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#i hope it's okay to tag you sarah :)
ofhope · 8 months
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Anonymous sent in this...
How much do you miss Cyno, Tighnari? Going long periods without seeing him must be hard sometimes.
for Tighnari.
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“That kind of thing can't really be quantified. There are no real measurements that can be placed onto emotion, even if they are considerable. 'I miss you a lot,' for example; it specifies that you miss someone quite a bit, but doesn't give an exact estimate of how much you miss them. Personally, I skip past such methods.
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That is to say: I miss seeing him raid my kitchen. There is a certain ... feeling that emerges whenever someone feels so at home with you, that their presence is less of a surprise, and more of a fixture. Meant to be, rather. I miss my sheets smelling like him — not like the dirt and grime he often tracks into my hut, mind you — but, like an oasis, comprised of clarity and hints of coconut. Green and refreshing, all the same. If sunlight were to have a scent, and science dictates it wouldn't... I believe Cyno would have it rolling off of him in waves. Often, whenever I lay my head to sleep, it would cloud my thoughts - lately though, my sheets have smelled as they always have.
There. I hope that is a satisfying answer.”
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lenteur · 2 years
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hi mal!!! i would love a little moodboard if you have time 🥰
hi sarah 🥰 here is your moodboard 💕 i hope you like it :)
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rafesaddiction · 5 months
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It's not cheating when he's your stepbrother – Rafe Cameron x Reader
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Summary: You lie about your first kiss. Will you lie about your first time too?
You are Rafe's stepsister, just graduated from boarding school and here for the summer holidays before you'll leave for college. You and Rafe used to be close, but that changed, years ago. Now he is distant and mean, and something else happens when you have your first boyfriend. A nice guy, a sweet guy, nothing like Rafe.
Concept: stepsiblings, first time, just the tip
Warnings: mdni! – smut, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, p in v, loss of virginity (virgin!reader), fingering, stepcest, violence, slapping, manhandling, mentions of child abuse (ward physically and emotionally abusing rafe), cheating (reader cheating on boyfriend), name calling (rafe calls reader slut and whore), angst, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, this starts off kinda sweet but gets quite dark.
When reading this, please do so at your own discretion. Keep in mind, this is just a work of fiction.
Word count: 9.0k (holy fuck! how did that happen?)
tagging @ashy-kit since you asked. I hope you'll like this.
“Wait! Was that actually your first kiss? Oh my god! It was!”
Sarah stared at you with large eyes, then covered her mouth, laughing. You just smiled, shrugged, and averted your gaze, feeling heat in your cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing that your younger stepsister had more experience with boys than you did. The reason for that might have been that you had gone to an all-girls boarding school practically your whole life. But truth was, if anything, away from parents, kids had even more opportunities at boarding school to gain sexual experience, be it with other students, local boys, or even teachers. You knew that a lot of your classmates did much more than just kiss when sneaking out at night. But you weren't the type to sneak out at night. You were the type to get your first kiss at 18 after graduating from said boarding school.
“Tell us more,” Wheezie insisted. She sat next to you on the couch, cross-legged, looking at you, eager to hear your story. You smiled at your little stepsister. You two had grown closer over the past years, with Wheezie discovering the internet and thus being able to chat with you even when you were hundreds of miles away at school.
“Denny is quite a good kisser though. You’re lucky, he was your first,” Sarah said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.
You knew that Sarah had hooked up with Denny. So you had, of course, told her when he had asked you out. Sarah was totally okay with it, she even encouraged you to text him back, when he texted you. Denny hadn't been her boyfriend, just one of her hook-ups, ages ago. And as of now, Sarah was too happily in love with her pogue boyfriend to be jealous at all. It was kind of a forbidden romance, Wheezie had told you all about it, but Sarah herself also liked to share, she loved talking about her boyfriend and his pogue friends and their way of living. And you liked to listen to her exciting stories or when she complained about her father or brother. You liked that you were kind of close, even though you only spent the summer and Christmas holidays at Tannyhill.
Your mother had you at a very young age and you were practically raised by your grandma. When your mother married Ward Cameron, you were old enough to be send off to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country. The school was in another state, but could as well have been on another continent. Your mother didn't want to have you in her new life, she already had three new kids to look after. Ward wouldn’t have minded, he made sure you knew that you were as much a daughter to him as Sarah and Wheezie. He showed his affection by paying for your expensive education. Now that you had graduated from high school, you were supposed to spend the summer before going to an ivy league school with your family in the Outer Banks.
