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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Ooooh I'M so excited to see what you thought of the ATW finale!

Lol aww you remembered!! ❤️‍🔥 I've legit had this scene for this story in my head since that convo! But you're too kind to me, friend, thank you so very much. 🥹🥹 This is a lot shorter than how long my usual series run, so I feared it was a bit rushed, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed the ride. 💕

And yes, I did steal your other Ross gif! 🤣

There's legit a Friends gif for everything.~

Such a strong and hot start, wow! 🫠🔥 Full honesty, as a writer, starting chapters with smut always freaks me tf out. Like, where do you put the damn "keep reading" line without flashing some innocent people at work 😂

We're starting off with a bang! 😝 (Sorry, even I hate my self for that pun.)

Oh God, yeah. How do I include a hook to get people to read this chapter while keeping the steamy stuff under the cut? 🤣🤣

Ooof, I know the exact feeling you're describing here. Kinda like when you're taking a hot bath but the room is cold and so everything not covered by water is freezing... 😅

Yes exactly! The kind of cold that just exists in the air like a frigid blanket. 🥶

Oh, here we go! Executed to perfection 😏

Ahaha thank you, my lovely. 😏❤️‍🔥

First of all, I was just reading this whole, intensely scorching scene with a thundering heart and squeezing my damn thighs hard 😂 Secondly, I loooove this trope! It's sorta romantic?! Idk 😅🤷‍♀️ Kinda gives "waiting for the right one and not in the mood for anyone else" vibes. I did that kinda with Russell recently lol But I love the extra intensity and specialness it gives, y'know? ❤️‍🔥

omg I love that trope too (clearly lol)! Yes that's exactly it on it being actually romantic -- and if you mean on Part 3 of Exit Strategy than I'm even more excited to read that chapter when I get a chance -- hopefully later this week! 😍 I'm loving how you're writing Russell. 💗

But yes I agree it adds an extra spark here imo, knowing Dean has been unintentially "saving himself" for her lmaoo.

Loved the callback of him hearing her again, although his instincts had taken over. It shows how much he cares about her and respects her 💕 And I truly wonder what Sam will say when Dean comes back with a mate lol

Aww that's exactly what I intended as well! He's not so far gone that he doesn't consider her and what she wants (with him). 💕

You know what, a few people have requested seeing an epilogue of some kind where Sam gets to meet the reader and she gets to meet him and Dean Jr., so I may have to sketch something soon for my next little project. 🥰

Lol I was gonna say, "How long do you guys plan on being here? This might take a while" 😂 But I'm so in love with their little afterglow bonding session ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly could read about their convos forever. They're so cute 🥹

Lolll right? They could be here for a week just going over the past 15 seasons. 😂 But they have to start somewhere, right? John's journal can only cover so much. And I wanted Dean to start expressing himself to her in words and start to open up to her in a way he hasn't done for anyone in years.

Aww I'm so glad that you love them together! 💗 In this story I found that the small moments and day-to-day convos between these two were just as important as the bigger action/dramatic moments.

We've already talked about this when he mentioned Dean jr. the first time, but my headcanon is, too, that Dean would be super happy, incredibly sad and lonely, and definitely a little envious and sour lol 😂😂

Ugh that's exactly it, poor baby. 😭 A perfect description of Dean post S15 here (gotta add envious and sour lmao).

You really nailed him here! I could hear every word out of his mouth, too!! 😂🫶

Omg thank you!! I feel like Dean's the one I can hear most clearly in my head when I write for him. 😂😂

Can totally seeing him doing all of that and arguing with her throughout lol Our hero 🥹💚

Oh absolutely. These two would probably be driving each other crazy while still being crazy in love with one another -- bickering all down the mountain. 🙄😂

(Dean grumbling, trying to stamp down his smile: "Shoulda left you for the damn bear.")

