#sigh we are living in the age of joels and i love every second of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macfrog · 1 year ago

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secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves)

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You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

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sageluvsjoel · 8 months ago

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A Different Kind of Miracle

jackson!joel miller x reader x autistic!daughter

Requested HERE

part two here

masterlist

summary: Joel faces challenges understanding his daughter’s differences, but learns how to connect with her in meaningful ways.

genre: fluff, slight hurt to comfort, post outbreak

wc: 1.5k

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

i do not authorize plagiarism or copying of my work!

Jackson was the kind of place that made Joel uneasy. The sense of safety, the quiet that settled over the town at night, it was almost unnatural. He had grown too accustomed to danger lurking in every corner, too used to living with his guard up, waiting for the next threat. But here, in this community, there was peace—a foreign concept after two decades of nothing but violence, death, and loss.

At first, he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, honestly. But then, you came along. And with you, came the greatest miracle of his life—a little girl, his daughter.

Joel had never imagined being a father again. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to be. Losing Sarah had gutted him, left him a shell of a man who had given up on the idea of family, of love. But then you’d walked into his life, unexpected and undeniable, and before he knew it, the two of you had a daughter. It was like the world had found a way to give him a second chance, something he never thought he’d get.

At first, Joel was terrified. He was older now, more worn down by the world, but you’d reassured him. Together, you’d raise her. Together, you’d be the family he thought he’d lost forever.

She was his little miracle. But lately, Joel found himself… confused. Worried, even. She wasn’t like other kids. At first, he didn’t think much of it—every kid was different, after all. But as she got older, there were little things he couldn’t ignore anymore. She rarely looked him in the eye, didn’t babble like Ellie or the other kids her age. Sometimes, she’d play alone for hours, completely immersed in whatever world she’d created for herself, but if he tried to change her routine, she’d fall apart. Meltdowns that he didn’t understand would follow—her little body shaking as she screamed, inconsolable.

He hated it. Not her, never her, but the helplessness he felt every time it happened. He was used to fixing things, solving problems with his hands, with action. But this? He didn’t even know what it was, let alone how to fix it.

It was a cold morning when you first brought it up, sitting on the porch outside your little house in Jackson, your daughter playing quietly in the yard. She was lining up her toy blocks in neat, perfect rows, just as she always did. Joel watched her, sipping from his coffee mug, his face set in that familiar frown.

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice careful. “Have you… noticed anything with her? I mean, I know you have, but I mean… more than just being quiet?”

He grunted, not taking his eyes off your daughter. “She’s just a kid. They’re all different. She’ll grow out of it.”

You sighed, placing your hand on his. “I don’t think she will. I’ve been reading about… autism. I think that might be what’s going on.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he turned to look at you, his expression hard to read. “Autism? What the hell’s that got to do with her? She’s fine. She’s just—she’s just young. All kids act weird.”

You shook your head, your eyes gentle but firm. “It’s more than that, Joel. The meltdowns, the way she lines things up, how she doesn’t respond to her name half the time. I think she’s struggling, and we need to help her. But first, we need to understand what’s going on.”

He pulled his hand away, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know, alright? I’ve been through a lot of shit, but I don’t know anything about this. This is… I don’t know what to do with this, alright? I can’t fix it.”

You reached for his hand again, and this time, he didn’t pull away. “Joel, she doesn’t need fixing. She’s perfect just the way she is. But she does need us to see her, to understand her. And you know what? We’ll figure it out together. We don’t have to do it alone.”

Joel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, like there was something he couldn’t control. He hated it. But he couldn’t argue with you either. He trusted you, more than anyone in this world, and if you thought something was going on, then maybe… maybe you were right.

That night, Joel lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your soft breathing beside him the only sound in the room. His mind raced, thoughts swirling around his daughter, around the word you’d said—autism. It wasn’t something he understood. Hell, he hadn’t even heard of it before the outbreak, and back then, his world had been so small, revolving around work and raising Sarah. He hadn’t thought much about things like that.

But now, it was different. He had to understand, because this was his little girl, his miracle, and he’d be damned if he let her struggle without doing everything in his power to help her.

---------------------------------

The days turned into weeks, and Joel found himself paying more attention to the things he hadn’t noticed before. He saw the way she flinched at loud noises, the way she covered her ears when there were too many people around. He saw the way she fixated on certain toys or routines, how any deviation sent her spiraling into a meltdown that left her exhausted and him feeling helpless.

But he also saw the little things. The way she smiled, just for a moment, when she was lost in her own world. The way her tiny hands carefully placed each block in a perfect line, her focus so intense it almost made him laugh. She was so different from anyone he’d ever known, but she was also so her—beautiful, smart, and his.

One evening, after a particularly rough day of trying to get her to wear a new pair of shoes, Joel sat on the porch, his head in his hands. The frustration had gotten the better of him, and for a moment, he’d snapped, raising his voice in a way that made her cry. He hated himself for it, hated the look of fear in her eyes, the way she’d flinched when he yelled.

“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered as you sat down beside him, rubbing his back gently. “I don’t know how to help her.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice soft and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel. It’s hard. But you’re doing your best, and that’s what matters. She knows you love her. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Joel closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him. But then, from inside the house, he heard a small voice.

“Daddy?”

It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was there. His heart leapt into his throat, and he stood up, walking into the living room where his daughter stood, her blocks in her hands. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of uncertainty, but there was something else there, too—something he hadn’t seen before.

“What is it, baby girl?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could manage.

She didn’t answer right away, but she held out a block, offering it to him. It was such a small gesture, but to Joel, it felt like the world shifted. She was reaching out to him, in her own way, trying to connect.

He knelt down, taking the block from her hand. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s a good one.”

For a moment, she smiled, just a little, before turning back to her toys. Joel stayed there, on the floor, watching her, his heart swelling with a mix of love and pain. She was different, yes. But she was also perfect.

That night, as he lay in bed beside you, he whispered into the quiet, “I’ll learn. I’ll figure out how to be the dad she needs.”

You smiled in the darkness, your hand finding his. “You already are.”

---------------------------------

The weeks and months that followed weren’t easy. There were still moments of frustration, of helplessness, but Joel found himself changing. He learned to meet his daughter where she was, to understand her needs instead of trying to fit her into a mold she didn’t belong in. He learned to listen, not just with his ears, but with his heart. And slowly, bit by bit, he saw her blossom.

One day, as the two of them sat together on the porch, Joel handed her one of her favorite toys, a small wooden horse. She took it, studying it carefully before turning to him with a small, soft smile.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

And just like that, everything was worth it. Every struggle, every moment of doubt—it all faded away in the face of that simple, precious moment.

Joel Miller had spent his whole life fighting, surviving. But now, with his little girl in his arms, he realized that this—this was what he had been fighting for all along.

A different kind of miracle.

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#the last of us #joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #the last of us 2 #joel miller x reader #autism #neurodivergent #ellie williams #tlou2

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

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In the Warmth of Your Love

part II of Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Chapter one | “can’t quit you, baby”

A/N: to kick off my 1 year celebration of writing fic…we’re going right back to my roots! 🤭 to my devoted Gwen & Joel fans, this one is for y’all! I wrote this back in October after taking a looong hiatus from the series. The original path was to pick up on chapter 17 and continue to follow the path of the show. I decided that trying to essentially rewrite the events that take place after Bill & Franks episode was just too much for me to handle. I knew I wanted to continue Joel & Gwen’s story, but I didn’t know what that would end up looking like!

In the Warmth of Your Love takes place after the events in the hospital.

~word count: 3.1k~

Summary: a glimpse into your new life in Jackson with Joel.

Pairing | joel miller x f!oc

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, established relationship, found family, age gap, (oc is in her early 30’s and Joel is in his 50’s) unprotected piv, pining, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, domestic intimacy, they’re so in love it hurts, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

“Swear to me.”

“Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true, Joel.”

“I swear.”

6 months had passed since you and Joel murdered every single Firefly in the Salt Lake City hospital. 6 months since Joel swore to Ellie that everything he told her about the Fireflies was true. That they had stopped looking for a cure, and raiders attacked the hospital. That there were more people like Ellie that were immune.

It was all a lie. One that you and Joel carried on your shoulders everyday. As Ellie’s guardians, you and Joel made the decision that you both felt was the right one.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What the hell did you do?” Tommy asked his brother the day after the three of you showed back up on Jackson’s doorstep.

“I did what I had to do. I protected her. I saved her. I killed every last person that stood in the way of me getting to Ellie. They were going to kill her, Tommy. They were going to kill her and I—we couldn’t let that happen. Ellie didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t because she fuckin’ told me before we were ambushed. I killed Marlene. I killed the doctor who was going to perform the surgery. I killed them all.” Joel admitted.

Tommy scrubbed a hand down his face with a heavy sigh as he sank back against the chair. “And Gwen? What was her role in all of this?”

“She killed them too. We did it together.”

“Does..Ellie know the truth?” Tommy already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from Joel’s mouth first.

“No, she doesn’t. And she never will know what happened in that hospital. She can live her life the way she deserves to. She can make friends and be happy for once in her fuckin’ life.”

“Joel, I can’t have two murders livin’ in town. Maria won’t stand for it, and you know that brother.”

“Tommy, please. I’m your brother, for fuck’s sake. Gwen and I only did what we felt was right. Wouldn’t you do the same if it was your kid? You don’t have to tell Maria the truth. Don’t we deserve a second chance at peace too?”

“It doesn’t matter what the fuck I would have done in that situation Joel! You—you fucking murdered an entire hospital of Fireflies! This town doesn’t condone violence, and if anyone were to ever find out—”

Joel was leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped together as he looked at his brother, right in his eyes with pure desperation in his deep brown irises. “I’ll be carryin’ that burden for the rest of my fuckin’ days. You’ve killed people too, Tommy. Just because you’ve been living here with a loving wife, and a baby on the way, doesn’t mean that the blood on your own goddamn hands gets erased. Listen to me, okay? Gwen is a good fucking person. She’s got a huge heart and she deserves a second chance too. She’s good with horses, and I can help you with any of the heavy lifting shit that gets done around here. Please, Tommy. Please let us stay.”

Tommy stared right back at his brother and deep down he knew he couldn’t turn him away, no matter how hard he tried.

“Okay. All three of you can stay, under one condition. You never, and I mean never speak about what happened at that hospital to anyone. You hear me Joel? Never.”

“I swear on my life that I will never speak about it again. You have my word Tommy.”

Maria was no idiot and Tommy knew this all too well about his wife. “They’ll stay in the house they were in the last time they came through here. Joel said that Gwen has worked with horses before and can help out around the stables, and Joel can help me with fixin’ things ‘round here. He’s really good with that stuff.”

“We have enough mouths to feed as it is Tommy. I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Maria, Joel is my brother. He’s been through hell, all three of them have. I’m not going to turn them away so can we please come up with a compromise here?”

“Fine. I just don’t want Joel or Gwen near any weapons. If they’re going to live here, then they’re going to abide by our rules. Ellie will go to school with the rest of the kids and I expect Gwen to also help out with food prep and the Tipsy Bison. Joel can help you with the handiwork projects, and in time he can help out on patrol.”

“Ellie will probably end up fighting tooth and nail to not go back to school, but I’m sure we can work that out.”

In the early mornings you were helping out in the stables. Feeding the horses, mucking stalls, and grooming. It was easy enough to fall back into a routine that you had known so well from your teen years. You knew horses better than anyone in Jackson did, and you were beyond grateful at being given a fresh start. Your afternoons were spent in the mess hall kitchen. Prepping vegetables and breaking down chickens for dinner. Food was abundant in a place like this, and you weren’t sure if you would ever grow used to the feeling of no longer having to starve.

Your evenings after dinner were spent at the Tipsy Bison, working behind the bartop with Tommy. If there was one thing the men in Jackson loved, it was a pretty woman serving them whiskey after a long day out on patrol. At the end of each day there was only one man you wanted to see in your bed, and that man was Joel; your Joel.

These days you hardly saw him or Ellie. Your schedules were different. With Ellie at school and working at the stables in the afternoon, and Joel helping Tommy in the mornings, and then patrolling through the evening, there was barely any time for you to spend together. He still held you at night through his exhaustion, but he too missed the way things used to be.

The days flew by, summer had come and gone. The seasons changed and the air grew colder, and the nights grew longer.

You had just finished wiping down the bartop after the last of the stragglers headed home for the night. You carefully placed every bottle of liquor back onto the shelf before scrubbing the glasses clean. The record player crackled in the background, Led Zeppelin's ‘I Can’t Quit You Baby’ a rock n’roll classic. You hummed the tune, swaying your hips subconsciously to the low beat.

The door to the Tipsy Bison swung open on the hinges as you let out a sigh, not looking up from the table you were wiping down. “We’re closed for the evening. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t wanna anythin’ to drink.” Joel rasped as he closed the door behind him.

“Joel? What are you doing here?..it’s late, shouldn’t you be at home?” You looked up at him through thick lashes.

“Couldn’t sleep. Decided to go for a walk, n’ended up here. I miss you..so much. Hardly get to see much of ya at all. Jus’ thought we could spend some time together, even if it’s gotta be in a place like this.”

“I miss you too, Joel. You know I do.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He paused as his gaze fell upon your exhausted face, and tired eyes. “S’that Zeppelin playin?’” He rested his elbow along the high top you had just wiped down.

“Yeah, one of the patrol guys found it for me in an abandoned house a few miles west. It’s got a few scratches but is otherwise in fair shape.”

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath. “S’you got admirers then? Can’t say I blame ‘em. Pretty thing like you servin’ them whiskey all night? How do ya keep ‘em at bay?” His brow raised in curiosity.

“With this.” You slipped your knife from the holster hidden under your shirt with ease. “Tommy keeps them on a tight leash anyway. They know not to try anything funny.”

“Breakin’ the rules already? Maria said no weapons, sweetheart.” He leaned forward along his elbow as his fingers reached out and brushed against the worn hilt of your knife. He could just barely make out your carved initials through the thick wood. “You tell ‘em that you're mine? That you’re Joel’s girl, and that if any of ‘em ever were to—”

“Joel, relax. No one has tried anything past harmless flirting. Everyone knows that you and I..we’re an item. What Maria doesn’t know won’t kill her. My knife is a safety net that I’m just not ready, nor willing to give up right now.”

“We’re more than an item, Gwen. We’re partners for life. I know your knife is your safety net. I know it is, baby. S’why I still sleep with a gun under my pillow. Knowin’ it’s there helps calm me, but the one person that keeps my nightmares at bay ain’t home. She’s not in bed with me cus’ she’s here servin’ whiskey all night to men that probably fantasize about what it’s like to be with a woman like you.” He breathed out and you could taste his warm breath along your unkissed lips.

