’t want you carrying all of this alone anymore. Let me explain everything with Joel. Please Tommy."

He stared, you could see him debating the offer in his mind. But then he nodded — once — and started walking away, indicating he wanted you to follow.

The morning air was thick with tension as you followed Tommy through the sleet covered streets, your footsteps echoing in the silence. He hadn't said a word since you left the diner, his posture rigid, his pace quickening with each step. You hesitated, unsure if you should speak, but the weight of the moment pressed on you.

Finally, you reached his doorstep. Tommy paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Without turning to face you, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Don't mind the mess. Haven't really had it in me to clean lately."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know."

He exhaled sharply, pushing the door open and stepping aside.

Inside, the house was eerily quiet. The usual warmth and comfort seemed absent, replaced by an unsettling stillness. You followed him into the living room, your eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. It was as if the walls themselves held secrets, memories of a time before everything had changed.

Tommy led you down a narrow hallway to the bathroom. The fluorescent light flickered overhead as he stood before the mirror, staring at his reflection. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it onto his face. The blood from the earlier altercation began to mix with the water, swirling down the drain.

Frustration etched deep lines into his forehead as he scrubbed harder, trying to erase the evidence of his actions. You watched him, your heart aching at the sight. This wasn't the man you knew — the gentle, kind-hearted soul who had shown you what love could be. This was someone else, someone broken.

You stepped forward, your hand gently resting on his shoulder. "Tommy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Let me."

He stiffened under your touch but didn't pull away. Slowly, he sank onto the toilet seat, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly together. You moved to the sink, wetting a washcloth with warm, soapy water. As you approached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently dabbing at the blood on his face.

The action was tender, soothing, a silent apology for the pain you had caused. As you cleaned him, your thoughts spilled out, raw and unfiltered.

"I've been with Joel for a while now— little over a year," you began, your voice trembling. "I knew he was married, but I thought... I thought I wanted him so badly. He made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. I thought he loved me."

Tommy's body tensed under your touch, his jaw clenching. You paused, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "I wasn't delusional. I knew he had a wife. But something about the way he made me feel... it made me think it was okay."

You continued, your hands moving carefully over his skin, wiping away the remnants of the morning's violence. "Over time, his love felt like hate. We were addicted to each other, but it was toxic. He never opened up to me, and I finally ended things."

His eyes softened, but the pain was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

"That's when I met you," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "At first, I was in a dark place. But you... you pulled me out of it. You showed me what love is supposed to feel like."

Tommy's breath hitched, his eyes closing as if to block out the flood of emotions.

"But then Joel came to me," you continued, your voice breaking. "He was jealous. He said he realized he truly loved me. He left his wife for me. And I... I didn't know what to do."

You paused, your heart heavy with the weight of your confession. "I wanted you, Tommy. That's why I spent so much time with you. I wanted to avoid Joel. And when you went on that supply run, I knew he would come. And he did. He made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you. Like I was a bad person."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke. "He opened up about his past, and I was so confused. He said we belonged together. He manipulated me. And I believed him. I thought you deserved better. And that's why I did what I did."

Tommy's hand reached up, brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. His touch was gentle, hesitant.

"I understand if you hate me," you whispered. "But I needed you to know the truth."

Silence enveloped the room, thick and suffocating. Tommy sat there, unmoving, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

You nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I don't expect forgiveness. I just wanted you to know everything."

The cloth had turned a deep rust color, blood clinging to the fibers no matter how many times you rinsed it. The water swirled pink in the sink, warm and steady, but your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Tommy hadn’t said a word since you finished cleaning his face, finished dabbing at the streaks of blood with a gentle touch.

He looked so different now. Tired. Hollowed. Quiet in a way that didn’t suit him. Like joy had been scraped out of him with something sharp and careless. Like he’d been living on borrowed breath ever since.

You didn’t know why the words started pouring out.

Only that they’d lived too long in your chest. That this silence between you was wide enough to carry them.

“She wanted me to come,” you said, barely a whisper. “My mom. We were down to a single can of beans and a couple stale crackers. She said she’d feel better if we went together. That two pairs of eyes were better than one.”

Tommy looked up, slow and careful.

“But I was… I was scared,” you confessed, fingers tightening around the cloth. “It was getting dark. I didn’t want to be out there when the sun went down. I begged her to go without me. So she did.”

You let out a breath that trembled as it left you.

“She kissed my forehead, told me to bar the door behind her, and promised she’d be back before moonlight.”

You blinked hard.

“She came back with a broken lantern and a ripped jacket… and a bite.”

Your throat swelled shut at the memory, your voice a fragile thing breaking against the edges of your teeth.

“I believed — I still believe — that if I’d gone with her, she wouldn’t’ve been bit. Or I would’ve been. Or we would’ve both made it. I don’t know. I just know I didn’t go, and she died.”

A beat passed. Tommy's eyes filled with sorrow.

“When I saw the bite, I begged her to cut it off. I screamed until my voice broke. But it was already too late. Her hand was gray. The veins were turning. She knew.”

You stared at the cloth in your hands like it could wash the past clean too.

“She held me, told me she loved me, and then she made me promise to lock myself in the back room when it started. I tried. I did. I held the door shut and covered my ears. But I could still hear her.”

Your voice splintered.

“And when it stopped— when it went quiet— I waited for hours. And then I opened the door.”

You didn’t have to say what you saw. The image lived behind your eyes every time they closed.

“I used a fireplace poker,” you said, quieter now. “It took more than one hit.”

Tommy’s mouth parted, but no sound came. His eyes shimmered like they were carrying the weight for you.

“I didn’t cry until it was over. And then I couldn’t stop. I buried her behind that barn with my bare hands. No shovel. Just dirt under my nails and blood on my wrists.”

You sat back against the wall and laughed softly, bitter and aching.

“After that, I wandered. I ended up with this man who said he’d keep me safe. I didn’t know what safe was supposed to look like anymore, so I believed him. He was kind at first. Gave me food, taught me how to shoot. But it turned fast.”

You wiped your eyes, only for fresh tears to take their place.

“He got possessive. Controlling. Said I owed him for everything. And one night… he tried to take what I didn’t owe. I ran. I didn’t stop running. Left everything behind. Everything but the scars.”

You traced a faint mark on your forearm, barely visible now, like a ghost trying to fade.

“I didn’t trust anyone for a long time. I fought for scraps. Slept in trees or crumbled houses. Stayed feral. And then… I found Jackson.”

You looked over at Tommy then. Really looked at him.

“And for the first time, people didn’t look at me like I was a stray. They gave me a home. A job. A name that didn’t feel like it came with blood.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your voice cracking again.

“So when Joel started looking at me like I was worth something, I couldn’t help it. I mistook it for love. I didn’t know better. I was still learning what love’s supposed to feel like.”

Your chest felt too tight to hold the truth. But you said it anyway.

“Until you.”

The room was quiet except for the sound of your tears.

“I was already damaged by the time I met you,” you said. “But you… you made me feel like I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Like I could be something soft. Something whole again.”

You stood slowly, walking to the sink and rinsing the rag one more time. The last of the blood twisted down the drain, disappearing into the dark.

“But I ruined that,” you said, voice low. “And I’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

You turned back to Tommy.

He hadn’t moved. Not really. But something in his face had shifted — not softened, but cracked. A splintering of something buried deep.

If he spoke, you’d let him. If he didn’t, you’d understand.

You had no right to expect anything anymore.

You just wanted him to know who you really were before you lost the chance to be known at all.

You collapsed before you even realized your knees had given out.

The sobs had clawed their way up your throat so violently, you weren’t sure if you were breathing anymore. They weren’t dainty, quiet cries — they were guttural, trembling things, born from the deepest pit of memory. From the moment her hand slid from yours. From the way you waited for hours by the door until she came back bitten. From the awful silence that followed after you had to do the unthinkable.

The fire poker. Her eyes, no longer hers. The smell of blood and burnt iron.

The first swing. The second. The third.

You curled into yourself on the cold bathroom floor as if that could somehow undo the memory, or at least contain it.

And then there were arms around you.

Tommy didn’t speak. He didn’t try to hush you or ask questions or pretend to understand. He just gathered you into him with a tenderness that broke something else inside you — something quieter. Something long-starved.

You buried your face in his chest and let yourself fall apart completely.

“I’ve never told anyone,” you gasped eventually, your throat raw. “No one knows. They knew my mom died but not— not how. I never wanted to say it out loud. I was so scared. I should’ve gone with her. If I had, maybe— maybe she wouldn’t have been bit.”

Tommy’s grip around you tightened, protective and grounding.

“You were a child,” he murmured, his voice hushed like a prayer. “You were scared. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

You shook your head fiercely. “I had to kill her, Tommy. With a fucking fire poker. It took more than one hit. She didn’t even look like her anymore. But I saw her face. I saw it in the way she flinched before I— I just wanted it to stop.”

You started sobbing again, harder now, and he guided you gently back against his chest, cradling your head, his palm rubbing soft circles into your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry for all of it. For Joel. For the way I left things. For hurting you.”

Tommy’s voice broke when he finally answered. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve listened. Should’ve let you explain. Maybe we wouldn’t’ve ended up in pieces.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him — eyes red, cheeks blotchy. He reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with a knuckle, like the gentlest thing he’d ever done.

“I ended things with Joel before you got back,” you whispered. “He told me he loved me and I couldn’t even say it back. I told him to leave. That it was over. I didn’t want him. Not anymore.”

Tommy swallowed, eyes searching yours. You could see the pain still there, beneath the surface. But you saw something else, too — that warm, quiet flicker that had always made you feel like home.

“I think about you every single day,” you said, voice trembling. “About what I lost. What I gave up. You made me feel like I wasn’t broken.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he said finally, like the words had been waiting behind his ribs for too long. “Even when I didn’t want to. Even when it hurt like hell.”

You reached up and took his hand in yours. “I love you, Tommy. I never stopped. Not even when I hated myself.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft and slow, mouths trembling against each other, tasting of sorrow and healing and all the time you’d lost. You didn’t rush it. You just held on — fingers in his hair, heart splintering open in your chest like a window cracking to let the light in.

When you pulled back, your breath hitched. You didn’t want to let go. But some part of you still felt like you didn’t deserve to stay.

So you stood.

“I should go,” you murmured, voice quiet as you reached for the rag still clutched in your hand.

Tommy stayed on the floor, staring at the tile like it held the answers.

Then — softly, but with no hesitation — his hand reached out.

He caught your fingers in his, callused and warm, holding them like something sacred. Both of your eyes were still swollen. Both of your hearts still trembling. But the air between you had shifted — lighter now. Honest.

“Stay,” he said, voice low and aching. “Please stay.”

Your chest cracked. The ache, the guilt, the love — all of it swelled so fast it felt like it might knock you down again.

But you didn’t fall. “Okay.”

You knelt back down. Took his face in your hands. And kissed him once more.

This time, it wasn’t goodbye.

It was the beginning.

It started slow. Careful. Like the two of you were afraid of what you might find in each other’s mouths after so long. His lips trembled against yours like he didn’t trust the shape they made when they remembered your name. And you — you kissed him like someone starving for something you had no right to taste.

Tommy had every reason to push you away. Every reason to hate you. You cheated. You broke the one thing he gave you freely. His trust.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t recoil. He just held your face between his hands, like you were something fragile he hadn’t decided whether to keep or crush.

“I should hate you,” he said against your mouth, voice gravel-thick and shaking. “I want to. Jesus, I want to. But I don’t.”

The words cracked something inside you.

You’d cried before. At the diner. In the hallway. At night when no one could hear you. But now, in the quiet wreckage of his bathroom, with the moonlight cutting through the window like a witness, you shattered.

Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest, fingers fisting into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing holding you to earth. His heartbeat was wild beneath your palm—chaotic and human and so, so full of pain.

“I don’t deserve this,” you whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

Tommy pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling through his nose like it hurt to keep breathing.

“No,” he admitted, eyes shut tight. “You don’t.”

It would’ve hurt more if he’d lied.

“But I still fuckin' love you.”

That’s when the kiss deepened.

It turned desperate. Hungry. A kind of grief-driven hunger that came from needing to remember everything you were terrified you’d forgotten. His hands roamed — slow and reverent — across your ribs, your waist, your jaw. Yours mirrored his, like you were rediscovering a map your heart still knew by memory.

The bathroom floor was cold beneath you. His hands were still stained with blood, your cheeks streaked with salt. The air between you carried the heat of unspoken apologies, of regrets that couldn’t be undone.

Tommy’s breath caught as he kissed down the curve of your jaw, whispering things he probably shouldn’t say.

“I tried to forget you,” he rasped. “I thought if I hated you enough… if I stayed mad long enough… it’d go away. But it didn’t.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to the pulse in his throat.

“I didn’t mean to ruin us,” you choked. “I was so lost, and Joel— he twisted everything in my head. Made me believe I was too broken to be loved the way you loved me.”

Tommy flinched at his brother’s name but didn’t pull back.

“I still trusted you,” he said, voice like crushed glass. “Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when I saw you with him, part of me kept hopin' you’d look at me the way you used to. Like I was enough.”

“You were always enough,” you swore, the words barely breathing between you. “I just didn’t believe I was.”

Tommy’s eyes shimmered — red-rimmed and raw. He looked at you like he didn’t know whether to kiss you again or run. But instead, he touched your cheek with the back of his fingers, like you were a ghost he hadn’t dared reach for.

“I didn’t know how badly you had me wrapped around your fingers,” he whispered. “Not until you were gone.”

You curled into him, your tears soaking into his shoulder.

When he kissed you again, it was slower. More cautious. Like he was sealing a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.

Your thumbs traced the curve of his cheekbones and relearned the softness beneath the man hardened by grief.

He kissed you deeper, tongue slipping passed the curve of your teeth, exploring like the territory was new to him. He wasn’t going to stop this, not with the way your hands began to drift down his chest, his sternum — slipping underneath the fabric of his worn flannel, exploring his body all over again. Not with the way his fingers curled against your waist like he was terrified of letting go again.

And not with how long it had been since he last touched you like this — with worship and ache and hunger all braided together.

You kissed him back slower this time, deeper — like your lungs knew his breath better than your own. You felt the way his lips were cracked from the cold. The way his rough stubble scraped your skin like a memory you welcomed.

The tension, the grief, the time — it all burned through your veins as you rocked your hips against his, feeling the way his length was already bulging through the fabric of his jeans. It’s been too long since you felt the drag of his teeth against your jaw, leaving a trail of saliva along the way. Too long since you curled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging to keep yourself upright. Too long since your name slipped from his throat like a prayer, sounding like he was waiting for this day too.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

You didn’t respond. Just pressed closer until there was nothing between you but the restricting fabric. So close your knees dug painfully into the cold tile.

And when he groaned — low and guttural — you felt it in your spine.

He wrapped his arms around your back, laying you carefully on the hard floor — hips grinding into yours for any sense of relief, fingers brushing the stray hairs from your eyes. He was full of lust, full of hunger. Full of grief and devotion.

“I shouldn’t want this,” he muttered against your skin, mouth moving along you jaw, your neck, the hollow beneath your ear. “I should fuckin’ hate you.”

“I know.” You whispered.

“But I can’t.”

