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saintgoths · 1 year ago

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - ME AND MY HUSBAND.

WORDS - 3,998.

RATING - 18+. [insecure & possessive Joel, Ellie and ivy fluff]

SUMMARY - joel learns about what isabella has done and re-thinks about their relationship and ellie and ivy had a deep talk about what had happened to her.

As the church doors were loudly closed behind the two couples, Maria and Tommy had carefully dragged the older Miller away from the location, Isabella had scurried behind the three of them, embarrassed and guilt-ridden by the circumstance. When Maria had finally let go of Joel, Tommy had followed through, her expression confused and sensibly annoyed at the commotion.

“What is wrong with you?” Maria directly seethed, she had briskly pointed an accusatory finger at the bearded man who had glared down at his shoes, Isabella had hugged herself whilst she had nibbled her bottom lips as she had silently wished that Joel would not inform Tommy and Maria what Adam had implied to him.

“He had no right speaking to Isabella like that,” Joel argued, he had lifted his face to look at the short-haired blond woman, his foamed eyes had hastily scanned over Isabella before they had returned to the leader of the town.

“So, the best solution was to beat him up?” Maria questioned, her tone smouldered and irritated, and as much as Joel had thought Maria to be a scary person, in his mind, the older Miller man had his duty to protect his lover and he couldn’t do that with alarm and fright.

Adamant, Joel had pressed his lips together, with the look in his eyes, his younger brother, Tommy, understood that Joel was going to be stubborn about the situation. “If it gets him to shut up, then yes.”

Tensely, Maria released a struggled sigh. “Right,” she dryly muttered, softly, she had backed away from the trio. “I’ll be with the Lorde family,” she informed them. “Tommy,” Maria called her tone forwardly implied that her husband should take lead with the situation.

Aware the scenario was in his hands now, Tommy softly grunted while he had pulled his hands against his hips. “You were usually the one who spoke about being calm and not allowing people to rile you up,” the blonde brother lightly joked and barely humoured, Joel mildly smirked at his younger brother.

“Everyone has their breaking points,” Joel responded and aware of his point, Tommy raised the both of his eyebrows, his hands dropped at his sides and he neared himself in direction of Joel.

“This is going to be the town’s gossip for a long time,” Tommy clarified and apprised, Joel dropped his shoulders in response, he had sat himself against the cold ground, knowledgeable of the iciness but the adrenaline had him care less of the temperature.

Silently, Isabella had pushed her bottom lip behind her teeth, she had wished to have a private conversation with her partner but she’d rather speak to the Miller man when his heated feelings had cooled down, the woman was aware that Joel would do nothing to hurt her physically or emotionally, but the Rosalind woman had comprehended that there was a certain conversation that had to be discussed.

“I know,” Joel muttered and with the look on his face, Tommy understood that Joel had no regrets for what he had done, or hadn’t cared of what people would say or think.

“You might have to apologise to the Lourde family,” Tommy trailed on and automatically, Joel had rolled his eyes in disagreement; knowing that forcing his brother to apologise to the Lourde family would be difficult, Tommy had pressed his lips into a thin line.

As Joel was too stubborn, the man was also too prideful. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk it out,” Tommy mentioned and thankful, Isabella had quietly thanked Tommy before she had watched him walk away from them. Isabella had eventually pulled her arms away from the tight lock around her figure, and twisted her gaze to her lover, she had peeled her mouth open to speak but the man had cut her off with just the raise of his hand.

“What did Adam mean by that?” Joel thoroughly questioned, his voice low and accusatory enough for Isabella to pull her hands behind her back, slowly, Joel had raised himself to stand to his feet, his eyes dark and accusive, he himself, had understood what Adam had implied in the church, yet, the man had just wanted to hear it from her.

Isabella gently shuddered, she had finally felt the cold whispering wind touch her skin and once more, the woman had hugged herself, eyes wide in curiosity but shock that commodities had to be revealed this way. “What do you mean?”

Sarcastically entertained, Joel pushed himself to scoff at her. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“My past sexual life has nothing to do with you,” Isabella quickly worded out and unmoved, Joel’s orbs remained on her. Strained, Isabella had taken a step closer towards the Miller man who stood straight against the wall behind him, he had much words working his mind, much outcomes and many conclusions and he liked neither of them.

“Did you fuck Adam?” Joel whispered and reticent, Isabella had gawked at the taller being, flustered that Joel had to find out she had been with Adam Lourde out of all men, disconcerted, Joel had held in his breath, her silence being enough of an answer. While struggling, Joel had laughed not at her but at the circumstance. “Did you fuck Tora too?”

“During the time I left Jackson,” Isabella truthfully replied and unaware on how to feel, Joel briskly raked his fingers through his full beard. “It was during a time we weren’t together,” she candidly argued and firm, Joel pressed his hands against the top of his hips, his eyes rooted and stable as staunch and ghastly thoughts roamed his mind.

“We weren’t together but I’m sure we had feelings for each other---you knew I had feelings for you,” Joel quickly countered and miffed, Isabella’s face twisted in soreness.

“So that means I owed you loyalty?” Isabella forwardly questioned, bothered by his self-righteousness; and aware of his greed and self-indulgence, Joel rubbed the back of his neck, taciturn and aware that Isabella’s argument was valid. “Especially when you were avoiding me majority of the time in the beginning.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” Joel genuinely apologised and forgiving, Isabella reached for his hand that he had opened.

Her face less agitated, a smile appeared on her mask on autopilot. “It’s okay,” the woman whispered and thankful, Joel had gently pulled the stunning being into a soft embrace, glad that in the end Isabella would be someone he’d have in his arms whenever he had wanted, but moreover, Isabella had liked the fact that Joel was a man who was willing to put a man’s life on the line just for the sake of her integrity. It made her feel safe, and aware that she could count on someone domestically once more.

“Was Adam before or after Tora?”

In disbelief, Isabella had briskly pulled away from his grasp and mildly slapped his chest. She had forced an embarrassed laugh in response to his possessive attitude, yet, with the serious look he had on his face as he had waited for her answer, Isabella pressed her lips into a thin line, her brown eyes shaking with discomfort. “Joel,” she warned, “I don’t like this insecure attitude you’re having right now.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?” Joel peered, as much as he had liked the fact that he had the most beautiful woman in love with him, there were moments the Miller man had fell into a pit of anxiety and self-doubt. “Any man would feel uncertain when they’re with a woman like you.”

“I wouldn’t cheat on you---”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Joel called out and immediately his eyes dropped the stiff and adamant expression which had then been quickly laced and dressed with his true emotions, fear. Mayhap Joel had been projecting on her, mayhap all these feelings were due to the previous events with his ex-wife.

Aware that Joel’s feeling had stemmed from a copious deeper place than she had known, the woman had dropped her arms to her sides before she had released an exhausted sigh. “Adam was after Tora.”

Confused, Joel had pulled back his face as he hastily calculated the dates in his mind and tired, Isabella had quickly swiped the tip of her tongue against the dry cracks of her lower lips, the snow and coldness had gotten to her harder than before, the woman was sure that her nose and cheeks must’ve been the colour of red apples by now. Thus, she had wished that the conversation the two of them had currently shared would be over by the minute.

“Then that wouldn’t make any sense,” Joel stiffly replied, “because we went on a date the moment you came back to Jackson.”

Culpable, Isabella had sucked in the air through the tight gaps of her teeth, averse to respond to Joel’s final idea. Now struck with a new wave of curiosity, Joel had pushed himself towards her, the dark green shades of his eyes currently contrite and sombre than before. The look on his face had showed Isabella that there had been a conclusion he had already come up with, but an end he didn’t want to be correct on.

Even though the man had been silent, Isabella had understood of the muted question he had desired to hear the answer to. The woman could already feel the stemming disappointment crawl outside of her body, though, not disappointment for Joel’s suspicions but disappointment of her own lust, how her own desires had always controlled her. Isabella was a woman who did not care if another lady had a high libido, as she was one herself who had a rather large size, yet the reason why the Rosalind woman had been so disappointed in herself was due to the timing of her lewd adventures.

“I had sex with Adam the same night we were about to…” the lady awkwardly trailed off and instantly, the mask on Joel’s face tightened with acrimony and grief.

His eyebrows had knitted upwards as he slowly allowed the agonising truth in his mind, in despair, the taller being had unhappily whipped his head away from her as his eyes tightly closed, he had silently repeated to himself that Isabella was not his during that period of time, yet, it still hurt.

“Well, I’m sorry I was not able to give you the full pleasure Adam had given you that night,” he bitterly worded out and afflicted, Isabella had moved closer to him, to touch him and reassure the man of his emotions, but quickly, Joel had avoided the feeling of her hands.

As Isabella tried to calm the situation down, the woman furrowed her eyebrows, as she had pitied herself, understood that the night would not end the way she would have liked and Joel would still want to have his space, but, the Rosalind woman had still tried. “Joel, please let me explain---” but it was far too late, Joel had pointed his index finger towards her, his full eyebrows knitted down in envy and spite.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, I already understand what type of woman you are---”

“What type of woman I am? Joel, you’re implying me as some whore, Joel, I’m all yours that was all in the past—a time we were not together---”

“But we were still seeing each other! It’s the principle, Isabella!” Joel rudely seethed, his anguished anger enough to shut the woman up, ravaged, Isabella had gently tightened her fists, in disapproval of herself, “how would you feel, if a night we were supposed to be together I go to another woman because I couldn’t get the sex I wanted?” In disbelief, Joel had then choked out a sigh, aware of his argument had been valid and true to the dark-haired woman who stared back at him, thus, too miffed of what he had learned, Joel had finally stepped away from her and left to his home.