“Did you close your eyes? Did you feel butterflies? Did he do the neck grab?” Wheezie kept shooting one question after the other and you felt your face must have been glowing. You looked away, trying to think of what to answer, when your eyes met a pair of intense blue eyes, staring at you from across the room.
Rafe, your older stepbrother, stood in the hallway, looking at you. And for some reason, you felt that damn heat had reached your ears. You quickly looked away, turning to Sarah, who was telling Wheezie that she shouldn't base her expectations on tiktoks and fanfics.
The kiss happened the night before at a kook party. You had been texting and hanging out with Denny for about two weeks. He was your age, he was charming, smart, the former captain of the football team. He was actually so good that he got a scholarship to play at a college team. Not that he would have needed the scholarship to go to college, his parents were one of the wealthiest kook families on the island. Almost as rich and influential as the Camerons. Of course, you knew Denny before, the island was small and he was one of your stepbrother's friends. But this whole thing with him only started about two weeks ago when you quite literally ran into him at the country club. He insisted on buying you another drink even though you were the one who spilled your drink on him. He texted you later, he got your number from Sarah, and, since Sarah was encouraging you, you texted back and agreed to go on a date with him. You had been on four dates already: dinner, a trip to the beach, another dinner, and a date on his family's yacht, when you went to the party with him the previous night. And then it just happened. He kissed you outside the house where the party was. It was a starry night and the kiss was nice. And after, he took your hand and walked inside with you and you smiled, as you felt the warmth of his hand around yours.
“I'll get us some fresh popcorn, then we can start the movie, okay?” You grabbed the half-empty bowl and got up from the couch, while your stepsisters were in some serious discussion about some actor from a show you had never heard of.
You left the living room and walked past Rafe, who didn't seem to have moved an inch. You didn't look up at him when you spoke to him.
“You wanna join us and watch a movie with us? It's Wheezie's choice tonight, so I guess it's whatever is trending on netflix at the moment,” you said and were about to head for the kitchen, when suddenly his hand wrapped around your arm. You stopped and looked up at him, gasping.
Rafe leaned down to you, and you felt his hand gripping tighter around your arm. You winced and were about to say something, when you met his eyes. Dark blue orbs staring at you, so very close to you.
“Why did you lie?”
You frowned in confusion.
“Why did you lie and say that that was your first kiss?”
You just gazed up at him. And despite the heat in your face, you felt a shiver running down your spine.
You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but he cut you off.
“I hate liars.”
And then he let go off you, turned around and just left, and you felt your heart beating in your chest, so rapidly, so loudly, your stepsisters in the other room must have heard it. You stepped back from the door, your back pressing against the wall, as you tried to compose yourself.
He was right. That kiss wasn't your first kiss.
Your first kiss happened with Rafe when you were 15 and he was 17.
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It was right after Christmas. Before New Year's Eve. It was late at night and you decided to have a hot chocolate before going to sleep. You met Rafe in the kitchen, standing at the open fridge, rummaging it for some leftovers from dinner. He was wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater with the reindeer over his sleeping shorts. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him. He was already tall then, not as tall as he was now, but much taller than you. He was lean, less bulky. He was a boy still and he grinned like one, when he turned to look at you.
“What's so funny? You laughing at me?”
“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head, grinning, “Sven.”
You squealed and giggled when Rafe launched a tickle-attack on you.
It used to be so easy around him. He was always sweet, sometimes teasing, but always in a sweet way. He was protective and you felt safe with him. You were closer then, and it was just easy to be yourself with him.
You got into a real tickle fight with him, chasing each other around the kitchen, as he finally got you.
“Stop, stop, stop! I surrender!” You said, out of breath. Your cheeks hurting from laughing so hard.
He stopped tickling you, but his hands still rested on your sides, and he stood very close in front of you. Your own hands clutching that ridiculous sweater of his. He looked down at you. His hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving, his lips parted. He didn't laugh or grin and your own laughing had stopped too. All you heard was your rapid heartbeat and both of you panting.
And his hand touched your cheek. You felt a little spark, but instead of withdrawing, you leaned into his touch. Your lips parted as he leaned closer. His face so close, you could hardly make out his features, so you closed your eyes, and breathed in. And it was his scent that filled your lungs, before you felt his lips on yours. And that contact sent a wave of some yet unknown sensation through your body, and you felt it everywhere, felt it in your fingertips that grabbed the sweater. Felt it in your toes as you stood on them to meet Rafe's lips. Felt it on your skin, where he touched you, felt it under your skin. Felt it coursing through your veins.