You didn’t realize you were crying again until he kissed your tears away.

“I tried to hate you,” he said, hands slipping beneath your shirt, rough palms mapping your ribs like he had to memorize every inch before sliding higher — grazing against the curve of your nipples already peaking. “God, I tried. But my heart was still reaching for you every time our paths crossed. I couldn’t scrub you outta me.”

You swallowed a sob, your body arching beneath his touch as he pushed your shirt above your chest — revealing your needy body underneath. His hands traveled all around the hills of your breasts, his head trailing kisses slowly down your body — hovering just over your curves. You instinctively arched up, trying to meet his mouth. His eyes flicked to yours, dark and hungry. He looked mad, yet his touch indicated otherwise.

“I still love you,” he confessed. You’re breath hitched, his lips trembled. “Even after everything you’ve done. Even after you ruined me. I still fuckin’ love you.”

Then his mouth was everywhere — desperate and sure — like he was reclaiming something sacred. And you let him. Let him bite at the soft flesh of your breasts, marking the skin no one else had touched in over a month. Your back screamed in pain against the bathroom tile, your fingers clung to him like a lifeline.

He was clumsy. Licking circles, flicking his tongue against your aching nubs. Taking your nipples between his teeth — sending electic shocks through your body — before sucking them into his mouth, tasting every part of you. His curls fell messily into his eyes when he pulled away with a loud pop. He’s never looked more unkept. But the way his eyes found yours underneath his curls had you squirming.

He trailed his fingers down to the clasp of your jeans, undoing the button and pushing them down to your ankles. You kicked them off, spreading your legs — ready and pleading. The soft cotton of your panties darkened in the center, proving how much you needed this — him.

His palm rubbed on the outside of the cotton — a soft whimper escaping your lips at his touch. He never broke his eye contact with you as his finger hooked, pulling your panties to the side and revealing your glistening pussy.

One of his fingers trailed achingly slow through your folds, collecting your juices and rubbing small circles when he came into contact with you swollen clit. He was killing you slowly, that was for sure. You spread your legs wider, begging for him to push his fingers through your entrance. But still, he trailed his fingers between you with that deadly eye contact you couldn’t stand anymore.

“Soaked.” Is all he said after a while. You didn’t know if he was trying to torture you. If maybe he was doing this to you as some sort of sick revenge plot. Have you ruined from his touch, begging and pleading for him, and then walk away without finishing what he started.

But finally, he pushed two fingers inside of you — sucking in a breath when he felt how ready you were for him. He started a slow pace, watching the way his fingers were soaked as he pulled out — just to push back in harder than before.

“Tommy…” You quivered. “Tommy please. I’m hurting— I.”

He leaned in close, lips hovering over yours. He rubbed your temple with his thumb, caressed your face.

“God, no one’s touched you in a while, have they?”

You shook your head harshly, mouth making a small O when his fingers started thrusting into you faster. A disgusting squelch filled the air.

His eyes had a fire behind them as he asked: “Was I the last person to touch you like this? The the last person to fill your pretty pussy with their fingers, huh?”

“Oh— god, yes Tommy. Just you.” You moaned. His fingers now curved inside of you, his thumb rubbing hard circles against your throbbing clit. He smirked, the fire fading out knowing that you’ve been waiting for him. Knowing you’ve been wanting him and only him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “Gonna take good care of my girl.”

My girl.

You know you probably shouldn’t take that as anything, that maybe it was a heat of the moment thing. But you couldn’t help the way you heart swelled. Couldn’t help the smile spreading across your mouth.

You heard him throw his belt on the bathroom floor with a rough clank. Heard the fabric of his jeans being tugged down as he finally frees himself. You physically gulp, prepared and aching for him.

He rubs his tip over you clit, slapping it against it soflty — teasingly. Your nails dig into his arms. Pleading words escaping your lips.

Tommy grabbed you cheeks with his free hand, looking you dead in the eye as he pushed his cock between your walls. You clenched around the feeling — burning sensation shooting through your body as you attempt to stretch to his size.

“I fuckin’ hate you.” He mutters, pushing himself deeper when he knows that you can take it. Your body trembles, you deserve this. But then his hand is trailing through your hair, tugging slightly — forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“But god do I love you.” He says then. I love you. And he actually, genuinely smiles — a deep moan leaving his lips as he bottoms out. Your nails are scratching him now as you try to adjust to his size. But the burn is pleasurable at the same time. “Open your mouth.”

And you do, knowing that from then on you’ll always do whatever Tommy wants. That you’ll always love Tommy. A string of spit falls between his lips, right into your mouth. You don’t swallow — keeping it open so he can see the way his saliva hits your tongue, pools into your mouth.

"That's my girl," he chuckles lightly, quietly. He finally starts moving inside of you, slow at first. Until he’s going rough, skin slapping skin. “Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart, you can swallow now.”

And you watch the way his eyes blacken, the way he bites harshly at his bottom lip as you swallow his spit. Tasting the inside of his mouth. His hand traces your throat, watching it bob when you drink him.

Tommy sits up, ripping his shirt over his head and pulling your hips into him. His thumb circles your clit while he burries himself deep. Your back is arched off the bathroom floor, tears streaking you face from the pace.

A tight heat coils in the pit of your stomach and your legs shake uncontrollably. Walls clench around him and a groan from deep within leaves his mouth at the feeling.

“Tommy,” you moan, hands tightly wrapped around his wrists to keep yourself steady. “Tommy, come with me.”

“Shit. Yeah okay, babygirl.”

He lies back on top of you, one arm wrapping around your back, the other gripping your thigh as his pace quickens. Hitting you deeper and deeper every time. You’re screaming at this point, body convulsing. And when his thrusts finally falter, you come hard around him and he follows. White strands shooting inside of you. His cock twitches with every pulse.

He gives out, putting his entire weight on you — nothing but breath and bruised hearts, limbs tangled like roots desperate to hold — Tommy moved gently. Tender in a way that nearly broke you. He cleaned you up with warm hands, wiping the sweat and remnants of need from your skin like you were something sacred. Like this was something that mattered.

He helped you to your feet, still unsteady, still shaking from all the things that had been said and the things your bodies couldn’t help but confess. And without a word, he led you through the quiet house. Back to the place that once felt like home.

His room looked the same.

Maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The blankets were still slightly uneven, the corner of the rug still curled like always. His gun sat on the bedside table, unloaded but close. Your side of the bed — the left — was untouched. Like he'd never let himself forget.

He laid you down carefully, like you might shatter, and climbed in behind you without hesitation. You shifted instinctively, curling into him, your back pressed to his chest, his arm sliding around your waist like it had never left.

His warmth enveloped you — all muscle and tension and safety. He smelled like salt and sweat and sex. And still, somehow, it smelled like home.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, voice hoarse and small, swallowed by the hush of the room. You weren’t sure if you meant it, but the weight of everything hung heavy between you.

You felt him breathe in deep behind you, chest rising slow and steady against your spine. Then, softly — so softly — he answered:

“Stay with me.”

Your breath caught.

No hesitation. No conditions. No more pretending.

You blinked hard against the sting in your eyes, your fingers curling gently around the arm he’d wrapped around you like a shield.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe love could survive this too.

Tag list: @looneyleo @emmaaas-posts @demo-bats @aphroditesblunt @staley83 @immyowndefender @magicxmiller @wow-life-love4 @thaliagracesgf @sugarminsss @keseqna @ijustrepost @cakesandtom @lovelyc @vampiredoggies-blog @hjzghi-blog

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sufferingbooknerd · 2 months ago

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Some of yall need to realize that Ellie’s having so much more of a reaction Joel’s death than you realize…the only healthy thing she’s done about her grief is play guitar again but everything else?

Immediately leaving in the night after she has a way out with Dina, not to mention she was even going to go alone and even more ill prepared even before that?

That’s a need to rectify how she’s been feeling as soon as possible because it’s been eating her up for three goddamn months that she didn’t/couldn’t do anything

Immediately assuming Abby’s group killed those dead Seraphites in the forest with NO evidence?

She’s looking for even more reason to justify what she wants to do to these people, aside from them killing her adoptive father (which she inadvertently got called selfish for wanting at the council meeting and by the votes result) ‘if they’re even worse than I thought before I’m even more right in killing them’

Immediately wanting to go out after them when seeing the clearly labeled tv station in broad daylight?

Same as her packing immediately, they’re not making Ellie seem stupid, she’s so clouded by vengeance that it’s impeding her rational thought (the show itself before she starts making these decisions gives you an explanation for her actions in her conversation with Jesse pre council meeting “right cause I’m stupid” “cause you’re angry”)

Having sex with Dina and immediately jumping head first into a relationship and future family?

That’s also a response to everything she’s been going through, she needs something to cling to like a fucking life raft and she found it. It feels kinda rushed? It’s two traumatized teenagers making an arguably bad decision to get serious while still seeking out the killers of a man they both loved…it’s supposed to

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams miller #the last of us season 2 #the last of us hbo #bella ramsey #joel and ellie #tlou season 2 #tlou #tlou s2 #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou hbo

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valeisaslut · 3 months ago

Note

is joel married? 😖

who is ellie's mother? what happend to her? was ellie even planned?!!! 😭😭😭😭

Is her official name ellie miller? is ellie williams just a pseudonym?!!

WOW LIDDY I LOVED THIS QUESTION!!!! i've been waiting to REALLY unravel ellies past and i was wondering when were yall gonna ask ab it lmao

COLLIDE ROCKSTAR!ELLIE'S BACKSTORY: DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY EDITION!

so!!! ellie was the product of one of joel’s wild rockstar one night stands. very much not planned. her mom dipped super early on—like, didn’t even try to stick around—and basically left her with joel, who, despite being a complete mess of a man, actually did raise her. but ellie always knew she wasn’t exactly “wanted” by either of them. not in the traditional, soft-family-photo-on-the-fridge kind of way. she never knew her mother, never wanted to. didn’t feel like she was missing anything and just didn’t care.

but the pain of her mom’s abandonment still lingers, quiet and buried deep in her mind, like a bruise she never touched but never actually healed.

joel and ellie had a really good relationship when she was younger. as good as it could’ve been. he wasn’t perfect—not super affectionate or emotionally open—but he showed up. he did his best. he taught her to play guitar, made pancakes every sunday morning, and called her “kiddo” like it meant something deeper than just a nickname. and she loved him for that. still does.

ellie grew up inside a damn rock music museum. joel’s mansion was less “home” and more shrine to his own legacy—walls lined with platinum records, grammys catching sunlight, mtv moonmen posted up like they were part of the family. every room had a poster of him at some legendary venue: madison square garden, glastonbury, the o2.

his name in lights. the biggest of the biggest musicians scribbled messages on his guitars, which he had over fifty of—lined up like they were sacred artifacts.

and yeah, he was a legend. ellie would sit on the stairs at night, listening to him blast his old albums on the surround system like he forgot she lived there too. sometimes she hated it. sometimes she’d mouth the lyrics and pretend she wasn’t proud. but mostly? it just made her feel like she’d never measure up. like no matter how loud she got, she’d always be chasing a ghost with a grammy in each hand.

joel never really understood ellie’s world. or her pain. and as she got older, things shifted. she started the fireflies. she got famous. she felt the weight of being “joel miller’s daughter” and her own person.

people had opinions about her—too loud, too angry, too queer, too much. and that pressure? that scrutiny? it ate at her. she started numbing herself very early on—drinking, using, pushing people away. joel tried to talk to her, tried to help, but it always came out sounding like disappointment. like judgment. and she couldn’t take that. so she pushed back. harder. until eventually they stopped talking. not because they didn’t care—because it hurt too much to try and fix it.

there was no final fight. no door slam. just a slow fade. calls unanswered. messages left on read. it’s one of those heartbreaks that doesn’t look like a heartbreak unless you know what to look for.

and still—she loves him. god, she does. but she carries so much shame now. so much guilt. and joel? he’s scared. scared of what she’s become, scared of saying the wrong thing, scared that maybe he already did. figures to the prologue, chapter two, four and specially five.

and the last name thing? yeah. “williams” just sounded good. she liked how it looked on a poster. people always assumed it was her mother’s last name or something deep but it really wasn’t. she just didn’t want to walk into every room and be immediately tied to joel. didn’t want to hear the whispers of “oh, that’s joel miller's kid.” didn’t want to live in his shadow, even if she still carries all of his fire, his temper, his sadness, in her blood.

it’s messy. it’s layered. but there’s still love under all that wreckage. even if they don’t know how to say it right now. even if the silence is louder than anything they ever screamed at each other.

and for everyone asking, yes. joel will make an appearance on chapter 8.

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pennyold · 5 months ago

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behavior | j.m

Summary: a small correction from your best friend's father will help you avoid being a badly behaved girl.

Warnings: plot then filthy shi, public exhibition, flirting, arguing, suggestive language, car sexism, fingering, oral (male receiving), choking, swearing, size kink, and orgasm denial.

w.c: 1,623

a/n: what yall think about this one? I fucking loved it, enjoy it !!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Tess's phone started ringing in my hands, she was unconscious in front of me; I sat her in a chair, looked at her phone, and the name "dad" glowed on the screen, it stopped ringing and I felt relieved, I wouldn't know what to say about this. He called again, and I started thinking about what to invent in a message, I couldn't let him hear my voice.

"Hi, Dad," minutes later he replied, "Why don't you answer the calls, Tess? Are you still with your friend? Are you okay?" I answered each of his questions, and he responded calmly, his next message left me stunned, "I'll arrive in ten minutes, I can take my friend home. I don't like that place, and especially because you are being alone without someone to accompany you." I bit my lip thinking of a response, I answered and blocked the phone, putting it in my pocket.

Ten minutes later, I was outside the establishment with Tess in my arms. In the distance, I saw her dad's pickup truck, and my heart was pounding; I was very nervous. When he parked in front of us, he got out of the car, almost breathing fire as he walked towards me and Tess. "What the hell were you thinking?" He looked at me, and I just stared at the ground, feeling embarrassed. "Tess drank too much and has thrown up twice," I said. He shook his head and picked up Tess, carrying her to the back seat. "Get in the car. I'll take you home.”

Without saying a word, I got into the truck, buckled my seatbelt, and stayed silent until Joel got into the driver's seat, my skin prickled at the sight of his serious face; he was angry. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye during the ride, visualizing the scenery through the window when I saw the street of my house. I was about to speak, but I noticed how Joel tightened the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. I was screwed.

Finally, I spotted a familiar street; we were near his house. He parked outside the house and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait here," he said. I grabbed the edges of my skirt and said, "Okay." He took Tess from the back seat and brought her into the house; it took him a few minutes to return, I watched as he took firm strides, got into the truck, and looked at me, "Are your parents home?" I nodded, "Do your parents know I'm taking you home?" "Yes," he nodded. "Perfect." He started the truck.

During the ride, I noticed that he was dissatisfied and I wanted to apologize; I never meant to bring problems to either Tess or him. "Joel" without looking at me spoke "Yes?" I looked at my skirt, still held in my hands. "Sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to lie to you and cause problems for Tess," he laughed. "I don't have problems with Tess, I do with you." Shit...