Oooh, I completely forgot she doesn't yet!! Aww, she loved him before she knew he had a cool car. This is like finding out he was a millionaire and kept it a secret to find true love and weed out the gold diggers 🤣

Bahahaa I LOVE that comparison. 🤣 I just imagined him pulling up like--

This had me DEAD 🤣🤣🤣

lmfaoooo I meannnn, is he wrong? 😂😂

A year???? Jesus fuck, this is even sadder now!!! Sam was really like, "Ciao, jerk." lol

Yeeeeah maybe this is something I'll explore if/when I write that epilogue, but Sam really is off having his new life. Granted, in my mind he reaches out to Dean to check in, invite him over, etc., but even though Dean's happy for him, it's hard to be around Sam's life when Dean himself feels so aimless (and kind of empty inside). So he probably did a lot of the "staying away" in the situation. 💙

Oh she's about to find out how much 😂😂💚

Oh she's about to find out a lot of things about her man that she never thought possible. 🤣🤣

("You've died HOW many times?!!")

That was such a perfect ending! They literally drove off into the sunset together *swoon* 😍🫠🫶 (And I could totally see Dean singing along to the lyrics at the end there) I seriously enjoyed this series so much, friend!! 🤍🤍🤍 Totally gave me those vibes 🥹💕:

Aww thank you so, so much, Wayne!! 💕💕 They really did have their Hallmark movie moment lol. (Oh, he SO would be singing along -- loudly! lol)

omggg I'm honestly honored that it gave you Mondler vibes. 🥹 I always loved them more than Ross/Rachel tbh, so that's literally the best compliment ever. 💗

Thank you again so much for reading and always brightening my day right up with your wonderful, insightful, hilarious comments on my writing, friend. 💞

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him.

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder.

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house.

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right.

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says.

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips.

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says.

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between.

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues.

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas.

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling.

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention.

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.”

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips.

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks.

So you tell him.

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes.

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn.

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate.

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason.

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide.

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.”

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat.

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.”

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him.

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss.

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital.

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement.

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live.

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.”

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question.

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school.

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his.

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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#lovely review!! 💞💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #against the wind feedback

288 notes · View notes

milla-frenchy · 9 minutes ago

Text

omg Odi... (sorry for my 352 messages waiting for you on discord but I needed to express my feelings 😂😂😂) damn... this is so beautiful 😍❤️

The angst is amazing, the texts are perfect, each word is so good!!

One of my favorite fic ever. The way you described the emotions, everything is so vivid, your writing hello???? and the whole fic is brilliant 🤌👌

Thank you for this masterpiece ❤️❤️

You: Still into music? Joel’s brows furrowed, the unexpected question caught him off guard. The memory hit Joel like a sucker punch. The songs. That was how you used to talk to each other when words didn’t feel like enough.

And this. Wow. I LOVE when ex's use something from "before" to communicate. I love it, so, so much

His thoughts churned like storm clouds—your words, the memories they dragged back, the ache of something he thought he'd buried years ago.

Aaaaah I love it I love it I love it

Your hips swayed to the rhythm, carefree and unselfconscious, like the world outside didn’t exist. You turned suddenly, catching him staring, and your smile lit up the room. “What?” you teased, eyes sparkling. “You gonna stand there all morning, or are you gonna help me?” “Don’t see a reason to move,” Joel drawled, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Got a real nice view from here.” You rolled your eyes, but your laughter bubbled up, soft and sweet, filling the quiet space between you.

The intimacy, hello??? So good

Joel hadn’t responded with words. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running idly through your hair. Actions had always been easier for him than words, and he’d hoped you understood what he couldn’t say.

Damn, Odi... what the fuck. I have tears in my eyes for real. This is so beautiful. I love men that have a hard time expressing their feelings, men that need to use something else to do it. This is amazing

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift. His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze. “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Damn. Fuck fuck fuck

Joel: 2:26 - The Night We Met by Lord Huron. He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then opened the song and skipped to the time stamp. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”

jfc. And I have no idea how the fic is gonna end. You're torturing me, ma'am 😭😘

You: That’s a bold choice.

hehehe, reader is so you on this one 😁😁😁 I can totally see you answer this 😁😁😁

You: 2:01 - All I Want by Kodaline Joel played the song, the ache in the lyrics settled heavy in his chest. "Cause you brought out the best of me. A part of me I'd never seen. You took my soul, wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?" The words cut sharper than he wanted to admit.