15TH OF DECEMBER 2020

Isabella had barely showed when she was pregnant with Robin, it had been three months into her pregnancy and Lana and Hana praised on how she could’ve been mistaken as not pregnant if she had not revealed the skin of her baby bump.

Though, the size of her baby-bump had not been what she had focused on, Kai had excitedly stormed into the room she had currently been reading in, with a letter in his hand, his pearly white teeth had glowed in front of her as he frantically waved the object in her face as if he were a mad man, in response, Isabella had twisted her face just as she had bookmarked the page she had been interrupted on.

“What’s going on?” Isabella curiously questioned and with his eyes enthusiastic, Kai had held the letter in both of his hands before he peeled it open.

“The Ophanim has sent me a letter,” Kai happily responded and unenthusiastic, Isabella had pulled her head backwards as she faked a happy hum from the back of her throat. Just as she had listened to Kai open up the letter, she had pondered how their one-year-old daughter, Ivy was doing, Isabella had known that Kai had recently put her to bed, yet, if she was being honest with herself, watching Ivy sleep would be more fun than listening to what the Ophanim had to say.

“Kai of Rosalind, the Ophanim has seen and heard of the growth of your family and wishes there’ll be a time where his grace will see you face to face, as he perceives you to be someone who is more suitable to converse with him,” Kai happily read out and due to how high the man was due to the news, Isabella had drawn herself back from aggressively rolling her eyes.

The woman had always perceived the organisation to be a fraud, in her case, it was clear as day, yet unfortunately for Kai, there would be an ugly wake-up call that had patiently waited for him. “I don’t trust them,” Isabella truthfully muttered and distraught, Kai had bounced his shoulders as kickback, he had placed the letter to the closest table and sauntered towards his wife, his dark eyes wide with strong belief and faith, unmoved, Isabella had gently rubbed the small swollen stomach as she had watched her husband shamelessly love the Oraphim Society.

“Isabella, the society has brought us nothing but kindness and warmth,” Kai reminded and tasked to have the woman on his side in strict religious beliefs, Kai had softly held Isabella’s hands, Isabella who had stiffly looked and watched the man crouch down to her level. “There’s no reason to be hostile,” he had wanted to speak more of Isabella’s hostility and link it to her past trauma, but he quickly understood he’d be a dead man walking if he had attempted to do that.

“Don’t you think it’s weird, barely anyone has seen the Ophanim?” Isabella curiously questioned, her inquire laced with knowledge and snarky humour. Kai had comprehended she had appeared that way because the conclusion she had come up with was that the Oraphim Society had been a cult with the Ophanim as the leader.

Frustrated, Kai pursed his lips, his eyes slightly shook with annoyance, silent, Isabella had slowly rocked on the chair she had sat on, her eyes levelled with her husband, unfazed by his state. “You’re being ungrateful,” Kai eventually spoke and instantly, the expression that had gloated on his wife’s face promptly dropped, immediately regretful over his choice of words, Kai attempted to speak to Isabella once again, “Bella---” yet, not in the attitude to listen to his apology, Isabella had briskly pulled herself off her seat and gently rubbed her belly.

“I’ll be checking with Lana and Hana,” Isabella whispered, her response laced with dolour that had anguished Kai enough to reach out for her, still, avoidant, Isabella snatched her body from Kai’s attempt of grip and thus she stalked to the opening of the door, before she exited the room, she twisted to look at Kai, her face had lacked distress but the Rosalind patriarch could see it in her eyes. “You should check on Ivy,” she forwardly commented fore she left the room.

PRESENT DAY

Scarlett had given Ivy her space by spending her time with Robin and Venus, leaving Ivy alone to collect her thoughts in her room, the oldest Rosalind girl would’ve done the same thing in her own cabin, but the dark-haired girl had wanted to be around family sooner or later.

She had sat on the front edge of her bed, hands clasped together as she had intensely examined the lines and textures of her skin to rid the obscene thoughts that had impended to haunt her mind. Her dark thoughts quickly ridden when the sharp knocks against the other side of her wooden door had been beaten and quickly, Ivy had allowed the figure who stood outside her room to come in. “Come in!” Ivy kindly called out and slowly, the door had been pushed open and carefully, Ellie had stepped into her room, the freckled face girl incomprehensible but Ivy could tell there were dark thoughts behind them.

“The others said you would be in here,” Ellie dryly commented and woefully, Ivy had stretched a smile across her face and gently made space for her girlfriend to sit next to her.

“Well, hi,” Ivy kindly greeted as she returned her eyes against the back of her hands while Ellie smoothly closed the door behind her.

Awkwardly, Ellie walked towards Ivy before she carefully sat beside her. Stiffly, Ellie placed her hand against Ivy’s arms, her dark eyes now covered with worry and protection, sadly, Ellie had examined the Rosalind girl ere she questioned her. “Are you okay, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Ivy muttered out but Ellie knew she had been lying and as much as she had been angry towards the entire situation, the red-haired girl comprehended that Ivy needed her.

“You know you can speak to me,” Ellie worded out and appreciative, Ivy silently thanked her, she had felt the warmth of Ellie’s palm leave her shoulders and in response, the dark-haired girl had tucked her bottom lip behind her teeth, by the corner of her eyes, she had watched Ellie place her hands against her knees as she had gathered her next sentences to inquire her lover.

“Ask me.”

Confused, Ivy eventually looked up to face the freckled-woman who stared intensely at her. “Ask me to kill him,” Ellie seriously pronounced and startled, Ivy furrowed her eyebrows as she had pushed a laughter that had formed in the back of her throat.

“No.”

“Why not?” Ellie asked exasperated as she had leaped onto her feet, arms up in the air like a mad man. “He cannot continue living after what he had done to you, Ivy, I won’t allow it!”

Hesitant, Ivy hushed Ellie to silence herself but the Rosalind girl understood it’ll take more for Ellie to become reticent. “I don’t want issues---”

“Then why not tell your mother?” Ellie included and quickly against the idea, Ivy hastily shook her head which had pushed the Williams girl to grit her teeth and grunt, heated. “Why do you want to be so peaceful about this?!” Ellie cried out, her eyes wide with choleric and fire; and impotent, Ivy had harshly taken in her breath.

“If I tell my mother about this---she’ll want to kill Rowan herself---”

“Isn’t that what we want!” Ellie yelled out, irate and heated, Ellie puffed out her breath, maddened that Rowan was a free man.

With her eyes closed, while Ivy formed her sentence in her mind, her fingers had gripped the sheets of her bed, the high emotions had spiked tears in her eyes and promptly, Ellie had felt guilt strike her heart. “And when she kills him, she’d want to pack everything and leave, she would want to leave everything behind and start a new life and I do not want to do that Ellie, not again.”

With her hands on her hips, Ellie walked towards Ivy, her emotions more balanced than before, “then when everything goes down, we can persuade your mother to let you and everyone else stay here,” she argued, “Ivy, Jackson is your home, her home, and she has Joel, I’m sure she will not be so quick to give it up because of what she has here.”

Slightly comforted with her speech, Ivy let out a small laughter. “You don’t know what my mum is willing to give up when it comes to wanting to leave something, somewhere or someone.”

Defeated, Ellie plopped herself beside Ivy, her eyes blue with sadness. Dimly angry that she wasn’t able to do anything to avenge Ivy for what Rowan had done to her. “Okay,” Ellie gently whispered, and upset, Ivy pressed her hands against her face as she had gently sobbed against it.

“I’m so sorry,” Ivy woefully apologised and empathetic, Ellie kindly pulled Ivy into a hug.

“You don’t need to apologise for anything,” Ellie responded, but remorseful, Ivy shook her head.

“If I just allowed you to explain in the moment and not running off to Rowan, none of this would be happening,” Ivy explained, as she pulled her hands away from her face, Ellie observed her now puffy features, her eyes red with gloom and dejection.

Understanding, Ellie had gently stroked the thick strands of Ivy’s hair, her lips in a thin line and fluffed eyebrows furrowed. “I am angry you did not give me a chance to explain everything,” she truthfully commented, “but it is not your fault Rowan took advantage of you.”

As she had attempted to hold back the rest of her tears, Ellie had thoughtfully brought herself to wipe and get rid of the wetness that had already soaked Ivy’s skin. Silent, Ellie pulled herself to kiss Ivy’s head, her mode protective and woe.

They had begun to speak of others things, to purge the sullen feelings Ivy had carried. “Dina gave me one of the badges I collect,” Ivy quietly brought up and currently, the two had pressed the length of their bodies contra the soft cot of Ivy’s bed.

“Yeah, I told Dina about your collection,” Ellie answered in a hushed tone, Ivy had then thankfully pressed her lips against the arched tip of Ellie’s spotted nose.

“Thank you,” Ivy whispered and pleased. Ellie carefully stroked her fingers through Ivy’s hair.

Her expression had held a look that pondered, and with her dark eyes, Ivy had sent Ellie a quiet lead to communicate about what she had thought about. Reticent, Ellie had traced Ivy’s jaw with the pad of her curved lined thumb, just as she gathered the series of questions she was about to inquire. “Do you know why Joel did that?” Ellie curiously questioned and equally as suspicious of the Miller man’s behaviour, Ivy shook her head.

“From what I heard, Adam said something to my mother that pissed Joel off,” Ivy explained, and as much as Joel’s actions surprised Ivy, the Rosalind girl was pleased that Joel was there for her mother. “Even though he seems like a mad man, I’m glad that someone is there for my mum.”