I looked out the window before speaking; I was cooked, if I said something wrong, it would be my end. I saw that I was not even remotely close to my home, it looked like a construction site about to be finished. I noticed how he moved the gear shift, and the truck stopped. "Joel..." he looked at me without any expression "You know what it means, darling.” I swallowed hard and quietly opened the door, but I couldn't leave because Joel grabbed it and slammed it shut. "Are you trying to escape from your punishment?" I shook my head in denial and shrank into the tiny space between the door and Joel's body. "So? Where would you go? Here, no one will listen to you, nor will they find you," I looked at him, pleading for mercy. "Don't look at me like that, you brought this on yourself," and he was right, I had done it, and I knew what the consequences would be.

Joel and I had agreed to please each other whenever the opportunity arose, as long as Tess and my parents didn't find out. One day, like today, I went out with Tess and lost her because I was with a guy. Joel showed up and asked me about her, and I didn't know where she was. He got angry just like today, and I got a punishment, painful, but I was very turned on.

I straightened up in my place and accepted my fate, I was being a brat by not accepting the punishment I deserved. "Good girl, always pleasing me," he looked me from head to thighs, as far as he could see. "What panties are you wearing?" "White lingerie," he smiled at me and sat up in his seat. "Take them off." I obeyed and took them off, allowing him a glimpse of my wet pussy. I slid the lingerie down my heels and handed them to him. He took them and tucked them into his pants pocket.

He patted his crotch; he wanted me to sit there, so I did. I felt my pussy brush against his bulge while adjusting myself, and Joel opened my legs, parting the folds of my core. I moaned and rested my head on his shoulder. "Joel," his breath grazed my neck, and I shivered when he brought his mouth close to my ear. "I didn't bring you here to please you, darling, relax." I bit my lip and nodded.

He rubbed my clit, and my legs trembled due to the sensation of his large fingers on my folds. I bit my lip again to avoid letting out a moan, and I felt his middle finger travel to my entrance, stimulating it. I couldn't resist and moaned, writhing in Joel's lap. "Stop moving," he said. I obeyed, and due to the effort, my legs were trembling; I couldn't resist it.

He inserted his finger and pumped my entrance, making me writhe more and my legs contract due to my effort not to move. He pumped his finger quickly, and I felt I was close to cumming, and so was Joel; so he stopped, and I could feel my pussy contract due to the lack of attention, I whimpered. "Joel,” he pulled my hair, making my neck twist back "Please, let me cum” he shook his head, tightening his grip on my hair "Bad girls like you don't deserve to cum" he threw me into the passenger seat and started unbuttoning his pants, I watched each action in detail, waiting for his orders.

He asked me to come closer with his hand, and I did. I leaned towards his pants and saw how he pulled the glans out of his underwear. Joel's cock is huge and thick, with prominent veins and the tip dripping pre-cum. I adjusted myself and Joel grabbed my hair again, guiding my mouth to the tip of his glans. I leaned in and slowly sucked the tip, then pushed it deeper until I couldn't fit it anymore.

"Suck it all,” I tried, but I choked, so I only sucked it as far as I could, Joel, unsatisfied, made me take his entire glans into my mouth, I choked again, and saliva dripped from my mouth, now he was controlling my actions. The tip of his cock hit my throat, and I couldn't take it anymore, a tear fell from my eye, causing me to swallow it with his dick.

I felt his cock start to twitch inside my mouth; he was about to cum, so I sucked it as hard as I could. While he grabbed my hair, making quick movements, he groaned as he felt his arousal approaching. "I'm gonna cum in that pretty mouth, darling, and you're going to swallow it, right?” I moaned, feeling myself choke more and more, feeling his cum spurt down my throat. Joel made me swallow it, keeping his cock in my throat. "Shit, did you swallow it, darling?" I nodded. "Everything?" I nodded again and showed him my tongue. "Good girl," I watched as he adjusted his pants and put on his belt. "Now, I want you to touch yourself until you cum, while I take you home. Could you do that for me?” I nodded and slightly opened my legs, placing my hand on my pussy, and massaging it to stimulating it a bit. "Yes, that's right, don't stop doing it until you cum, baby.”

I rubbed my clit with my arousal, I bit my lip holding a moan; I wasn't satisfied, I wanted Joel's fingers fucking my pussy. "Mmh, I want your fingers, Joel." He shook his head and said, "You don't deserve it. Get yourself off, and I'll see if I can please you next time." I whimpered and proceeded to insert a finger, but it wasn't what I wanted, so I went back to rubbing my clit, trying to reach my climax. "Shit, shit, Joel, I'm gonna cum.” He glanced at me with a smile, "Cum, princess, I want to see that pretty pussy dripping your juices." I opened my mouth, letting out the breath I didn't know I was holding "Oh my... shit!" my pussy started to contract and pulse as I rubbed it gently "That's it, so obedient" I looked ahead and noticed the traffic light was red, I took him by the face and kissed him desperately.

"Still needy? Huh?" I nodded, "Tough luck, princess, now you’ll have to wait. I hope you understood your lesson, I don’t want to be rude, but I won’t respond if you don't behave next time." I grimaced, and apart from him, he was very mean and cruel sometimes.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

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rottenblur · 2 years ago

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study break|part three|J.MILLER|

Summary:When Sarah suggested you and the Millers should go to brunch together, it seemed like a good idea, a fun one. Then one of the miller brothers decides to get his dessert early, upsetting the other. Someone’s gotta pay for that, it just happens, poor you is burdened of the payment.

WARNINGS: Dirty talking (tommy and joel) angry joel, choking, slapping, degrading names, public touching. Dark!joel DARK JOEL. He’s mean in this yall my apologies im not sorry. Pining tommy. Over panties touching.drunk joel texting you apologizing (pathetic) POSSESSIVE JOEL

“Are you really that much of a dumb fucking slut? It’s me or fucking no one.”

It was Sarah’s idea, going out for brunch, the four of you. “If you’re gonna be staying here for two weeks, may as well get comfortable with my family!” She said that with the most genuine smile.

It filled you with a little bit of guilt, for the things you had done with her dear father the night before, guilty for the way her uncle craves you.

Even though she wouldn’t realize what was going on, even if it was right in her. Sarah only thought the best of people especially her father, so of course she wouldn’t think the miller brothers would be drooling over you.

All of you cram into joel’s navy pickup truck, it was big and clearly one of his most prized possessions. Still has that “New car” scent. “I swear he would fuck his truck if he could, spends fifty bucks every week getting it washed at some fancy place, its so anal.”

Sarah says after she heard your gasp after jumping into it.

You pull your seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place. The warm black leather sticking to your bare legs. You decided to dress up for lunch, throwing on the only dress you packed a.k.a the only one you owned.

Sarah is talking your ear off about boys, shopping and what colour she should get her nails done next.

You hear the sound of the door slam, Joel strolls out of the house, dressed in his nicest flannel, buttoned up. A patch of the grey t-shirt he was wearing underneath, exposed. The way he had his sleeved rolled up mid arm had you drooling.

“He wears that god damn shirt to every fancy event, I swear he doesn’t have any formal clothes.” She says pointing to his washed out jeans as he approaches the car, you laugh, but really you couldn’t take your eyes off, how good those jeans shaped his ass.

He opens the car door, Tommy yells out from the door way, with one shoe being pulled on “Joel slow the fuck down, i’m coming with y’all.”

Joel scrunches his face up, shaking his head. “Fine, you’re paying for yourself.” Sarah looks at you with a confused look, you guess Tommy never comes to restaurants with them. Maybe he was coming for you?

He gets into the truck, starts the engine letting out a sigh. You look at the back of his head, he adjusts the rear mirror right on you, your eyes catching his.

You clear your throat and go back to listening to Sarah until Tommy gets into the car, with a stupid fucking smile.

“Everyone sleep okay?” He asked as if he wasn’t dead fucking asleep, while joel was in your room making you believe in heaven.

Joel lets out a small laugh, you both were thinking the same thing. Sarah replies to him and starts talking about her night.

“Can you believe he wouldn’t go through a drive thru for me? Who denies a drunk person fast food?” She says like its the worst thing ever.

“Who almost throws up in someone’s car because they couldn’t handle their liquor? Wanna answer that hun?” Oh hes sassy. Sarah was sending you videos all night, yet you only looked at them this morning due you being…slightly busy when she sent them.

It’s a long drive of you and joel stealing glances, looking away awkwardly when even the sight of him is bringing back memories of last night.

Finally, Joel pulls into the parking lot. You look around, it’s a decently nice place, one of those “insta worthy” places were girls take pictures of their food, it was overpriced for a reason it’s “aesthetic”.

Sarah loves it. Sarah was one of those girls that posted on her instagram every day, anything and everything.

She posted Joel a good few times before you came, not realizing he was her father.

More like one of those hot teachers in high school, that you beg to take a picture with on the last day of school.

He was good looking, he didn’t look his age at all. Never would you guess her dad would be THAT attractive.

He hops out, letting out a deep sigh and clearing his throat.

You undo your seatbelt, pick up your phone, you reach to open the door but Tommy is already there, with begging eyes he opens it.

“After you.”

He waves his hand, leaning on the door as you and Sarah hop out.

Adjusting your dress as you walk towards the door, Sarah’s arm interlinked with yours.

You can feel their eyes on you, the wind blows the bottom of your dress up, exposing patches of your thighs.

You look back, joel is sizing up the place seeing if it’s even decent, Tommy is well, um being Tommy. Devouring you with his eyes, it makes you nervous.

It takes him a good couple seconds to realize you caught him staring, peeling his eyes off your legs and smiling.

The fresh conditioned air gives you goosebumps as you step into the door.

A girl that looks like she spends way too much time on social media, about a couple years older greets you.

“Ya’ got a reservation sweetheart?”

God, you forgot that literally everyone around here got a pet name for strangers. Fucking texans.

Sarah pipes in.

“Yeah! Miller, four of us.”

She smiles and looks down at her reservation book.

“I’ll bring y’all to your table.”

She steps out from behind the cash and walks the bunch of you to a table on the deck, over looking the ocean.

You sit down in your seat, Joel sitting in front of you sarah attached at his hip.

Meaning, you’re stuck sitting neck to tommy. For fucks sake.

She smiles at joel, practically drooling.

“I can get your drink orders if y’all are ready.”

Sarah skims over the drink menu then smirks.

“Two mimosas for me and the lady.”

Joel shakes his head.

“You didn’t drink enough last night?” He huffs out.

You try to hold back a laugh but it’s uncontrollable.

“Just a coffee for me.” He hands the drink menu off to her.

“You want cream or sugar?” She asks, accepting the menu.

He shakes his head.

She hasn’t took her eyes off him since he walked in, fucking desperate.

“Water for me.”

She doesn’t even look at tommy when he orders. Why were you so upset over this, he’s beautiful you should know you’re not the only person that thinks that.

She nods her head and practically skips away.

You whip out your phone, placing your elbows on the table. Opening your messages skimming through to find sarah.

You: Staring problem much.-12:37pm

Her phone dings, she checks the notification and smiles. Typing back instantly.

Sarah m.: i thought she was gonna crawl on the table and harass him right then and there :0-12:37

You read her text and start laughing, you look at her and nod. Joel catches this, he leans over and tries to get a peek.

You: It’s definitely his “fancy” shirt. SHE WAS DROOLING.-12:38

She laughs and joel reads it, taking her phone and typing back.

Sarah m.: it is fucking fancy, thank u.-12:38

He huffs in unison with her, she tucks her phone back into her phone pocket and the lady returns.

With a fucking smile.

You look at sarah and roll your eyes as she lays down the drinks. Joel’s first, obviously.

She asks for your order then walks away.

You’re sipping on your drink, staring at the view, what were you thinking wearing a dress, wasn’t even hot out?

You get goosebumps and shiver, tommy catches it while sarah and joel are deep in conversation, about something stupid, whatever they could debate about, they would.

“You cold honey?”

He places a hand on your knee, rubbing circles with his thumb.

Oh god.

You shake your head. “Probably shouldn’t have worn a dress, bad idea.” Adding a nervous giggle.

He smiles, leaning in closer and whispering into your ear. “That’s right. Should have worn nothing.”

He pulls his hand further up, resting on the hem of your dress. Sitting comfortably on your upper thigh.

He rubs slow circles on your inner thigh, you squirm in your seat.

Fuck.

You finish off your drink, Tommy moves his hand up, grazing your clit through your panties. Your breath hitches. Joel looks at you, you look back.

He looks at Tommy then furrows his brows.

Fuck. Oh my FUCK.

You were caught.

You knew how much Tommy’s pining for you bothered him yet, you still let him touch you.

You’d say you were bothered by it too but the way your panties are wet right now says differently.

You clear your throat and stand up. “I’m gonna use the bathroom, ill be back.”

You almost trip over your own feet walking to the bathroom.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Does this mean you’ve lost Joel?

Maybe you’d get some nice rough angry sex out of this, finally feel him.

You stare in the mirror taking deep breaths trying to figure what the fuck to do.

Back at the table, Joel’s clawing at himself to have control, it’s nothing just some stupid fucking flirting, you didn’t resist though.

Fuck it.

He taps his jeans pocket and sighs. Interrupting Sarah and Tommy’s discourse on the latest movie they watched. They both look to him. “I forget my phone in the truck, imma get it.”

Sarah shrugs her shoulders as if she didn’t need to know that and goes back to her conversation.

He gets up, walks towards the exit and when he’s far enough for them to not see him, he stomps over to the bathroom.

You’re finished practically water boarding yourself to feel better, wiping off the “waterproof” mascara that ran down your face .

You open the door and are met with the hard chest of a taller man.

“Oh i’m sorry sir-“ You look up.

Fuck.

He pushes you back into the bathroom with a grip on your neck. Thank god for private bathrooms.

You thought it was just gonna be some steamy, kinky, public sex cause of him choking you. The way he was looking down at you, his grip tightening tells you different. He was fuming.

“Ah i-“ It’s hard to speak with the way his hand is engulfing your neck.

“Did ya like it?” He loosens his grip just enough for you to speak, pushing you against the bathroom wall by your neck.

The other hand encaging you above your head. He was leaning so close to you, it seemed like you could change his mind and it WOULD turn into sex.

He tilts his head waiting for an answer.

“Like what Joel?”

He tongues his teeth and shakes his head at this.

“Uh uh don’t you fucking dare-“ He retightened his grip. “-play the dumb slut with me, thought you were the smart one darlin’?”

You nod, choking out a response. “I’m sorry joel—really. I didn’t.”

He lets out a groan, slapping your face, a burning feeling races through your cheek, then he was spreading your legs.

“So you’re telling me, if i check right now, you won’t be soaking for tommy” He gets up in your face.

“Don’t like you lying to me darlin’”

He reaches down, hand still on your throat for dear life.

He feels your panties. They are fucking soaked. From him or Tommy, you have no clue.

“Just what i thought. Ya think you can just go ‘round picking and choosing what miller you want as your fuck toy?—” He tightened his grip, you can barely breathe.

“—Think i wouldn’t know? Think i don’t recognize that cute little face you make, when someone’s touching ya’?”

You choke on your own spit.

“Are you really that much of a dumb fucking slut? It’s me or fucking no one.”

He takes his hand off your throat. You cough as the air slowly refills your lungs. “I’m yours okay? Please i’m sorry.”