“Of course we are Joel. I got you, you got me. That hasn’t changed, and it never will. We’re both in this adjustment period and it’s tough. I’d much rather be at home with you and Ellie, but Maria said I had to ‘pay’ my dues.” You gently placed your knife along the smooth wooden surface of the table. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you to drink, Mr. Miller?”

“If you’re on the menu for tonight, then that’s what I’ll be havin.’”

“I believe we might be all sold out of that for tonight. Let me go check in the back just to be sure.” You were already turning on your heel to walk away before you felt his warm and calloused palm wrap around your wrist, halting you from taking another step.

“Ain’t you got a little love left for me? When’s the last time I’ve tasted those lips, hm?” He gently coaxed you to step towards him, and once you were close enough, his hand released your wrist and found purchase around your hip through muscle memory. His fingers flexed as his thumb slipped through the belt loop on your jeans. “Y’remember that night after teachin’ Robert a lesson? When we fucked in that back alley without a care in the goddamn world if FEDRA would catch us or not? Remember when we would..have fun? Don’tcha miss that?”

“I’ve always got love left for you Joel. I can’t remember the last time we kissed without us thinking it would be the last time. I do remember that night, just as if it had happened yesterday.” Your hands found themselves resting along his shoulders, squeezing them gently through the material of his worn jacket. In the low lighting your eyes discerned the speckled gray in his beard, and the salt and pepper silver strands of hair. His chapped lips, his inviting eyes that always softened their hardness around you. “We had fun, Joel but between all of that there was so much—”

“No. Don’t say another word. Y’hear me? We don’t have to run. We don’t have to hide. We don’t have to fight. We’re safe here. You, me and Ellie. I won’t deny that you and I—we’ve suffered, but in that suffering we have loved goddammit. We have loved so fuckin’ hard. You're the breath in my lungs, n’you’re the soft breeze kissin’ on my skin. You’re the sun risin n’settin’ everyday. You’re the moonlight guidin’ me home. Your eyes twinkle brighter than any goddamn star in that sky. You’re my—” his words were stolen from his lips as you yanked on the collar of his jacket and pulled him down to your awaiting lips. You kissed him so deeply it felt like both the air from yours and his lungs was being knocked from your bodies. A cataclysmic wave of emotions washed through your veins as you pulled him as close as physically possible. Tongues tangled as you stumbled back against the nearest stable surface; the bartop counter.

“When did you become such a fuckin’ poet, Joel?” You asked breathlessly between kisses as your fingers tangled recklessly through his hair.

“Started readin’ more. Shakespeare mostly.” He mumbled against your lips as he stepped between your thighs, pressing your back firmly against the counter.

“You hate Shakespeare.” You retorted, gripping his hair tighter as your free hand started to desperately tug and push the fabric of his jacket down from his broad shoulders.

“You love Shakespeare.” He countered.

“Less talking, more kissing please. I gotta say it’s fucking hot that you are reading more. I find that so fucking sexy Joel.”

“Yeah? Think it’s sexy when a rugged old man like me reads Shakespeare?” He helped you remove his jacket completely as he threw it to the floor in a haste.

“You’re not that old, baby. Besides, I like your salt and pepper hair and little gray patches in your beard. You’re so fucking beautiful Joel.”

“I’m pretty fuckin’ old, baby. Old and a little gray, but I still got it n’me to fuck you stupid. Jus’ the way that my girl likes it. Them dogs out there don’t know how to handle a woman of your caliber. Now, hop up that pretty lil’ ass up on that counter f’me.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice Mr. Miller.” You detached your lips from his momentarily as you hoisted yourself up onto the edge of the countertop. You wasted no time to grasp the end of your t-shirt and yank it over your head.

“Someone is fuckin’ eager.” He chuckled as he pulled his sweater and Henley long sleeve over his head. He was feeling like the man he once was again; you were feeling like a woman reborn as he popped the button of your jeans and tugged the zipper down as you reached for his belt in a haste, listening to the familiar metal clanking sound.

“Only ever eager for you Joel. You gonna touch me or just ogle?” You teased with a light giggle as your arms draped around his neck. Your bodies were littered with scars, old and new. Two torn canvases splattered with remnants of a life once solely based upon survival.

Joel tugged your jeans down over your hips before his movements paused as his eyes flitted down to the long scar across your lower abdomen. His fingers brushed across the raised skin before he leaned down and pressed his lips to it. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Gwen.” His lips ghosted across your hip bone.

“I love you so fucking much too, Joel. I need you so bad. Please, baby. Don’t make me beg for it. It’s been too fucking long, and I think I’ll pass out if I don’t have your cock inside of me in the next five minutes.”

“Baby, you’re so generous...givin’ me five minutes to give it to ya?” He looked up at you, grinning like a devil as he slowly peeled your panties down your thighs and past your ankles. “What about your pussy? Think she’s missed me a lot too? Cus’ I’ve missed her so fuckin’ much.” He dragged his fingers southward across your pubic bone, dipping into the sweet sticky slick between your folds. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d say she missed me too. This all f’me?”

Your back instinctively arched towards his touch as your thighs spread open the slightest. Between the cool surface of the countertop, and Joel’s warm touch you were positively dripping for him. “Mhmm..she’s missed you too. So fucking much.” You mewled and slowly reached your hand between your bodies as you palmed him through his briefs. “Give. It. To. Me. Now.”

You nearly growled the words out.

“There she is. There’s my fuckin’ girl. Always know how to get your man goin’ huh? You ain’t even gotta try sweetheart. M’always fuckin’ ready for you.” His lips were on yours once more. Kissing you with the same amount of fervency as he always did. His mouth claimed yours as he freed himself from his briefs. You felt his tip notch between your folds as you took a synchronized broken gasp.

Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, nails scraping at his skin as he slowly sunk himself to the hilt. Joel always had this way of making you feel impossibly filled with him. It was as if your bodies were in fact made for one another, fitting like two puzzle pieces as his forehead pressed lightly against yours. “Fuckin’ Christ. Missed this feelin’ of your pussy huggin’ me like this baby. Always so fuckin’ tight.”

He jutted his hips forward with one harsh thrust that had you both shuddering from the intense pleasurable feeling of being connected once more.

“I’ll—I’ll never get tired of this feeling.” You moaned his name, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

“What feelin?’” He rasped.

“Feeling so fucking filled by you. So complete. So warm.”

“S’like you and I were made for each other. All mine, all yours.” His free hand that wasn’t wrapped around your hip drifted down to where your bodies were connected. His thumb easily found your clit as he rubbed it expertly in tight circles.

“Fuck! Yes, keep—keep doing that baby. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, Joel.” You begged him.

“Ain’t gonna stop. I can’t quit you baby. Can’t quit ya. Never can. Never will. I got you, you got me.” He used what was left of his energy to fuck into you the way that you deserved so that feeling that only he could give you would reside deep within your veins even after your body’s were spent, and he had grown soft in your comforting warmth around him.

He kissed your skin delicately as your sweat slicked bodies stayed pressed together. He kissed your forehead, your cheekbones, your eyelids. Your chin, the tip of your nose and your lips. He cleaned the evidence of yours and his releases from between your thighs before you helped one another redress.

He walked you home, arm draped over your shoulders as your slap-happy giggles and enthusiastic chatter filled the chilled night air with domestic warmth.

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almostfoxglove · 2 months ago

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freya. please. oh my GOD.

i spent the entirety of reading The Librarian with the stupidest, goofiest smile on my face. partly because being in charge of a bookshop/library is like a secret dream of mine i've long buried, but also because oh my god??? they are so sweet??? and the MURAL! i love the forest mural so much. a safe forest to read and get lost in when so much of the outside is so dangerous. sob.

something about joel and how he treats himself always feels so purposefully thankless. like if you reach out to him with any sort of kindness you end up in a loop where he'd shove it back into his own self-hatred, like he wants to believe he can exist perfectly fine as a tool for everyone else… but the way he reacts both when she thinks tommy's the one who's gotten so many books brought in through word of mouth, closing up like that? the way he reacts when she says she thought he hated her??? we already know i'm a sucker for pedro-isms (the jaw thing… sigh), but the presence of him feels unmistakably joel. the whole thing is all melty and sweet and i loved every second.

honestly i just love softer traits applied to joel in general. maybe it's the impact of seeing someone who feels his only real worth is in service to other people — misplaced guilt ahoy, but also older sibling and single-father disease — getting taken care of a little. the part of him that likes being the little spoon, the fact that his giving love language is ABSOLUTELY acts of service. like no, of course he doesn't need credit for doing something like that. why would he? no, he's fine really, it's not like he'd like to see the sparkle in your eye and know that you know he put it there, why would he? joel can't afford selfishness. there's already so much of him to ‘deal with’, and really it's not his business to tell you what to want, and so on and so forth. yearning?? nooo… he's a guard dog, you don't pet guard dogs. it makes them soft.

someone take his hand and very gently kiss the middle of it, and then slip it onto your cheek. watch a middle-aged man combust. be gentle, he's shy.

(i wonder what his receiving love language is?)

- that one long and rambling anon

(P.S.; would you happen to have any pictures of what glasses he was wearing toward the end? :> no reason why. i just think he sounds cute, and can't nail it down in my head.)

WANNABE LIBRARIANS/BOOKSHOP OWNERS RISE UP!! fr though if I could snap my grubby little mitts and have a wish granted, gimme that little library or bookshop. I was made to rat about in the stacks, fixing alphabetization, speaking to almost no one for hours and then yapping some poor stranger's ear off after they make the mistake of asking me for a recommendation. PLS

but honey you are so fucking sweet. this one shot cooked for 100 years so I'm so glad you liked it :,,) and my GOD yes. that man's default to self-hatred should not do what it does to me, but here we are. I love him your honor!! and I cannot stop myself from imagining old man miller who lives being so soft and shy?? after everything he's been through?? like please. let me dream. he's so soft. acts of service for days. AND HE IS THE LITTLE SPOON! truly will never forgive hbo for putting that it my brain because it will never come out akjsfhdkj. seflishly I like to imagine he'd be pretty receptive to touch as a receiving love language - but in my mind it'd have to be in private. any kind of touching done in public is so G rated but FEELS explicit because it's rare. but if you're alone together, or at home, he likes to be touched. pet his hair. massage those sore shoulders. wash his hair in the shower. spoon him. I'M BEGGING

thank you for being the best as ALWAYS. I love you very much and hope you're doing alright out there in the universe <3 here's some glasses pics I had in mind as inspiration... perhaps something in the vein of these? (giles because obviously. librarian. of course.) something that would suit pedro but NOT SUIT JOEL. if joel had his pick, he'd get those skinny little old man glasses you can get at the pharmacy. but because *I* got to play god, I'm giving that man goofy glasses to make him blush.

#asks #freya speaks #saved sweets #fic: thelibrarian #rambling!anon #p.s. what is this gif from HE IS A DORK

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas Vibes

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: nostalgia, age gap, horrible attempt to capture joel’s accent (fuck), just christmas fluff :)

a/n this kicks off my joel stories in preperation for tlou show on hbo max starting jan 15! enjoy and have a happy holidays. please tell me you understand the vibe aspect (triangle, purple, thursday, the number 4, blueberry pie) bc if not i am just really undiagnosed.

summary Joel tries to make Christmas special for Y/N once again

masterlist

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read time: 4 mins 59 seconds

“It’s snowing,” you sighed, looking at your reflection in your window. The street lamp lights outside were plagued with the falling snow.

“Never liked winter,” Joel shuttered, taking off his jeans. You heard his belt clank as it hit the hamper. “Really? Not even Christmas?” you asked, playing with a strand of your hair with your gaze still locked outside.

“Sarah always loved it. I liked seeing her happy so I tolerated it.” Joel sighed. You could see the reflection of his flannel pajama pants in the window. You were touched that he mentioned Sarah. He rarely did. Even if you slept in the same room with that eerie photo of the two of them together staring at you, you never dared pushing the subject.

“What did she like?” you asked, testing the waters. “Hmm,” Joel thought. “When she was real young she loved Santa. Her grandpa would come around every year dressed up as ‘em. I’ll never forget her face every year when he would come.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. “I miss Christmas.” you sighed, sitting down next to Joel in the bed. “How many did you get? Before…”

“12.” you sighed. “My mom would always go out and cut us down a tree. I sometimes think about the smell of a real tree. It’s much different when the tree is in the woods versus your living room. I miss it. Every time it gets cold like this, my memories come back and it makes me hate this damned broken world even more.” you sighed, laying down on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“We always had fake trees,” Joel commented, flicking off the lamp. He was unsure on how to respond to you, so he tried to take your mind off the bitterness of the memories.

“You give fake tree vibes.” you told Joel, reaching for his hand in the sheets. “How can one give fake tree vibes?” “You just do.” “Explain?” he asked, grabbing your hand tightly “There’s no explanation. Just like how Maria gives off former yoga teacher vibes,”

He stopped and thought for a moment. “Well I’ll be damned, she really do.” “Told ya.” “Go to sleep,” he sighed. “She most definitely had a pixie cut when the world wasn’t shit,” you added.

“Where does your mind come up with these things?” Joel chuckled. “Ellie and I had a very intense conversation about it on patrol a few days ago. Just like how Tommy gives off cinnamon raisin bread vibes.”

“Stop that,” Joel insisted, shuffling in bed. “It’s too accurate. Freakin’ me out.”

“Maybe she has a dragonfly tattoo too. Somewhere special where only Tommy knows. Very yoga teacher-ish.”

“Go to bed Y/N.” Joel huffed, slamming his eyes shut.

Joel didn’t even know why he was doing this. He didn’t even like Christmas when the world was still normal.

But he liked you sure of a hell lot more than he hated Christmas.

His back ached as he dragged the tree through the gates of Jackson. He had picked out the greenest tree he could find and cut it down. The horse would have been useless with a close to 120 pound tree (he estimated).

“Need some help?” Tommy chuckled, arms crossed amused watching his brother lug in a tree. “S’pose I could,” he hissed at him, dragging the stem of the tree against the dirt ground. “All this for a woman?” Tommy asked, lifting the muddy end of the tree. “Your tellin’ me you wouldn’t do this for Maria?” “Maria wouldn’t want it,” “Well if she did?”

Tommy paused for a second to think. “Hell no,”

The tree barely fit in the door to your house. Joel cringed at all the needles he was going to have to pick up after this.