“At least everyone knows he loves her,” Ellie mildly joked and satisfied, Ivy slid her arms around Ellie’s figure, her limb curved around her body. She had stared at the Williams girl, the mention of love had strike in interest in her, she had wondered if there would ever be a time where her and Ellie would genuinely mean it to each other when it came out of her mouths, still, the brown-haired girl had been too tired to acutely think of the connection she had shared with Ellie, right now, Ivy had been comfortable where they were.

masterlist

♆

#the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us 2 #the last of us two #tlou #tlou2 #joel miller x oc #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #thelastofus #the last of us game #joel the last of us #a song of thorns #asot

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oatm3al-c00kies · 1 year ago

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listening to helplessly hoping and thinking about joel miller what else is new

#(the song hes playing on the porch at the end of part 2)#anyways i'm emo about it #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #tlou2

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timelesslords · 2 years ago

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Killer + Final Girl - Ellie Williams playlist

I hate you for what you did and I miss you like a little kid

listen on spotify

#aka the ellie williams miller did nothing wrong apologist playlist #ellie williams #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou 2 ellie #the last of us #the last of us 2 #this is very much a tlou2 playlist so #theres some joel & ellie songs in here and some dina & ellie songs and some murder rampage songs #we've got it all!#lexi makes playlists

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bonitanightmxres · 2 years ago

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can i just say that joel singing future days to ellie makes me cry every single time

"i believe 'cause i can see, our future days, days of you and me"

she was his future and he made sure she knew that😭😭

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #future days #i physically cannot listen to the original song since tlou2 came out it brings me to tears every time #vicky’s troubles #ANYWAYS #best dad ever

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abbysthighs · 1 year ago

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This scene was so fucking cute.

#I could die #Joel Miller please adopt me you can have two gay daughters #two is better than one #lesbian #queer #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 photomode #tlou2 #ellie williams #joel miler #tlou2 cinematic #tlou2 joel's song #joel's song #ellie and joel #joel and ellie

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total-dxmure · 11 months ago

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ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart.

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach.

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them.

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself.

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray.

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent.

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented.

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box.

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her.

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science.

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away.

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell.

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm.

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers.

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending.

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her.

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch.

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . .

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you.

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor.

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song.

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty.

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove.

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through.

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along.

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked.

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button.

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush.

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college.

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.”

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over.

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers.

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you.

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were-

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.”

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything.

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in.

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.”

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her.

You liked her.

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid.

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day.

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for.

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good.

But also a bit empty.

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to.

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt.

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts.

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing.

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet.

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so.

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door.

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it.

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation.

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell.

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie.

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band.

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers.

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even.

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit.

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass.

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her.

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after.

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before.

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard.

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear:

Ellie was obsessed with you.

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band.

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse.

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features.

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing.

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic.

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus.

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face.

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine.

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm.

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar.

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents.

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles.

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot?

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth.

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy.

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room.

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know.

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.”

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

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amyispxnk · 11 months ago

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My Kind of Woman [WIP] MASTERLIST

A Joel Miller x f!reader series

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

Warnings: canon-compliant (but Ellie's only like 15 so nothing from TLOU2 yet), slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, pining, possible smut we'll see, language, unspecified age gap, specifics by chapter

Chapters:

1 - Special (26/02/24)

2 - What he needs (04/03/24)

3 - Moron (03/07/24)

4 - Route D (19/07/24)

5 - Collide (28/07/24)

6 - Don't Leave me in the Dark (23/10/24)

7 - You finally find, you and I Collide (20/12/24)

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jennifercheckapologist · 1 year ago

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Bandit Like Me - 00

Synopsis: You meet Ellie at her album release and she offers you her jacket.

Pairing: Rockstar!Ellie x Musician!Reader (Side Abby x Reader)

Warnings: None, really; Ellie's a slut (and southern); Reader's a slut (and southern); Reader isn't explicitly femme or masc, but I'm femme and everything I do is for myself; Eventual Smut; Joel is Super Alive

A/N: I haven't written something with a real plot that wasn't about Jennifer's Body in 5ever ! Also a transphobic radfem reblogged my last fic... terrifying. I would rather not interact with TERFs ever <3

Word Count: 1,252

On TLOU2 and Palestine

Resources

You need air- or at least, that’s what you told Abby before you rushed out onto the back patio, away from all the warm bodies, glitter, and the sounds of the world ending. It’s overwhelming being surrounded by celebrities now after all the years of shitty apartments and college parties. Now, they’re supposed to be your peers… or something like that.

You probably weren’t supposed to be here, on the guest list for one of the biggest parties of the year at Ellie’s absurd mansion- all dressed up to celebrate her. You definitely weren’t supposed to be outside, on her back patio in the cold New York air, watching her strum her guitar to herself.

You know you’re intruding, but you just can’t turn around. Not when Ellie looks so… like that with her signature guitar in her lap and her hair messily piled up on her head. She’s under-dressed in her blue jeans and wife beater. The only sign that she isn’t in the same tax bracket as you is the bright red racer jacket covering her arms. You’d seen that jacket a million times in photos. On-stage, in paparazzi photos, in music videos.

You hadn’t expected her here, outside all alone. Not when all the people worth name-dropping were inside, celebrating the release of her newest album. It seemed she was already working on the next thing. You hadn’t expected to get to speak to her either. She’d been famous since you’d been in high school- you still had her old country songs from long before she was a rockstar saved to your phone.

She must know you’re here- you didn’t make much effort to hide your arrival- but she stays focused. Her eyes are trained on her hand at the neck of the guitar, and she’s got that wrinkle between her brows like she’s doing surgery. The longer you wait, the more awkward you feel.

“Now, what would your daddy say if he saw you right now?” You manage a bit of confidence as you take a few steps toward where she’s seated, legs crossed on the concrete. It feels like a safe enough topic; something you could talk about for a while.

She chuckles, already back to being the impossibly charming star she was back inside. She flirts the same way that she breathes- instinctually, “What if I told you that he taught me everything I know?”

The answer? You wouldn’t be surprised. You’d grown up listening to Joel’s music with your parents, and you could hear bits and pieces of him all over her music. There were touches of him in your own work too. You still idolized him- had nearly choked on your drink when you saw him inside.

“About guitar,” you murmur, already melting into her, “or women?”

“Both, but there was only so much he could tell me about guitar,” she jokes. She finally looks up from her guitar, green eyes intense as she watches you squirm in front of her, “Did he see me leave?”

You shrug in response, your arms wrapped around you as you realize how cold it is. You can feel the goosebumps along your arms, and you’re starting to really regret your outfit choice, “I couldn’t say. He looked pretty relaxed the last time I saw him.”

She starts strumming again, something familiar- you recognize it from one of her first albums. It felt like those albums were a lifetime ago, but you remember listening to her debut when you were still in high school. She was only a couple of years older than you, but it seemed she was speaking right to you. You’d recognize those first tracks any day. Her strumming stopped again when you shivered and breathed into the cold air.

“Take my jacket,” she placed her guitar aside gently and began to remove the expensive leather for you, “Joel’d be pissed if I let you freeze out here, sugar.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” you protest, finally sitting next to her but certainly keeping your distance. You weren’t here to get starstruck and fall hopelessly in love with your seventeen-year-old self’s crush. You were supposed to be getting fresh air. You’d already promised Abby that you wouldn’t get into trouble tonight.

“You could,” she shoved the jacket toward you, “And you should.”

You push her hand back toward her, “Ellie, I know better.”

The smirk on her face doesn’t let up as she drawls, “You’re really hurting my ego here.”

“One second I’m in your jacket, the next I’m in your bed. I know how you are.”

“I’ve heard similar stories about you,” Ellie placed her jacket in front of you and crossed her arms, celebrating her minor victory as you picked it up and used it to cover your legs, “You don’t have to hop in my bed for it, I promise. I’m still a gentleman. Just don’t tell your girlfriend.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s a big fan,” You wink. ‘Fan’ might be a strong word here, but so was ‘girlfriend.’ What you and Abby had was something in between that. You looked good together, and you had fun. You tried not to think too much about Ellie knowing anything about your love life.

She reached for her guitar again with a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You watched as she stood to leave, seemingly pleased with that being the end of your interaction. You stood awkwardly and called her name, folding her jacket over your arm. She only turned back around to you when she reached the door back into her house, “Your jacket?”

And god, you want to push her for how cocky she looks as she turns on her heel to grin at you, “Don’t worry, I’ll take it back once I’ve seen you in it.”

The moment she’s inside, the whole interaction feels fake. The only evidence you have of the moment is the red leather covering your arm, and you feel like a ridiculous teenager as you bring it to your nose to take in her scent. It smells earthy and expensive and now you’re certain you were smart not to put it on. If you had kept bantering with her, surrounded by her scent like this, you would be in trouble.

You stay outside, thinking about the feeling of being with Ellie for a little longer before heading back in to find Abby. She lights up when she sees you, her large arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in like you really do belong to her. She’s warm against you, and when she gives you your personal space back, she has confusion contorting her face as she stares at the leather folded over your arm, “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” you attempt to shrug off the edge in her voice, “I ran into Ellie Williams outside and it was cold so she-”

“She left her own party to sit outside and wait for a pretty girl to need a jacket?” She murmurs into your ear, pulling you back into her. You can already tell she’s preparing to make this a thing.

You frown up at her, “She was working on a song or something. I interrupted her and she was really nice about it.”

“I’m sure she was.”

“Oh, stop it,” you hook your free arm around her neck, “She knew I came with you.”

That makes the corners of her mouth perk up. She presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before responding, “Good.”

Housekeeping: Dividers again by @saradika ; pinterest board that got me here ; As always, I'm a black femme lesbian and that's my truth

#ellie williams #wlw #abby anderson #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #rockstar!ellie #fame au #zavi learns to write♍

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boopernatural · 9 months ago

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i was replaying the museum portion of tlou2 and got so fuckin sad thinking about how this is probably one of both of their favorite days.