He grins, grabs your cheeks and gives you a quick kiss.

“Oh i know baby, you’re sorry now.”

He leaves the bathroom, leaving you to wipe the fresh mascara stains off your cheeks. You fix your hair and clear your throat.

When you come back to the table, Sarah is digging into a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

You sit down, Tommy smiles at you. Joel is wiping the pink lipgloss you stained him with off, before anyone notices.

“Hey! Are you okay? You were in there a while.” Sarah says with a mouthful of ice cream dripping past her lips.

You try to come up with an excuse.

“Got kinda lost trying to find it.”

Joel huffs. Tommy can’t keep himself off you. It’s like he’s trying to get you in trouble.

He leans in again, nothing good comes from this.

“Too bad I already had dessert, ice cream looks pretty darn good.”

God just touching you was his dessert? You’d blush if it wouldn’t get you put in your place again. He tries to touch you again.

You swipe his hand away. It hurt him, he frowns and mutters a sorry.

The car ride home was quiet. Sarah showing you pictures of the dinner on her phone.

Both millers were staring right at you in each picture, it’s like they weren’t even trying to hide it.

The only interaction with Joel for the rest of the night was those few glances through the rearview mirror on the way home.

It was cruel trying to sleep. You kept tracing the spots on your neck where he squeezed the hardest, honestly you thought u deserved it.

That one kiss through all the pain, it kept you up.

How was that the softest he had kissed you before, yet the most aggressive he treated you.

It made you question everything you knew about him.

You fell asleep looking at Sarah’s instagram, the pictures of him.

Too bad you were too dead asleep cause he was blowing up your phone.

3 missed calls from J.Miller-11:30pm

Hey can i talk to ya?-11:37pm

Sorry if i scared ya, just cant handle anyone else having u-11:37pm

Sweet dreams sugar.-11:46pm

masterlist (check out the rest of the series there:))

part four: here

AN!!! Hey long time no see yawl😪 i started writing this like last week and write 90% of it in like three hours sooo idk how to feel bout it ANGST??? DARK JOEL??? TOMMY MAKING A MOVE??? Lots going on in this. @cuntyjoel was my supportive writer bestie that actually convinced me to finish this go check em out and my bottom joel fic IM BEGGING YAWL its linked so is my master list with part one and two to study break. Love yall.

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mollymargiela · 5 months ago

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your apart of faze and are streaming with the boys and he’s just recording while the guys tease u, and yall argue. (Fluff, Addison)

after a segment with the g-league you guys decide to hangout in the living room, addison sees something he doesn’t like at all but your completely oblivious to it.

reader = white

addison = green

ron = blue

jason = orange

lacy = red

max = pink

warnings: some swearing , physical touch and arguing

fluff at the end if u squint

after the valentine’s g-league segment and joel had won which was a huge surprise to everyone including you, everyone was now sat on the couch, ron angry because yugi had lost and would now have to give jason 100gifted, he obviously wasn’t going to tho.

addison recorded the entire segment as he usually does, keeping a watchful eye on you. however, it wasn’t in a creepy way; he simply wanted to ensure that none of the boys were getting too close or crossing any boundaries.

everyone knew u guys were dating its been 8 months of you two being together,

you are very close to jason though.

you both share a strong bond because you’ve been friends before jason even started streaming. addison knew this, but he would still get jealous whenever jason got too close to you or even hugged you. he’s never mentioned it to you because he understands that you’re just best friends and nothing more.

but right now addison was trying his hardest not to tell jason to get his hands off you.

jason was talking to ron about the 100gifted, and his hand rested on your thigh, gripping it gently. you both didn’t notice it initially, as you were engrossed in separate conversations.

It wasn’t a big deal to the both of you anyway.

but for addison, his mind was racing. He was so focused on you and jason that he had completely forgotten he was supposed to be the camera man.

“yo addison get the fucking angles dude” ron says to him making him regain focus

“my bad” he glances at the both of you once more and films rage and max arguing about who knows what

he has a stern expression on his face, his jaw clenched tightly, and his brows furrowed in concentration.

you look down to see jason gripping your thigh,

u then get up and that makes jason remove his hand.

you dont say anything to jason because he used to do it all the time before you and addison started dating, he would do it simply out of stress and comfort when he began to feel nervous

you go to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle offering ron and lacy one, u graze addisons shoulder gently feeling his strong biceps

“im good thanks though.” he says

“what about you lacy?” u ask him with ur brow raised

“yea ill take one thanks” … “rather take you out though haha..”

you stare at lacy intensely

“yea right take the water bottle dumbass.”

“shut up porky she’s clearly dating addison.”

lacy often joked like that with you because he knew it made addison mad

addison overheard what lacy said and thinks its time for the both of you to go home

he hands the camera to bepsy and walks over to you, lacy and ron

he puts his hand on your back and whispers in ur ear

“lets go home.” he says it in a low and serious tone

“why is everything okay?” you respond to him

“yes lets just go, please.”

you nod at him and begin gathering your belongings. you say goodbye to the boys, hugging them all.

you hug jason tightly

“ill see you tomorrow guys!” you wave at all of them

“byee y/n!” they all say in unison

addison says his goodbyes as well

“oh your leaving?” max says with a confused tone because the stream wasn’t over yet.

“yea i gotta be up early for the shoot tomorrow.” addison lies

i mean there was a shoot tomorrow but addison wakes up on time no matter how early it is, he doesn’t like being late to things.

“ight i’ll see you at the shoot then.” max daps him up and you both begin walking towards the front door

he holds the door open for you and gestures for you to go ahead. as he carries his backpack full with cameras and other items, he closes the door behind him. together, you walk down the hill, searching for his car.

“It’s over here,” he says in a low tone, almost as if he’s angry. you and addison haven’t had a fight since you started dating.

you’ve never seen him actually angry.

you approach his car, get inside, and wait for him while he loads his belongings into the trunk. You sit in the passenger seat and scroll through Instagram.

he gets into the driver’s seat, turns on the car, and starts driving home.

The car is filled with an uncomfortable silence on the way home; not a single word is exchanged.

halfway through the car ride home, you turn on the radio, hoping it will fill the tension between you both.

he turns it off without saying a word

you give him a confused look “why’d you turn it off?”

he doesn’t respond.

you reach out to turn it back on, but he grabs your wrist, preventing you from doing so.

“what the fucks wrong with you addison?!” you then release your wrist from his grasp.

“why were u letting jason touch u like that?” …

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you give him a confused look

“why the fuck was jason touching you like that?!” he says a little louder

“is this why ur acting like a fucking baby and why u wanted to leave?” you turn to face him

“im not acting like a fucking baby y/n, tell me why u let jason touch you like that.”

“you know that me and jason are best friends! i’ve known him for 5 years!”

“so, that gives him the right to touch your thigh? are you cheating on me with him? If you are, at least do a better job of hiding it!” he starts raising his voice at you

you scoff at him “you really think im cheating on you with jason?”

he turns to look at you and says “i mean his hand was practically in your panties.”

“do you know how fucking dumb you sound right now addison??!” … “before you and i started dating jason would do that when he felt nervous!”

“your telling me you allow jason to caress your thigh?!”

“addison, it’s nothing like that. why can’t you see that I don’t like him? we’re just friends!!”

“friends who touch each other..” he says under his breath

“ohmygosh! i can’t believe how difficult it is for you to believe me!”

“also what about lacy telling you he wants to take you out, huh?” he glances over to you while driving

you groan putting your face in your hands

“addison you cannot be serious right now, you’re mad because lacy made a joke on stream?” you shout at him

he stays quiet clenching his jaw

“he literally does it all the time to make u mad! maybe if u stop shit talking him he would stop doing it!”

he pulls into your driveway, and you don’t give him a moment to respond. you quickly get out of the car, slamming his car door behind you, and walk to the front door of your house, unlocking it.

“fuck..” he thinks to himself

you enter the house and head up to your shared bedroom, removing your earrings and shoes.

he chases after you, forgetting that his belongings are in the trunk. however, that’s not what truly matters to him. the only thing he cares about is you.

addison realized he was overreacting. he understood that you and jason were only best friends, and there was nothing more between you two.

he heads up the stairs, calling out for you.

“y/n..?” he looks around and then enters your shared bedroom.

“what do you want addison?!” … “you clearly don’t trust your girlfriend that you’ve been with for 8 months.”

he sits next you on the bed

“no baby its not like that, im sorry.” … “i cant help it that i get jealous.”

“addison you need to understand that theres nothing going on between me and jason or lacy.” you reassure him.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, y/n. please forgive me, baby.” he says, grabbing your hands and holding them in his.

you sigh and say, “I forgive you, baby. just understand that there’s nothing going on between me and jason.”

hiii its me again i tried my best to make this one with little context :3 im sorry if its bad ;(

#addisondailey smut #addisondailey #faze clan #fazeclan smut #faze #faze clan smut

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jenna-ortega · 2 years ago

Text

you're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

vertigo intermission

INTERMISSION SUMMARY - After taking care of Joel, and Joel taking care of you - you wake up to the cold sheets beside you. Heart sinking at the sudden realization....he's gotten his appetite filled, now he's gone. What you don't know, is the taste of you has Joel's claws stuck between the layers of your skin, and it'll take a village to pry what he believes is his from those callused hands. Pairing - joel miller x female reader Word Count - 2.1k Warnings - angst, pinv, gagged & bound, praise, heartbreak A/N - pls do not kill me for this <3 this is just a prank! (it's not) but i did warn yall that this intermission would be a doozy...i will make it up to y'all...eventually

previous chapter - series masterlist

series playlist - by the wonderful @lovers-liability

Your body is still buzzing from the earlier morning. Still feeling the phantom lips of Joel exploring your body, putting you to sleep in the best way possible. Now…now, he’s really done it. Made you fall in love..no, no? Not love. Anything but that. No, no, no. Your heart sinks in your sleep as you toss and turn at your bitter thoughts. You were supposed to be mad at him. You were supposed to be so, so angry. But–that didn’t stop your body from soaking in his laps and slurps, making your body seize with pleasure.

You jolt slightly awake, eyes blinking slowly as your hand stretches to feel the familiar body you’ve come to learn far gone from your touch. Just a cold pillow with the fresh imprints of a strong, wide body. His body. The body you’ve learned could get away with anything if it touched you the right way.

The brain in your dazed little head only has a short amount of time to start planning its demise before you hear the heavy footsteps of him walking through your door. You take note of his bare chest, and low hanging boxers. He’s here.

“What ya look so nervous for, darlin’” he questions,

“Nothing.” a lie. A lie so big you could scold yourself out loud. This is nerve wracking. Seeing the man you’ve dreamed about, half naked standing in your doorway after giving you the best head in your life is nerve wracking. It feels as if he’s a deer, and you’re peering into the forest hiding…hoping you are quiet enough to stop it from running away. Joel Miller, please don’t run away. Not now. Not after everything.

“Alright then.” he believes you.

—

“Thought I told you,” joel grabs your attention behind the bar, leaning back against his chair with a smug smile on

“I don’t want you workin’ here.”

“You don’t own me.” you bite back, putting down an empty glass in front of his frame

“But I want to.”

The breath you took is expelled from your lungs in surprise, heart dropping into a place he’s made himself so familiar with. You stare at him doe-eyed, biting the side of your cheek as you nervously blink repeatedly. “Joel,” you whisper almost pleadingly,

“ n’d here i thought you wanted me to own you,” his eyes darkened as he leaned over the bar, enticing you closer to him, “wanted me to take what’s mine. What belongs to me,” he growls, adjusting himself in his seat as he holds your eye contact without looking away. “Tell me..you wanna be mine?”

His eye contact was too painful as he looked you up and down. Swearing the sight of you to his memory,

You gasp as you feel him lean over the bar, grabbing your chin in between his fingers as he forces you to stare back into his deep brown eyes, “I want an answer, darlin’,” his southern accent made your body melt into his touch. You swore you heard him laugh at you for slightly moaning as finally let go of your face.

“I wanna be yours.” you admit finally, eyes slowly blinking at him as you feel your body on fire from the thought of it all. Being his. Him wanting you like this. You want him to control you, want him to dictate every move of your life. God, you’re pathetic.

And with his next words, you know he’s got you hooked. You’d let him ruin all of your nights, fuck up all of your days,

“Good girl,”

—

You couldn’t stop your body from following him into the bar bathroom, it was as if he possessed your body and is now making a home in your consciousness.

And even after all this time, wanting, hoping, dreaming of having him like this…it didn’t feel real. Not yet. Not until you felt him push himself on you, feeling his hard dick meet your aching core, you were sure your excitement had rubbed off on his pants, you were drenched, feeling yourself spill down your own thigh. God, this fucking bar attire was going to get you introuble. These black mini skirts showing everything. But you’re grateful for them once you feel a pair of strong hands knead your ass, giving a sharp slap to one, making you moan out, “Joel,”

You heard a faint chuckle from Joel, surely he was loving this version of you. Compliant, and at the mercy of his hand.

The sound of Joel undoing his belt, and you waited for the loud sound it would make once it hit the tiled floor…but that sound never came. You were pulled from a sort of dream state, eyes widening at the realization of all of this. He pulled your arms in behind your back, his force hurting you and making you wince. You feel his hot breath against your neck, groaning as his tongue licked a stripe from up to your ear, whispering to you softly,

“Poor little thing, in over her head is she?” his voice going higher, mocking you as you squirm in his embrace. Pushing back against him to feel his warmth against your body, wanting to wiggle your way to feel the friction of his bulge against your center, feeling tears poor from your eyes and onto your delicate cheeks, your hands now bound by his expensive belt, he tied it so tight you swore he cut off your blood flow.

“Joel–please,” you were pleading with him to give you any sort of relief, you tried crying out to him, knowing it wouldn’t change the pace of the situation, you loved every minute of this. His strong hands tangling up in your hair, bringing your head up to rest slightly below his shoulder, and on his warm chest,

“You take what i give you, little girl” he warned, hand still tangled in your hair, now pushing your head off of his chest and forcing your eyes to watch yourself in the bathroom mirror. The sight makes your cunt squeeze over nothing. He’s so big, holding you hostage on his body. Swallowing you whole as he walks your body closer to the mirror, pushing your pelvis to meet the cold porcelain sink.

“Joel, please–” you cry out as his hips trap you,

He hums in approval, “Darlin, I love when you beg…but you gotta stay quiet f’me.”

You nod your head fast, looking over your shoulder to see his dark eyes burning a hole through you. And he growls as you feel your body bounce from the force it takes of him to rip your panties off your body.

Whimpering as you feel the burn of fabric cut from your skin, that’s gonna leave a mark,

“Fuck…” the only word your brain can formulate as you’re heavy breathing, looking at your fucked out self in the mirror…only, he hasn’t even started fucking you.

“Shhh, baby. This’ll help,”

Your head shakes violently as he forces your panties into your mouth, muffling any pleas to him you might have had on the tip of your tongue, and gagging you in the process.

Joel moved back from you, eyeing his work. “Mmmm”

Your body slugged over the sink, black skirt pulled around your waist with your hands bound behind your back.