A distant sound, and Rafe suddenly broke the kiss. In a state of daze you opened your eyes and moved them to what Rafe was staring at. Or to who.
Ward was standing in the door to the kitchen. His presence towering both of you. You shuddered and jumped away from Rafe.
You slowly walked backwards, your heart racing, sudden fear being the dominant emotion. But when Ward came closer, his attention wasn't focused on you. He hardly seemed to notice that you were even there. He glared at his son, glared at Rafe who just stood there, as if he was paralyzed by fear, unable to move.
You didn't wait for what happened, you chose flight and ran past Ward, ran up to your room, locking the door. You heard no screaming, no yelling, though you had expected as much. When half way up the stairs, you had heard a thud, and then something banging heavily, like a chair falling to the ground.
The next morning, you didn't see Rafe at the breakfast table. You saw your stepfather, who was smiling and being his relaxed self as ever. Only he avoided directly looking at you.
You saw Rafe later in the afternoon. You wanted to talk to him, say something, but you didn't know what. And when you saw the bruise under his eye, you had no words left.
Four days later you left to return to school. And when you came back during spring break, things were different, very different. Rafe no longer smiled at you, never laughed when you were around. When he didn't avoid you, he glared at you. And there was something so dark in his blue eyes that it made you shudder and sob at night.
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“But you have to come!” Sarah pushed out her lower lip and looked at you with her big brown eyes, pleadingly, practically begging you to come with you to the party that evening.
“I want to spend time with my favorite older sibling and I want you to meet my friends. Besides, what do you want to do here, huh? Your boyfriend is on a family trip in the Bahamas and you can't seriously want to spend another evening binge-watching The Summer I Turned Pretty with Wheezie. Come on! Pleaaase.” Sarah's pouting went up another level and she made actual puppy eyes.
You didn't mind spending another evening with Wheezie and listening to her endless monologs on why she would always choose Jeremiah over Conrad, over any guy really.
You sighed. “But I don't have anything to –”
“To wear?” Sarah interrupted you and grabbed your hand. “Come on, you can pick whatever you want from my closet.”
You sighed in defeat, but smiled, as you followed your stepsister into her bedroom.
You didn't end up with choosing anything from her closet, but she picked out an outfit for you. And Sarah had great taste and you didn't complain. She selected a light summer dress for you, fitting for a casual party at the beach. You liked how the fabric felt on your skin and how the cut accented your curves without revealing too much. The skirt was a bit shorter than what you'd usually wore, but it was the middle of summer and you were on the island and not in the city.
When looking at the mirror, you smiled at the young woman smiling at you. You touched the golden necklace you were wearing. A gift from Denny. When he gave it to you the other day, you were surprised. Wasn't it a bit early for such costly gifts? But he insisted on you taking it and he was so happy when he put it around your neck. The pendant was a green stone, it was a bit heavy, but it looked nice. You really appreciated the gesture. And you really appreciated how your boyfriend treated you. He was okay with taking things slow. He never pushed you and in these past weeks, you had never done more than holding hands. You hadn't even kissed again. – Something you wouldn't tell your sister, for a reason you didn't quite know yourself.
You enjoyed yourself a lot at the party. Sarah's friends were easy to get along with, especially JJ. You just met him like an hour ago and he had already made you laugh more than you had in the whole past month or even year. But talking with Pope was also nice, he knew a lot and you liked listening to him. You also liked watching how these two boys got into a playfight about something stupid. You didn't mind that Sarah left you with the pogues as she and John B wanted to spend some time alone.
“Now, c'mon. Dance with me, big-city girl,” JJ pointed at you, then bent his finger to indicate that you should follow him. You laughed and shook your head. He then tried to catch you with an imaginary lasso.
“You’d better go, before he does his full-on cowboy impression, and talking in that accent, and believe me, you don't wanna hear that. No one wants to hear that,” Pope told you, leaning closer to you, and then taking your cup, so you could go and join JJ at the bonfire.
You couldn't deny that the cheap beer you had been drinking had made you a bit tipsy and somehow loosened you up a bit. But mainly, you just felt comfortable in the presence of Sarah's friends that had quickly become your friends too. And you weren't the only ones dancing by the fire. Other people also danced to the music coming from someone's speakers.
JJ took your hand and twirled you around, made an effort at imitating some dance moves that looked very elaborated. It was fun, you felt a permanent grin on your cheeks, glowing with the heat from the nearby fire, the booze and the excitement. You felt free, not thinking about anything at all. Not even thinking about the way you moved, but you just did. You felt the music, felt the joy of being young and careless – and you suddenly felt something hard that you bumped into, while twirling around.