Joel cherished this day so much that he saved the damn dinosaur brochure that he picked up for Ellie. He probably looked through that brochure, flipping through the pages, remembering how she'd laughed and gotten all giddy running around the museum. He'd remember how he watched her like she was the only thing on earth- like she was the sun and he was seeing daylight for the first time.

How he became a father again, after so so long, giving his little girl the birthday celebration she deserves.

I just imagine they both look back on this day when it gets hard and remember how good things used to be. (and then i ugly cry and make a lil compilation)

please don't repost without crediting me if you share :-) these are all my game clips and i stitched em together with the song!

song- Take on Me (covered by Ashley Johnson)

#boopernatural #flannelfeelings #joel and ellie #joel and ellie edit #tlou #tlou2 #tlou edits #joel and ellie edits #ellie williams #joel miller #joel edits #ellie edits #ashley johnson #the last of us #the last of us part two #tlou ps5

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redahlia-writes · 2 years ago

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be still my foolish heart. | joel miller

Abstract: He still felt unsure, unsteady, both wanting to keep her at arm’s length and welcoming her back in his life like before, drown in the comfort he’d found in her presence year after year since they were kids. She’d tried to reassure him, and he knew she was right–you could not live in the world they did and not change. But he remembered her in pigtails on the first day of school, he remembered her prom dress being awfully 80s, and he remembered the first time he’d seen her with Sarah–gentle voiced and wide eyed, holding her as if she might shatter should she breathe a little too hard.

Words: 9.7k

Content: f!reader (called “sugar” as a nickname, described as shorter than joel); childhood friends to lovers, mentions of child’s death, grief, mentions of attempted suicide, PTDS, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be about joel and sugar but there’s a lot of joel/ellie too. a lot, idiots in love, slow(ish) burn, ellie being a loving little shit, canon divergence (they get to jackson and don’t leave but i never explain why), some very minor spoilers for tlou2, purple prose, unedited

A/N: loosely inspired by almost (sweet music) by hozier; the song they listen to is night and day and can be found in ella fitzgerald sings the cole porter song book (1956).

also on AO3 - masterlist

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

Ellie had never seen a deer in headlights, only saw pictures of the creatures and heard the expression every now and then from older people.

She imagined the way Joel looked in that moment was what they meant.

Frozen still, eyes wide and lips parted, even holding his breath if the lack of condensation by his face was any indicator, Joel stood next to his brother with his back straight, the only indication he hadn’t suddenly turned into a piece of rock the light twitch in his right hand.

There’s someone you should see, Tommy had told him, half a day after they’d gotten to Jackson–they’d had time to eat and leave the few stuff they still had in the house, and right before she could hit the shower Tommy had walked in. Not keen on the idea of being left alone, Ellie had followed the Millers quietly. Joel had even teased her about it.

“Who’s the quiet one now?” she’d huffed at Joel’s sudden immobility. Tommy had looked at her with that half grin that she imagined Joel must’ve had, too, at some point, and then lifted his arm to wave a hand in the direction of a small group by the school. A woman pulled her head up, a green woolen hat low on her brow, and then waved back, a smile visible even from there. “Anyone you know?” she asked, looking back at Joel.

He still did not bat an eye.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she exclaimed, extricating herself from the rest of the group with a quick apology. “Joel Miller,” she called, the name rolling with a certain familiarity out of her mouth as she approached them, brushing some snow from her coat.

“Sugar?” the word came out strangled–his mouth was dry, the ground unstable beneath him. Suddenly, he wasn’t 56 anymore but 16 years old, and around him a shitty classroom that could do with some fixing, or an all too familiar living room, a cluttered bedroom with dark walls–and the smile he was offered had not changed a bit.

“Sugar?” Ellie echoed, a little baffled. Her eyes darted towards the girl, a glint of curiosity.

“Only one who still called me that after we left high-school,” the woman chuckled, stepping forward with her arms open. “Come on, c’mere–it’s been too long.”

Joel hesitated–when was the last time he’d hugged someone? Maybe Tess, though he could not remember when, but that had always been more a clinging-to-each-other type of thing. A hug, that was different, and he felt stuck on the spot all over again.

Before he could overthink it too much, Ellie pushed him forward, making him grunt in protest as he almost fell into the woman’s embrace–he wrapped his arms around her, the movement somewhat foreign, and slowly leaned into it. Despite the cold and snow, she was warm underneath all the layers of clothing she donned, and smelled of freshly cut grass. It reminded him of another time, and if he closed his eyes he could almost see it. He exhaled.

“You stink, Miller–how long have you been out there?” she laughed softly, one hand cupping the back of his head, same way she used to when they were younger. He remembered dancing.

“A while,” he admitted, unable to argue with that, easing into the embrace furthermore. “Sorry,” he added, and she patted his shoulder gently, another delicate chuckle that rang crystalline to his ears.

“I’ve had it worse, it’s alright,” she murmured, chin hooked over his shoulder–he could feel her straining to stand on her tiptoes, slightly unbalanced, and lowered himself against her, face buried in the curve of her neck wrapped by a soft scarf that matched the hat. She sighed softly at the movement, her fingertips scratching across his scalp. “God, it’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” voice slightly muffled and blind to the world, Joel was able to admit that. Maybe it was nostalgia, making him forget everything else for a few moments as he lingered in the peacefulness of that familiar touch, or maybe it was exhaustion, blurring the edges between who he used to be and who he was now.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” she whispered then, and it felt like ice through his veins. He pulled back slightly, the urge to run away making his limbs tremble–but she kept him caged in, the arm around his shoulders stronger than he remembered (was he tired? Was he too out of it?), and the hand that had brushed his hair falling to his cheek, brushing away some of the grime he’d grown used to by then.

But it was her gaze that kept him rooted, though, that softness he didn’t think could still exist in the world they lived in, and emotions he had almost forgotten, ignoring them each time they presented themselves–it’d be too risky to feel them, too easy to surrender to it again: sorrow, grief. It cut his breath all over again.

“Tommy told me,” she kept her voice low, her touch gentle, rubbing her thumb across his uneven beard. The bustling in the air was foreign after so many months of quiet, and he wasn’t sure which one made his body ache–the current life, or the past death.

“Of course he did,” he scoffed, and her expression shifted, a reprimand in her gaze that used to make him laugh when they were younger, and furthermore when she grew into that same expression, year after year of standing together.

“Joel,” she chided, still soft-voiced, still attempting to comfort him through that small motion on his face. He remembered that touch and kind, encouraging words with a baby in his arms; he remembered his name called out through laughter–hers, his daughter’s; he remembered winters and summers and years before that. He closed his eyes, a furrow in his brow.

“No, of course he did,” he exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry, it’s just–she really liked you, you know?” his eyes remained closed, trying to push back the pressure building behind his eyelids, trying to swallow the knot in his throat.

“I know,” he felt her nod, press herself closer just as her name was called from behind them. When he looked up at her again, her eyes were shimmering, that vulnerability he hadn’t had the courage to show again after the ringing in his right ear had stopped. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, bringing her other hand to his face, too, holding him like that. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke right away he would crumble.

All it had taken was a gentler touch, and he was ready to fall apart.

“You oughta go–looks like you’re needed,” he cleared his throat, the damn knot clinging to his larynx seemingly impossible to push away. She looked over her shoulder, the group she was with before waving her over, and sighed before turning back towards him.

They still hadn’t let go of each other, and neither seemed willing to make the first move.

“I’m expecting you all for dinner,” she spoke a little louder then, turning her head as if to look past Joel’s shoulder but without moving her gaze from him. “Alright, Tommy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the younger Miller called, his eyes returning to the pair after having wandered elsewhere for the duration of their reunion–the most privacy that could be given in that context. Ellie hadn’t been as subtle, her head tilted and a curious look in her eyes at the sudden burst of emotion that seemed to roll off Joel’s back. It was astounding.

In the end, she was the first to depart, a kiss to Joel’s cheek that seemed to melt away what little tension was left in him. He stumbled back as she walked towards the group, one last look over her shoulder that ended up being directed towards Ellie, a quick smile and small wave she returned, somewhat unsure.

“I felt the same way,” Tommy rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder, as if to shake him from the haze that seemed to have permeated him thoroughly.

“She been here long?” he was frowning again, forcing his gaze away from the back of her head to look at Tommy. The younger Miller nodded a couple of times.

“Even before I got here,” he said, slowly beginning to lead him away, Joel seemingly rooted to the spot once more. “You know Sugar, she’s always been a step ahead of us,” he added, and in his murmur there was a fond smile.

“Sugar?” Ellie repeated, her eyebrows arched with her returned bafflement.

“Just a stupid nickname,” Joel muttered, shaking himself off in a way that seemed more a recoil–he turned and cleared his throat. “Old nickname. Don’t even know who came up with it in school. It stuck.”

“For you it stuck,” Tommy was smiling, clearly amused. They seemed so different, Ellie thought. Had they always been like that? She wondered if she could ask her. “Pure irony, really,” Tommy continued, addressing her. “She always fought people–a real spitfire.”

“You only say that because you got slapped,” Ellie’s eyebrows arched furthermore at Joel’s scoff, a tint of amusement in his words.

“And you,” the younger Miller retorted, making Ellie’s lips part.

“Oh, I like her,” she exclaimed, turning to look at her–she was back at work, the scarf now covering the lower part of her face, though she could still hear her laughter ring clear.

A week later, they stood in her living room.

Though they’d met again around town after that first day, it had taken both Joel and Ellie a moment to settle in. The house felt odd for them both–Ellie having never had one, Joel not remembering his old one. It helped that she lived just around the corner, and in the morning he’d see her walk by to head towards the center.