You have NO idead how much I love this. Love their communication through music. It's such a brilliant idea!!!

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and Joel caught the way your expression softened, your playful demeanor faltering for just a moment.

awww 🥹🥹🥹

And then the meeting, the ending. Wow. what a masterpiece 👌🤌

I'm gonna think about them for a long, long time

Reincarnated

Joel Miller x F!Reader // 4.5k

summary: A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

warnings: this is just yearing, longing, sad tortured for years joel, theme's of heartbreak, no beta, two ex's, tommy makes an appearance, no smut here (I know I know this is not my usual)

notes: I don't usually write this kind of stuff (no smut) and I am not sure how I feel about it but this is my submission for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge my prompt was: An old flame unexpectedly texts the other after years of silence, sparking memories of their past relationship and wondering if the feelings are still there. A big thank you to @thundermartini my baby for holding my hand as per usual, helping me with the title, being my draft, my cheerleader supporting me through a hundred moodboard changes, @itwasntimethatdidit40 my sweet sweet freckles for being such a massive support, helping me with the moodboard pictures, being a cheerleader and reading through parts of this. and @sawymredfox for always being such a lovely support and listening to me ramble always I love you all more than you know.

masterlist

The sun dipped low behind the hills, painting the Texas sky in streaks of gold and crimson. Joel sat on the creaky old porch chair, boots propped on the railing, a glass of bourbon rested loosely in his hand. He wasn’t drinking to enjoy it tonight—more out of habit than anything. The bitter burn barely registered anymore.

Beside him, Tommy leaned back in his chair, the faint smirk on his face telling Joel he was gearing up for one of his jabs. Tommy always had a knack for digging up things Joel preferred to leave buried.

“You ever wonder what happened to her?” Tommy asked, his voice easy, like he was just making small talk. But Joel knew better.

Joel’s grip on the glass tightened. He kept his gaze on the horizon, jaw clenching as he swirled the amber liquid. “Who?” he grunted, though his heart already knew the answer.

Tommy chuckled, low and knowing. “C’mon, Joel. Don’t play dumb. You know who I’m talkin’ about. That woman you used to see when Sarah was little. The one who—”

“Drop it, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was sharp, a warning shot, but Tommy, stubborn as ever, wasn’t backing down just yet.

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Tommy said, leaning forward. “But I’m just sayin’, you’ve been walkin’ around like a damn ghost for years now. You ever think maybe you oughta—”

“I said drop it,” Joel snapped, his tone cutting through the lazy evening like a whip crack.

That shut Tommy up, at least for a moment. He leaned back again, taking a swig of his beer and letting out a long sigh. “Fine. But you know I’m right. You can act like you don’t care, but I see it, Joel. Regret’s a hell of a thing to carry around.”

Joel didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he stared out at the horizon, watching as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.

————————

Later that night, Joel lay in bed, the house quiet save for the faint creak of the floorboards settling. Tommy’s words churned in his mind, unwelcome but persistent. Regret.

The truth was, Joel had gotten real good at shoving his regrets into a corner of his mind and ignoring them. He had to. Otherwise, they’d eat him alive. But sometimes, like tonight, they crept back in, catching him off guard when his defenses were down.

Your face came to him in flashes, unbidden but vivid as ever—the curve of your smile, the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had always seemed to see right through him.

He’d thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years. Wondered where you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. Wondered if you ever thought about him.

Joel sat up, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the phone on his nightstand. The idea of reaching out had crossed his mind a hundred times before, but he’d always talked himself out of it. What would he even say? What right did he have to show up in your life again after all this time?

Still, something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was Tommy’s words rattling around in his head. Or maybe it was the quiet, aching loneliness that had settled in his chest like an old friend.

Before he could think better of it, Joel grabbed his phone. He opened a blank message, staring at it for what felt like an eternity. Then, he typed, backspaced and typed again until he finally settled on something.

Hey, it’s been a while.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the send button. His chest felt tight, like the weight of all the years and mistakes was pressing down on him. But before he could change his mind, he hit send.