Joel’s grin spread ear to ear, his dick jumping in excitement as he began pulling down his pants just enough to pull out his cock. His pink tip pulsing with clear precum already released.

He gripped it in hand, pumping it a few times before he walked back over to your body, lining it up with your slit.

You felt him run his cock along you, applying pressure just a bit, making you scream out as much as you could. Your body trembled for him, you coughed on your own panties as your muffled begs for him were lost in the air.

Without warning, you felt him shove himself in you, hearing a groan from behind-” fuck. FUCK.” his voice deep and husky as he began his pace, not letting you adjust at all. Grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise, helping him steady his thrust as he tore you apart. Your pussy squeezing around him, letting him know he’s in control of your body. Every thrust earned a squeal from you, he didn’t have any mercy in this. Deep and hard was all he was doing, the sounds coming from your core making you close your eyes, letting any tears that were in them fall off your cheek.

His cock pulling out and jamming into you relentlessly, you didn’t expect him to be like this. But god, you liked it.

Joel, Joel, Joel,

A chant your brain has now burned into your conscience. Even with no words at all, your body screams it. Your nipples perking as you feel him thrust even deeper inside of you, stumbling behind you as he loses balance with how hard he thrust,

“Mine. Mine. Mine” his chant. Possessive in nature, oppressive in reality. Because how unjust and cruel is it to be his, his, his, when you know others have also been. For so long, he was yours, but you were not his. What does it mean to be that, to be his? To be bound and gagged in a bar bathroom, to be controlled and subject yourself to his nature. Possessive. Is this what you really wanted?

What you really wanted was to come right now, eyes squeezed shut as the groans coming from behind you begin to get louder,

“You’re killing me with this pussy,”

Your wrists rubbed raw against his belt as his thrust sent you further and further against the sink, the cold porcelain distracting you as you feel a warm hand snake around your front and begin rubbing tight circles on your clit.

He laughs at your feeble attempt to cry and moan his name against your panties, feeling your insides hug him tightly as he gives it all to you. His cock kissing your cervix when it happens, when he feels you shake and cry against the gag in his arms. Holding you up as you choke his cock with your orgasm, creaming all along his shaft.

“Yeah baby, you got it, you can do it, taking me so. fucking. good.

His thrusts match his words, hard punches into your cunt as you lay limp in his arms, gurgling nonsensical sounds as he takes, devours your whole.

“Gonna cum, gonna, –oh, fuck!”

He pushes deep in you, his balls hitting your core as he gives you everything, shaking and pushing you back into him as he does. “Take it all.” he demands through gritted teeth,

You squeal out as he gives you one last hard thrust, pulling out of you with a deep guttural moan, “Oh baby…” he tilts his head up to the ceiling, breathing out heavy as he comes back down to reality,

Joel tucks himself away and helps you get decent, ungagging you and pulling down your skirt, leaving you a small slap before pulling it down all the way.

You’re breathing deeply, closing your eyes as your hands hold yourself up on the sink, looking at your flush complexion in the mirror, watching Joel walk over to you cand begin petting your hair,

“You did so well,” he kissed the side of your head.

—

He brings you to place afterwards, making sure to tell Tommy he was stealing you for the night.

“Have I convinced ya to quit yet?”

“Joel,” you sigh as he opens the door to his place, your mind fogged with another thought before you could finish your sentence,

“Smells..good in here?” you question, noticing the signs of life that are apparent throughout the house. You smile thinking nothing of the sizzling you hear in the kitchen, not noticing Joel’s stiff form as you sneak from behind his big frame,

“Joel! What took you so–” the high pitched voice came from the kitchen suddenly cut off, and your eyes met hers. Heart dropping as you feel yourself want to collapse into itself. It’s her. Vanessa. You didn’t want to stick around to see Joel’s face, to hear his excuse as to why you were on his hip. Didn’t want to try and save himself from this, didn’t want to see him get to have everything.

Joel was oppressive in reality. For him to prolong this, to force you to feel things that shred your heart up. Joel was not yours, and you’d never be his.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller x you

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gothcsz · 24 days ago

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you’re deflecting babe. people are saying something very simple. if racism is a pervasive problem in the fandom that needs to stop, why are you associating with people who are friends with the people you say are a problem? very simple question. you have such incredibly high standards but it is a double standard. it is a you and nic problem. even a lot of your other friends seem to have a lot of other sense about how they move through this shit because they do not instigate how you two do.

deflecting how?? i'm literally just answering every complaint that's being dumped in my inbox because you aren't really trying to have a productive conversation with me, you're just angry and don't like me and want the excuse to belittle and try to get a gotcha moment when... *collective gasp* there is no gotcha moment! the fuck. did you think i was gonna like ignore all of this and just cry about it on the dash.... ?

why are you associating with people who are friends with the people you say are a problem?

sorry i dont do a background check on every person that follows me. will be doing that from now on 🫡 but again... if i were to make a post calling everyoneeeee out.... i would be blamed for starting a witch hunt and for being messy/dramatic/bitchy .... i mean look at what yall did to nic when she posted the screenshot of people agreeing with a problematic take.... look at what yall did to that one account that shared the likes/notes of that one problematic joel fic.... would it be any different if i called out my mutuals for interacting with weirdos?? you all would have my head for it

even a lot of your other friends seem to have a lot of other sense about how they move through this shit because they do not instigate how you two do.

IM CRYING BC IF I DONT SAY ANYTHING IM HIDING SHIT AND A COWARD IF I DO SAY SOMETHING IM AN IMMATURE INSTIGATOR SO WHAT IS THE TRUTH

#📞 next caller!#DAMNED IF I DO DAMNED IF I FUCKING DONT

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marcholasmoth · 11 months ago

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OSRR: 3666

today started out better than yesterday. then it quickly went downhill.

i went to lunch with my mom at our usual tuesday spot, and i got the fish and chips because that's how i was feeling, but before i could do much of anything, the pain once again resumed and it wiped me out to the point where i couldn't finish my fish :c

and if that was how i felt with a full night of sleep, how much worse would've it been if i hadn't?

unfortunately, we had more to do.

we stopped at home and mom grabbed some advil from inside, and we were on our way. mom and i went to walmart and i got my undercut touched up. we went to a farm stand for pastries. we stopped by the shop so james could look at mom's car, and then we drove home. i had my doctor's appointment at 2:50, so i went over by myself and was able to talk to my doctor about the cortisol thing.

provided i can wake up early enough, ill be heading over there first thing for a blood test because the morning is when both cortisol and testosterone are at their highest levels. if anything's off, we'll try something else and if that doesn't help, it'll be off to an endocrinologist for me. and thankfully, dr. k was extremely receptive to all of it. he even said it would potentially explain a lot of things, and he agreed with me.

it's really nice to be listened to by a medical professional.

get yall a dr. k.

then i spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch under a quilt as i watched tv with my mom.

mom went upstairs to rest because her kidneys were hurting her, and she ended up napping for a while. i watched episodes that weren't important while i crocheted.

james made dinner when he got home. he's one of the hardest working people i know.

it was a new recipe - i'm not sure what to think of it. it was french style hunter's chicken, which i'm not sure if that means anything, but it was. interesting.

after dinner i went back and sat on the sofa, still pained, but a little easier because of the protein. i still think i'll end up eating an enormous burger and chocolate shake tomorrow to help.

damn.

anyway, i'm excited to see joel tomorrow. i'm not thrilled to go to work. but honestly i was thinking about the convention and how absolutely ready i am to demand time off or quit. like either they let me do what i want or that scrounge to find another analyst and everyone still there gets shafted. like, fuck around and find out how willing i am to let this whole place burn.

damn.

when did i get so angry?

probably when i had to become a mediator for people's feelings, or when i got written up for a decision that no one else agreed with despite past experiences. or probably when our supervisor got changed and now we get thrown under the bus instead of defended. fuck that. fuck that so hard. fuck.

fuck.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #3000s #3600s #sunshine boy

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gorbygames · 7 months ago

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Skizz and mumbo are next to each other, and lizzie and jimmy look bigger than the others... especially lizzie. Because grian blew them up in the bam-bunker? Lizzie is angry at grian for it? Etho and gem are on top of the machine. Gem bc she was joel's partner, not sure on eth- oh I just got it. Yall are obsessed about Joel being obsessed with effo. I do love though that martyn was stitched into ren's skin with the closed eye

You can win this!

Click for better quality <3

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

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i just wanna start off by saying i am obsessed with your feral reader series. ever since i started the show ive had a strong urge to write something with an unhinged character similar to your red but never found the energy to, and your work has fufilled that urge lol.

anyways i was just wondering, if you think ellie would ever lash out at red for her selflessness? ellie obvs has abandonment issues, and as her and reds relationship evolves i can see ellie start to become more and more frustrated with reds lack of will to live. simply because ellie doesnt think she could handle loosing red.

what are your thoughts?

Thank you so much! I'm just so thrilled people enjoy it all and the character! I think it would take a while for Ellie to lash out. Joel makes himself an easy target, but its almost more intimidating with Red. But I think it would take them being settled in Jackson for a while, Ellie realizing she's going to be with them for the rest of their lives, and seeing how Red is still being reckless with herself before she finally snaps. Because it's not getting through to her that she matters and is needed. And because yall are so nice, here's a little drabble of it! (I live purely off yalls comments and messages and tags like a fanfic Kirby)

(Feral Masterlist)

The walk back into town was quiet, tension filling the space between the three as they turned in their horses to the stables and made the walk back to their house. For once Ellie wasn’t talking, wasn’t chatting their ears off, didn’t even make mention of the new book they had found that she had been eager to grab since it was the first of the series. Not the third or the second or fifth. First. A rare find. No, instead she was walking ahead of them, face pinched and moving with a heavy stomp with each step. Joel wasn’t in a much better mood, brow heavily furrowed and scowling at the ground. She was used to their lackluster sunshine attitudes. It’s not like she was much better, but now it seemed distinctly aimed at her. She was left to pick up the rear behind them, trying to ignore the looks of the townsfolk as they stared at her, gritting her teeth. She knew Joel was angry, but Ellie seemed to be as well and that felt odd. It had been a quick scout. They’d been trying to search further and further away from Jackson to comb through whatever resources they could. Eventually they would do farther scouts out of state, but they wanted to make sure everything had been picked clean. The area had already been swept multiple times and Ellie had wanted to come with them, saying she didn’t want to get soft and lose sight of what it was like out there. They’d let her come. It wasn’t a new spot and they both were there. If she was safe with anyone, it was them. But they hadn’t counted on infected moving into the area, traveling there. There’d been a few and when Ellie had accidentally tripped and fell, one going for her, she’d tackled it to keep her away. They’d wrestled hard until her knife found its home in its head and it had slumped off of her. It wasn’t anything out of the usual. They’d had closer scrapes and harder fights on the way to Utah. But Joel had ripped into her on the way back for pulling a stupid move instead of shooting it, for the thousandth time since she’d known him, and Ellie had been quiet the entire way back. She was used to Joel’s anger, but wasn’t sure about the teenager’s. Ellie was hardly ever mad at her and she wasn’t sure how to feel now that she was its target. They both entered the house ahead of her and she quietly shut the door behind them, chewing on her lip, feeling the tension build. Ellie threw her backpack into the corner of the living room roughly, stomping towards the connecting kitchen. Joel caught her eye and then shook his head, huffing before dumping his own pack in the downstairs bedroom. “So I have to deal with both of you being pissy?” In the safety of their home, she could be more direct. But there was no confidence in her voice, the sarcasm flimsy. Even with them, she had a hard time communicating sometimes.

Ellie slammed her hand down on the kitchen and spun to face her, cheeks red with anger, “You can’t do that, Red!” She swallowed her sigh, back stiffening as she clenched her jaw, “Do what?” The teenager growled out a loud groan and stomped back to her, using as much of her height as she could to get into her face, “Be that reckless! Joel gets after you all the time and you keep doing it!” “Ellie,” she bit out sternly, but the girl didn’t stop. Joel stood in the back, looking at the scene but not interfering, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. He would be no help to her. “Why didn’t you shoot it?” Ellie shouted, “You could have gotten bit! I’m immune but you’re not and you just fucking threw yourself on top of it!” “Yes, you’re immune, but it can still hurt you,” she argued back and put her hands on her hips, not knowing how to fight with the one person who seemed to be her constant defender. It seemed obvious. Ellie was in danger so she stopped it. She wasn’t sure why this was suddenly not okay. “So what! We get hurt all the time, but it can kill you!” Ellie’s voice was rising and she could see her shaking, lips pinching and eyes getting glossy. Her throat caught, a lump forming at seeing the passion and anger in the kid’s face as she adamantly continued to argue even as her voice choked up, “If it bit you, we’d have to fucking put you down. Do you get that? And then I’m stuck with fucking Joel alone and who the fuck is gonna take care of us?” Her eyes lifted to find Joel’s as Ellie shuddered, ducking her head and trying to swallow her tears. His face had softened, some of the anger gone, lips pursed. The look was frustration, exhaustion, sad pulling his lips down. So many times he’d yelled at her to stop being so careless, to stop treating herself as if she didn’t matter, and she had shrugged it off. Because Ellie was all that mattered. If something happened to her, she had Joel and it would be fine because they had each other. They had each other before she showed up and they would have each other after. But there was no mission anymore, no goal to get her to the Fireflies, nothing. There was only life. Living in Jackson together for the rest of their lives. She was still throwing herself in harm’s way though, because even if Ellie wasn’t going to save the world, she was her kid. And she couldn’t let anything happen to her. She hadn’t considered what it would do to Ellie if she was gone. Had remembered her argument with Joel when he tried to pass her off to Tommy. Everyone had left her or was dead. The tears won out and Ellie’s shoulders shook even as she desperately tried to look tough and hold it together. She didn’t say anything, didn’t console her that it would be okay. She just ran her hand over her hair and tucked her head into her chest. Ellie’s arms were a vice as she wrapped them around her waist, a steel band around her body, the flood gates opening as sobs broke through and she cried into her shirt. She only held her tightly, combing her hand over the loose strands of her ponytail and resting her head on hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling her shake even harder, “I’m sorry.” Through her muffled sniffles, so quiet she almost didn’t catch it, she heard the reply, “Don’t leave me.” Her heart broke a little and she watched as Joel came a little closer. In that way they always could communicate silently, always seemed to be on the same frequency, she understood the look on his face. His eyes flickered to the kid in her arms, staring at her with a sigh, but looking back at her and giving her a nod. “Do better for her,” it seemed to say. She swallowed hard, pressing her face into Ellie’s hair, before nodding back. “I will.”

_____________________ Taglist:

@alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #joel miller x feral reader #ellie #joel miller fanfic #ellie fanfic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #raicodoll writes #series: feral #asks #jemilydoll

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colorfulstudentmuffinmaker · 3 years ago

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Empires Thoughts Dump!

Lizzie

Yall, her village is genuinely so cute

Reminds me of those village sandbox games that I loved to play as a child

Really appreciate the work she's putting into her builds recently.

Please don't rush CCs yall, it's obvious that they're working hard, saying this because I've seen people incessantly asking about Lizzie with other CCs in their streams, namely Joel and fWhip, and I think Pix one time and I'm betting Jimmy also encounters that as well.

Not only is it rude to CCs and even Lizzie, it's sometimes even discouraging.