Slowly, he found a routine, found a way to make himself useful, and leaned into it. Ellie was wilder, refusing to go to school and spending most of her time in her bedroom, Walkman constantly on as she went through pages and pages of old diaries, old books.

“Wanna come to this thing with me?” was the only thing he asked her that night–they threaded carefully around each other, murmured confessions before he sent her to bed at night (the only thing he was firm with, leaving her her space otherwise). It wasn’t time that did it, Ellie’s head resting on his shoulder as she fiddled with the new record he’d found for her. When I got bit in the mall I wasn’t on my own, Riley’s name bitter on her tongue.

“What thing?” Joel’s hair was slicked back, a new shirt Tommy had gotten for him along with his jacket. He actually looked put together, which was the reason why Ellie sat up quickly. “Are you going to Sugar’s?”

“Stop calling her that,” he muttered, though it was the only way he ever referred her as–old habits, he thought. “Yeah–Tommy and Maria are gonna be there too, we’re all adults so if–”

“Let’s go,” she hopped up.

And so they were in her living room, scarcely decorated but recognisable as hers nonetheless, and Ellie walked around the place with a curious gaze, hands fidgeting at her sides.

“How did you convince her to come here?” Maria asked quietly, as the three of them waited for the lady of the house–she had categorically refused any help in the kitchen, ordering them to wait by the set table. Old habits, Joel thought again.

“I didn’t,” he shrugged, watching the kid linger at a picture set in a cracked frame, the dance of her fingers ceasing for just a moment. “I think she likes her–probably has to do with the slapping stories.”

“Definitely has to do with the slapping stories,” Tommy chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ellie asked, without turning to look at them. “Actually–him I can understand,” Joel scowled at Ellie’s remark while she pointed at him, spinning around to face the three of them. “But why did she hit you?” Maria chuckled at that, while Tommy almost choked on his drink and his face burned a brighter shade of red.

“Ah, well, I–” he cleared his throat–it was another time, he thought. So many years before. “I–kind of made a move on her. And then told her I was gonna join the army,” he rubbed his jaw, some sort of nervous twitch as he glanced in a grinning Maria’s direction. “Still not sure which one pissed her off more.”

“The army,” she said, coming into the living room while holding a fuming pot she was quick to place on the table. Joel’s posture changed, a slight shift towards her by the head of the table and his head twisting so that his gaze would be on her, the ghost of a smile across his lips. “If one of you was going to be a self-sacrificing idiot and leave, I expected that to be Joel.”

“You shipped yourself off to college,” Tommy protested as they sat down–Joel remained next to her on left, Ellie next to him (she didn’t like being on his deaf side, but she preferred it to sitting away), Tommy and Maria on the other side.

“Definitely not the same thing,” she wrinkled her nose in a half-grimace, plating up the food–whatever it was, Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d smelled something so good, her stomach already grumbling. Tommy scoffed lightly, passing on the plates.

“Wait, you made a move? If anything I thought–” before Ellie could finish the sentence, Joel pinched her leg, making her yelp and turn to him wide-eyed. “What the hell was that for?”

“Manners,” he muttered–at the corner of his eye, the woman tried to fight off a smile, setting the last plate in front of him. “Eat your food.”

She looked at the older Miller and the kid throughout the dinner and the chats, the scowls and grins, his reprimands and her sharp tongue. It was a familiar scene, late dinners stolen in a living room she once knew like it was her own.

The younger brother leaving early on was familiar, too, Maria tiring easily from the pregnancy and Tommy refusing to leave her side for longer than necessary–her heart ached at the thought of Tommy Miller having grown up, until it functioned as a reminder that growing up in their world now meant surviving. It was easier to think of it like that.

“Just means you’re gonna have to come back for dessert,” she said as Maria hugged her, winking in Tommy’s direction, too.

“We should get going, too,” Joel cleared his throat once it was just the three of them, heading for the rack where his and Ellie’s jacket hung. She had the fleeting thought that he was trying to avoid being alone with her–though they weren’t really alone–as he had for the whole week. A quick greeting and then away, never lingering too much around her. She figured it was because he was still settling in–hoped that was the reason, in spite of the years gone by.

“But I want dessert!” the girl protested, still sat at the table (by herself).

“Ellie,” he sighed heavily, not turning to look at her as picked up her coat.

“Joel,” she retorted in the same tone, unmoving. The woman looked between the two of them with an eyebrow arched, fighting the smile off of her lips the moment Joel sighed again, head falling forward. It wasn’t needed, but Ellie took it a step further, softening her voice for a, “Please?”

Joel Miller had always had a hard time saying no to his daughter. Guess things hadn’t changed that much.

“If we’re bothering–” he started, his gaze flicking from Ellie to her.

“Oh, quit that, Miller,” she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Ellie, grab your plate, come,” Joel remained frozen for a moment as the girl beamed, standing with the plate in her hands and quickly following her towards the kitchen. A beat, and then he went after them, bringing with him the rest of the dirty dishes they’d left behind.

“What is that?” Ellie had stopped abruptly at the entrance of the kitchen, eyes wide, forcing Joel to walk around her at the last moment, stumbling towards the woman who was placing a tray onto the counter. He lingered a moment, his gaze following the twisted pattern made of golden dough, and once more he felt transported back ages in time.

“My mama’s apple pie,” she said gently, a smile grazing her face–there was a bitterness to it, too, with the realization that that was probably the first time Ellie saw one outside of pictures. “We produce the flour ourselves, and have the dogs check it for possible contamination, so it’s safe,” Joel could almost see the hope in her eyes in trying to reassure the kid, grabbing the knife and offering it to her by the handle. “Wanna have a go?”

Ellie’s eyes shimmered with excitement as she took the sharp knife, getting closer to her–she leaned with one arm on the counter, while with the other hand she showed her where to start, mimicking the movement of cutting down towards the crust. As he placed the dirty dishes in the sink, Joel inhaled deeply, the perfume coming out of the still warm filling in fumes.

“Jesus,” he muttered with a soft groan, turning around quickly. Ellie stilled, her gaze flickering from where she held the knife up to him, then back to the grinning woman who was looking at him, too. “Sorry.”

“You know, your–” she stopped herself, clearing her throat before straightening her back. “Joel would always know when we made this at my place. I don’t know how but he did–never failed to show up when my mama got one in the oven.”

“Sixth sense,” Joel chuckled, getting closer as well, his mouth already watering. “Smells just like then,” he mumbled, shifting on the spot when she bumped her hip against him, her smile widening. “You know, Sarah wanted to call you to bring it over, before–” he cut himself off.

Ellie shuffled on the spot, the knife in her hand a sudden weight she didn’t like–Joel had mentioned just in passing Sarah to her, admitting first and foremost to her existence, half-joking over their differences. But whenever he did his eyes would go unfocused, gaze dropping to the broken watch.

She watched as the woman pressed herself slightly closer, hand brushing the back of Joel’s, right up to the cracked watch before she even looked up, the movement seemingly enough to draw Joel’s attention towards her; she watched as the man cleared his throat, right hand twitching before he exhaled, pulling back as if in afterthought, reaching for the cupboard; she watched Sugar’s head drop slightly, and then straighten again with a forced smile in her direction. Ellie returned it tentatively.

“Alright, kiddo–it’s best when it’s warm,” she encouraged, taking the knife from her as Joel returned with clean plates. She deposited the slice on one, pushing it in Ellie’s direction. “Too bad we haven’t got any ice cream, tastes even better with that.”

“Can’t miss what I never tried, right?” Ellie shrugged, that crooked smile still on. “Thanks,” she added then, stepping away, back towards the living room. She’d started to learn when others needed space.

“Joel,” his name whispered was like a bucket of ice water thrown in his face, a shuddering breath leaving him when he turned to look at her. Her head was slightly tilted, a soft gaze that tethered on mournful. Joel didn’t want pity. He wanted so much, but not pity.

“Can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. Her hand reached for him again, slower, fingers brushing his knuckles as they whitened with the clench of his fists above the counter. “Sugar, I can’t,” he repeated, looking down. She pressed her palm over the back of his hand, a firm knead to unfurl his fingers from where they pushed into his own palm, blunt nails still leaving their mark. He shook his head.

“It’s just me,” she kept her voice low, soft.

Tommy had told her a lot–the whole of it, really. Sarah’s death. Joel’s attempt. The shift in him–the shift in them both, but mostly Joel. The anger. The bad, awful things they’d done. The anger, the only thing Joel seemed to have felt for the past 20 years.

It nearly broke her heart.

“I know,” his eyes flickered towards the door leading to the living room, Ellie’s head peeking from behind the backrest of the armchair. “You haven’t changed one bit, but I–”

“That’s not true,” she shook her head, scooting closer. “I have. Everybody has. We had to,” curling her fingers around his hand, she slowly picked it up, bringing it closer to her. There were calluses on her fingers he didn’t remember from the years before, lines across her face he thought were a trick of the light. “You think you lost your humanity when Sarah died, but that’s not true,” she tilted her head towards the living room, gaze flickering to Ellie, the scrape of the fork against the plate the only sound coming from her. “She’s proof of that. You must see that.”

“She was a job,” his hand felt cold in hers, fingers twitching slightly. Each time, she squeezed it softly, bringing it closer to her stomach. He could feel her warmth even like that.

“She was,” she nodded in agreement, shifting so she could meet his gaze. “And now?”

“It’s complicated,” he returned, and a bittersweet smile grazed her lips.