“Got her in?” Tommy asked, entering the house with the end of the tree still in his grips.

Tommy saw the makeshift tree holder and set the tree in the metal hole. Joel propped it up, holding the tree up for Tommy to bolt the tree to the metal plate.

The two of them now out of breathe took a step back to see the enormous tree.

“I think you may have underestimated the size of your house, big brother.” Tommy said, patting Joel on the back.

Joel’s eyes were glued to the top of the tree pressed against the ceiling and jutting outward.

His arms were crossed with one hand rubbing his brow. “She’s gonna hate it,” he muttered. “I think it’s rather cute. Quirky if you ask me. She likes that shit, don’t she?” Tommy re assured his brother.

“Should I cut it?” Joel asked. “Nah. You went out and did the dirty work. If she doesn’t appreciate it, she doesn’t deserve it. I always got a lighter if you need it.” he suggested.

Joel swept the needles up from the ground in preparation of your return. You had spent the day distracted by Ellie. The kids were having a winter festival down in the square and you two were volunteering.

Joel most definitely owed Ellie one after this.

He found the red and green blankets from storage and placed them on the couch. Holiday decorations were rare to find (minus halloween) and he was trying his best.

He was in the middle of fluffing the pillows when he heard the old door creek open.

A sudden gasp came from you as your hand clasped over your mouth. “What is this?” you asked, a smile widening on your face.

“I know it ain’t perfect, I didn’t measure right but it’s…”

“Joel, it’s perfect.” you insisted, wrapping your hands around the man who was cowering in embarrassment. “It’s too tall, the tree ain’t right.”

“Shh,” you shushed him, wrapping an arm around his rib cage. “I love it,” you muffled into his chest.

“Oh!” you said, suddenly realizing what you had done that day.

You and Ellie had made strings of snowflakes all day with the kids.

The white paper cut outs strung perfectly around the tree.

“Careful there,” Joel said, balancing you as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the top. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready for-”

Joel hoisted you up by your waist erupting a squeal from you. “Joel!” you laughed, squirming in his reach.

“String…‘em,” he demanded with his raspy voice, struggling holding you in his grip. As you strung the paper around the branches, needles dropped down. Specifically on Joel.

“What are you doing?” you asked after hearing the noise of Joel spitting. “Them damn needles- in my face.” he grunted, finally letting you down.

A tiny laugh came from you as you faced him once again. “What’s so funny?” he asked. You carefully plucked the stray needles out of his bushy eyebrows, making sure they didn’t fall in his eyes. “All better now,” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m surprised your not covered in sap,” you commented, sitting down on your comfy couch in Joel’s arms. You handed him his cup of coffee. “Showered ‘for you got home,”

“What if I wanted you covered in sap?” you asked, staring up at the tree. “What?” Joel asked, confused. “So I could have washed it off of ya.”

Joel sucked his teeth. “It’s a damn shame,” he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And you brought this in all by yourself?” you asked, grabbing Joel’s bicep. “Mhm,” he lied, taking Tommy’s credit. “My strong man,” you said, folding closer into his body.

“Thank you, Joel.” you sighed, remembering the previous night. “It’s just like old times.” “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“It gives off Christmas vibes,” Joel said, very proud of himself. “Yes Joel, sure. It gives Christmas vibes.” You chuckled, enamored at his attempt to understand your humor.

“Just like how Ellie gives off the vibe that she can only wear red socks on a Friday.”

“Stop that shit already,”

“And how when the world wasn’t like this, Tommy probably had shit credit.”

“He did,” Joel laughed. “Stop it now, your still freaking me out.”

“You brought it up!”

“Yeah, because it was funny when I did it.”

“Yes Joel. Hilarious.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

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cinematicgf · 2 years ago

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Million Dollar Man - 18+

Summary: after a long day and a particularly annoying new guard in the QZ you decide to destress Joel on the couch

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, handjob, implied smut at the end, pet names (sweetheart, babygirl, honey), age gap (reader is abt 20 years younger than joel) not explicitly mentioned but hinted towards, no use of y/n, a bit of tension oooOOoOo

~ 1.8k

A/N: omg ahhh this is a little scary but i’m new to posting my writing so i hope you enjoy this little drabble of joel smut<3 your feedback is always welcome so please like comment and reblog!

One for the money

Two for the show

I love you, honey

I'm ready, I'm ready to go

Joel swung the front door of your shared home open, taking off his plaid button up and throwing it with force onto the floor. It was lucky Tommy or Tess were out on a week-long rations hunt away from the QZ or else one of them would surely have burst in from their own apartments next to yours and started yelling up a storm at him.

Whilst you were supposed to be spending your day off relaxing with an old book you found on the couch, the sudden loud noise of the door slamming made you jump, as you spin your head to the front door to see a not so happy version of your man. Joel kicked his shoes off and made his way to the living room where you sat on the couch. He fell back heavily into the space next to you on the couch and sighed.

You were afraid to ask him what was wrong just because of how angry he seemed, perhaps it was a sore subject; but after a few seconds of silence, you mustered up the courage to utter a shy, "You ok?", in the softest voice you think either of you had heard from your own mouth. You looked at Joel, concern devouring your expressions as you gazed at his messy curls and heavy frown decorating his brow. You swore you could almost see the steam coming from his ears.

"I fucking can’t stand that new guard" Joel announced loudly, frustration laced in every word. New guard? What new guard, why didn’t you know about this? You take one day off and suddenly everything in the QZ goes south… go figure. You shake your head slowly, “New guard?” your voice still comes out timid. You know Joel would never yell at you, and his anger is not directed at you, but you want to make sure he wants to talk about it and not press him. "Yeah, this fucking FEDRA asshole big shot. We all got jobs around here to make the place safe, what the fuck is he so high and mighty for? Who does he think he is?"

You frowned slightly out of concern for him, “What did he say to you? Do you want to talk about it?” Joel shakes his head and brings one large hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose out of frustration, letting out a strained sigh. His demeanor shifts then, as he brings his arm up to the back of the couch and leans slightly on it to give you a tired smile, “How was your day off, babydoll?” Your heart jumps at the nickname and you automatically smile, turning your body slightly to face him and finally putting down your book, “Twas okayyy” you drawl, still looking at him with a slightly furrowed brow. He moves his hand to your knee, caressing it as you move in closer to him so he can drop his head into the crook of your shoulder. He whispers, “I’ll get over it, don’t worry about me, sugar.” The mixture of his whispered words of assurance, his large, muscular hand rubbing circles on your knee and his musk of whatever cologne he found whilst on a scavenge and his sweat all work together to flip your concern to arousal at a rapid pace.

"Come here" you say, sliding your hand around his neck as he snakes his own around your waist, pulling you in for a sweet, gentle kiss, despite his infuriating ordeal early in the day.

Your lips met repeatedly, as you find your legs wrapping around his strong thighs, then his waist, your lips never leaving each other's. You moan lightly, as the kiss gets more heated, and he uses that as an opportunity to sink his tongue into your mouth. There is a faint reminiscence of whiskey on his tongue, no doubt from trying to forget about his dreadful day.

You get an idea then, to make him forget about that asshole of a new guard. “Baby, turn around.” You remove your lips from his reluctantly and he looks into your eyes, questioningly. Once he spots a hint of cheeky and a whole lot of horny, he does as you say, moving himself around between your legs so his back is flat against your chest and yours is flat against the couch with your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. Joel falls backwards into you. His head falling into the crook of your neck as you moved your legs around him to make you and him more comfortable.

You rubbed your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, Joel’s breathing slowed slightly, his brow unfurrowed as he finally relaxed for what seemed like the first time today.

"Let me take care of you", you whisper right into Joel’s ear. The older man tilts his head up and looks up at you. "Keep touching me baby,” Joel says softly, relaxing into your touch. Your hand moved from out of his hair, and you moved both your hands to lift up the bottom of his t-shirt, sliding them underneath and slowly rubbing up and down his chest. Your lips find his collarbone and suck gently.

A shaky breath came from Joel’s lips as he felt your hands run up and down his broad chest. You giggle while your lips are still stuck on his collarbone. “God almighty baby, you know how to take care of me. Keep doing that" Joel sighed, his relaxed tone laced with arousal, which sent a shockwave straight to your core.

Joel felt his jeans become tighter as he began to shift his hips trying to get any sort of friction that he could. You noticed, beginning to leave small bitemarks on Joel’s neck as you trailed your hands down to his belt, undoing it and pulling it off his jeans, discarding it on the floor.

Joel brought his own hands down to his jean buttons and undid them for you, lifting his hips slightly as he pulled them down to his ankles. With the tightness of his jeans now gone, the less restricted he felt. You glanced up from where your lips were meeting his neck to be met with how hard he was, straining against his boxers. You moaned slightly and he chuckled.

"For me?” You questioned, letting out a quiet laugh. He tilted his head back to look at you, a faint smile hinting at his lips, "Always,” he answered quietly, bringing his hand around the back of your head, gripping your hair as he pulled you into his lips. He was needy, all tongue and teeth, only turning you on more as you felt the familiar wetness of your panties. You moaned into his mouth as he slowly engulfed your hand with his, slipping your hand into his boxers.

You gently wrap your hand around his large cock as Joel exhales out a quiet moan, a small smirk on your lips as you felt Joel begin to slowly thrust his hips upward into your hand. You were always taken aback by his length, usually using two hands to pleasure him, but the one was just going to have to do. Not that he minded, by the way his eyes screwed shut and his breathing quickened slightly.

"Shh baby, let me take care of you" You repeated softly. Joel listened, ceasing his thrusting, and relaxing into you more if that was even possible. You used your thumb to spread the pre-cum around his tip, whilst the rest of your hand grasped his girth. “Oh fuckkkk,” he breathed out, opening his eyes and lifting his head to watch as your hand, glistening, rolled over his tip.

You then began to move your hand up and down at a slow steady pace, a groan falling from Joel's lips as he tipped his head backwards onto your shoulder, once more. "Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" You asked fine, older man "Yes- fuck. Don't stop, gorgeous girl. Keep going"

You sped up slightly then, beginning to move your hand up and down faster, groans and sighs of pleasure Joel’s mouth as you did so.

"Baby, do that thing again” You knew exactly what he meant, you moved your hand back up his girthy length before rolling your thumb around the tip again to collect his pre-cum. His moans in your ear make the wet patch on your panties grow larger with every sigh. You moved your hand closer to his tip and began to move your hand back and forth, driving Joel insane.

Joel’s sweet, throaty moans sounded like music to your ears, as he watched your hand grip his length and felt your lips on his neck, his head resting against yours as you pleasured him. What did an old man like him do to deserve you, his gorgeous girl. A layer of sweat covered Joel’s forehead and muscular arms, as he brought his giant hand around the backside of your head and gripped your hair, pulled you gently to his lips. "Shit-, Babygirl, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum." You moaned his name, ‘cum for me baby.”

It didn't take much longer for Joel’s hips to buckle into your hand, but you didn't slow your movements; letting him ride out his high. Joel let out a series of moans and a string of profanities as he came into your hand, his chest rising up and down quickly as he came down from his high.

You took your hand out of his boxers and brought the hand to your mouth to seductively lick the white substance off. Joel rises off your shoulder and chest slightly to watch, mesmerized as he sees his salty seed slip down your throat. “Fuckkk baby, you're going to be the death of me,” he chuckles, shaking his head. You grin at him, puckering your lips to throw him a kiss. He lunges at you, chuckling, crashing his lips into yours, and tasting himself on your tongue. Its sweet and wet and reminds you of why this is the million dollar man you have chosen to be with. Despite all the chaos and destruction in the world as you know it, finding him was worth more than you could put into words.

"You did so well for me, honey." You laugh in between kisses, smiling as tongue and teeth meet, whilst he is on top of you, one hand in your hair, the other caressing your cheek.

"Now it’s your turn sweetheart,” he says in a gravelly voice, full of arousal as you move his hand down your breast and stomach to palm at you through your shorts, your arousal still very much present on your panties. You may have been in control for a hot minute but hell, if the tables aren’t about to turn.

You both know, it is about to be a long wondrous, night in each other's arms, once again.

hey again!! I really hope you enjoyed my first drabble of joel smut. feedback is always welcome and requests are open<3

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graykageyama · 4 years ago

Text

do you get déjà vu, when I’m with you?

SYNOPSIS: you’re the new girl in his life, but he treats you the way he treated his ex. does he remember his ex when he’s with you?

PAIRING: Kuroo x Reader

GENRE(S): angst to fluff

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

Waiting outside the building, you decided to check the notifications from the recent post you had posted: pictures from your anniversary date with Kuroo. But when you opened the application, your eyes focus on a shared post from your boyfriend’s ex. It is a memory from 2 years ago where your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend had reshared into the feed. Your finger hovers over the screen as you contemplated checking out the comments of the previous post, but curiosity got the better of you.

“Really thought you guys were a match made in heaven.”

“Look how happy he is around you! Ughhh he was such a lucky dude!”

“Omg!! He can’t keep his eyes off you”

“Girl you better keep him wrapped on your finger, çause he’s a keeper!”

“I hope my future boyfriend would stare at me the way he does to you”

The first photo looks basic enough, a typical couple’s photo in a photo booth with your boyfriend’s arm wrapped around hers as she gave her brightest smile while holding a peace sign. But your tedious eyes scanned through the second photo as you took in how your boyfriend lovingly stared at his ex’s side profile, possibly thinking how lucky he is to have such a gorgeous girl standing right beside him. His ex standing underneath his secured hold over her shoulders as she closed her eyes, and poked her tongue out in a childish manner. The third photo once again showed her boyfriend staring at his ex, but with closer distance than it did. His half-lidded eyes matched his soft smile as he leaned closer to his ex’s cheek. The girl, oblivious to her then-boyfriend’s antics, made another childish expression of rolling her eyes while pouting her lips to a duck face expression. But the fourth photo caps off how sweet and romantic this couple could be. With your boyfriend pressing his lips to his ex’s cheeks, nothing could compare to how adorable it looked as it matched his ex’s surprised expression.

The original caption, as corny it may be, brings a slight tinge in your heart.

“I’m yours always, my downtown man. My rooster face.”

Your breath hitches as you notice how familiar the photo’s background and layout are. It did not help when the new caption of the shared post stated, “Brought an ex here at Tempo, and he loved it. 10/10 would still recommend!” You suddenly remember your first-anniversary date with him.

“Come on, kitten. We’re gonna be late for our reservation.” Your boyfriend called out to you from the living room. “It’s already a quarter to 7 o’clock.”