The message hung there on the screen, simple and unassuming, but it felt monumental. Joel stared at it, heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Minutes passed. Then longer. He sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. “Goddamn fool,” he muttered under his breath.

But just as he was reaching to turn off the light, his phone buzzed.

The buzzing sound jolted him more than he cared to admit. He picked it up, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow.

You: Who is this?

He hadn’t expected you to respond. Or maybe he had, but he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was suddenly aware of how much rested on the next words he typed.

Joel: It’s Joel.

The three dots appeared almost immediately, then disappeared. They came back and stopped again. Joel could almost picture you sitting there, debating whether to even respond.

Then it came.

You: What do you want?

There it was. Direct. Guarded. Exactly what he expected. Joel leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t blame you. Hell, he deserved worse. But now that he’d started this, he couldn’t stop.

Joel: I don’t know. Just thought I’d check in.

The response came quicker this time.

You: After all these years? You just “thought you’d check in”?

Joel winced, hesitating over the screen again. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like enough.

Joel: I’ve been thinking about you.

Another pause. He could practically feel your hesitation through the phone.

You: Don’t. You don’t get to do that.

Joel stared at your message. His jaw tightened as he fought against the surge of guilt rising in his chest. You were right—he didn’t get to do this. But here he was, selfishly dragging the both of you back into a mess he’d created.

He set the phone down, ran a hand over his face, and stared at the ceiling. Memories of you flickered in his mind—how your laugh used to light up a room, the way your touch had always grounded him when the world felt too heavy. He’d walked away, thinking it was the right thing to do. For Sarah. For her mother. For everyone but you.

The phone buzzed again. He sighed, picking it back up.

You: Why now, Joel? What’s the point?

He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head so many times over the years, but none of those imagined scenarios had prepared him for this.

Joel: There is no point. I just couldn’t stop myself tonight. I know I don’t deserve to be texting you.

You: You’re damn right you don’t. You broke my heart. You don’t just get to waltz back in like nothing happened.

Joel: I know I did. And I’m sorry. I should’ve said it back then, but I was too much of a coward.

He stared at the screen, waiting, but no reply came. The silence felt heavier than the darkness surrounding him, and for a moment, he wondered if that was it. If you’d finally had enough and decided to let him rot in the bed he’d made.

You: But why now, why tonight?

Joel: Tommy brought you up. Got me thinking.

The truth hung there, plain and unvarnished. He could’ve lied, could’ve made it sound more noble, but what good would that have done?

You: So what, I’m some ghost you decided to chase because Tommy made you feel bad?

Joel: No. It’s not like that. I’ve thought about you every damn day since I left. I know that probably doesn't mean shit to you, but it’s the truth.

You: Every day, huh? Didn’t stop you from choosing her over me.

Joel shut his eyes, the memory of that choice cutting through him like a knife. He’d thought he was doing the right thing back then but in the process, he’d shattered something else—something that had mattered more than he’d been willing to admit.

Joel: You’re right. I made the wrong choice. I know that now.

You: I don’t know if I can do this.

Joel stared at the words. He wasn’t sure if he could do this either, but he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want to let you go again.

Joel: You don’t have to decide right now. Just let me talk to you. For a little bit. Please.

You: Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for you.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Joel’s lips. He didn’t expect it to be easy. He didn’t think he deserved it. But for the first time in years, there was a sliver of hope in his chest.

Joel: Fair enough.

You: Still into music?

Joel’s brows furrowed, the unexpected question caught him off guard. The memory hit Joel like a sucker punch. The songs. That was how you used to talk to each other when words didn’t feel like enough.

Every morning, like clockwork, one of you would send a song with a time stamp—each track chosen so deliberately. Some days, it was your favorite love songs, sappy and sweet, reminding the other how much you cared. Other times, it was to lift each other up, a little nudge of hope when the world felt too heavy. And then there were the ones that said all the things neither of you could say out loud.

Joel: Always.

You: I’ll send you one tomorrow.

Joel: Looking forward to it.

Joel sighed, setting the phone back on the nightstand. Your last message sat heavy on his chest, lingering. He stared up at the ceiling, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the blinds. His thoughts churned like storm clouds—your words, the memories they dragged back, the ache of something he thought he'd buried years ago.