“You always saw things as more complicated than they actually were,” she let go of him, and Joel clenched his hand suspended mid-air in her direction, while she turned towards the counter, taking the knife up again to cut two more slices of pie and plate them. “Perhaps you’re not exactly your old self, but you’re still almost you, no matter what you tell yourself, Joel,” she pushed one of the plates in his direction, glancing at him once more. “Eat up.”

Joel had a hard time breathing. It happened less frequently–it had been weeks since his last episode, he’d almost forgotten about it–but it still did, every now and then. He hated it.

He wasn’t sure what triggered it: he wasn’t doing anything specific, was just thinking about how to fix the creaky step that led up and down his patio, when all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and his chest ached, right in the middle, like a weight trying to pin him down against the ground–but the ground didn’t feel stable, and he had to lean against the wall for support while everything spun around him.

Worst of all was the ringing in his ears. He’d gotten used to the muffled sounds in his right ear, and the sudden high pitched noise made him dizzy, made his vision waiver, made him unable to exhale. The next breath scratched at his throat, like a badly chewed bite refusing to go down, no matter how many times he tried to swallow.

“Dad?” he gasped, the town suddenly in front of him again. The edges were still blurred, but right in front of him stood Ellie–a few steps behind, Sugar had her head tilted, a curious gaze in her eyes.

“What?” his voice rang still distant, somehow, and he shook his head, trying to clear the clouds away.

“I said are you alright?” Ellie frowned, getting a step closer. “Joel, are you going deaf in both ears?” she asked, and that melted away the tension in Joel’s shoulders with a sigh.

“Very funny,” he muttered, pushing himself off from the school wall. “I just got distracted, is all. You ready?” he cleared his throat, glancing briefly in the woman’s direction.

“You know you don’t have to come get me every day, right?” Ellie mumbled, moving at his side. “It’s not like I can run away,” Joel gave her a look–eyebrows arched, head slightly tilted, that same expression he used when Tommy said something dumb. Ellie could almost hear it.

You ran away from FEDRA and sneaked into a sealed mall. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Maybe he had a point.

“Bye, Ms. Sugar!” a girl called from behind them, dark hair pulled away from her freckled face. “Ellie, you coming?” she waited, expectantly. Ellie turned towards Joel, whose face had shifted into a simil-scowl.

“So that’s what you meant, huh?” he crossed his arms, to which Ellie responded with a lopsided grin, looking at him expectantly, the mute question clear in her eyes. Can I? “Wait, Ms. Sugar?” he turned to look at the woman who still stood there, and she snorted.

“Ask Ellie about it,” she retorted, clearly amused by the guilty look creeping across the girl’s face. “She’ll be right there, Dina!” she called out then, a little louder.

“I didn’t mean to, okay?” Ellie protested, with a small kick to the melting snow in front of her. “You call her that all the time–it just came out of my mouth,” she argued then, pointing at Joel.

“Are you blaming me for calling your teacher with a nickname?” he returned, baffled.

“Yes,” Ellie nodded. Behind Ellie, he saw her stifle a giggle, quick to lower her head and cover her mouth with a hand. The girl looked up at him still, eyes softening in a pleading motion. “Can I go?”

“Sure,” he sighed–the word was barely out of his mouth before Ellie was already darting away, running towards her smiling friend. “I’m sorry,” he said then, turning to her.

“It’s alright, Joel,” clearly amused, she shook her head and took a step closer to him, hands dropped at her sides. “Besides, I think only Dina heard her. Maybe Cat, too, but it’s no big deal,” she shrugged, standing right in front of him now. Joel tightened his grip around Ellie’s bag strap, lowering his gaze to her.

“She good?” he asked, a little quieter. “This Dina, she–”

“Yes, she’s a good kid,” she said with a smile and a small nod, tilting her head slightly. “You can rest easy, Mr. Miller,” at that, Joel snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Mr. Miller,” he mocked, to which her smile widened. “Haven’t been called that since I had to meet with Sarah’s teachers,” as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his expression fell slightly, gaze unfocused. He thought he was about to stop breathing again, when she placed her hand on his upper arm, pressing gently against the jacket sleeve.

“Joel,” with a whisper of his name, he snapped his eyes back up towards her–a worried crease crossed her forehead, knitting her brows closer. “What is it?”

She knew what it was. She’d seen it, in people younger and older than him; she’d felt it on her own skin, clawing at her throat in a desperate attempt to clear her airways. Hers had never been as immobile as Joel’s. She kicked and screamed and cried until she was spent and aching all over.

“Just–” he clicked his tongue and thought of lying.

He still felt unsure, unsteady, both wanting to keep her at arm’s length and welcoming her back in his life like before, drown in the comfort he’d found in her presence year after year since they were kids. She’d tried to reassure him, and he knew she was right–you could not live in the world they did and not change. But he remembered her in pigtails on the first day of school, he remembered her prom dress being awfully 80s, and he remembered the first time he’d seen her with Sarah–gentle voiced and wide eyed, holding her as if she might shatter should she breathe a little too hard.

“It’s like starting all over again with her–not sure if I’m doing right or wrong whenever I make a decision,” he admitted then, voice low–she got closer, gaze softening. He wanted to lean into her all of a sudden, but clenched his fists instead, the strap of Ellie’s bag digging in his palm. “I can’t disappoint her, can’t–I can’t fail her, too.”

“You didn’t fail anyone, Joel,” he almost disagreed, but the look she gave him didn’t leave room for any argument. He snapped his mouth shut. “It’s odd, adjusting to this place–I didn’t sleep properly for a year, flinched at every noise. When Maria asked me if I wanted to teach I thought she’d lost her mind,” she scoffed, shaking her head lightly. “And then I had my first full night of sleep. The kids and parents started waving at me in the streets. I ate food that hadn't expired 10 years ago. It’s–give yourself some time to adjust, Miller. Both of you.”

Joel exhaled, tipping his head slightly back and looking up towards the sky–it was sunny, mercifully, the cold starting to become bearable. He felt her shuffle forward rather than see her, eyelids fluttering when she rested her hand over his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Ellie’s doing good,” she reassured then, smiling when he looked back at her. “She’s–a little wild, maybe, but she feels safe here. With you. She’ll be alright,” head tilted slightly to the side, the scarf wrapped around her neck slipped–he almost reached up to fix it for her. “So will you.”

“You always knew what to say, didn’t you?” he sighed, turning his head a little–he felt her hand move from his shoulder to his upper arm, warmth spreading wherever her touch lingered. He leaned into it.

“Not really, most of the time I winged it,” she shrugged, and his smile returned, although tentative, while shaking his head. “How’d you think I made it through college?”

“Brains, Sugar,” without thinking too much about it, he reached up and pinched her chin, gently tilting her head back a little. “You’ve always had more brains than us combined. I think we both should’ve listened to you more.”

“Took you long enough to admit that,” she grinned, following the curve of his arm down to where his hand still brushed her face. She brushed her fingertips along the back of his hand, lingering at his knuckles. “It hurt to say it out loud, didn’t it?” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, actually. I’m quite alright,” her eyebrows arched, wrapping her fingers around his hand for balance before reaching for his forehead with her other one. Joel laughed then, taking one small step back to balance them both, eyes crinkling at the touch. “What are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever,” she replied, nonchalantly, shifting her hand over his temple, over his cheek. “God forbid this affects you physically,” she added in a mock whisper, unable to hide the amusement in her words. Still laughing, Joel let go of Ellie’s bag to reach up and grab her other hand.

“Alright, alright,” he pulled his head slightly back, holding their joined hands between them–she’d tipped forward, unbalanced, and he held her upright, looking back down towards her grinning face. “You’ve made your point. Thank you.”

“Good,” she chuckled. They remained like that a moment longer, simply looking at each other, before she cleared her throat and glanced quickly over her shoulder. “I should go. Gotta fix up the classroom or else Hell might just break loose tomorrow.”

“Right,” he let go of her, his palms tingling still. “Well, I–thank you, Sugar. I mean it.”

“I know you do,” expression softened again, she stepped back–they had barely realized how close they were. Joel missed it right away. “I’ll see ya, Miller.”

“Sure,” he murmured in return, one of the hands he’d kept lifted doing a half-wave as she turned around. He kept it up, gaze lingering on her back until she’d vanished back into the building.

“Damn,” he whipped around with his eyes wide, gaze immediately falling to Ellie at his side.

“What are you doing here?” he muttered, a quick look over his shoulder and then past Ellie’s head. “Language,” he added right away, making her snort.

“Didn’t know you could laugh,” she retorted, her eyebrows arched.

“That's bullshit, you’ve heard me before,” he frowned, and Ellie’s grin widened.

“Language,” she mocked him, making Joel scowl. “Sure I did, but it wasn’t like this.”

“Like what?” still frowning, he watched her shrug and point vaguely at him.

“This,” she repeated, then shrugged and grabbed her bag from the ground in front of him. “Anyways, I came back to get this. Bye.”

“Ellie!” he protested, though she was already skipping away. “Like what?”

Winter passed, and the first glimpses of Spring came to Jackson in the shape of flowers and fruit, an unfrozen ground giving them the first rewards. Ellie would spend more days outside with her friends, but every now and then she’d hang back with him, sitting on the porch while he tried to teach her how to play guitar.

“Now try the next one,” he nodded, after a while she’d been repeating the same three notes, a small melody she’d been practicing.

“I can’t do the next one,” she protested, keeping at it. Joel began to argue, but a movement at the corner of his eye made him turn around–with his good ear towards Ellie, he didn’t hear the woman’s steps until she was in his peripheral vision. He followed her with his gaze, head turning as she went–her hands were occupied by a large box, and when she noticed them she just smiled, but didn’t stop. “No, Ellie, don’t say that. You’re doing great. You can do it.”