Please stop.

Shelby

Something Wicked this witch way comes (Pearl voice)

Love the banner

You know, if I had a nickel... Yeah yeah you get the joke. But it's still funny it's happening again.

Hooray for Loyalty on a trident.

Katherine

Mentioned this already, but really appreciate Katherine's storytelling

That transition from white block to black block? Ingenious

Can't wait for the curse to spread /pos

Love her being hysterical in the comments when she found out the gold is from the Stratos Sphere

Joey

Hooray for heterosexual attraction I suppose

I'm saying it's heterosexual attraction (which is what's happening btw), BUT Joey has confirmed Pirate Joe is bi.

I wonder what brought that on

My guy finally got a creeper head.

Woo!

Get ready for your boat to burn cause an angry, 11ft sky god is about to lose it.

Jimmy

I ascribe to the headcanon that Jimmy did get cursed with the fossil thing and that curse is turning him into a toy

Amen to that

On a more serious note, I am genuinely proud of Jimmy as a viewer. His building skills are getting better, his builder's eye is getting better, his block palette is getting better, his time lapses are more dynamic. Jimmy has genuinely improved and I'm all up for it.

The others

Not much happened that isn't unusual

Just your average Empires episodes. Chaos, awestriking aesthetic builds, a bit of imagination.

I love Pix's catacombs, I love Joel's arena, I love Scott's roads, Sausage's windmill, fWhip's pork sign, False's farms and amnesia lore.

The advantage of watching all of the CCs is getting inspiration to build in your own minecraft world

We are spoiled.

Missing Gem tho, but she is moving irl afaik. So take your time dearie.

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pedges · 2 years ago

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jesus christ i want nothing more than to accidentally marry joel miller in vegas because actually wtf and then you n joel go to this ex’s wedding and you’re talking to the ex, all civil and friendly at the reception while joel’s back at your table and he’s REELING like he’s soo jealous and you come back to the table with the ex and you’re like “this is joel, my husband” and mentally he’s like “damn right i’m your husband” but he says it under his breath and a liiiittle too loudly and you’re like so embarrassed (but also turned on asf) and you can’t say anything because you think that joel thinks this is all a big charade and you have to keep it up in public!!! and then y’all get home and you’re like “literally what the hell joel that was so embarrassing” and he says something lowkey toxic and is all like “well don’t you think it was embarrassing for me to have to watch my wife throw herself at her ex?!?!??” and you’re aghast i mean HELLOOO?!?!! and you’re like “well it’s a good thing none of this is real then” but OBVIOUSLY ITS REAL LIKE HELLLOOOO YALL CUDDLE AND WATCH RERUNS ALMOST EVERY NIGHT YOU CANNNNNN but you never speak about it because you and joel are pussies when it comes to speaking the truth abt your feelings but you calling this situation fake was the final straw for joel and he’s like “well it was real to me.” AND KISS AGAIN BOOM and possible angry/makeup sex i mean who could knows what could happen anyways sorry this was so long and also sorry i forgot my strawb signature on the last one but i literally could not hold myself back on this one

-🍓

STRAWBERRY ANON UR KILLING ME!! my favorite trope is a dumb misunderstanding trope and the idea of you and joel both being like “good thing none of this is REAL then” and sjsjsjajakakakalaoakka like the angst that could arise bc of this…….i am sick and ill and going silly but you’re so right, like the realization moment when you’re both like wow okay this was very real to both of us wasn’t it and JUST! not to mention that you and joel most definitely slept together in vegas and it came back in flashes but you remember enough and have been battling this sexual tension too and i kinda love the idea of things culminating in a hotel room after the wedding bc you fight about it and it boils over and IT ENDS RIGHT BACK WHERE IT STARTED. a hotel room.

#anon you’re so powerful I love you

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frnkiesaviators · 1 year ago

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Omg the finale is here ‼️

You NAILED it, v!! I’m so proud of you 🥺 it’s such a delicate and complicated plot and yet you wrote it so beautifully 🤍🤍

This was so so incredible and such an amazing story, i cried i laughed i everything-ed and i’m gonna miss my babies so much 🥲🤍

Messy running commentary incoming, watch out!

“I remember everything, Joel.”

Not Mr. Miller. Joel.

NOBODY TALK TO ME I NEED TIME TO PROCESS THIS

—

In one fluid motion, Joel sent his chair flying backward as he dropped to his knees before you.

KISS HER POOKIE BEAR KISS HER GOOD

—

The first kiss was delicate— cautionary. He wavered between losing control and reluctance, the path of his lips moving fluidly like they had always known their place against yours. It was so much different than the first kiss months ago, where then it had been about discovery and excitement, each draw of your bodies together new and profound. But now, it was a kiss to rekindle a flame that had dwindled out, a resurgence of emotions neither of you had experienced in years. Yes, those few months together had been exhilarating, but you had barely scratched the surface of where the bounds of your love lay.

If this isn’t art i don’t know what is 🤌🏻

—

“Don’t think I forgot at all, baby. Just wanted to savor you a minute,” Joel grinned. “I love you. God, I love you so fuckin’ much. Ain’t ever gonna stop tellin’ you how much I love you.”

The way I’m grinning like a fool 🥹 IM SO HAPPY YALL DONT UNDERSTAND THESE ARE MY BABIES

—

“I got all the time in the world, baby. Gonna spend every damn day provin’ myself to you. I’m already on my knees for you. Anythin’ you ask of me, I’ll give it to you.”

I need to die like right this second, he’s so in love with her 🥺♥️

—

He trailed his fingers up your bare legs, his hands teasing their way higher. A shiver ran over your skin as he pushed the hem of the dress further up, his head bending down to kiss a path over your knee and up your thigh.

“God, I missed you so damn much, baby,” Joel groaned, his tongue gliding over your pebbled skin.

This might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever read

—

Joel lay his head in your lap, his puppy dog eyes staring up at you with a glimmer of desire.

Scratch that, THIS is the hottest thing I’ve ever read

—

Joel tugged your ass down to the edge of the chair, flicking the hem of your dress into your lap. You tried working your fingers over the band of your underwear, but Joel beat you to it with a swiftness that left you dizzy. Well, dizzier than you already were.

Joel hoisted your calves over his shoulders, settling himself between your thighs. Flashes of memories in this exact position came flooding in; this was familiar. Familiarity beyond compare and something you desperately yearned for.

Nvm this is all so hot

—

Joel gave the softest nod as if to say I know, driving you closer to the edge

Literally fanning myself

—

“I need to hear y’say it, baby,” he begged. “Please tell me you’re mine.”

THE POSSESSIVENESS IS BACK IN FULL FORCE HELL YES

—

JOEL SHE JUST HAD A CONCUSSION FFS YOU GORGEOUS HORNY MAN

—

Joel looked up at you through blurry eyes, his thick lashes coated in fresh tears.

This is it, this is the end of loon im so done

—

“If I had known y’needed a good hit to the head to get all these memories back, I woulda tripped you myself,” Joel teased.

BAHAHA JOEL PLS 😭

—

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair that she gets to be angry when she wasn’t the one that lost everything.”

Oh my sweet baby i need to hug her so bad 🥺🥺

—

Joel spoke your name softly, the syllables more beautiful than ever when they rolled through his accent. You hummed in response, gazing up at him through tired eyes.

“I woulda waited an eternity for you, baby,” he confessed. “I woulda gone to my grave waitin’ to have you back in my arms like this again.”

If you see something in the sky, it’s me free falling cuz i can’t do this anymore

—

“Give me your pain. Give me all your anger and everything inside you, and I swear I’ll keep you safe. Y’ain’t ever gonna be alone again. Not while I’m still breathin’, baby. It’s you and me. Forever.”

V, you’re killing me and i couldn’t be happier

—

Sarah threw her arms around your neck, muffling her sobs into your hospital gown as you squeezed your arms tighter around her body. You missed so many milestones and moments of her life because of the accident, so many memories that were never made. Every family meal, every soccer game…you lost them all.

OH SARAH MY BABYYY 😭😭

—

Welcome home, baby.

I love you.

SOBBING I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭😭

—

I’m definitely gonna reread this cuz ohh my god 🥹♥️

Thank you so much for writing & sharing this beautiful masterpiece!!!

To summarize how i was the whole time reading:

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 10 Home

Summary: How bittersweet it is to come home. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 8.6k Warnings: NONE!!!! Find out for yourselves xoxo A/N: If you made it this far, thank you. This obviously isn't the absolute END, there will be an epilogue to come... but I still want to thank each and every one of you. This series has such a special place inside my heart, and I will be forever grateful for the love and support you all have given. All the kisses and hugs and love to you all. (I also realize there are going to be a few questions left unanswered, but I promise it'll be resolved in the epilogue) * And once again, I'm the most thankful to @loonmartell for helping me create the most beautiful story. Sending you all my love, sweet pea <3 *

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You most definitely had a concussion—which was not ideal when you were behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. Not only were you trying to subdue the memories still filtering through your mind, but you were also trying to navigate the roads with blurred vision. Streetlights that had once been unfamiliar slowly morphed into a memorized path, leading you right back to the place you once called home. Sarah had guided you home just months ago after a soccer game, but this was different. This was a reawakening, a thousand tiny moments rising from their endless slumber. Each turn of the wheel and stopsign guided you back to the one person your heart cried out for… Joel.

If only your brain and heart could get on the same page. While your heart ached for Joel in ways you hadn’t felt in months, your mind still clung to the anger you associated with him over the last several months. You couldn’t just stop loving him, but you didn’t know how to stop hating him at the same time.

The final turn into his neighborhood was coming up fast, yet your speed came to a crawl. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he could have moved on. Half a year was enough time for Joel to move on, to find another woman, to be happy without you. You experienced the exact opposite: you couldn’t move on, didn’t find another man, and were far from happy. Seeing him again was probably a mistake, but how would you move on now that you knew everything?

The nausea was back in full force as you pulled up to Joel’s home, his truck parked crooked in the driveway. This was your home once upon a time. Yeah, you were going to be sick again. Wrenching the door open, you leaned out of your car and dry-heaved. Nothing came up, which you were thankful for. You needed a strong stomach and a clear mind for whatever would come. The ground beneath your feet became distorted as you walked the path up his front yard. You took a moment to shake away the double-vision, your mind clouding around the edges. It was not the time to lose your grip on reality.

The worn wood of Joel’s front door taunted you, your hand hovering over the center as you debated knocking. All it would take is a quick rap of your knuckles, and you’d see him again. Before you could sabotage yourself, your knuckles tapped against the door.

“Comin’!”

The sound of Joel’s voice in the distance electrified your nerves. He was right there. Any moment, he’d open the door and—.

The door cracked open, and you stared up into the familiar brown eyes that plagued every memory overlapping inside your mind. Joel stood motionless, his eyebrows slightly raised and lips parted. He looked at you as if you were a ghost. You gave him the most pathetic smile, unsure of what to do with your hands or body.

“Can I come in?” You blurted out.

“Of course,” he said softly, opening the door wider.

A simple step over the threshold, and you were home.

You took a moment to let it all settle in: nothing had changed. The varnish was worn in certain places on the floor, the same as it had been when you lived here. Joel walked the same path daily: through the front door and to the right, directly into the kitchen. Sarah’s soccer bag hung on the staircase railing, a pair of her shoes strewn across the second step.

“Is Sarah home?” You asked, your eyes still wandering around the downstairs of the house.

“No, she’s stayin’ with a friend this weekend,” he replied.

Joel shifted his weight, tearing your focus away from the house and back onto him. There was a look of confusion furrowing his brows together, and you realized you hadn’t entirely explained yourself to him yet.

“Listen, I know I’m here unannounced,” you started. “I, uh, I haven’t touched the book since you gave it back. Well, I didn’t until today. I found it again, and this slipped out.”

Digging through your purse, you pinched the Polaroid between your fingers and pulled it free. Joel hesitantly reached for it, his fingers avoiding touching yours as he held it between his hands. A small smile formed on his lips as he ran his thumb over the photo's edges.

“This was from a campin’ trip we went on with Sarah,” he sighed. “Sarah had just taken a tumble in some mud, and I remember I couldn’t stop laughin’, and you were quick with a camera and snapped this photo.”

“I know.”

“I got a photo of you, too. I still got it hangin’ up somewhere—.”

Joel’s voice trailed off, his eyes drifting up to yours. He had been so wrapped up in reminiscing that he didn’t listen to what you said.

“Do you still have the one of Sarah, too?”

Joel’s eyes grew wide, swaying in place.

“You remember?” He faltered.

“I remember everything, Joel.”

Not Mr. Miller. Joel.

Joel opened and closed his mouth at least three times before finally just shaking his head. He took a step back, letting the picture fall to the ground. You glanced down at the Polaroid lying between your feet, the photo of Joel doubling in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, your balance teetering as you stumbled a bit to the side. Joel quickly caught your weight, his hands firm around your arm.

“Woah,” he exhaled. “Y’okay?”

“I might have a concussion,” you laughed absently. “Took a bit of a fall earlier and hit my head.”

Joel cursed under his breath and slipped an arm around your waist, guiding you toward the dining room. Sunlight bled through the window shades on the wall, and you squinted your eyes to avoid intensifying your headache. The kitchen was just as you had remembered: cluttered and homey. Piles of dishes were laid in a drying rack by the sink, the dark countertops void of dirt aside from a few crumbs from toast or a residual ring of condensation from a beer bottle.

Joel helped you into one of the dining room chairs, moving swiftly to get you a glass of water. You weren’t sure if he meant to do it, but he had sat you in your chair at the table, the one you had always chosen during any family meal with him and Sarah. You smoothed your hands over the table, digging your nails into the groves of the woodwork.

“Here,” Joel said, extending a glass to you.

You muttered a soft thank you, taking a drink as he took a seat beside you—his seat. The silence between you both was louder than the ringing in your ears, and you couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Say something,” you pleaded.

Joel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he peered up at you through glassy eyes. You knew that look: the exhaustion, the sadness. You had worn it well the last several months, and clearly, so did Joel. The person you were six months ago would have loved seeing Joel look so disheveled, but not now. Not when the past was hanging in the balance, finally uncovered and real.

“Does Bennett know you’re here?” Joel asked, his eyes rising to yours.

“What?” You gaped. Out of all the things Joel could have said, he chose that?

“Tommy saw y’all together,” he huffed.

You wracked your brain, remembering when Tommy could have seen you and Bennett together. The only time you had seen Bennett was after the…. Oh.

“He asked to meet me after everything happened,” you explained. “He wanted to share his side of things. You left out a lot, Joel. There was so much you didn’t tell me, and I had to rely on Bennett to piece the rest back together.”

“Are you datin’ him again? ‘Cause if you are, just tell me, and I’ll—I’ll find a way to move on and let you be happy. I ain’t gonna get in the way of your happiness, even if that means it’s with him.”

There was no way to ignore the bitterness in his words, yet you stifled a laugh.

“After everything that’s happened, you actually think I'd go back to him?” You questioned.

“Christ, I don’t know,” Joel sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“Bennett’s married,” you stated. “You must not have seen his wedding band when you were beating the shit out of him.”