Eventually, the exhaustion won out, pulling him under. Joel’s dreams carried him back to a time when life felt a little less heavy, and the weight of his choices hadn’t yet settled on his shoulders.

He saw you clearly, like a photograph that had been buried but never faded. You were standing in his kitchen cooking breakfast, barefoot and wearing one of his old flannels that hung loose on you, the sleeves rolled up past your elbows. It was early morning, sunlight streaming through the window and catching in your hair, painting you in a golden glow.

Joel leaned against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching as you hummed along to Fishin' in the Dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band on the radio—one of those old country tunes you both loved. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, carefree and unselfconscious, like the world outside didn’t exist. You turned suddenly, catching him staring, and your smile lit up the room.

“What?” you teased, eyes sparkling. “You gonna stand there all morning, or are you gonna help me?”

“Don’t see a reason to move,” Joel drawled, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Got a real nice view from here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laughter bubbled up, soft and sweet, filling the quiet space between you. He couldn’t help but cross the room then, setting his coffee down on the counter as his hands found your waist.

“Joel Miller,” you said, feigning exasperation as he pulled you close, his fingers brushing along the curve of your hip. “I’m trying to make breakfast, and you’re—”

“Distractin’ you?” he interrupted, leaning in so his nose brushed against you.

“Exactly.”

“Good,” he murmured, before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You let out a soft sigh, melting into him, and for a moment, everything felt perfect—like the rest of the world could wait.

The memory shifted, flickering like an old film reel. You were both lying on the couch now, tangled up in each other as a record spun on the turntable, and he could hear your voice, quiet but clear, singing along to a song you’d claimed was “for him.”

“Every time I hear this one, I think of you,” you’d confessed, your head resting on his chest.

When Joel woke, the room was still dim, dawn just beginning to creep through the cracks in the blinds. He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly as the previous night settled back onto his chest. His phone caught his eye, and he hesitated before reaching for it.

The screen lit up, and there it was—a new message.

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift.

His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, staring at the phone in his hand. The words hit harder than he’d expected—bitterness woven into a truth he couldn’t deny. But beneath the sting, there was something else.

You’d sent him a song. After all this time, after everything that had passed between you, you’d listened, and you’d answered. It wasn’t an olive branch, not exactly, but it was a thread. A connection. A chance.

Joel stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, the song still playing in the background. The words hit like a gut punch, raw and honest in a way only music could manage. He exhaled slowly. He had to respond, and it had to be right.

Scrolling through his playlists, he searched for something that could say what he couldn’t put into words. A chance to prove he wasn’t the man who had walked away. Something that could show you he wasn’t taking this lightly, that he regretted the past.

Then he found it.

Joel: 2:26 - The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, then opened the song and skipped to the time stamp.

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.”

The lyrics bled through the room, a haunting confession of longing and regret. He closed his eyes, letting the melody wrap around him like a cold embrace. It wasn’t just a song—it was a plea.

Minutes passed with no reply, the silence stretched long and thin. Joel’s chest tightened, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome guest. Maybe he’d read too much into your message. Maybe sending the song was too much.

The phone buzzed in his hand, and his breath hitched.

You: That’s a bold choice.

A small, humorless chuckle escaped him. Bold, sure—but it was the truth.

Joel: Figured it was fitting.

You: It is. But that night it’s a hard one to go back to.

Joel swallowed painfully, the weight of your words settling over him like a lead blanket. He didn’t blame you.

Joel: I know. I can’t change the past. But I wish I could.

You: Wishing doesn’t fix anything.

Joel: You’re right. But maybe it’s a start.

You: We’ll see.

The conversation faded into silence after that, but Joel didn’t mind. For the first time in years, he felt like he’d taken a step—small, tentative, but forward.

He wasn’t walking away this time. Not again.

——————————

The next day started quietly for Joel. After his usual morning routine—coffee, and an aimless walk around the property—he finally glanced at his phone, half-expecting silence, but there it was

You: 2:01 - All I Want by Kodaline

Joel sat on the oak chair at his kitchen table, his phone resting in his palm as All I Want faded out. Your song hit him square in the heart—a combination of longing and accusation he couldn’t argue with. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

Joel played the song, the ache in the lyrics settled heavy in his chest. "Cause you brought out the best of me. A part of me I'd never seen. You took my soul, wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie screens. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?" The words cut sharper than he wanted to admit.