“What?” he cleared his throat, snapping his head back around towards the kid. She was scowling, arms crossed over the guitar as he stared at him. “You are doing good. Go to the next one,” at that she rolled her eyes, lips parting with a scoff. “What?” he repeated.

“Will you quit being a stubborn ass?” Ellie groaned, lowering the guitar and leaning back into the seat. Joel’s eyebrows arched high, disbelief painted across his face.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” she scoffed again, tapping across the wood.

“Yeah, yeah,” she practically brushed him off. “But will you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel mimicked her, leaning back against the backrest and crossing his arms, his head twisting ever so slightly towards where he was looking before, towards her. A groan escaped her.

“Oh, please, you know perfectly well,” Joel frowned now, watching as Ellie pointed her finger in the woman’s direction–she was too far to see them, or hear them, but still Joel tapped against her extended hand. “You like her,” the girl said, bringing her hand back towards her chest. It was Joel’s turn to scoff.

“Yeah, I like her–we’ve been friends since we were kids,” he shrugged, then folded his arms across his chest once more. Ellie rolled her eyes again.

“No, I mean you like like her. Like you’re in love with her,” Joel snorted, shaking his head.

“What would you know about that?” despite the levity in Ellie’s tone, her face darkened for a moment–it had been a while since he’d seen that look in her eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through him right away. He shifted in his seat.

“I have eyes,” Ellie muttered, placing the guitar down to curl up in the chair, legs up to her chest and arms crossed. “Pretty sure the whole of Jackson knows. It’s obvious.”

“Ellie, we’ve known each other ages,” Joel sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “If I had a problem I’d go to her, and if she had a problem she’d come to me. We’ve been there for each other during–” he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze, “most of the worst times of our lives.”

“And you’ve never–” she trailed off.

“No,” he shook his head with a light smile.

“Not even once?” again he shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Tommy had a crush on her,” he shrugged, and she straightened her back.

“So you thought about it, then,” she exclaimed. Joel dropped his head slightly with a sigh.

“I was a teenager once, you know,” she arched her brows. “She was nice, and she was my friend, and she was real pretty–but there are things that are more important than a crush.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, leaning back down, her fingers tapping up and down her shins as she lowered her gaze, eyebrows pinched together.

“Did–did Sarah like her?” it had started to be easier, talking about her. While Joel still felt the hurt of her absence, the anger and disbelief of his grief had turned into quiet acceptance. Ellie would rarely ask questions about her, but he found it helped.

“She loved her,” he nodded, easing back into the chair. “There weren’t a lot of women in Sarah’s life, but she was there, especially when she needed it the most. And she did love Sarah back–so much,” a fond smile caught on his mouth.

“Yeah, I figured,” Ellie mumbled, tilting her head a little. “It’s her, isn’t it? In the picture with the cracked frame at her place.”

Joel had tried to not linger too much on that picture–Sarah was young in it, 3 or 4 maybe, a full head of curls sticking out on every side. He remembered fighting each day to try and fix it, and her laughing at his feeble attempts. She taught him first–simple hairstyles he could do in the mornings before dropping her off to school and that would survive the day ahead–and then Sarah herself for when she did not want to leave it as it was.

She’d been there for him and Sarah all the time, and he wasn't sure he’d thanked her nearly enough for it. When her mom left, when she started teething, walking, talking, on her first day of school, and every year after that, leaving campus to be at each game, each recital. Clothes, music, movies, all of it–she was always there.

“Yes,” he nodded, slowly. Ellie hummed.

“You should fix that for her,” she said then, standing almost abruptly. “Might be nice. It might also give you an excuse,” she added with a shrug.

“I don’t need an excuse, Ellie,” he sighed, picking the guitar from her. The girl shrugged again, then headed inside. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Cat’s!” she called from inside. Joel strummed a few slow notes, waiting for her to come back out–she did so rushing, jacket half-thrown on. “I still think I’m right. Bye!”

She glanced up from her handiwork when a step echoed a little louder over the gravel, her face immediately splitting in a wide smile and Joel’s half-still stance in the low streetlight.

“Knitting on the porch? That’s new,” he grinned, resuming walking towards her.

“If my mother could see me now, right?” she retorted with a chuckle he matched with a smile of his own, leaving the half-finished sweater aside to stand up. “Hi,” she said then, moving forward to the steps he was climbing.

“Hi,” he returned, stopping one step down so they were at the same level. He brought his hands forward from behind his back, the previously cracked frame and picture within, his gaze lingering on Sarah’s smile a moment longer. “Fixed it for ya.”

“Oh,” she looked over her shoulder, towards the slightly ajar door as if to look at the spot it had been resting. “You didn’t–thank you,” she said, carefully picking it from him.

“Sure,” he shrugged lightly, burying his now empty hands in his pockets. “Thought I’d just stop by,” he added, shuffling slightly. Her smile widened.

“You know you don’t need an excuse to just stop by, right?” she turned around, gesturing at him to follow as she headed inside, lingering at the entrance to place the picture right back where it belonged.

“I know,” he mumbled, lingering at the threshold. One of his guitars was in the living room, resting against the armchair Ellie had curled up in and ended up falling asleep on during the first time they’d gone over. The last time, he’d forgotten the instrument, after Tommy had insisted vehemently he should’ve brought it with him.

“I meant to bring that over,” she said, catching him looking at it. “I saw you teaching Ellie,” she added, pinching one string as she passed by it before heading to the kitchen.

“Yeah, tryin’ to,” Joel followed, fingertips tingling stuffed in his pockets. “She’s good.”

“Better than I was?” she returned with two glasses filled with amber liquid and a grin on her face. “Sweet tea–I got some of the first lemons.”

“Baking, making sweet tea, knitting,” he picked the cool glass from her with a grateful look–the simple act of holding it gave him back another piece of home he thought was gone forever. It had happened quite a few times since they’d found each other again. “You’re turning into your mother, Sugar.”

The woman snorted, rolling her eyes as she stepped away, and Joel was quick to hide his smirk behind the rim of the glass.

“I’ll pretend that was a compliment, Miller,” she squinted in his direction, mock-menacingly.

“C’mon, you know I loved your mother,” he argued before taking a sip–he hummed softly, eyes shutting on instinct. If he focused, he could hear the fire crackling and water bubbling over the stove as her mother made it, could taste the sugar and lemon or peaches she’d slip them in the meantime. He sighed. “I’ll tell you what–your talents clearly reside in this, not that,” he added, pointing towards the guitar. She laughed again.

“Well, I’d rather listen to the music than play it,” she declared, her chin tilted upwards, a grin mimicking his own. Then her eyes widened, a shimmer in them as she jolted on the spot, quickly resting the glass down on the table. “I’ve gotta show you something!”

A small frown knitted his brow as he licked the sweetness from his mouth and followed her with his gaze, hurried steps towards the bedroom that echoed in the quiet of the home. She was gone a few minutes, returning after a moment of rattling, a wide smile spread across her face. Joel’s eyes fell to the object in her hands–a portable CD player, not so different from the one she’d gifted Sarah in the 90s but they always ended up stealing once she was asleep.

“Audio is not the best, to be fair, but after so many years without music–” she stopped in front of him, offering one of the earphones to him while she put the other one in.

Still frowning lightly, Joel shuffled closer, the short cord forcing him forward. The drum arrived first, the sound slightly scratched, and with her smile widening she looked up at him. Like the beat beat beat of the tom-tom, he chuckled as she freed his hands, rocking from one side to the other following the rhythm.

“Where’d you get this?” he stumbled forward when she took one of his hands, tugging him closer–the other fell to her side to second her swinging–he couldn’t help returning her infectious smile as she shrugged lightly, her free hand reaching on his shoulder.

“Luck–I found it before getting here along with a couple of CDs,” she looked up at him, head slightly tilted. “This one reminded me of you,” she added, voice softer–for a moment, her smile faltered.

She’d never thought she’d see him again, keeping the record out of pure nostalgia for someone she hadn’t seen in years. Someone she always feared was gone. They’d listened to Ella Fitzgerald constantly during their teenage years, Joel sneaking some of his parents’ records to her house, or locking themselves into listening booths for hours until they were kicked out. Dancing as they were in that moment.

“Only you beneath the moon and under the sun,” she hummed, their movements slowing with the song. “Whether near to me or fat, it’s no matter darling where you are–”

“I think of you night and day, day and night, why is it so?” he joined in, voice low, head bending slightly towards her–her smile returned, a shimmer in her eyes.

“Your voice’s changed,” she murmured, taking half a step closer. “S’warmer. I like it.”

“Thought you always liked my voice,” he smiled, tucking his chin to look down at her. She nodded with a low chuckle, locking their already joined hands together by intertwining their fingers.

“’Course I did,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes mockingly. She gave a squeeze to his hand then, lowering her head slightly. “I missed it–this,” she inhaled sharply then, a shallow sound that temporarily overwhelmed the music. “You,” she added, almost in a whisper that would’ve been lost to him had he not been looking at her mouth.

Joel’s heart stuttered, a soft sigh at her admission as his eyes fluttered shut, just a moment. Tongue-tied, he shifted closer, as close as he could get, the hand on her waist moving to the small of her back, wrapping his arm around her. He didn’t know how to tell her, how to let his mouth form the words that clouded his head–that had been since he’d seen her again. He couldn’t say it, not for lack of trying.

“Sugar,” he whispered, and she nodded, leaning forward and cutting him off.

The song went on, and she rested her head on his chest–the hand on his shoulder was soft, arm almost draped across it as she toyed absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, brushing the nape of his neck every now and then. Their joined ones fell to his chest, arms bent, the warmth of her exhales brushing across their knuckles. He bent his head slightly, cheek barely brushing the top of her head, and he tightened his arm around her waist to keep her close–each song closer, until the music stopped.