“Alright, I’m coming!” You shut the bedroom door as you walked down the hallway. “Oh, wait I forgot my purse. One second!” You rushed to the table to grab your things, while failing to notice the loving stare from your boyfriend. As you approached him, you saw the corners of his lips quirk up and his eyes shifting to a teasing look. “So that’s why it took you ages to dress up. You look stunning, kitten.” Kuroo reached out to put his arm over your shoulder as he placed a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Oh, shut up. And you say that you already fixed your hair.” You giggled as you both stepped out of your apartment. You shivered when the cold wind hit your exposed skin. Kuroo notices this as he takes off his coat, and puts it over your shoulders. He’s such a gentleman, I’m so lucky to have him, you thought. His coat hugs your frame as it reaches your knees.

He opened your car door and motioned you to get in. “But you look amazing too, love. Any chicken would fall in love with you too,” you chuckled, proud of your little teases. His eyes furrowed as he closes the door, but smiles as he walks over to his side.

“HAAA, you say that but we all know you love this rooster face.” He replied in a childish tone, as he pouted.

You looked over to him, and smiled. “Yeah, unfortunately, I do. A rooster face stole my heart.”

“By the way, you look so cute wearing my clothes, kitten,” he chuckled. He started the engine and drove to the restaurant.

You both arrived in a vintage-themed restaurant named Tempo. It was beautiful. It felt like you really were thrown back to the 1900s. It was an Italian restaurant, and you knew that they served the amazing pasta here. You both enjoyed your time together during dinner as Kuroo’s eyes briefly looked over to where a vintage-style photo booth was located. He looked at you with a smile, “You wanna give it a try?” You nodded as he led you to the booth.

He chose to have 2 sets of photos, one for each other to keep. With both of your fun and teasing personalities, it was honestly chaotic.

You tackled him with your arm over his shoulders as you both gave your widest smiles.

Another photo as he pinched your face to a duck face as you placed a peace sign over his head.

One where you both jokingly glared at each other.

And ending the first round with both of your side profiles pressed against the side of the other, faces squished together.

You glanced at him briefly before the second round of photos began, and you noticed Kuroo’s playful and evil glance. The countdown began… 3...2...1… when you suddenly felt fingers at your side, tickling you mercilessly which sent you to fit of laughter. *click* You turned to grip the cheeks of your boyfriend as you forced him to stare at your “I’m not pleased at you” look. *click* But your boyfriend was not afraid to the slightest, rather he placed his hand to your chin and stared lovingly to your eyes. *click* You felt him leaned closer and pulled your face towards him as he placed a soft kiss against your lips. *click* You heard the photo booth processing both photos as you playfully slapped his arm, “you’re so mean, I must have looked awful.” He grabbed the photo strips, and immediately handed you one. “Here’s yours, let me keep this one please?” He gave you the first photostrip.

“Hmph fineee, but may I please see the other one? I probably look like a fool.” You sighed as you rubbed your temples.

“Nahhh. You might get mad and tear it up, kitten. Won’t risk it.” He teased and winked at you as he placed the photostrip iside his wallet. You pouted as he pinched your cheek. “Let’s go home, yeah?” You nodded as you both approached his car.

The drive home was silent, but was interrupted when Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” played. Your eyes staring at the passing buildings as you belted out the verse. Before singing out the chorus, Kuroo called your attention, “hey kitten.”. You looked over to him and raised your brow. With his left hand on the wheel, he grabbed your hands with the other and rubbed your knuckles. He looked over at you through the corners of his eyes and said, “ask me what I not trade for anything, like anything in this world.”

You looked at him with questioning eyes, “umm, okay. What would you never want to trade for anything in this world, like even for 100 million bucks?”

He smiled, “it would be the ability to make you smile. There is nothing more priceless than your smile and laughter, kitten.” Kuroo glanced at you for a moment as he continued to rub your knuckles. “ I will always choose you, now and every day of our future. Happy anniversary, kitten. I love you.”

Your heart pounded as you squeezed his hands. “Happy anniversary, Rooster Face. I love you too.”

Photo strips. Uptown Girl. Billy Joel. Romantic vintage restaurant. True gentleman.

Today was amazing, Tetsu. Thank you for making me feel so special.

It isn’t the first time his ex did that though. She loves to reshare memories of them whenever you post a sweet moment of you together.

When Kuroo gave you your favorite flowers, hand-picked tulips, his ex would post the 2 dozen bouquet of roses Kuroo had given her.

When Kuroo brought you out to stargaze with him at the park, his ex posted a photo of them having a picnic together at the park.

When you and Kuroo posted a funny selfie, fries sticking out your upper lip which made you both look like elephants, his ex posted a status update, “Looks like my joke made you laugh, too.”

You continue to think over the times she did it. Were you really just Kuroo’s rebound? Was he doing these things because it reminded him of her? Was he really reusing his old moves on her to me?

“Y/N?”

Your thoughts are cut off as you glanced over to who called you. “Hey, kitten. I’m sorry for making you wait. Let’s go home?” You reply with a nod as Kuroo hugs and leads you to his car. The drive home is quiet, but it is not the usual comfortable silence you both shared. You feel uneasy, and Kuroo could feel it - taking a mental note to ask you later about it.

Both of you arrived home, with you still ignoring him. It’s not like you choose to ignore him, you are just really not in the best mood to face him. You changed into your loungewear, then went to the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the both of you. Kuroo took a shower, and then you both had dinner together after. She’s really lost in her thoughts. Kuroo thought. After washing up the dishes, Kuroo grabbed your hand.

“Hey, kitten. You seem off today. What happened?” You looked away as you replied, “I’m fine, Tetsu.”

“You really think I’d believe you? Come on, kitten. I promised you I’d make you smile everyday for me.” He gives you a nudge, but gets no response. “You know you can also tease me, kitten. If it makes you feel better, go call me your rooster face.”

With a sharp intake of breath, you said. “Do you get déjà vu, when I’m with you?”

Kuroo, shocked by your words, replies, “wait, what? What do you mean, kitten? Deja vu from what?”

“When you took me to the restaurant on our first-anniversary date, who introduced that to you? Why do you like photo booths so much?” Your eyes pierces Kuroo’s as you question him. “ Why do you take me out to the places you’ve been with her? Why do you keep on blasting Uptown Girl when we’re together? Why did you bring me to the park when you went there already with her? Why did you bring me to a place she introduced you to on our anniversary date? Why do you treat me so much like the way you treated her?” You rocked yourself from side to side as you hugged your frame. “I thought it was special you know? I thought I was special, and that only we had those moments. I thought it was our thing.” You grip your shirt as you look down on your knees. “I feel so reused. When we do those things, does it remind you of her? Is that why you’re treating me that way too?”

“No, what? Why are you suddenly comparing yourself to E/N? What’s wrong? She’s an ex Y/N, there’s nothing to compare between you and --”

“I’m jealous, okay? I’m so scared that you only dated me since we’re both so similar. Rhyming names, we almost look alike to be honest, but she’s prettier than me! I saw how she keeps on trying to reach out to you..”

“There’s nothing to be jealous of, Y/N. I’m even igno---”

“Do you miss her?”

Kuroo shakes his head as he tries to reach for you. You eventually gave in to the comfort of his chest as he hugs you tightly, rubbing the back of your head as he spoke. “Yes it’s true. I did take you to the same place where E/N had introduced me to. Yes, it’s also true that we loved listening to Billy Joel. Yes, it’s also true that I treat you the way I have treated her before. But no, it is not because I miss her. I don’t love her anymore, I don’t even see her as a friend nor do I care about her anymore. I broke up with her because I don’t see her as someone I would still want to be with in the future. I knew to myself that I will not be choosing her everyday for the rest of my life. ” He paused as he took a deep breath. You felt him hug you tighter.

“I think E/N made me a better man for you. Based on my experience, I continue to do these small antics for you because I know it’s what you deserve. If I did not have E/N as my girlfriend before, I don’t think I would be treating you the way you deserved to be treated. Heck, I had no idea how to be a proper boyfriend for you. ” Kuroo broke the hug as he cupped your face in his hands. He wiped away your tears as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “And no, I do not see her when I look at you. I see someone so much more who deserves more than what I can offer, but I won’t be the guy who gives up on his girl just because he knows his girl deserves better. I want to become the better guy for you.”

One hand gripped your waist as the other cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “About my decisions on taking you to these places, let me explain myself. I knew you loved to watch the stars in the mountains, and name out the constellations - even though I probably did not understand half of what you were saying.” Both of you giggled. “I chose to bring you to the park since I know it was the best place to stargaze and honestly it was the only spot in the city which can pass as a hill to be honest. City have no damn tress around, you know?” You laughed at his attempt to make you smile. “It’s true that I gave E/N 2 dozens of roses but I chose to give you your favorite flowers, tulips. But I haven’t told you how I got them for you. Ever since the day you told me it was your favorite, I planted some and took care of it as it grew. And to add to that, my dear kitten, I’m growing another batch soon so that I can see your beautiful smile once again when you receive them.” He smiles as he pinches your nose. “And for the anniversary dinner, I know you loved Italian, kitten. Your eyes literally sparkled when the food came. I also knew that you were a sucker for old-style photography, which is why I thought you would love to keep a photostrip for ourselves too”

“You looked like you were head over heels for her in your photo though.” You pouted as you showed him the post. Kuroo’s eyes furrowed, but he took out his wallet and showed you the photostrip he had kept. “Tell me, kitten, which photo do I look the happiest in?” Staring at the set of photos, you blush at the photo of you being kissed by your boyfriend, and you can’t help but admire how candid it all looked.

“What about the elephant joke? The one with the fries? She said she was the one who came up with it.”

“HAAAAA? How dare she take credit from my joke? I was the one who made it! I used the trick to also serve as my vampire fangs when I was young. I can’t believe she would take credit for it.” He grumbled.

You let out small sobs as you felt him hug you again and rested his head against your shoulder. “ I’m sorry I questioned your intentions Tetsu. I just got so fed up with her blowing up my feed with both of your memories every time I post a new one of ours.”

Kuroo looks at you, deadpanned. “You know, kitten, there is a thing called blocking someone right? You’re just too nice, and it won’t benefit you at all if you keep on seeing her posts if it bothers you. And it’s not good for us to be concerned about our past relationships.” He grabs your hands and places it on his lips as he gives it a sweet kiss. “But even though you should not be jealous of her, and you have nothing to be jealous about, I will not get tired reassuring you that you are the only one for me. Although it may look like I'm bringing you to places where we had been to, trust me, that I was thinking about you all the time. I always considered what you would love best, kitten. As promised, I will always choose to make you smile everyday.” He places another tender kiss on your lips. He asks as he shifts your hair away from your face, “Why don’t I make it up to you? Do you want to go on a date with me to the zoo next weekend?” Teasing, he adds,” I promise that I didn’t bring E/N there. ”

You laugh as you give an excited nod. Diving into his chest to give him a bear-crushing hug, you said. “Thank you Tetsu, for making me feel so special.”

“You deserve it kitten ‘cause you are my special girl. And the only one I would want to make memories with. I’ll always choose you.”

A/N: I got really inspired with Olivia’s new song, but I really wanted to know how the new girl would feel. It sucks to be replaced but I also think it would suck to know you’re just the rebound or your partner only loves you because you remind them so much of their ex.

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x y/n #kuroo #hq fluff #haikyu x reader #kuroo tetsurō #juju's originals #haikyuu fluff #juju.originals

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pinestripes · 4 years ago

Text

Quiet Day (The Last of Us)

Summary:

The last few months in Jackson have been paradise compared to the hellish cross-country road trip that came before. But scars still run deep, and shadows can lurk around even the brightest corners.

Ellie has a bad day. Joel wants to help.

Rating: T for a bit of language

Can also be read here on AO3 and here on FFN.

Author’s Note:

I liiiiive! Feels good to publish something for the first time in...a year, actually, as of yesterday. I've had a busy and stressful year, though I'm sure a lot of you can relate. Anyway, I just love TLOU (as much as someone who has only watched playthroughs of it can), and I especially adore Ellie and Joel's dynamic. Thank you for reading!

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Joel is a light sleeper and an early riser. The latter has been a trait of his for most of his life; the former, however, developed by necessity once not being able to jerk awake the instant something went bump in the night became a death sentence. Both of these qualities together means that he rises before the first rays of sunrise stream into his room.

He throws on stained jeans and an old shirt. Scrubbing a hand across his bleary eyes, he lumbers into the bathroom. Once done in there, he heads downstairs and to his front porch, sinking into the rocking chair there with a sigh.

He opens the worn science fiction novel he’s been making his way through for the past week or two, quickly thumbing through the brittle brown pages before finding the one he dog-eared the day before. He wasn’t a big reader, back before everything went to shit, but he had been known to pick up a sci-fi or western, sometimes even a mystery novel, every once in a while.

Joel reads in the soft morning light for half an hour or so before he exchanges the book for the guitar that has been resting by the front door. He lazily strums a few bars of a couple different songs, humming. Ellie will be awake soon, and it’s their morning ritual that when she comes down he helps her practice for a little while before breakfast.

Contrary to his expectations, Ellie doesn’t make her appearance. A familiar anxiety, one he feels less and less often the longer they stay in Tommy and Maria’s compound, clamps down on his chest. He stands and leans the guitar against the wall, the instrument making a discordant twung when he drops it less than gently in his hurry. He stalks into the house and through the barebones living room, eyes on the stairs to the second floor as his footsteps quicken and the clamp squeezes, squeezes, squeezes—

He jerks to a stop when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He whips his head around to peer into the kitchen. Ellie is sitting there hunched over at the table, nibbling at a piece of buttered toast.

Suddenly Joel feels a little foolish. His heart is pounding, breathing shallow and quiet. He forces himself to take two slow breaths in and out, feeling the clamp slowly release, lungs expanding and taking in air once more. Finally, he says, voice nearly steady, “There you are, kiddo. Thought maybe you were still asleep.”

Ellie startles, looking up at him with a sharp intake of breath. (He’s surprised she didn’t hear his heavy footsteps into the house from the porch, actually.) Her shoulders relax again when she sees him. “Morning,” she says and returns to her toast.

Shaking off the last of the adrenaline rush and deciding he may as well join her for breakfast, he pads into the kitchen and starts getting out supplies for omelettes, thanking his lucky stars the hydroelectric plant has been providing the town with electricity, and therefore refrigeration, consistently for the last few weeks. “What do you want in your omelette?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“What do you want in your omelette today? I got some more green peppers from the garden yesterday, and we’ve got some ham, believe it or not—”

“I’m just going to have the toast today.”