Why did you leave me?

The answer felt too big, too tangled in old guilt and choices he couldn’t take back. Joel rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to think of the right response. Music had always been your language, but today, the words felt harder to choose.

After a while, he scrolled through his playlists again, stopping when his thumb hovered over a familiar title. It wasn’t just about the lyrics—it was the feeling, the truth of what he wanted to say but couldn’t. He thought it might somehow tip the scales in his favor and so he typed.

2:41- Let Her Go by Passenger

He opened the song and let the timestamp play, you only know you love her when you let her go and you let her go.

Finally, he hit the button, watching as the message marked "Delivered."

The phone sat in his hand as he leaned back against the kitchen chair, the melody echoing in his mind. This back-and-forth of songs and guarded words—it felt like a lifeline, but also like walking on a tightrope. He wanted more, needed more, but he wasn’t sure if you were ready to give it.

The phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts.

You: You always pick the gut-punchers.

Joel exhaled a small laugh.

Joel: Never been good at subtle.

You: You’ve still got good taste in music, I’ll give you that. Suprised it’s not an oldie.

Joel smiled, a faint warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a step—a reminder that some part of you still wanted to talk to him.

By the sixth day, it felt like you both slipped back into old habits, texting each other all day about everything and nothing. Joel found himself smiling more, laughing even. It wasn’t like the years hadn’t happened—those gaps still lingered, but they didn’t feel so wide anymore.

—————————————

The next few days blurred together in a steady rhythm of texts. It started slow—Joel’s messages were careful and measured. A “good morning” here, a comment about the weather there, and a song in between. But soon, the conversations stretched longer, dipping into familiar topics and inside jokes he hadn’t thought about in years.

It was comfortable and natural. Everything was falling back into place, even though you weren’t sure if you were ready to let it.

Joel: Thought about calling you earlier.

You: Why didn’t you?

Joel: I don’t know. Didn’t wanna push too hard, I guess. But I miss hearing your voice.

You: Well if you’re going to call, might as well make it a video call. Let’s see if you’ve aged as much as you sound like you have ;)

Joel blinked at the screen, his lips twitching into a surprised smile. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the hallway mirror. “Damn you old fool,” he muttered to himself, brushing a finger over the lines on his face.

Joel: You sure? Don’t want to scare you off.

You: I’ll take my chances.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and almost nervous as he tapped the video call button. His heart thudded in his chest as the screen shifted, the ringing filling his ears until, finally, the call connected.

Your face appeared, a little blurry at first before the image settled. Joel stared, his breath catching at the sight of you, just as beautiful as he remembered.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Joel swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone. “Hey,” he replied. He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Guess this is me. Older, grayer, and maybe a little wiser.”

You tilted your head, a smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t look half bad… for an old man.”

Joel chuckled, the sound more relaxed this time. He paused, his eyes scanning your face through the screen. “It’s real good to see you.”

You nodded, your expression softening. “It’s good to see you too.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing as the two of you settled into the call. His smile lingered, even as he tried to play it cool. “Y’know, video calls weren’t much of a thing last time we talked.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand. “Yeah, it’s weird seeing you like this. Makes you feel closer, though.”

He nodded, the warmth in your voice made his chest tighten. “Closer’s good. Been too damn long.”

Your gaze softened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything, just letting the silence stretch. Joel was the first to break. “So, I passed the test, then? Don’t look too ancient on camera?”

You laughed, the sound sending a ripple of nostalgia through him. “You’re doing okay. Grays suit you.”

“Flatterin’ me now, huh?” He leaned forward slightly. “I think you’re tryin’ to distract me.”

“Distract you from what?” you asked, raising a brow, but there was a playful lilt in your voice.

“From how damn beautiful you are,” he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. He blinked, his expression shifting as if he wasn’t sure he should’ve said it.