They stayed like that a moment longer, even in silence, his heart beating the only sound she could hear, silence on his end with his good ear plugged by the earphone. She rubbed her thumb against the side of his hand, small movements that made his eyelids droop. He caught a glimpse of the top of her head like that, the curve of her nose, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks and the small pout on her relaxed mouth, all half-hidden against him. She looked–

“Ah, fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself, and she blinked rapidly before looking up, wide-eyed. She tilted her head, gently pulling his earphone off.

“What is it?” she cleared her throat, taking a small step back. The hold on his hand began loosening, so he forced himself to ease his arm around her waist, too, shaking his head.

“Nothin’, just–something Ellie said, it’s not important,” he let go of her when her brows knit, a hint of perplexity in her gaze. “I should go, actually. Check she’s actually gone to sleep.”

“Of course,” she returned quickly, stepping even further back, hands falling to her sides and rubbing down slowly, palms dragging along the seams of her jeans. “Thank you. For the frame–and passing by.”

His right hand twitched slightly at his side, and he took a small step back, nodding at her words. He stopped then, moving forward once more–he pushed past the knot in his throat and the tingling in his limbs and his heart dropping, and reached for her face. She leaned into his touch, his hands cupping over her cheeks as he shifted closer once more, brushing a delicate kiss to her forehead, her lips curled into the beginning of a smile. He held her gently, the touch of his lips lingering a moment longer over her skin before he moved away.

“See ya, Sugar.”

Summer was relentless. With days spent seeking shadows and some reprieve from the heat, the nights were unbearable in their stillness. Joel couldn’t sleep–after 20 years in Boston, he wasn’t used to the Southern heat anymore.

And he would be lying to himself if he thought that was the only reason why.

He kept replaying the conversation with Tommy in his head, over and over. He was haunted by it, sitting on the porch in the quiet of Jackson’s night.

“Ellie’s right, it is getting painful to watch.”

“The hell are you talking with Ellie about?”

“You and Sugar. It’s worse than when we were young, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Means this time I can’t pretend to ask her out so that you finally get your head out of your ass and admit you like her. You gotta wake up, Joel.”

He was awake. Truth was, Joel had felt like he had been living in a nightmare for the past 20 years–and now he was awake and didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t know how to be himself anymore. Or how to be a person.

Perhaps that was why he was knocking on her door while everyone else was asleep. Perhaps he was just too much in his head about it. Perhaps–

“Joel?” his eyes fell down across her, flimsy night clothes clinging to her for a split second before he forced his gaze up, breath stuttering slightly. “It’s the middle of the night, what happened?”

“Sorry–shit,” he looked away, past his shoulder, back at her–was his heart beating faster? Were his hands shaking? He felt like it. “You’re right. Sorry, I’ll just–it can wait,” he stepped back, shaking his head.

“It clearly can’t, since you knocked at my door like a maniac,” she said it with a little grin, and some tension left his shoulders at the sight of it, of her stepping back and opening the door further for him. “C’mon, get inside.”

Joel walked past her and his steps faltered, tilting his head in her direction with a sharp inhale before moving along, fists opening and closing down his sides. He’d gotten better at that–not letting it all overwhelm him. Understand when the world might begin tipping under his feet and stabilize himself. He was trying–for Ellie, for his brother, for her, he was really trying.

“What happened?” she asked softly. They stood in the living room as they had before, as they had when they’d danced, except they were each on one end of the couch, a gaping emptiness between the two of them. “Should I start to get worried? You look like–”

“I like you,” he blurted out, recoiling at the shift in his own voice–so much louder than her careful tone. She blinked rapidly, head slightly tilted.

“I should hope so,” she scoffed, the reassuring smile she had before turning into a downright amused one. But Joel was shaking his head already, hands still restless. “Joel–”

“No, I mean–I like like you,” she blinked again, lips parting slightly and making her smile begin to dwindle. “Like I think I might be in love with you,” he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply–of course Ellie’s voice would echo in his head right then. Making an absolute fool out of him. “And I think I’ve always been and just didn’t know, or maybe I did know and I just didn’t want to fuck up this too, because I always fucked up everything, every relationship I ever had but ours, and the thought of losing you was terrifying–is terrifying,” he gasped a little between words, each one falling out of his mouth and out of his control. “Or maybe I wasn’t, you know? Maybe–maybe I just–”

“Joey,” she called him softly–so soft he almost didn’t hear her, and reacted first to her hand resting over his chest. His eyes flew open, gaze unfocused for a moment running across her face before they locked with hers, familiar and gentle. She pressed her palm against his chest, and he knew for sure his heart was stuttering underneath her touch. “Take a breath.”

He gasped again, shoulders dropping forward as if wrapping himself around her hand with a long exhale. Blindly, he reached for her, fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“Another,” she instructed, taking his other hand gingerly, and he did. Inhale, exhale, stumbling forward. “It’s just me, Joey.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever called me that, y’know?” he whispered, breathlessly. She gave him a little smile, tapping two fingers on his chest. Slowly, his heartbeat matched her rhythm, and he squeezed her wrist once, gently.

“Wanna try that again?” she murmured, tilting her head a little to the side.

“You can kick me out,” he retorted in a mumble, and she sighed. She shifted the hand she was holding, thumb pressing into his wrist, right above his pulse, right above the strap of his watch, while the rest of her fingers spread across the back of his hand.

“And why would I do that?” Joel met her gaze again–awaiting, reassuring, familiar gaze.

“You’ve known me all our lives, Sugar,” she nodded at his heavy sigh. “You’ve seen me fuck everything up, multiple times–Christ, you’ve seen me fuck things up with Sarah’s mother, too,” again she nodded, and he lowered his voice, breath stuttering. “Yet you were always there for me.”

“Of course I was,” with the last nod, she smiled–it was bittersweet, made his heart ache.

“I loved you for that. More than I knew could be possible,” he bowed his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers tentatively. “And I love–I love–I love you still.”

Her exhale was long, fingers curling over his chest and twisting in the fabric of his shirt–he stumbled forward ever so slightly, the hand he had around her wrist falling against her side balancing himself as she brought her lips close to his. Close, without touching, his breath stuttering when her exhale hit his skin.

“You’ve been the best half of my life, Joel,” there was a scratch in her voice that wasn’t there before, words trembling ever so slightly. “You–I’ve always known I loved you. I knew I loved you, I just–I don’t think I ever realized how much until I lost you. Or found you again.”

“Sugar–” she shook her head, humming.

“Not done,” she chided, and he snapped his mouth shut, almost chuckling. “You were my best friend. I’d like to think you still are, even after these awful fucking years because I–I’ve always needed you, Joel,” the hand on his chest shifted upwards slightly, resting at his collarbones. “And I still do. I need you in my life–I need you.”

“You do have me, sweetheart,” he said, hurriedly, pulling back ever so slightly. Her eyes were shimmering, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close–her hand slid to the side of his neck, lips quivering slightly. He was looking at her lips. “However you want me, you have me.”

“I do love you, even now,” her thumb traced figures eight over his neck with one hand, small circles on his wrist with the other. Soothing. Gentle. Calming. “Whoever it is you think you’ve become now–I love you. I need you to understand that.”

Joel’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened. Closed again, a thin line cutting through his face. She was looking at him as if she could see right through him, pick up the pieces of his hesitation during the months just gone by, and the years before that. Reading him as she’d always done, and speaking directly to his foolish heart, reassuring him–you’ll get through the year, you’ll get through the grief, you’ll be alright, Sarah’ll be alright, we’ll be alright, I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I know,” he hummed, tightening his hold around her. Her body softened into his with a long exhale, the hand rising to his jaw, scratching along his patchy beard. “I’m trying, sweetheart.”

“I know you are,” she cupped his cheek, and in spite of the heat he didn’t mind the warmth radiating from her palm. His eyes fluttered shut. “C’mere.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his head falling forward against the curve of her neck. He leaned fully into the circle of her arms, reaching out with his other free hand too to keep her close, her back slightly arched towards him, locked together like pieces of a puzzle. Freshly cut grass welcoming him home, he dug his fingertips into her sides and brushed his mouth to her neck–a half kiss, hesitant and tentative. If he got a full taste, he knew he’d want nothing else for as long as he lived.

That was a lie. He already didn’t, couldn’t fathom it.

Slowly, she tipped her head to the side, granting him more space–he could feel her heartbeat quickening under his parted lips, a hiccup in her breath as she dragged her hands up the nape of his neck, fingertips slowly brushing through the locks at the back of his head, guiding him forward and up. He let her guide him, gave her full control as the tip of his nose traced a path up her jaw, cheek, his lips following.

“Are you teasin’, Sugar?” he whispered, rubbing their noses together, and felt her smile rather than saw it. She shook her head, pressing herself impossibly closer as she scratched his scalp gently. “Then I’m gonna need you to tell me what to do next.”

When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him already, so close she was slightly cross-eyed, long lashes kissing the arch of her brows. His own heart beat a little quicker, a little louder, anticipation building in his limbs as he could feel himself burn from within.

“Kiss me,” just a whisper.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His heart would never be whole again, that much he knew–a part of it had stayed behind, pierced by a bullet, a 20 years old wound. But he could live again, day by day. He could find his way back to life, with his Ellie on one side and–

Joel caught her lips with his own, and it felt like homecoming. Sweet as sugar, he kissed her slow, without rush, as if trying to make up for each year spent apart, and for each year spent together in the wrong way. He held her as if she might shatter and like he would never let her go both, drank greedily each sigh, each whisper, never once parting until his lungs burned, and then kissing her gasps away, too.

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