“That all?”

“Yeah, I’m not really hungry.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He leaves it alone and goes back to making his own breakfast. Usually Ellie would be chattering up a storm by now, but when he’s nearly finished with his omelette and she still hasn’t said a word he finds himself speaking again. “So, didn’t want to do guitar today?”

Silence.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

He sets the omelette on his plate and brings it to the table, taking a seat to her left. “You alright? You seem kind of out of it this morning.”

She shrugs. He notices she hasn’t made much headway on the piece of toast. “I’m fine. M’just tired. Didn’t sleep much. What did you ask?”

He quirks a doubtful brow. “I asked if you didn’t want to practice the guitar today.”

“I just thought we could...take a break today.”

He nods, and returns to eating, deciding once again not to push the issue. By the time his plate is clean she’s finishing the last few little bites of the toast. They both stand to wash their plates and utensils. Per routine, Ellie washes and Joel dries.

Concerned with the continued silence, he decides to give one last try. “So. It’s Sunday. Got any big plans?”

“No, don’t think so,” she responds.

“Not gonna go see Jessie, or, uh, Dina? Or anyone?”

“Nah.” She scrubs at a pan mechanically. “I think I’m just going to stay in and read a book.”

“Alright, then.”

They finish up, and Ellie heads upstairs to her bedroom. He goes to bring the guitar back in from the porch, then stands in the middle of the living room for a minute, feeling a little lost. Finally he sighs and heads out back to weed the vegetable garden. He can tell it’s going to be a quiet day.

Every once in a while, something—a nightmare maybe, or maybe a bandit attack, he can’t always figure it out for sure—will shake Ellie. She’ll retreat into herself, go quiet and distant. She’ll be spacy and—well, he isn’t sure what else to call it but flat. Which is decidedly not Ellie-like.

He’s learned that if he tries to push too much, if he tries to convince her to get out of the house or to talk to him, she gets cagey and defensive. So, even though he hates to see her light so dim, he gives her space and makes sure others do the same. Sometimes she’ll reach out to him of her own accord, looking to talk or a distraction in the form of a guitar lesson. She’s usually back to herself by the next day.

It’s lunchtime once he’s weeded the garden and patched up a few wobbly posts on the porch railing, a continuation of his ongoing attempts to renovate the house. He heads up the stairs and to Ellie’s door. He raps his knuckles against it twice. At her affirmative response, he opens the door and pokes his head in. “I’m thinking I’m going to head to the mess for lunch. You hungry?”

She’s laying on her bed in a loose fetal position, facing the door with a book lying open in front of her at an angle that suggests she hasn’t actually been reading it. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He almost shuts the door, then remembers something else. “Hey, Tommy mentioned something about a roof needin’ fixin’ yesterday. He might try and drag me into helpin’ him with that after we eat, so it could be a couple hours before I get back. That okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He doesn’t worry; he knows it’ll be a few hours at least before she wants company. “Alright. See you later.”

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Tommy does drag Joel into helping fix a roof, and it takes almost three hours, but he finally finds himself at Ellie’s door again.

He knocks on it, twice again. “Hey, uh...just wanted to let you know I was home.”

“Okay,” she responds through the door.

“...I’ll be downstairs.”

When she doesn’t respond, he walks away, intent on continuing his ongoing Sunday project—fixing the floor in the downstairs bedroom. He’s been replacing the busted up hardwood in the downstairs bedroom little by little on Sundays—when everyone gets the day off in town, with the exception of a regular rotation of necessary jobs like patrol duty. It gives him something to do.

When it gets close to 5:30, according to the cracked, flickering display on the oven, Joel squares his shoulders and heads back to his familiar place outside Ellie’s door.

He knocks, asking “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He opens the door to see that she has shifted onto the floor, leaning against the side of the bed that’s facing the door, a book in her lap. He thinks she might have actually been reading it, which is a good sign.

“About time for supper. Ready to head over to Tommy’s?” Sunday night dinner at Tommy and Maria’s place is a regular part of their routine. Joel and Ellie host dinner on either Wednesdays or Thursdays, depending on the schedule.

She shrugs. “Eh, I’m not really hungry.”

Joel’s already decided that he is going to press the issue this time. She seems a little perkier, so he figures it should go over okay. “All you’ve had today is some toast. And they’re expectin’ us.”

Ellie pulls a face. It’s not as exaggerated as usual, but it’s close. “Do I have to?”

He jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Come on.”

She sighs and pulls herself up off the floor before shoving her hands in her pockets and trudging out the door. He follows behind, the twitch of a smile on his face.

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Ellie’s still quieter than usual at dinner, which earns Joel questioning looks from both his brother and sister-in-law. He just answers with a shrug and a meaningful look, which they accept, already having witnessed a few of these days before.

As they finish up their lasagna, Joel goes ahead and suggests watching a movie. He knows Ellie loves the compound’s movie nights just as much as the little ones.

“Can we?” she asks eagerly, a familiar spark flickering in her eyes.

Tommy and Maria look at each other. “Well, sure. Why not?” Maria says.

They clear the table quickly after that and select an action movie that Joel is pretty sure he caught on TV one night ages ago when Sarah was at a sleepover. The pang the thought sends through him is quick and biting, but the way Ellie bounces in her seat on the couch with anticipation helps him put the thought to rest once he recognizes it.

He takes his seat next to her. Ellie starts out resting against the arm of the couch, chin propped in her hand, but by the beginning of the movie’s second big action sequence she’s shifted to lean into his side. He adjusts so they’re both a little more comfortably settled into each other, his arm draping around the back of the couch.

Neither of them move for the rest of the movie, except for when Joel’s arm shifts to settle around her shoulders.

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By the time the credits roll, it’s dark out. They walk through the cool fall night back to their house. Joel is glad to see that the movie night has helped Ellie perk up to her normal self. She babbles about the film’s effects and discusses the story’s various plot holes and inconsistencies. For his part, Joel mostly just listens and occasionally responds in agreement.

“I mean, what even was the bad guy’s plan?” she asks. “The bald asshole kept babbling about missiles or something, but I’m pretty sure he never actually said what they were going to do with the missiles. Right?”

“Don’t believe he did,” Joel responds.

“And why did that one agent think going in without backup was a good idea? I mean, yeah, it was badass, but it was obviously going to fail from the beginning.”

“Don’t rightly know.”

“And for pete’s sake, why did the woman agent not have pants on for half the movie?”

“Because the people who made the movie were gross old men, probably.”

Ellie snorts. “You’re probably right.”

They lapse into a companionable silence for a few minutes before Ellie suddenly leans over to nudge Joel’s arm with her elbow. “Hey.”

“Hm?” he questions, turning to give her his full attention from where it had been scanning the night sky—as far as he can tell, the single positive effect of the apocalypse is the decrease in pollution, including light pollution, which means the sky is blanketed in stars no matter where you are.

She sticks her hands in her jacket pockets, looking away with flushed cheeks and scuffing the heel of her shoe in the dirt before turning to look him in the face. “Thanks, Joel.”

He doesn’t need to ask what for. “Anytime, baby girl.”

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #naughty dog #pinestripes babbles #my writing #man it feels so good to publish something again

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sokkadora · 4 years ago

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tattooed heart; an ellie williams x fem!reader

chapter 3: a cold morning

masterlist here.

part summary: a tad bit of backstory on how joel, ellie, amelia and you met, seth being annoying, y/n and dina escapades, ellie apologizing for the kiss.

trigger warning: none .... i think

a/n: enjoy! and please check out my book safety net on wattpad! my account is @/CATRAMITYS <3333

- ☽ iii ༓ iii ☾ -

life in jackson could be described as fairly easy - slow and consistent. the people who were living there never actually left and there weren't many people that would move into the city. most people you've known since they were the ones living inside the walls ever since you had come there.

some of the children were born there, yet most of the people came to the settlement as the time passed, seeking protection from the fireflies, infected or bandits. and so far, so good. the settlement was started by maria, tommy's wife, and her father a long time ago. when tommy left the fireflies in search of a normal, peaceful life, he ran into wyoming, finding this place. before their hard work, it was quite hard to manage - they needed to protect the settlement, build walls around it and make sure the people in there were safe, yet the young married couple was way more ambitious.

they wanted to make the old hydroelectric power station work again and that was one of the settlement's biggest projects to date. and to the wonder of everyone, they made it work again, so jackson had a stable supply of electricity almost every day. except for huge storms, which you all were waiting for to end sitting in the dinner, telling each other stories in the light of candles and so. these occasions were fun.

the city was independent - you had your cattle, horses, hens, and pigs, you had women who could sew clothes and make fabrics, you had a few men who were capable of making a gun. also, your mechanics were capable of making a few old cars work if the things would get really bad. in spring and summer, you always made sure to harvest vegetables and fruits, hunting throughout the winter mostly. you had a school and a kind-of-a-cinema when you were bored. for existing in a post-apocalyptic world, jackson was fairly normal.

and though you never got to know your parents, you had amelia. this lady was pretty old in the time she found you — she wasn't that kind of a brutal survivor who would bash someone's skull, twist her knife inside someone's body, or shoot them dead. she was the quiet traveler who was purposely avoiding big cities, who was traveling through woods and walked among rivers to see where her road will lead her. from the moment you bumped into each other, you became friends. family even. but once you got bit, she almost shot you. until she found out you were immune.

you and amelia didn't know what to do, but once amelia caught word of an old man and a 14-year-old immune girl traveling to the fireflies in salt lake city, you two went to find them. it took a few months to find them, the two of you almost giving up after taking shelter in what you thought was an abandoned apartment in pittsburgh.

SUMMER OF 2033:

"y/n, in here." amelia called for you quietly, gesturing to the apartment inside. you nodded, glancing behind you before quickly moving inside and locking the door.

you let out a sigh of relief, readjusting your ponytail and checking out the apartment. amelia jumped in front of you, pulling out her handgun, "get behind me, sugar." she whispered, softly moving towards the bedroom where she heard noises.

once she opened the door, the two of you aimed your guns at the people inside, two dark skinned boys, one around your age at the time and an older man with a red haired girl also around your age.

"amelia, they're not bad." you say, lowering your gun slowly to look at them better. the older woman glances at you before putting her gun down too.

the young man steps forward with his hand outstretched towards you, "i'm henry, who are you?" he asks nervously, glancing

you look up at him, then glance at amelia. she nods, signaling that it's okay, "i'm y/n." you respond with a small smile.

henry grins a bit, gesturing to the others, "we all just met but, this is joel," he starts, gesturing to the older man in the flannel, "this is ellie, and this is my little brother sam." henry finishes, gesturing to the girl and the boy.

"amelia and y/n." amelia introduces, gesturing to her then you. "sorry for the, uh, abrupt entrance. we thought this apartment was empty." she laughs nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"no worries. we were about to head out anyway." henry starts, beginning to walk out. "wait, would you two like to come with us?" we're planning on getting out of this city tonight."

you and amelia look at each other before she turns her head towards the henry again, "i don't thi—"

"amelia, c'mon! safety in numbers, remember." you remind her, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at her knowingly.

the woman scoffs and shakes her head, looking at her lap for a moment, "fine, okay, we'll join you guys."

upon leaving the apartment, you, sam, and ellie began to talk to each other. once you found out she was 14, like the immune girl, you went up to amelia while you were waiting in henry's "office".

"amelia, can i talk to you for a second?" you whisper to her, gesturing to a quieter spot. amelia's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she looks away from the outside to you, nodding.

once in a quieter spot, you tell amelia your hypothesis about ellie and joel, them being the two you’ve been searching the country for, "no, no way. they're probably just father and daughter."

"don't daughters usually call their fathers dad instead of their actual names?" you ask her, irritated while your arms fold over your chest. amelia stares at you blankly, hands resting on her knees. "this is the man and the immune girl we're searching for, amelia. we have to tell—"

"guys?" a voice calls into the room, making yours and amelia's head shoot towards the sound. it's sam. "henry says it's time to go." sam tells you two awkwardly.

amelia sighs heavily, rising from her place on the desk and looking at you, "you and i will finish this conversation later."

that conversation never went as well as you hoped, you and ellie finding out that you both are immune in the radio station during a slow game of truth or dare. neither of you knew what it was, but henry gave you the basic gist of it.

ellie was thrilled to know she wasn't the only immune person, and she wasn't alone in that area. after losing henry and sam the morning after, you four headed off to find joel's brother, tommy in wyoming after finding a car.

after finding tommy and heading to the university of eastern colorado, things only got more rough from there. joel and amelia both got impaled, barely making it out of the science building alive before getting on their horses and passing out. resulting in you and ellie panicking before getting yourselves together and finding a nearby town to stay at for the winter.

during that winter, you encountered david, and his friend carl. you and ellie almost lost your lives after getting captured by them, then joel and amelia swooped in saving you and ellie from becoming the monsters you both fear.

the rest of the journey carried into the spring, you, joel, ellie, and amelia becoming much closer during the time from winter to spring. once you all got to the firefly hospital and joel and amelia found out what the cost for the vaccine was, they saved you and ellie.

you both had become to loved and valuable to them, neither wanting to bear the loss of another child. and they lied to you both to keep you safe. so after they took out most of the fireflies in the hospital, including their leader, marlene, you all headed back to tommy's, to jackson.

you and ellie both stopped the elders before entering jackson, "hey, wait." ellie called, looking to you for a bit of comfort.

amelia and joel turned around, looking at the two of you. you bit your lip as ellie started talking, "back in boston — back when i was bitten... i wasn't alone." she reveals, glancing between joel and amelia.

"my best friend, riley, was there and she got bit too." ellie tells everyone.

"and i was with my best friend, carly." you tell the group, fidgeting with your fingers. "we didn't know what to do. so, she says 'let's just wait it out. y'know we can be all poetic and lose our minds together. we're still waiting for our turn."

"then it was tess." ellie states, fidgeting with her fingers anxiously.

"then henry and sam—" you continue the statement for her.

"none of that is on you." amelia states, stepping a bit closer to you and ellie.

"no, you don't understand." ellie says sadly, rubbing her face.

joel suddenly steps forward, "i struggled for a long time with survivin', and you-" he briefly clutches his watch. "no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for. now, i know that's not what you want to hear right now but it's—"

you shake your head, looking away before turning back at joel, "swear to us." you interrupt, looking between the two adults seriously. "swear to us that everything that you said about the fireflies is true."

joel and amelia look between you and ellie with a hesitant look, "we swear." she says to you two, placing a hand on joel's shoulder.

you and ellie take a pause, processing everything before looking back at amelia and joel, nodding, "okay." you say together.