Joel was harrowingly silent, his eyes trained on the work boots covering his feet. All you ached for was some sort of reaction—some kind of response—and he gave nothing. Your expectations had been set so high for this moment, yet nothing was going as you hoped.

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest,” you said.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you fight for me?” You whispered. “When everyone was making decisions for me, why didn’t you step in and fight back?”

“I tried,” he lamented. “Your family decided on everythin’, and I couldn’t step in.”

“Yes, you could have,” you pressed.

You brushed your hand over the stumble on his jaw, lifting his face to meet yours. You saw it deep within the dark brown of his eyes: regret.

“That’s not a good enough answer, Joel. No one fought for me,” you pressed. “I was alone in everything, and you should have been the one person standing up to them against everything they were choosing to do. You let Bennett come back into my life when you knew he had been horrible to me in the past. Why were you so willing to just let me go?”

Joel grabbed your free hand and brought it to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the center of your palm. It wasn’t till the first tear hit your fingers that you realized he was crying. Joel looked defeated, his face framed between one hand and your other pressed against his lips. Truly and utterly defeated.

“I never wanted to let you go. Sayin’ that last goodbye to you while you were in the hospital was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do, and I ain’t got no excuses for the choices I made. If I could go back and change everythin’, I would. I swear I would in a heartbeat. Losin’ you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know I coulda done more. You deserved more. You deserved better, and I shoulda been the one there for you. Not Bennett. I know I ruined everything. Fuck, I—I really fucked it all up.”

“I hate you for what you did,” you said, lifting your hand to brush away his tears. “I hate you so much for hurting me.”

Joel only nodded, more tears streaming down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, tracing the line of his beard as it dipped down to his jaw. Joel released a shaky breath, leaning into your touch.

“There ain’t enough words to describe how sorry I am,” he mumbled into your hand. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for hurtin’you, and I’ve been livin’ with that guilt for years. I just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”

“I was happy, Joel. With you. I loved you so much. So many memories are still unraveling in my head, but in each of them, I know I loved you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he cried softly.

“I hate you, Joel. I hate you, but I can’t ignore the fact that I still love you. I love the life we built together and the memories we made with Sarah. I miss this house, and I miss this kitchen where we’d make breakfast together. I miss waking up beside you every day. I miss staying up late with you and annoying you about the books I was reading.” You took a deep breath, trying to slow yourself down. “I miss you, Joel. I don’t know how long it will take me to forgive you, but I—I really miss you.”

A choked sob escaped from Joel’s mouth, and he leaned his head back, your hands falling into your lap. You didn’t know what to do with yourself other than try not to throw up—because your body was still trying to desperately fight off the nausea rolling inside your stomach. Confessing feelings while also battling a minor concussion had not been your brightest idea, but you had braved through worse before.

So many moments of silence passed before Joel finally glanced back at you, his lips twitching as he held back another round of tears.

“Y’have no fuckin’ idea how much I miss you,” he confessed. “I’ve waited so long for the moment you’d remember everythin’. I tried to imagine what I’d do when y’got those memories back, and… fuck. I’m so sorry for everythin’ I did.”

You took his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers around his. It was your turn to start crying, and you felt the tears fall against your fingers.

“What did you do?” You asked. “When you imagined me getting my memories back, what did you do?”

“I imagined kissin’ you and tellin’ you how much I loved you,” he said.

“What’s taking you so long?”

In one fluid motion, Joel sent his chair flying backward as he dropped to his knees before you. Reaching up, he cupped your face between his large hands, his mouth hovering over yours. You weren’t sure what he was waiting for, but you gave him a simple nod, and that was enough.

You were the first to cave into the chaos, deepening the kiss until Joel’s movements determined your breathing. When his head moved, so did yours. When his tongue overlapped yours, you repeated the motion. Over and over until you lost the ability to identify where you started and he ended.

“Joel,” you panted, his lips still crushed against yours.

“Hmm?”

He was too enamored with you to respond coherently. You raked your nails over his scalp, refamiliarizing yourself with the softness of his curls. Joel groaned into your open mouth, his tongue dancing with yours once more.

“Joel,” you muttered again.

“Yeah, baby?” He exhaled, finally breaking away from your swollen lips.

You pressed your forehead against his, your eyelashes fluttering up at him. Joel looked down at you with blown pupils, the brown color in his eyes nearly black as he waited for your response.

“I think you forgot to say something,” you whispered, laughing softly.

“I still don’t forgive you for everything,” you reminded him. “It’ll take me some time to heal from all of this fully.”

Joel brushed his nose against yours, his lips tugging upward.

“I got all the time in the world, baby. Gonna spend every damn day provin’ myself to you. I’m already on my knees for you. Anythin’ you ask of me, I’ll give it to you.”

Breathless. You were breathless. This was the man you should have spent your life with, the man you should have married. Joel saw his faults, admitted them, and submitted himself to you out of love and dedication. Anger was still to be had, but it could wait.

“Anything?” You echoed.

He trailed his fingers up your bare legs, his hands teasing their way higher. You mindlessly decided on a dress earlier and thanked yourself for it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pushed the hem of the dress further up, his head bending down to kiss a path over your knee and up your thigh.

“God, I missed you so damn much, baby,” Joel groaned, his tongue gliding over your pebbled skin.

“Show me how much you missed me.”

Joel lay his head in your lap, his puppy dog eyes staring up at you with a glimmer of desire. You knew that look; you had seen it so many times before in his eyes. Too many memories had taken their place in your mind to ever let you forget the way Joel looked at you when he wanted you.

“Can I?” He asked, brushing his hand between your thighs.

Your body responded easily to his touch, a familiarity you once knew. The friction of your underwear against your clit was growing uncomfortable as it throbbed at the vibration of his voice. Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to Joel in more ways than one. You craved to be touched, to be pulled apart and put back together in the ways only he knew.

“Please,” you whined.

He wasted no time giving in to your plea. Joel licked a thick stripe up your slick entrance, rewarding himself with a soft moan leaving your lips. You unknowingly lied months ago when you said no one had tasted you like this… Joel had. He thrived on giving you pleasure like this, doing this countless times before. He knew your body better than anyone else, and your body cried out for him in ways you could not control.

He devoured you like he sought to destroy the years of distance that had passed between you. Every flick of his tongue against the apex of your sex, every gravelly moan from his throat—it all revolved around that undeniable truth that you both were meant to be together. That’s how it should have always been.

“More,” you begged.

Words failed you, yet Joel knew what you needed. His tongue plunged inside of you, curling ever so slightly. The pleasure inside you burned slowly, igniting a warmth through your veins. You throbbed against his mouth, his breath hot on your skin as he latched onto your clit. You arched against him, your hand snaking down to latch onto the hair on his scalp. Joel let out a prideful moan, working his tongue faster against your aching bud.

“There… right there…” You whimpered.

Joel gave the softest nod as if to say I know, driving you closer to the edge. A hitch of your breath, another flick of his tongue, repeated motions back and forth until your orgasm was crashing against the surface. You cried out, tears springing from your eyes as you succumbed to the climax wracking through your limbs. Joel pulled away, his mouth and mustache glistening from your release.

Lowering your legs off his shoulders, Joel wordlessly hooked an arm around your waist and hauled you onto the dining table, the wood creaking under the weight. You pawed at his shirt, and Joel obliged your silent request as he yanked it over his head. You lifted yourself on your forearms, drinking in the sight of his bare chest. You glanced up at Joel to catch him smirking, amused by your silence.

“Y’can’t be lookin’ at me like that, baby,” Joel groaned, stepping between your open legs. “Not when I got you spread out and ready for me.”

“I can look at you however I want,” you smiled.

Joel leaned down to meet your lips, dragging you in for a long kiss.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” he chuckled.

His lips worked their way down your neck, sucking marks into your skin, while his hands worked quickly at the belt around his waist. Hooking one leg around his waist, you drew him closer, your breath hitching as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Joel drove himself deep inside you in one thrust, the tip of his cock spearing into you. You gasped as his cock filled you with its entirety, your body stretched passed comfortability. You forgot how much you loved feeling him everywhere. With his cock fully seated inside you, Joel leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I need to hear y’say it, baby,” he begged. “Please tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you exhaled. “I love you.”

That’s all he needed to hear—a simple admission, a coupling of words that rewrote the story lost between the both of you. You spent months trying to deny your love for him, but there was no way to deny this connection. There was always an invisible string connecting you both, and though the string had frayed and unraveled, this moment snapped it back into place.

“I love you,” Joel said. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you go.”

He pulled out slowly, only to snap his hips forward and render you speechless. You reached up to hold him against you, your nails digging crescent-shaped marks into his shoulder blades. Thrust after thrust, Joel drilled into you forcefully—brutally. You cried out every time his body slapped against yours, and your vision started to blur around the edges. Your core clenched around him, your thighs slick from your arousal that dripped between your bodies.

“Takin’ my cock so well, baby,” Joel praised. “Doin’ so good for me.”

“Yes… yes…” You chanted the word between every thrust that he assaulted you with, every caress of his fingers around your waist, another revelation of how perfect you were together.

“My perfect—fuck—perfect girl,” he gritted out.

Joel locked an arm around your back and lifted you from the table, spinning you both until your back hit the wall across from the table. The impact was enough to knock the air from your lungs and dizzy your mind, but he gave you no opportunity to recover before he was driving upwards into you, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your muscles. With one arm braced around your body and a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, Joel ground into you deeper…slower… your body begging for release. He could sense it, too, the way your thighs tightened around his waist and your cheeks dampened with tears.

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby,” Joel crooned. “I know you’re close. Gonna cum for me? Gonna give me what I want?”

“Please,” you cried, nodding vigorously.

Joel crushed his lips against yours, and you sobbed into his open mouth. Your body sized around him as your orgasm tore through you, stronger than the first. His thrusts stalled as your core pulsed through the aftershocks, the room spinning quicker every time another wave of release rocked through your stomach.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl. Give me everythin’. I got you. Keep goin’.”

It was disastrous how obedient your body was to his commands. You entangled yourself in him, your tongue rolling over his tongue to silence his muffled words. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and soon enough, he punched out your name through clenched teeth, spilling himself into you.

You rested your head back against the wall, his body sagging into yours as you both fought for air. The slow drip of his cum down your inner thigh and the sweat clinging to your brow was the only sensation you could feel as time passed in comfortable silence.

“I love you, baby,” Joel groaned, his head falling onto your shoulder.

You carded a hand through his hair, leaning your cheek against his sweat-dampened curls. Right there, in Joel’s arms, everything made sense. The anger inside you could dissolve away—at least for a little while—and you could remind yourself that this was what love felt like. To be held. To be seen. To be cherished.

Faint sounds of sniffling traveled past the rush of blood pumping in your ears, and you tugged at his curls to pull his head off your shoulder. Joel looked up at you through blurry eyes, his thick lashes coated in fresh tears.

“It’s okay,” you hushed.

“It’s not, though,” he argued. “I shoulda came back sooner. I shouldn’t have waited. There’s so much time we can’t get back, baby. S’all my fault.”

“We’ve got time,” you said softly. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you, Joel.”

“Promise?” He asked.

“I promise.”

The evening grew late, and both you and Joel had settled into bed. It surprised you when you cried at seeing his room again, realizing nothing about it had changed. The fan was still humming softly in the corner as it always had, the soft breeze floating over the bedsheets as you climbed under the covers. Miscellaneous items were scattered on his dresser, and worn clothes littered the floor beside his hamper. Joel mumbled a slew of apologies at the sight of the mess, but it only made you cry harder. You didn’t care if it was messy. You only cared that you were finally home. Even without the memories resurfacing, your house never felt this way. It had never been a home because Joel wasn’t there to make it a home.

“How’re y’feelin’, baby?” Joel asked, his hand drawing circles into your back as you leaned against his naked body.

“Like I could spend the rest of the night throwing up,” you said, half-jokingly.

Your headache was splintering into a full-blown migraine, and your body had yet to recover from the fall earlier in the day. You had no regrets about being fucked against the wall, but it definitely proved to have done some damage to your fragile state.

“If I had known y’needed a good hit to the head to get all these memories back, I woulda tripped you myself,” Joel teased.

You attempted to laugh, only to have the nausea rising in your throat silence your efforts.

“Don’t make me laugh right now,” you groaned, curling yourself tighter around his body.

“S’only kiddin’, baby. I’m just way too damn happy to have you in my arms again. I spent the last few months tryna figure out how I’d go on livin’ without you.”

“It wasn’t easy for me either,” you sighed. “I hardly recognize myself most days.”

“I won’t lie, seein’ you at parent-teacher conferences nearly broke me,” Joel admitted.

“It broke me, too.”

Silence slipped over you, and the fan turned into the only noise inside the bedroom. Joel’s chest rose and fell softly under your head, his heart pounding echoing through your ear as you pressed yourself further into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. “I wish I had a better word to describe how sorry I am. It wasn’t right of me to lie to you, and I shouldn’t have ever let your family make that decision.”

“I haven’t talked to them in months,” you muttered. “I don’t know how to forgive them for what they did.”

“Y’don’t need to forgive them until you’re ready. I just hope y’know they love you, baby.”

“I do know they love me, and that’s why it’s so hard. How can they love me yet still hurt me so much?”

Joel pressed a soft kiss against the crown of your head, his fingers squeezing around your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to feel anything but anger towards them. Especially toward Beth. The things she’s said to me in the past…How do I forgive her?”

“I ain’t gonna take sides,” he cautioned. “But I think the accident affected her the hardest. She was so angry at your family's plan, and I think she took out a lot of that anger on you when y’didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair that she gets to be angry when she wasn’t the one that lost everything.”

“You were her everythin’, baby,” Joel whispered. “She lost you.”

“You’re taking her side,” you grumbled.

“I’m just tryna show you the other side of things,” Joel offered.

“I know you are.”

Joel sunk further into the pillows, dragging you down beside him. You nestled into his arms, your limbs twisting around him like they had a hundred times before. It’s odd what your body remembers, but your brain forgets; it is a simple gesture of an embrace that can never be entirely forgotten. You understood why things always felt so right when you met him again last year; your soul knew he was the missing piece that had been lost.

Joel spoke your name softly, the syllables more beautiful than ever when they rolled through his accent. You hummed in response, gazing up at him through tired eyes.

“I woulda waited an eternity for you, baby,” he confessed. “I woulda gone to my grave waitin’ to have you back in my arms like this again.”

You blinked away the tears welling in your eyes, failing miserably to hide the quiver of your lips. Joel didn’t wait for your response, nor could you verbalize anything to match the poetry of his words. You only nodded and said, " I love you, " before your eyes drifted shut. Home. You were home.

Joel was softly snoring when you woke up. In the quiet light of the morning, you took the time to admire every softened feature of his face. The worried creases between his brows had smoothed overnight, yet you still found yourself brushing a finger over the spot they usually were. Brushing your hand down his face, you traced the outline of his lips, slightly parted and pouty, the soft kiss more kissable now than ever. Kissing him could wait; you wanted to savor this moment.

You drew a path down his neck and chest, the spattering of hair across his torso tickling your fingertips. Joel stirred above you, his head rolling to the other side of the pillow. His eyes never opened, though, and you took the opportunity to crawl under the sheets.