“You always were a charmer, Miller.”

“Not sure ‘bout that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I just say what I mean when it comes to you.”

The honesty in his voice made your breath hitch, and Joel caught the way your expression softened, your playful demeanor faltering for just a moment.

“You always did have a way of catching me off guard,” you said finally.

“Guess it’s mutual, then.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve always had a knack for makin’ me say things I don’t plan on sayin’.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like tellin’ you how beautiful you are,” he said without missing a beat, his tone steady now, as if he’d decided to own the moment. “How much I’ve missed seein’ that pretty face, hearin’ your laugh.” He paused, his eyes holding yours through the screen. “How much I’ve missed you.”

“Joel…” you began, but he cut you off with a gentle smile.

“Don’t gotta say anything,” he said softly. “Just… wanted you to know.”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through. “You always do this, you know? Say something that makes it impossible to stay mad at you.”

“Not my intention. So, how ‘bout you? You miss me at all, or am I just an old fool?”

"I mean, you are an old fool, but…"

"But?"

"But maybe I missed you a little," you teased, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart for emphasis.

He shook his head as a laugh rumbled out of him. "A little, huh? Should’ve known I’d only get a half-assed compliment outta you."

"Hey," you shot back, grinning now, "that’s more than most people get. Consider yourself special, Miller."

"Special, huh? Careful now—you keep sweet-talkin’ me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you missed me a lot."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Don’t push your luck."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged, full of unspoken things. Joel shifted in his chair, his thumb brushing absently along the edge of the phone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this, how much he’d needed you. And now that he had you on the other end of this call, he wasn’t sure how he’d gone so long without it.

“So,” he started, his voice softer now, “what have you been up to all these years? Catch me up.”

You shared bits and pieces of your life. Joel listened intently, his eyes fixed on the screen like you might vanish if he looked away. Your laugh filled the space between his words, and every now and then, you’d tease him about his “old man” habits or the way his drawl had only gotten thicker.

It was easy. Too easy. And Joel realized he didn’t want the call to end.

“Y’know, this… this ain’t enough. Seein’ you like this. Hearin’ you talk. Feels good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the same.”

You hesitated, your smile faltering. “What are you saying, Joel?”

“I’m sayin’… I wanna see you. For real. None of this video callin’ nonsense.” His voice dropped lower, softer, like he was afraid you might say no. “Just you and me. Like old times.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise before a slow smile spread across your face. “You sure you’re ready for that? Seeing me in person might ruin the illusion.”

“Doubt that,” Joel said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll take my chances.”

The day of the meeting came quicker than Joel expected. He stood outside the small café you’d chosen, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting. His heart was pounding in a way that made him feel like a damn teenager again, but he couldn’t help it. This wasn’t just any meeting. This was you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Miller. When and where?”

————

He looked around waiting to see you, and then Joel froze. There you were, standing just a few feet away, your face illuminated by the golden afternoon light. You looked just as he remembered, and yet somehow different—like time had added something to you, something he couldn’t quite put into words. His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t move.

And then your eyes met.

It hit him like a punch to the gut, the kind of emotion he thought he’d buried long ago. There was no escaping it, no pretending it wasn’t there. The way you smiled at him, tentative and warm, like you were testing the waters but already knew the outcome—it was enough to undo him completely.

“Joel,” you said softly. It was the same voice he’d been hearing in his head for years, the one he’d convinced himself he could live without. But now that it was real, there was no going back.

“Hey,” he managed, his voice rough and uneven. He took a step closer until he was standing right in front of you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the weight of the years between you pressing down and then lifting all at once. Joel’s eyes traced every line of your face, every detail he’d missed, and he felt something settle deep in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was undeniable, inevitable. Whatever this was, whatever it could be—there was no stopping it now. Joel knew it, and by the way you looked at him, he knew you did too.

“Guess we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said finally, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your own smile soft but full of promise. “We do.”

And as Joel held the door open for you, letting you step inside first, he felt it—the certainty that this wasn’t the end of something but the beginning.

Whatever came next, he knew one thing for sure - you were in it, and there was no turning back.

#jmrecs #janrecs #odi #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou hbo

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