“Sorry,” you muttered and looked up, as two hands grabbed your arms.
And you looked into the angry face of your stepbrother.
You froze, just for a moment. Then you tried to get away, but Rafe only held you closer, like pulling you into a tight embrace, and for an instant you thought that he might want to dance with you. But he didn't.
“Hey!” JJ's voice behind you made your head spin around.
“Let her go!” The blond boy stood a couple of feet away, his hands clenched into fists. His whole body seemed tensed up and he glared at Rafe. JJ looked so different from how he had looked a minute ago. All that carelessness, all his smiles gone.
You felt Rafe tense up too, as his hands tightened their grip around your arms, making you wince in pain.
“JJ,” he said his name through clenched teeth as if it was an insult.
The two boys stared at each other, the tension between them was palpable. People had gathered around them, but you didn't actually take notice of them. You looked at JJ, tried to tell him not to do anything stupid, but his eyes were fixed on Rafe. You looked at Rafe. You gave up freeing yourself from his iron grip.
“Please,” you pleaded, unsure what else to say. Your voice too soft, too weak anyway. You felt cold all of a sudden, and very sober.
And then everything happened just so fast.
JJ must have stepped closer, because the next moment, Rafe pushed you behind his own body as he lunged forward to hit JJ. When he moved his arm back, his elbow hit you at your chin and you, no longer held by him, stumbled and fell to the sandy ground. But neither Rafe nor JJ took notice. When you looked up, you saw them throwing fists at each other. Their bodies colliding, this was another kind of dance. You were shocked to see such fierce violence, both of them seemingly fighting with the intend to end the other.
You were shaking and only now noticed that you had started to cry. You cried and yelled and pleaded them to stop.
Fortunately, some guys stepped in, pulling the fighting boys apart.
Rafe angrily shrugged off the guy who was holding him, while two others held JJ, who fiercely, but in vain fought to free himself.
“Rafe!” You screamed his name, and that made him stop, made him turn his head towards you, still sitting on the ground, tears running down your face.
Rafe's eyes were dark and the look on his face was unlike anything you had ever witnessed. You flinched as he came closer, suddenly so afraid of your own stepbrother. He frowned at your reaction, but proceeded. He grabbed your arm, made you cry out in pain, pulled you to your feet. And when you tried to get away, because every cell in your body told you to run, he caught you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, picking you up like you weighed nothing, held you in both his arms. Your feet kicking the air, your fists trying to hit him, you were screaming, but he easily carried you away. And no one stopped him.
Through teary eyes you saw JJ being held by the two guys while a third one punched his face, and yet he fought, tried to get away, looking at you, looking at Rafe, who carried you away, carried you from the beach to his car.
He opened the door and tossed you onto the passenger seat. You let out a groan, as something hit your back. As soon as Rafe let go off you, you tried to get up, get out, but Rafe pushed you back into the seat.
“Let me go! Just let me go!” Your hands tried to shove him out of the way.
He caught one of your wrists, twisted it in his grip, as he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt.
You whined and gave up fighting as you knew he was too strong and you had no chance against him at all.
“Please just let me go. Why are you like this?” You pleaded between sobs.
“Why am I like this?!” Rafe yelled at you and his hand shot forward to grasp your chin, pressing so hard, you feared he would crush your jaw.
“You acting like a goddamn slut messing around with a fucking pogue!”
You flinched at each word he yelled at you, his face closer and closer. His eyes so wild, his whole expression just fuming with rage, directed at you.
“I did not,” you tried to defend yourself.
“You're a fucking LIAR!”
You flinched, and when you closed your eyes, a stream of tears ran down your cheeks.
“No,” you tried again, but he cut you short.
“You think I'm stupid?” He tilted his head, frowning, his eyes small as he glared at you in disbelief. “You think I don't know what's going on? You fucking that pogue. You’re a whore. Just like Sarah. All my sisters are goddamn sluts fucking those filthy pogues. And what does that make me look like, huh? Thought about that? Thought about what it means for your family? Your free-spirited fucking lifestyle? How does that look on dad, huh? Have you ever thought about anyone but yourself? Ever thought about the consequences of what you're doing?”
You gazed at him, taken aback by his accusations, not understanding what had gotten into him.
His eyes moved down from your face to your chest, which rose and fell under your agitated breathing.