MARCH 2ND, 2038:

that was how you got into jackson. the first months there were pretty weird to you - the city had rules, schedule and they gave you food every morning, midday and evening, calling it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. the first week, you spent with vomiting since your food wasn't used to eat regularly. it was also pretty hard trying to trust strangers before you realized they don't mean you any harm. amelia was immediately capable of working at their farm with their animals, while you were getting the jobs like cleaning up mess or help in the kitchen - which meant that you didn't see each other that much.

- ☽ ♡ ༓ ♡ ☾ -

but after last night you and ellie went your ways after the talk with joel and amelia. there were many exchanged glances as she walked you home although you insisted you were fine. when you stood in the doorway of your house, ellie kissed your cheek before waving goodbye shyly.

a knock wakes you out of your sleep, groaning as you sit up and walk to the door, "just a minute! geez." you call out, walking to the door while scratching the back of your neck tiredly.

once you open it, you see dina. your other best friend, "hey dina." you yawn, squeezing the door handle as you look at your friend who's already dressed. "oh shit-"

"yep. hurry up and get ready, stupid." dina grins, stepping inside and sitting on your couch as you head into the bathroom with a new set of clothes. "maria also wants to talk to you."

stepping out of the bathroom, you reload your pistol and grab your switchblade that joel made you, "alright, dina, let's go."

she nods, opening the door as both of you step out into the cold air, "are joel and amelia up yet? or ellie?" you ask curiously.

"tommy and amelia went out early for patrol. something about a herd or infected up north, i don't know where joel is, and ellie, is still asleep. like ellie." dina tells you as you nod in understanding, chuckling at the last part of her sentence. "are you four... good?"

you glance up at her, sighing, "yeah, i guess so." you shrug, looking away and itching your nose.

once you and dina get downtown, she leads you into a restaurant, "this way." she says, motioning towards the nearly empty restaurant.

once you two enter, dina walks away to socialize with the others. you glance at her anxiously as she just smirks, shooing you in maria's direction.

"hey, y/n! over here!" maria calls from across the bar, making you groan and walk over unenthusiastically.

you walk to maria, "yes?" you ask, rubbing your face with your gloved hands.

"seth has something he wants to say to you." maria tells you, glancing towards the kitchen.

you glare at maria, irritated, "i don't wanna hear what that bigot has to say."

maria looks at you with an unreadable expression, "do it for me, please?" she asks gently.

you scan her face over, and sigh, resting your foot on a small crate, "fine."

"seth! seth, come here." maria calls towards the kitchen.

"fuck me." you mutter under your breath, as you look up.

seth walks out of the kitchen sheepishly, with something in his hands, "hey. look last night, i was drinking too much." seth starts, making you scoff quietly.

"sure." you say in disbelief, crossing your arms as you rest your right leg on the stool next to you.

"i'm trying to say i'm sorry!" seth exclaims, getting more irritated with you. "maria tells me that you and dina are heading out." he tells you, making you glance back at dina. "i made you two some sandwiches." he reveals.

seth places the sandwiches on the bar counter, giving them a pat before scooching them towards you.

"okay." you mumble, staring at him awkwardly.

"they're steak." seth informs you, gesturing towards the sandwiches you haven't taken yet.

maria gets tired of the awkward silence as she takes the sandwiches as she shoves them into your chest, "thank you, seth." she says assertively, scaring seth back into the kitchen.

turning around with the sandwiches, you bump into dina, "what've you got there?" she asks curiously as you shove the sandwiches into her hands.

"some... surprisingly decent looking bigot sandwiches." you scoff, dusting off your pants while looking around the outside room.

dina lifts them to her nose, taking a whiff, "they smell absolutely scrumptious." she says in a fake posh accent, making you laugh as she secretly throws them away.

"come on you two, time to go." maria calls from the doorway of the restaurant, gesturing to the outside. "y/n, i need to talk to you for a minute before i head back inside."

you stop next to maria, gesturing for dina to go ahead without you as she closes the door, "are you amelia and joel good?" maria asks quietly, making you roll your eyes. "they seemed to be in a better mood this morn—"

"we're fine maria." you interrupt her, your eyes closing in annoyance as you're getting tired of this question.

the blonde woman puts her hands up, "just wanted to make sure. i worry y'know." she chuckles, bringing you into a short embrace. you nods, pulling away, "go find dina." she tells you heading into the restaurant as you head on your way.

you find dina and overhear how she's about to start a snowball fight with a bunch of the kids. you sneak up behind the kids, snowball in hand. dina glances up and spots you, making you put a finger over your mouth to shush her. she looks back at the kids, egging them on as you come up and headshot a girl named, isabella.

this made the kids go feral, sending them to one side of the playground as you and dina hid on the other side, laughing your asses off.

you and dina played with the kids for around fifteen minutes before you heard ellie's voice. you turned around and saw jesse, waving politely at him before returning to the game.

"dina! come on! you and i are paired for patrol today." jesse calls out to his ex, making her roll her eyes before heading out of the playground, following jesse.

"hey, y/n! can i talk to you?" a familiar voice called, you turn your head to see ellie. you smile and wave at her before putting the snowball fight on a pause so you could talk to her.

"hey." you say breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey." ellie responds awkwardly, tapping on the wooden fence.

"i just wanna say sorry for ditching you after the... thing last night." ellie apologizes, making you tilt your head in confusion.

"oh, no, it's okay. i totally get it. i- i just- i felt bad." you tell her, looking at her apologetically while fidgeting with your fingers.

ellie shakes her head lightly, "why?"

"because, i started the whole thing and i... i just shouldn't have kissed you in front all those people and—"

"no! it's okay, you were drunk." ellie says, laughing off the light embarrassment.

"well, still i don't want you to think—" you start before ellie interrupts your once more, making you chuckle lightly.

"no, i'm not reading into it or anything." ellie tells you, making you shake your head.

you look up at ellie, smiling softly, "you know what i love about you?" you start, making ellie blush a little. "how you let me finish my sentences."

ellie chuckles, shaking her head, "alright. well, we should probably get going." you nod, before a snowball nails ellie right in the shoulder. "ow!"

you turn around angrily, glaring at the kids, "what the fuck?!" you exclaims at them, making them giggle.

"i'm not even playing!" ellie yells at them.

"cause you're a chicken?" one of the kids yells out, making the rest taunt ellie playfully.

"i hate those kids so much." ellie mutters to you irritated, making you look at her mischievously.

"you wanna fuck 'em up?" you ask evilly, giving ellie a side glance.

ellie looks to see if anyone's coming before nodding, "yeah, i do." ellie leaps over the fence as you both start playfully shouting at them.

"you asked for it!" you yell at them.

"you better run you little shits!" ellie exclaims, you and her taking cover behind a structure.

the game was the first to ten hits wins, it took you and ellie a minute, but you beat to little shits 10/3.

"no fair!" isabella whines, wiping the snow off her coat.

you spread your arms out victoriously, "eat it shrimps! how's it feel?" you brag to them, making them all run up and tackle you. "you'll never get away with this!" you yell happily as they dog pile on you before ellie comes and rips one off.

"get off of her you little monsters!" the red haired girl exclaims, making them scurry away before helping you up.

"i guess i asked for that huh?" you ask your friend, heading towards the gate.

"yep." she deadpans at you, making you smile. you both exit the playground, heading to the stables. "so, jesse wants us to do the creek trails. he's gonna relieve amelia and tommy."

"oh, okay. that's nice he assigned us together." you tell ellie, greeting the lady at the front of the stables. "you're gonna like this one."

someone yells to you and ellie they'll take your horses in so you can grab them. yelling out a quick thanks, you head over to grab your horse, moon. walking to the east gate, you pet his neck, greeting him.

"look who decided to join us." jesse tease you and ellie, making you roll your eyes.

"ha ha, you're so funny." you tease back, elbowing him gently in the side and taking your rifle from him.

"open it up!" he yells up at the gate keepers. "settle down. alright. you all know the drill." he assumes, looking to all the patrol groups. "run your routes, mark your logbooks, clear any infected you see. you run into anything you can't handle, you come back." jesse tells everyone. "be smart about it. alright, get going."

you and ellie glance at each other with a small nod, getting on your horses and riding off towards the creek trails.

#the last of us #ellie williams #the last of us part 2 #joel miller #tlou2 #gamingedit #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlouedit #elliexreader #oc #joel x reader #dina x reader

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flutteringphalanges · 5 years ago

Text

A Handful of Baby’s Breath

Summary: Dani knows that her days are numbered. And even though she won't admit it allowed, Jamie is well aware of it too. It's the idea of leaving Jamie alone that brings a thought to her mind. A rather big, important thought. An idea of leaving a piece of herself behind. Or rather, two pieces of herself. Together, Dani and Jamie decide to expand their family. From pregnancy to years gone by, we see a new meaning in: "It's me. It's you. It's us."

Ship: Dani/Jamie

Rating: T

Status: Complete

A/N: I have no idea why I thought of this. I just like baby stories! Any inconsistencies I am so sorry! I did a lot of research, but I am still prone to mistakes! By the way, we are talking in vitro feralization. Hope you like it! -Jen

A Handful of Baby’s Breath

Jamie eyed the bouquet of flowers left neatly on the counter with mixed suspicion and amusement. Dani was not as well equipped as she was when it came to botanical knowledge, but she still had a rather decent eye for pretty flowers. The ones you’d use for romance and such. And yet, to her at least, a lone collection of white Baby’s Breath didn’t seem to fit the theme.

“An interesting find there, Poppins.” The other woman grinned, wiping her hands on a dish rag as her wife walked in. “Did you pick those yourself off the side of the road?”

“No…” Dani said, a nervous smile crossing her features as she entered the room. “I um...I drove a ways and bought them as a surprise. Getting them from you wouldn’t make much sense.”

She had that distant look in her eyes. A stare that made Jamie’s stomach knot. It was as if she was seeing something that only her gaze could meet. And the woman knew well enough that that was sometimes the case. Her brow furrowed as she stepped closer, a hand resting on her wife’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She asked softly, trying to hide the concern in tone. “Did you see…”

“No.” Dani interrupted, shaking her head vigorously. “No, it’s not that. It’s…” The woman paused, clearing her throat. “I want to talk to you about something. Something big.” Her blue eyes widened as she took Jamie’s hand and pulled her to the couch. “It’s not bad...maybe not...but...sit down first.”

“Okay…” Jamie said slowly, letting out a chuckle. “What did you do this time? You didn’t run into the light pole again. I told you we could replace that piece of junk. You don’t have to destroy the bloody car for that to happen.”

“Not the car.” The young woman assured her. “I...I don’t know how long I have left…”

“Don’t start.” Jamie cut her off, her mouth curving into a deep frown. “We talked about this. When the time comes, we’ll face this together.” Dani opened her mouth, but her wife held up her finger. “It’s alright. Everything is going to be just fine as it has been.”

“Whenever it happens, and it will, I don’t want you to be alone.” Dani insisted, straightening up in her seat to face Jamie. “So I’ve been thinking about it--quite constantly I might add, and I think that...well, we should have a baby.”

If she had been holding a glass of wine, this would be the moment she’d spew the liquid out in utter shock. Jamie stared back at Dani, who seemed rather calm as if she expected this reaction, with her mouth agape. Certainly she hadn’t heard her right. No, not possible. Or if she had, maybe she was beginning to lose her beloved much faster than she’d thought.

“A baby?!” Jamie blinked, eyes fixed on Dani. “As in a living, breathing, tiny human being?! That kind of baby?!”

“Well certainly not an animal, though I did consider that.” Her voice was calm, mellow as she spoke. “And I thought that perhaps, if you agree, I’ll carry the child. That way you’ll always have a piece of me.” She smiled contently at the thought. “I know she is inside of me. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve come to realize that her being there won’t affect any child we have.” Dani sighed and her gaze flickered towards the window. “At least I’d like to think that. That that part of me, my genetic makeup, is and will always be mine. A ghost can only possess so much.”

“And how, pray tell, if we did decide to do this absurd idea of yours would we go about it? Most places our union alone wouldn’t be accepted, much less both our names on a birth certificate. Hell, Poppins.” Jamie exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “It’s nice to see you with some pep in your step, but a baby…”

“In vitro fertilization.” Dani said confidently. “Many women have had success with it. We just have to find the right sperm donor and then...well, I suppose we hope that we’re lucky.” She took Jamie’s hands in both of hers. “I know it’s far, across the world, but there is a sperm bank in California who actually helps women like us. Not to mention that I am still technically an American citizen. And I know it isn’t the same, but there is something called Second Parent Adoption which would secure that no matter what happens to me, our child is yours. Custody and all. I know the wording is far from favorable, but we’d be a family. A whole family. And us knowing that, being that, is the only thing that matters.”

Jamie was silent, her hands still held in Dani’s. She could see the look of desperation in her wife’s eyes. The desire. The need. She didn’t like to think of losing her. Nor had she really ever seen herself as a mother. But here her wife sat nearly pleading the idea to her. It wouldn’t be an easy road. Perhaps not even successful. But Dani’s adamance. Her hope. Suddenly the gardener considered that maybe if she could keep a plant alive, a child couldn’t be that much harder.

“Is this what you really want?” She finally asked, gazing deep in the other woman’s eyes. “Really, really want?”

“More than anything.” Dani breathed.

“Alright then.” Jamie said, leaning forward to touch her forehead to Dani’s. “Let’s make a baby then.”

XXX

“Christ, it’s so hot…” Dani complained as she fanned herself with a leaflet. “Turn down the thermostat!”

“What can you expect in sunny California?” Her wife joked, walking over to hand the heavily pregnant woman a glass of water. “And to think it’s actually colder here than average. I’m rather comfortable myself.”

Dani threw her a dirty glare as she hobbled over to the kitchen table. So much had happened in the last eight months. Not only had their attempt to become pregnant worked on the first try, but Dani had found herself expecting twins. Thankfully both she and Jamie had experience dealing with two kids--even if one had been the au pair and the other a gardener.

“You should apply for US citizenship so you can remain here in America with the twins if things don’t work out.” Dani said quietly, sipping on her water. “Surely you meet the requirements. I’ve just been thinking, if we go back...when we got back to England and I’m...it’s just you three, if something were to arise, you’d have a place to call your second home.” She rested a hand on her belly thoughtfully. “I’m sure Henry would be more than willing to help out if need be.”