Joel’s cock lay heavy against his lower abdomen, precum leaking onto the soft skin of his stomach. You ran your hands over his hips, settling yourself lower until you were comfortable between his legs. His cock twitched as you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him slowly and deliberately. Leaning your head down, you kissed up the shaft of his cock, dragging your tongue up the length and around the head. Joel’s body tensed up, yet he still didn’t wake. You took him into your mouth, the salty taste and musky scent overwhelming your senses. You hadn’t pleasured him like this in so long, and you had forgotten how much you loved it.

Taking him deeper, you flattened your tongue, teasing the base of his cock with the tip of your tongue. You faintly heard a moan slip from Joel’s mouth, his cock twitching against your tongue.

“Baby?” He groaned.

You hummed softly, pulling him from your mouth. With your saliva coating the entirety of his cock, you pumped him quicker, feeling his body seize up under your touch.

“Fuck,” he grunted, bucking his hips upward.

You rewarded him with another swirl of your tongue over the head of his cock, your mouth and hand working in tandem. He was close; you could feel it.

“Just like that, baby. Forgot—fuck—forgot how good your mouth feels.”

You took him deeper, the tip of his cock tapping against the back of your throat. You sputtered around him, drool rolling down the corners of your mouth, yet you didn’t stop. Hollowing your cheeks, you heard Joel choke out a gasp. The warmth of his release flooded your mouth, coating the back of your throat and tongue. You drank down every drop, pulling off of him with a soft pop.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, slumping into the pillows. “Get your ass up here, baby.”

You crawled over his body, your legs straddling his waist. Joel grinned up at you, his tired eyes still barely open as he drank in your naked body.

“C’mere,” he yawned, reaching up to grab the back of your neck.

His soft lips met yours, and you molded your body to him, letting him guide your mouth however he pleased. There was still a pang of anger tucked into the darkest corner of your heart, but you knew with time, it might fade away, and all you wanted was to bask in Joel’s love as long as possible. Things would take time, but you were willing to work on it.

“I missed wakin’ up to you,” Joel muttered, his lips working down your jaw.

You could feel him growing hard against your core as you ground your hips down on him. It was impossible to hide the fact you were slick with arousal between your thighs, your body terribly responsive to every touch he placed on your body.

“You’re drenchin’ me, baby,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy now.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Damn fuckin’ right you are.”

You lifted your hips, notching his cock at your entrance. Inch by inch, you sunk onto him, both of you exhaling a shaky moan as he stretched you open. Leaning forward, you laced your fingers through Joel’s, holding him firm in your grasp. All you ached for was the tenderness he could provide, the slow synchronicity that flowed through his body and into yours.

A gentle rub of his thumb over the back of your hand, the slow rise and fall of your hips against his cock… it was the lazy movements that spoke louder than words. It was the recognition that you were his just as he was yours. Soft moans fell off your lips as Joel guided you against his cock, little reassuring grunts leaving his mouth with each roll of your body.

“S’fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” Joel exhaled.

The sun seeping through the blinds lit the amber flecks around his pupils, the morning light painting his naked body golden. The veins beneath his thick neck strained as he lifted his head to watch you, his lips parted in awe as you sucked him further inside your slicken sex.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he demanded. “Let me feel you fall apart around me.”

Your fingers slipped away from his hand, brushing down his flexed stomach as you made a path to your throbbing clit. The feather-like touch immediately sparked pleasure through your core. You clenched around his cock, whimpering with each circle of your fingertips.

“I feel it, baby. I know you’re close.”

“Mhmm,” you whined.

Joel raised his body to press into your chest, one hand cradling your heavy breast, the other kneading the flesh of your ass. With his weight against your body, your hand pressed harder against your clit, the arousal pooling between where your bodies connect.

Your head fell onto his shoulder, teeth sinking into his sweat-covered skin. Joel groaned at the sensation, only grounding you down harder onto his cock. You needed every atom of your being injected with Joel; every one of your senses evaded with his taste, touch, and scent.

“Joel,” you mumbled, nestling your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m so close… so close.”

“I got you, baby. Gonna fall apart right here with you.”

He barely finished speaking by the time your orgasm ignited in your stomach, your body shuddering within his embrace. Joel spoke your name in broken syllables, his release pouring into you only moments later.

Neither of you broke apart once your spasms subsided. Joel tangled a hand into the hair resting at the nape of your neck, urging your lips to his. Slotting your mouth over his, you slipped your tongue over his bottom lip, a starved search for a deeper connection. Joel fulfilled your need, devouring the soft sounds you exhaled.

Slowly—reluctantly—you tore from his lips, gasping for air to fill your lungs. Joel’s swollen lips formed into a crooked smile, his brown eyes softening the longer he gazed at you. Somewhere inside your chest, you felt that pain reawaken, a haunting reminder that you could have had this all along. Had the lies never been told… Joel would have always been yours.

How did he survive the years of pain? How did he allow himself to let you go, knowing you’d never be satisfied with another?

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you turned your head to hide the emotions cresting over your face. Nothing went unnoticed with Joel, and he gently pinched your chin to bring your eyes back to his. With furrowed brows, Joel studied your features, the realization striking home for him, too.

“I know you’re scared, baby,” he whispered. “And I know there’s a lot I gotta fix between us, but I swear to you that I ain’t ever gonna leave again. I made that mistake once, and I’ll never do it again.”

“I want to trust you, Joel. I’m trying. But I don’t know how to forget what you’ve done… what everyone has done. There’s so much pain inside me. It’s unbearable.”

Joel cradled your face in his hands, leveling you with a gaze you couldn’t discern. So many emotions swirled within his eyes, an endless expanse of grief that weighed him down.

“Forever,” you echoed.

“Yes, forever. I don’t want another moment of my life without you in it. I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t lose you, either,” you cried. “I never wanted to lose you in the first place, so please don’t leave.”

Joel’s eyes clouded with tears, and he shook his head.

“I love you too much ever to leave you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m keepin’ you so long as y’let me.”

Eventually, you both made it out of the bed. Joel grumbled at your wishes to leave, keeping you in his arms and peppering your skin with kisses. It wasn’t long before your dizziness set back in, and you were demanding water and painkillers.

As Joel poured you a glass of water, you found yourself swaying against the cold tile floors of the kitchen, the corners of your vision blurring. Your nails scratched at the kitchen countertop as you tried to suppress the lightheaded feeling creeping in. You just needed to sit…that’s all you needed.

You called out Joel’s name the moment your knees buckled beneath you. His body moved in a foggy haze as you tried to keep consciousness, yet you were being pulled beneath the surface of your headache. Strong hands tucked themselves under your armpits, and Joel lowered you to the ground.

“Baby?” His voice was frantic—strained.

You mumbled a few incoherent words as your body sagged into his arms. Christ, your head ached. You hadn’t experienced a fainting spell since the accident, and you forgot how terrifying it was.

Joel choked out your name, his hand snaking around your jaw to wag your head back and forth. You could see his silhouette over you, the shadow molding into the spots within your field of vision, but nothing else registered. Slipping. Drowning. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. Fear set your nerves alight; what if you lost it all again? What if everything melted away into the darkness consuming you? You clawed tooth and nail as your body plunged deeper into unconsciousness.

It was no use.

Joel paced the hallway outside your hospital room like a madman. The moment you went limp in his arms, he knew something was wrong. He should have taken your injury more seriously and urged you to the hospital yesterday. But he had you in his arms again, and the world would have had to fall apart before he even considered letting you go. Every admission from your lips weighed down on Joel’s shoulders, another swell of guilt growing inside him. He anticipated your anger, your grief, your heartbreak; he willingly listened without argument. His own struggles were nothing compared to what you endured, and he’d be damned if you ever felt those emotions again. Chewing at his nails, Joel glanced back at the open blinds of your hospital room. The doctors assured him you’d be okay; it was only a concussion, and there’d be no complications. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be absolutely sure you’d recover.

The door cracked open, and Joel rushed toward the neurologist leaving your room.

“How is she, doc?” Joel asked. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

The neurologist, Dr. Oliver, nodded with a soft smile. The smile alone settled the rapid heartbeat banging against Joel's ribcage.

“Miss Smith is going to be just fine,” Dr. Oliver reassured. “There’s going to be a long road to recovery, but I don’t see any long-term effects. I suggest you bring her in for check-ins with me every few months just to monitor her progress.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Joel nodded.

“What I need you to do, Mr. Miller, is to help her. She may be a bit forgetful occasionally, so leaving lists around the house or notes will help keep her on track. You do live together, I assume?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick he had yet to learn how to shake.

“We don’t, but if y’recommend it…”

“I recommend it, but only because she’ll need someone looking over for her. At least, until she regains enough cognitive strength to keep her memory at full capacity,” Dr. Oliver explained.

“I can do that, Doc. All I want is for her to be okay.”

Dr. Oliver clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder, his lips curving into a grin. Joel could finally breathe; you’d be okay.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Miller. She’s lucky to have you here to care for her.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Give her some time to rest, and she’ll be clear to go home tomorrow.”

Dr. Oliver said his goodbyes to Joel and bounded down the hallway to other patients. Joel glanced at the open door, your sleeping frame tucked into the bed among the cords and beeping monitors. He entered quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor so he wouldn’t wake you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Joel took your hand in his, cautious to avoid the IV tube taped onto your skin. Smoothing lines over the inside of your wrist, Joel watched you with weary eyes.

“I love you, baby. I’m gonna be right here when y’wake up,” he vowed. “Like it always shoulda been.”

Leaning over your body, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, inhaling your sweet scent as he pulled away.

You’d be okay, and you’d forever be his.

The harsh light above you reflected behind your eyelids. You groaned as you stirred awake, your eyes squinting to adjust to the layers of white surrounding you. Curling your fingers into the scratchy blanket, you found a familiar body sagged into a chair beside the bed. Joel slept peacefully, yet the worry lines creased between his brows. Extending your hand over the edge of the bed, you brushed your palm over his knee.

“Joel,” you whispered.

His body jolted upright as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Big, brown puppy dog eyes met yours, the concern in his face dissolving away once his eyes settled on yours. He made no effort to contain the smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, handsome,” you croaked.

“Baby,” Joel sighed, crouching beside the bed. “How’re y’feelin’?”

“A little fatigued, but I think I’ll live.”

“You better,” he chuckled.

With your arms outstretched, you ushered Joel into an embrace. Joel’s lips crashed against yours the second he wrapped his arms around you, his touch soft and cautious. Beautiful melancholy emotions wracked your body; this was the moment you ached for from the start. To be held in your vulnerability, to be cherished, to be loved. Joel didn’t leave. He’d always be here, now.

“There’s someone here to see you, baby,” Joel muttered against your mouth.

You pulled away, confusion scrunching your eyebrows together. God, don’t let it be your family.

“I know that look. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be right back. I promise you’ll be happy,” Joel reassured.

Joel disappeared from the room, and you sat up, settling back into the pillows. You glanced at the monitor beeping beside your bed, the steady line of your heart rate cruising along the screen. Footsteps sounded outside your room, and your eyes flicked back toward the door, a small silhouette hiding behind Joel’s large frame.

Sarah.

Her bright eyes looked between you and Joel, her stare quizzical–skeptic. You gave her a small wave, ushering her into the room.

“Hi, Sarah,” you faltered. The tears were already forming on your waterline.

“Hi, Miss Smith,” she said wearily.

You patted the bed, scooting over to make room for her. Her steps were slow as she neared the bedside, her eyes glancing back at Joel. He gave her an encouraging nod, a knowing grin on his lips.

“You don’t have to call me that,” you laughed softly.

Sarah settled onto the bed, her tennis shoes swinging over the floor as she fidgeted with her curls. Joel leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile glued to his face.

“But you’re my teacher,” she muttered.

You tucked a loose strand behind her ear, the same hair you had braided and brushed years ago. She wasn’t yours, not by birth. But she was yours just as much as Joel was; she was your home. They weren’t just photos captured in time; they were real. They were real, and they were yours.

“Do you remember when I used to read you bedtime stories?” You wondered aloud. “You would always ask for the same one over and over.”

There it was. The light sparkled in the gold flecks of Sarah’s eyes, the same gold that sat deep within Joel’s.

“You and Dad would read The Kissing Hand every night,” she nodded.

“I know you’re a lot older now, but do you remember what we would do before you fell asleep?”

You reached for Sarah’s hand, lifting it to your lips. With a soft kiss on her palm, you guided her hand to her cheek. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned into your touch, the simple caress of your hand against her face enough to bring you both to the brink of crying.

“I missed you, kiddo,” you cried softly.

You lifted your eyes, catching the moment Joel swiped away a tear from his cheek. Beckoning him over with a quick motion of your hand, he crossed the room in two quick strides and wrapped his large arms around you and Sarah. You rested your chin on Sarah’s shoulder, hugging her closer. Joel kissed the crown of Sarah’s head, then placed one on your forehead.

“Wait,” Sarah blurted out, forcing you all to break apart.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Joel asked, craning his head to look at her.

“Does that mean you’re coming back home?” She asked.

You looked at Joel for guidance, trying to find the answers within his gentle gaze. He waited in silence, giving you room to decide. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt about your answer, not when you had everything you needed right here.

“Only if you promise never to make pancakes again,” you smiled, pinching her cheek.

She buried herself into your arms again, her head resting against your heart. You looked up at Joel, your mouth forming three little words.

I love you.

~ Two weeks later ~

Joel refused any help as he unloaded the last of your boxes from the back of his truck. When you got home from the hospital, you patched up the holes in the wall—with Joel’s help, of course—and got the house ready to sell. It barely lasted a week on the market before the offers came in, making it easy to start packing. That house was filled with memories you didn’t want to remember, memories that you no longer wanted to revisit. It wasn’t home to you anymore.

You and Sarah sat on the front porch, popsicles in hand, watching as he huffed an exasperated breath once the box hit the steps. Joel straightened out, running sweaty hands down the sides of his jeans, glancing back at the empty truck bed.

“Well, I think that’s the last of it,” Joel sighed. “Y’sure we ain’t miss anythin’?”

“I think I’ve got all I need right here,” you grinned, nudging Sarah with your shoulder.

Joel plopped beside you on the porch, leaning over to lick up the sticky residue of the popsicle that had fallen down your arm. You gave him a warning look, shifting your eyes toward Sarah as if to say: Behave. He only shrugged, sticking out his tongue again to tickle your skin.

“You hungry?” He asked, quirking a brow.

“Starving!” Sarah declared, rising to her feet.

You laughed, knowing Joel wasn’t asking her. Nonetheless, you and Joel followed her into the house hand in hand. Over the last couple of weeks, he had decorated the house in countless sticky notes: ones in the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen. Each said something important. The one in the bathroom was stuck on the medicine cabinet, reminding you which toothbrush was yours—the purple one. Joel stuck one by the front door with Sarah’s soccer schedule—snack duty included. There were a few scattered around the kitchen: one telling you where to find the coffee mugs, another one with a list of groceries to buy over the weekend. Three photos hung beside the list, sitting in perfect harmony as they always should have been. But your favorite was stuck to the cover of Romeo and Juliet, Joel’s messy handwriting scribbled across the yellow paper. It was only a few words but the only reminder you needed.

Welcome home, baby.

I love you.

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