“We have talked to him in years.” Jamie exhaled, taking a seat beside her wife. “And I told you to stop worrying about silly stuff like that. One day at a time. Right now, the twins are healthy, you’re in one piece, and I’m not boiling over in the bloody heat.” She smiled and kissed the other woman, her hand moving to rest over hers. “Things will work themselves out as they normally do.”

“Well can we at least pick some names?” Dani exclaimed, motioning to her stomach. “That would take some anxiety off my mind. It would’ve helped if you let the doctor tell us what we were having too.”

“I quite like surprises.” Jamie stated with a shrug. “And we’ve only got a few weeks left. Not much longer now.” She seemed hesitate for a moment as if deep in thought. “How about Ernest for a boy? After that lovely drunk man who has taken a piss or two on the corner side diner?”

“I will pluck every petal from every bloom in your garden.” Her wife snorted, mouth twitching into a small smile. “Is picking a flower name too ironic? Rose seems lovely for any age. Or Hyacinth? I quite like that one actually.”

“Too common and too old sounding.” Jamie shook her head. “What about Albert? We can call him Al for short. Seems acceptable enough.”

Dani pursed her lips in consideration. “Maybe.” She said, gently stroking her stomach. “It’s the first acceptable name you’ve ever given me.” Jamie rolled her eyes and her wife snorted. “Fine, in case we have another boy...Joel.”

“Is there a reason for that name?” The other woman asked curiously.

“...I may or may not have had a dog with that name.” Danit replied sheepishly. “What?” She grinned as the words sent the gardener into a fit of laughter. “Were you expecting me to say it was an old crush?”

“Certainly not a dog, that’s for sure. But...I suppose I’ll allow it.” Jamie chewed on her bottom lip. “Albert and Joel...those aren’t too horrible to make them want to kill us when they are older.” Or rather, when she was older. Nevermind that. “We need girls’ names now. And before you say anything, if we must pick a plant name....Aster.”

“Aster?” Dani questioned, one of her brows cocked in question. “Aren’t you worried she’ll be made fun of for that?”

“Children make fun of any and everything.” Jamie yawned, leaning back in her chair. “Besides, if she is anything like us, she’ll be the alpha of the playground.”

“I don’t condone our daughter being violent.” Dani said, though it was hard to hide the amusement from her face. “...I guess it’s a nice enough name--and it is a flower.” She laced her fingers over the apex of her stomach. “Hannah.”

Jamie stiffened slightly at the mention of the late housekeeper. Hannah rarely came up in conversation. Mostly when the couple had paid a visit to Owen’s restaurant in the past. Dani’s eyes seemed to be studying her wife, waiting for a response to her suggestion.

“Hannah.” She nodded, smiling as she spoke. “I like that one a lot.”

It was, after all, a very good, dependable name.

XXX

She couldn’t believe she agreed to this. How could she have been so utterly stupid? Dani’s safety and well being far surpassed her wife’s fear of Jamie not being allowed to go into the delivery room. Whether they saw to it or not, she was the former au pair’s wife. Her family. But instead of a clean, medical equipment on hand, hospital room, her beloved partner writhed in agony in their bed as the weird midwife Dani insisted they hire and accompanying apprentice went about.

“There is still time for us to go!” Jamie pleaded as Dani squeezed the life out of her hand. “Come on, Poppins, you don’t want to do this here.”

“Yes...Yes I do!” Dani insisted through grunts, despite the lingering thought of an epidural beginning to sound more and more lovely. “I just...CHRIST!” Part of her wanted to strangle Jamie in that moment. Her poor, innocent wife. If she remembered, she’d apologize later. “You have NO idea what this is like!”

“And I’m rather glad for that.” Jamie thought to herself as she knelt by Dani’s side. “Do you want to get into the tub--”

“I said NO WATER!” And the ferocity in the former au pair’s tone shut the other woman up quick. “Please, I just want to push! I feel like I have to! I’ve been having contraction after contraction for hours! I. Want. To. Push!”

“Lydia, light the incense please.” The midwife said calmly as the other woman lit some sticks that smelt of horrible, faux lavender. “Let me see where you are.”

The phone was just inches away from her grasp as Jamie eyed it longingly from her spot beside the bed. If she could just unlatch herself from Dani, maybe she could call the emergency hotline and have her wife transported to a location with an actual doctor. Images of Dani hemorrhaging out and blue tinted babies filled the woman’s head as the midwife smiled.

“Dani, you are definitely ready to deliver your children. Are you ready to become a mom?”

Are you ready to become a mom? The words floated in the gardener’s head and embedded themselves in her mind. As she looked to Dani, it was evident in her tired expression that she too was nervous. Now was not the time to show worry. Not when her wife needed her most. Forcing a smile, Jamie squeezed her wife’s hand.

“Let’s have us some babies then.”

Time felt faster than it probably actually was. For a second, it seemed as if it was only her and Dani. Then, bright pink with a healthy wail, Albert Joel Clayton was placed on his mother’s chest. And, as it should be, not long after, just as full of life as her brother, Hannah Aster Clayton made her own appearance in this world. A little boy and girl. Two moms and two children. What more could one ask for?

“You were brilliant, Poppins.” Jamie beamed, kissing her wife lovingly. “They’re perfect.”

“Yes.” Dani agreed, smiling brightly despite her exhaustion. “They are, aren’t they.” She held the infants close to her bare skin and closed her eyes. “I don’t want this to end.” The new mother whispered. And for the first time, Jamie could see tears of sadness welling up in the corners of her eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“It won’t end.” Jamie exclaimed, smoothing her partner’s hair down. “I won’t allow it.”

The former au pair opened her eyes and gave a sorrowful, watery smile. “Okay.” She murmured, swallowing hard. Though Jamie didn’t know it yet, Dani knew that her time was soon approaching. “Let’s stay together then.” Her eyes flickered down to the twins. “One day at a time.”

XXX

It would be a happier tale to say that after everything, Dani was not taken over by the Lady of the Lake. That she and Jamie got to raise their children together. Live as a happy family. But such good endings did not follow the family’s return to England from their temporary stay in the States.

At first, Jamie had hoped that Dani was just suffering from postpartum depression. She rarely ate. Slept at odd hours. And her interest in the babies was not what one would expect. But the final straw that broke the camel’s back. That snapped Dani to realizing she must leave in order to protect her family came one night after Sunday dinner.

“I think you got more peas on the floor than in you, Al.” Jamie smirked at the ten month old as she made her way to the kitchen. “Poppins, where is the broom? Albert--”

Jamie stopped in her tracks, her heart leaping out of her chest. There Dani stood, completely stone faced and about to submerge Hannah in the filled up sink. Reacting quickly, the gardener rushed over and snatched her daughter away causing her wife to snap out of her trance.

“What happened?!” She asked, her tone inflected with terror as she looked from the sink to her wailing child. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Dani’s trembling hands flew to her face as her stomach threatened to dry heave. “I didn’t...I didn’t…”

“Dani, everything is alright now.” Jamie said, her own voice still a little shaky. “Hannah’s fine. You didn’t hurt her.”

“I almost drowned our child!” Dani wailed, throwing her arms up in the air. “Dammit, Jamie, can’t you see?! She’s here! I can feel her inside of me! I’ve felt her growing since the twins were born!” The former au pair began to shake her head violently. “No! No! I won’t! I can’t! I have to go!”

“No!” Jamie snapped. “No! You aren’t going anywhere! We’ll figure this out! It could be a phase!”

Dani only stared at Hannah, who currently had her face buried in Jamie’s chest. “I need to sit down and have a drink.” She said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Jamie cleaned up after that, watching as Dani sauntered off to bed. She forced a smile as she bathed the twins and dressed them for sleep. By the time she made it to their room, the gardener merely assumed that her wife had fallen fast asleep. And that maybe things would be better in the morning. What an utterly, terrible mistake to make. How painful it can be to wake up alone in bed.

Between coming to and Owen’s arrival to watch the twins, only an hour had passed before Jamie found herself speeding to Bly Manor. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still a chance. The thought of it kept her going. Her love for Dani. Their children. And even when she swam deep out to the middle of that horrid lake and dove to its depths, she still prayed. Oh how even in death her beloved wife appeared so breathtaking.

It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.

It’s us.

XXX

The only thing that seemed to excite the twins at Flora’s wedding was the cake. Though they did not know her and she did not remember any reason of why or who she might associate them with, the three got along perfectly splendid. Jamie, who was practically a stranger to the girl but had been invited by Henry, offered to take them somewhere quiet, but she insisted that the children play. It was, after all, something she would’ve done.

“Is your Mummy dead too?” Hannah asked randomly when the bride went to see how her favorite guests were doing.

“What would make you ask that?” The woman smiled curiously.

“Well she isn’t here.” Albert remarked. “Our Mummy is dead. Well, one of our mummies.”

“Our other Mama is alive.” His sister added on cheerfully. “Very much so!”

“I miss my mother.” Flora said kneeling down. “But do you know what my uncle told me?”

“What?” Albert asked, sounding quite serious despite his young age.

“He said that she is always right here with me.” The bride replied, gently touching both of their chests. “In our hearts.”

The twins looked at each other and giggled. Flora’s brows furrowed in confusion. It seemed a very odd thing to find humorous.

“That’s so silly!” Hannah grinned, meeting the woman’s stare. “Mummy isn’t in our hearts! No, Mummy comes out at night. Sometimes she visits us.”

“But she doesn’t talk.” Hannah informed her. “Sometimes she watches me or just walks.” The young girl tilted her head. “You’ve never seen your Mummy?”

Before Flora could question them more, Jamie swooped in. Wrapping her arounds around the children, she apologized to the bride. At least, given their age, their recounting might be viewed as nothing more than fiction.

“Remember we don’t talk about Mummy here.” Jamie said kneeling in front of her kids.

“Mama?” Albert began, tugging at one of his loose buttons. “How come people like the nice lady don’t visit us? Not even Uncle Owen?”

“Well…” His mother began, choosing her next words carefully. “When you live at Bly Manor, it’s sort of a...special place. Magical. And for Mummy’s sake, we want to keep it that way, don’t we?”

Both the children nodded their heads and Jamie smiled. Pressing a kiss to the top of each of their heads, she allowed them to go running off towards the dance floor. Owen would be there, she knew, with the promise of sweets. And later on, she would drive the three of them home and tuck the two away in bed. Then she’d wait. Like every night since.

She hadn’t gone back to America like Dani had insisted. Instead, with Henry’s good graces and making sure it was safe for her children. That all that bad and terrible was gone. They had moved into Bly Manor. She, the twins, and their Mummy of the Lake who visited on more than one occasion. The beautiful spirit who she someday hoped would allow her to roam the endless gardens and stone too.

Pulling out a chair, she sat down with a smile, repeating the same phrase that held a new meaning now.

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.”

So I guess this has a happy-ish ending? I was rather unclear on the dates following Dani and Jamie getting together and then Flora’s wedding. So I had the twins be born closer to when Dani was overtaken by the Lady of the Lake and at Flora’s wedding the kids were closer to Flora and Miles when they were young on the show? Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

#The Haunting of Bly Manor #Dani Clayton #dani x jamie #jamie x dani

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staticscreenwriting · 6 years ago

Text

All you have to be is here - Part 9

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 9 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

The hardwood floor feels cold against Billy’s bare feet as he trudges out of the bedroom and towards (Y/N)’s kitchen in search for a coffee and a cigarette. Luke the cat is purring as he spots him, rubbing on his legs in hope for some food.

Billy never particularly liked cats but this one has grown on him. He’s fat and lazy and blissfully unbothered by everything. He really really likes this cat.

Starting the coffee machine, Billy reaches out for a mug and has to suppress a groan as his eye register just which one he’s grabbed. It’s black and shiny and there’s a picture of a much younger (Y/N) printed on it. She’s maybe 3 or 4 years in this picture, a poster child for innocence but her smile is the same one he’s grown so fond of. It’s what’s written beneath the photo that makes his heart drop.

“ Happy father’s day to the best dad in the world. “ How fucking ironic.

Unconsciously, Billy’s eyes wander towards the doorway leading to the living room. His hands grip the mug a little tighter as he feels the anger start to bubble up again.

There’s a man on this couch, he’s banged up and yet he’s sleeping safe and sound. That man shouldn’t be there, he gave up the right to be there years ago. There’s a man there that broke (Y/N) heart in a million little pieces and judging by the tears that stained her cheeks last night, he continues to do so to this day.

Maybe, Billy thinks, he’s projecting his own frustrations and pain and suffering onto this situation. Maybe this one can have a happy ending for (Y/N) and her dad. Though life has never really given Billy a reason to believe happy endings do exist outside of fairy tales. This can only be a crash and burn situation waiting to happen.

For the first time in his life, he hopes he’s wrong. He wants so desperately to see (Y/N) succeed, to see her happy.

Luke nudges against Billy’s ankle, effectively softening the mood a little.

“ Alright, amigo. I’ll give you some food. Calm down. “

Maneuvering his way around the kitchen and preparing the food for Luke, it all feels weirdly domestic. He can move around freely, no fears of making any wrong moves of messing anything up. This is what home feels like. What his own home should feel like. What it never does.

“ You talking to the cat ? “

A pair of eyes look back at Billy, that looks so familiar. They’re (Y/N)’s eyes. Identical and yet they couldn’t be more different. There’s no warmth in these eyes, no softness. No love.

The man’s eyes are cold and tired and empty.

“ Yeah, so what ? “

“ No I — I wasn’t judging. Just — look kid I was just trying to start a conversation. “

“ Not a kid. “

There’s a shift in the air, a shift in Billy’s mood too. Suddenly he’s on high alert, extremely conscious of his surroundings, of the man’s moves. It’s a side effect of living with a dad who loves to smack you around. You get highly aware of everything around you. The good and the bad. And it’s scary. Like a constant shadow following you, ready to swallow you whole if you let your guard down for long enough.

(Y/N)’s dad lets out a long sigh then leans against the kitchen island. He looks worse for wear. Tired. Exhausted. The skin around his eye is colored in hues of red and blue and purple and it’s swollen almost shut. There’s dried blood around his nose and the cut above his eyebrow looks painful even from afar.

Billy knows he shouldn’t, knows this is probably earning him a ton of bad karma points, but there’s a tiny part in him that take a sick satisfaction in this man’s misery. No matter how much his physical wounds hurt, they won’t ever come close to the emotional anguish he’s willingly put his own daughter through. And for that, Billy thinks, he deserves to suffer.

If anyone knows how it feels, it’s Billy. He’s been through it all, the physical and the emotional pain and if he was ever asked to chose, he’d take the hits over the heartbreak anytime. Those heal at least.

“ I understand that you don’t like me a whole bunch. I — I deserve it, probably. “ the guy says, a slight southern accent ringing through his words.

A scoff falls from Billy’s lips “ probably. “

“ What do you want me to do ? I’m trying here, ya know. “

Billy turns around, pours himself another mug of coffee, black. Strong. Not because he wants it, one cup is usually enough for him in the morning, but because if he doesn’t take a minute to cool down the anger and frustration is gonna get the best of him and he’s gonna reach over the kitchen island and give this dude another black eye.

“ She didn’t have to take care a me last night but she did. I appreciate that, I do. I know she’s a good girl. “

“ You don’t know shit, man. “

“ And you do ? “

“ I was the one holding her when she cried for hours the last time you showed up, drunk off your ass. I know that, no matter how much shit you put her through, she still loves you and cares about you way more than you deserve. “

“ What I put her through ? “

“ Yeah. What you put her through when she was just a fucking kid. Smacking around her mom like it was nothing? Having (Y/N) witness all of it ? That shit is unforgivable in my book. If it was on me, I would’ve left you there last night. I wouldn’t have given you a second look. Fortunately for the both of us, she isn’t like that. She’s warm and soft and loving and she gives way more than she ever asks for. “

Billy moves closer to the guy, looks him straight in the eye. God how he wishes he could have the guts to say these things to his own father. Stand up to him. To put down his foot and make it clear that enough is enough.

Fact is, he doesn’t have it in him. Not now not yet.

But this isn’t Neil. It’s not his own abuser. Not his own demons he’s fighting here.

It’s (Y/N) and for her it’s worth the fight. For her it’s worth being brave.

“ Listen to me, “ he says and lowers his voice so tremendously it almost resembles a growl “ she once told me that people don’t need to earn love, that it’s not something one has to be deserving of. I don’t think that’s true all of the time. I think you need to do a whole lot to earn back her love and even then you won’t be deserving of it. Not after what you did. You’ll never be good enough for her. Never. She’ll love you anyway. That’s the world she’s living in. A good one. Where people forgive. I don’t share that sentiment. I don’t forgive. So if you hurt her again, I will hurt you. That black eye ? You’re going to wish for it back if I get my hands on you. I’ve done worse things to people and back then my only reason was boredom. This girl ? I love her. I’m sure you can imagine how much that feeling fuels my anger if someone were to hurt her. Are we clear ? “ he asks and pats the man on the shoulder.

“ Are you threatening me ? “

“ No. I’m just making sure you know the stakes. “

Billy can already see this ending badly. It’s like a sixth sense for misery. He hopes, for (Y/N) sake, that he’s wrong.

The odds tell him he’s not.

“ She’s always a woman to me “ by Billy Joel is softly playing from the vinyl player in the corner of the recreation room. (Y/N) sits by a table helping one of the younger girls draw a bunch of flowers with crayons in all colors of the rainbow.

Billy never particularly liked the song until he heard (Y/N) sing along to it one day in her kitchen. She was wearing his shirt and her hair was piled on top of her head and there was still a faint imprint of her pillow visible on her cheek. She’s never looked more gorgeous than in that moment.

It became one of his favorite songs then. He thinks she knows. Sometimes she hums it when they sit on her couch and she softly plays with his hair. Things don’t feel so bad then.

As if she can sense his thoughts, (Y/N) lifts her eyes off the drawing and finds his across the room. Her lips are pulled into a tiny smile, it’s hardly there but it’s enough for Billy to notice. For him to understand.

“ She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes “ Billy thinks the guy might be onto something there.

This is the first time she’s smiled since everything with her dad happened. Her dad, who’s still waiting at her place for them to return. She’s offered him to stay for a while, “just to get back on your feet”. It makes Billy uncomfortable, so fucking uncomfortable. He can already see her making up scenarios in her head, of a future that involves her dad. A happy one where the past is the past and wounds and magically healed. He loves her unwavering positivity. He loves that she believes in a world where good things happen to good people.

He also knows that this makes her vulnerable though. If things don’t go the way she imagines them to go now, and they won’t, it’s gonna hit her twice as hard. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stomach seeing her go through that hurt. If only he could take it from her. He’d do it. In a heartbeat.

“ You’re doing it wrong “ a tiny voice speaks up from beside him. Jack is 6, he’s got shaggy blond hair and blue eyes and a bright smile missing a few milk teeth already. Jack, like (Y/N), believes in a world where ordinary things are magical and love if free and good things happen even though the world has done nothing but prove him wrong. Jack reminds Billy entirely too much of another little boy with blond hair and blue eyes and a perfect little world.

That boy is gone now. Buried underneath a thousand layers of hurt and bitterness and cruel words from a person that’s supposed to love him. Billy hopes things can turn out different for Jack.

“ What do you mean, I’m doing it wrong ? I’m literally just coloring in this fu — this picture. “

If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d sit in a room with a bunch of kids and his — his girl, coloring in pictures and listening to cheesy pop love songs, he would’ve told the person they’re insane. It’s his new normal though, as normal as life can be for him anyway. And even though he will never admit this to anyone, not even (Y/N), he might even enjoy these moments a little. Problems seem to be non existent for the for the time being. The air feels lighter. The mood feel softer. It gets easier to breathe, even if it’s just for an hour.

It’s, and he’s not going to repeat this, it’s kinda fun.

“ Yeah but you made the dinosaur green. It’s not. It’s supposed to be brown. “ Jack speaks up again, pointing his small finger towards Billy’s green T-rex drawing.

“ How’d you know ? You ever seen a T-rex ? “

“ Uh-huh. “ Jack nods “ my mom took me to a museum once when we visited grandma in New York City. They had lots of pictures and postcards. Maybe if mom — if she — maybe I can go again and bring you one. “

Billy doesn’t know this boy’s story but it’s clear to him that something about his mom ain’t the way it’s supposed to be. He knows Jack stays here permanently so whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“ See, I’ve never seen a T-rex so I wouldn’t know about the color. I’d appreciate that postcard. “

Jack nods but the childlike wonder, the excitement, is gone. He’s more timid now. Almost sad.

“ I don’t think my mommy is gonna come get me anytime soon. But if she does and we go to New York I promise to bring you one. You’re my friend now. “

God this kid is trying to kill him, huh ?

“ Mommy hasn’t visited since when it was snowing outside. I miss her sometimes. “

Yep, Billy’s heart was officially shattered into a million little pieces laid out on the table in front of him, right above the drawing of the (wrongfully) green colored dino.

“ I miss my mom too. “

It’s the first time he’s told anyone this is — ever. Sometimes he likes to make himself believe that he doesn’t miss her anymore. That she effectively lost the right of being missed when she chose to leave. That’s a lie though. Absolute bullshit.

If anyone needs to hear the truth right now, it’s this little boy. And the little boy inside Billy that’s still missing his mom an awful lot, no matter how much grown-up bitter Billy likes to deny it.

“ Where is she ? “ Jack asks with that unbothered childlike curiosity.

“ She uh — I don’t know for sure but I think she’s back home in California. “

“ Was she not ready to be a mommy ? Mine wasn’t. “

“ I — I don’t know, Jack. “

“ When I last saw my mommy she hugged me really tight. And she gave me a teddy bear and she told me that she loves me very much but that she’s sad and sad people can’t be good mommys so she’s going away to become happy again and when she’s not sad anymore she’ll come back and we can be happy together. Maybe your mommy was sad too“

Billy has to swallow back a knot forming in his throat. Has to keep the tears at bay. This is not place to cry, Billy. Not in public, Billy. Never in public, Billy.

“ Maybe. “

“ Well I hope she is happy again soon so you can be happy with her. “

Wherever she is, Billy too hopes she’s happy.

Maybe Jack has a point, maybe one day they can be happy together. Maybe when he isn't sad anymore. He hopes she’s there already waiting for him.

“ I’m not saying you shouldn’t let him stay. I’m just not okay with you being alone with him “

“ He’s my dad, Billy. “

“ Exactly. “

One word conveys all he feels on that subject. Their track record is just too fucked up to ever trust someone just because they’re supposed to be “family”. It just doesn’t mean shit.

Billy’s holding onto a bag of grocery they have picked up, as (Y/N) opens the door to her place. She’s told Billy it’s okay for him to go home though there’s no way in hell he’s gonna leave her alone with this dude. And home and “home” anyway.

“ I know what he did was — “ she doesn’t finish the sentence though, as her eyes fall onto the state of her apartment.

Every drawer seems to have been pulled opened and ransacked, there’s cutlery on the floor and not a single cupboard door is closed. The pillows that used to be neatly placed on the couch are thrown everywhere.

“ Dad ? “

And there it is. The metaphorical bomb Billy knew was gonna come but wished so hard it wouldn’t.

His eyes wander around the room before they land on a piece of paper on the kitchen island. He picks it up and reads the first few words before knowing exactly what it is. The heartbreak he so desperately wanted to safe her from, all written down neatly in blue ink on white paper.

“ Some of my money is gone, Billy “ (Y/N) says as she hurries out of the bedroom, an empty old can of Folgers coffee in hand.

“ You should read this “ is all he says as he holds out the letter to her. What does one say in a situation like that ? Hey babe, here’s some heartbreak for ya ?!

She carefully takes it from his hands and lets her eyes move across the page. He can see clear as day what the letter says, doesn’t even have to read it himself. It’s all there in her eyes. In the way the warmth slowly vanished and is replaced by a cold, a sadness, utter despair.

He warned him. He fucking warned him not go break her. Not again. And what does he do ? Exactly that.

“ Billy ? “ she says, a sniffle evident in her voice.

“ Yeah ? “

“ What did you say to him ? “

“ What did I say to him ? “

“ Uh-huh. “

Why does it matter, he thinks. The guy is gone. Up and left as he always assumed he would.

“ He says in this letter that you talked to him so what the fuck did you say ? “

The fury her voice holds, he’s never seen in her before. It’s terrifying.

“ I told him not to hurt you again. Told him he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. “

“ That’s not on you to decide “ she yells. It’s the first time he’s heard her yell like this. With pain in her voice with — disappointment.

“ I was trying to help “

“ Well stop ! “

“ I can’t. I love you and I know what guys like him are like. I — “

“ You don’t know anything “ she’s crying now and as much as he wants to hold her, he also feels the anger bubble up again. There’ve been many moment where Billy was in the wrong, where he deserved to be yelled at. Not this time. He did nothing wrong this time. Hearing her say these things is not only shitty, it also hurt. A whole fucking lot.

“ I know what shitty dads are like. They don’t give a shit, (Y/N) “.

“ Maybe yours doesn’t. But my dad is not Neil. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can love me again. Unlike yours, mine at least he used to love me. “

The anger is gone. The sadness is gone. Everything he’s felt up to that moment is just gone and he’s left feeling completely numb as those words leave her lips.

He can see the realisation in her eyes of what she just said.

“ Billy I — “

“ Fuck you, (Y/N) “

She’s following him out of the apartment and down the corridor, down the stairs, out of the building and into the parking lot. And she’s crying. Crying up a goddamn storm.

Billy can’t bring himself to care. Not right then. Not after what she just said to him.

“ Billy please. “

“ You know what (Y/N), “ now it’s his time to yell, “ maybe my dad doesn’t love me but at least I am honest enough with myself to accept that fact. At least I don’t pretend like my life is all rainbows and butterflies and sappy love songs. I know he doesn’t love me and I accept how fucked up and shitty it is. At least I don’t live in a fantasy world where everything fine and dandy and problems are magically fixed by singing kumbaya and drawing my feelings. “

As he gets in the car and speeds off, leaving her alone in the dark, his thoughts twist and tangle in all kinds of ways. None of them clear. All of them a blurred mess.

He only notices the tears running down his cheeks as he arrives home and gets out of the car, wiping them away so that Neil won’t see them. He fears he’ll be able to tell anyway.

With heavy steps Billy walks up to the house then tries to turn the key as quietly as possible. If ever he believed in a higher power, Billy prays that now is the time they chose to be kind to him and make sure Neil doesn’t catch him coming home late.

But as he stated before, life’s hardly ever been kind to him and tonight is no exception.

“ Where’ve you been ? “ Neil asks as he leans against the door leading into Billy’s room.

“ Work. “

“ Not until now you haven’t “.

“ A friend’s “.

Neil raises his eyebrow, for a moment contemplating his next step. Usually Billy would care, about a possible beating, about whatever nasty words Neil is about to spit at him. Though tonight he doesn’t give a shit. Whatever he does, whatever he says, it won’t hurt nearly as much as (Y/N)’s words just did.

“ Uh-huh and what got you all wheepy ? “

“ I doesn’t matter “ he murmures and turns towards his room, effectively being stopped by Neil’s arm reaching out and blocking the way.

“ What was that ? “

“ I said It doesn’t matter “

For a moment the two just stare at each other, matching fury in their eyes. Silently challenging each other to make the next step.

Neil grabs Billy’s jaw in between his fingers and squeezes just a little. Just hard enough to hurt but not leave a mark or cause serious damage.

“ Thin ice, Billy. Thin fucking ice. “

With that he lets go and moves towards the kitchen.

Billy hurries into his room, slams the door and slumps down on the floor besides his bed. His head drops down to rest on his knees and another round of hot salty tears roll down his cheeks.

If this way any other situation he’d be cuddled up on (Y/N)’s couch, telling her about the things that upset him and she’d tell him that she understands and that things can only get better from here on out and then she’d kiss him and put his heart back together little by little.

But what if the only one that can fix your heart, is the one that destroyed it in the first place ? Not broke. Destroyed.

Billy reaches up towards the phone resting on his bedside table and pulls it down towards him. His fingers move across the buttons in an almost trance like state. He knows the number by heart. Has dialed it so many times. So many times.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three Times.

He wonders if she even picks up.

“ Hello ? “

If only hearing her voice could make things right. Could fix him in one way or another. If only hearing her voice could make him feel like home the way it used to do. If only hearing her voice was enough.

“ Hello ? “ she asks again.

Billy clears his voice then takes a long breath, bracing himself for what’s about to come and then. Then he answers.

“ Hi, mom. It’s me. Billy. “

_______________________

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad / @asheseiler / @stra-vage / @ssstutteringbbbill / @biliyonce / @addictofsupernatural / @angelophany / @charmed-asylum / @xxemoluverxx / @killer-queen-xo / @1lluminaticonfirmed / @rebel-broken-angel /

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic

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