His hand slowly let go of your chin, moved down your neck. You held your breath as you felt the pressure on your throat. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. His hand moved down further, his palm pressing hard onto the necklace’s pendant. You winced as you felt the hard stone digging into your skin.
“My own sister. Dressed like a whore. Fucking a pogue.” His voice was now calmer, darker, and it made you shiver.
“But, Rafe,” you sobbed, your hands tentatively reaching for his arm. “I did not do anything, I swear.”
The back of his hand hit your cheek so hard, your head flew to the side and it hit the headrest of the driver's seat.
You stared at him in shock, eyes widened, lips parted, pressing your hand to your throbbing cheek.
You couldn't believe what just happened.
But instead of apologizing or saying anything that would explain what he just did, Rafe just kept looking at you, his eyes on your trembling body. You noticed only now that your dress had slipped up, revealing a bit of your underwear. You quickly reached down to pull the fabric to cover as much of your legs as possible.
You looked up as you heard him scoff.
Shaking his head, moving his lips as if talking, talking to himself, he pushed himself back from the door, slammed it shut and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.
You shifted as far away from him as you could, pressing your shoulder against the window, but you did not try to get out. You did not try to stop him when he started the engine. You did not yell or scream or rage. You just sat there, quietly sobbing as he drove you back to Tannyhill.
And Rafe didn't say anything, didn't even look at you when he parked the car in the driveway. He didn't look back when he got into the house, just left the front door open after he went inside.
You followed, slowly, your body still shaking with sobs. Your face hurt. The throbbing had become a sharp pain by now.
You got inside the house, it was dark, your parents and your little sister fast asleep.
You waited at the top of the stairs, until you heard the door of Rafe's bedroom shut, then you ran into your own room, locked the door behind you and crawled under the covers of your bed.
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You didn't tell anyone what had happened that night with Rafe in the car.
Of course, Sarah knew about the fight between Rafe and JJ, and the day after she asked you, if you were okay. She even asked you if she should come over. But you said, you were okay and she should stay at John B's, you might come over later too. Sarah liked that idea, she was totally excited about it. You were talking over the phone, no video, so you didn't have to fake a smile. But you liked just listening when she talked with you about John B and the pogues. Their treasure hunting, their fishing trips, how she was learning to surf. It was nice to hear that your stepsister was so happy. It made you forget your own situation for a while.
Truth was, you weren't quite sure what that situation was.
The next days you tried your best to avoid your stepbrother, which wasn't too hard. He seemed to be out or asleep most of the time. So you were able to spend some time with Wheezie, preferably outside the house, somewhere you'd know you wouldn't accidentally run into Rafe, like that ice-cream parlor or the waffle house that sold these literally gigantic waffles with pink marshmallows. You even went to the mainland to a funfair with your little stepsister. Wheezie didn't notice the bruises on your face. You did quite a good job covering them up with your make up.
Since your boyfriend was still away with his family, you spent the nights either watching movies with Wheezie, helping her make tiktoks, or just in your room, reading a book.
You closed the book you had been reading for the past hours. Yawning, you looked at your phone. It was almost 3 a.m. You needed to use the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. Usually you would go down the corridor to get to the bathroom Sarah and Wheezie were sharing. But it was the middle of the night and you didn't want Wheezie to wake up. Besides, Rafe hadn't come home that night, so he wouldn't hear you.
You left your room and went to the bathroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, you stepped inside and froze. The light was on and you should have taken your time and listened when you had been outside. The water of the rain shower was running. And Rafe was standing under the shower. His back to you. The water raining down on his body, his naked body. The open shower offered you a complete view. His hair was wet, sticking to his head. Drops of water gracing his broad shoulders. Trails of water running down his back, accentuating the contours of his well-defined muscles. Water running down his lower back, over the curves of his butt, down his legs. He shifted slightly, his legs parting just a bit. Your eyes darted up, and you saw how he turned his head, turned it towards you. And looked at you. Water drops caught in his lashes, as he gazed at you. And his body moved and he was about to turn around completely, when you finally woke up from your frozen state and swiftly turned around and left the bathroom as fast as you could.
When you were inside your room, you were shaking. Your back pressed against the back of your door. You were panting, so loudly, it was embarrassing. You covered your mouth with both your hands. Your legs felt weak, like they would give in, but at the same time you felt something else, a very different, very unknown sensation. Something that had started as a tickling sensation and was now a throbbing, between your legs. You pressed them as closely together as you could. But it wouldn't stop. All your previous sleepiness gone, it seemed like all your senses were fully awake and heightened.
You heard a door open and close. You tried to focus and listen, between the sounds of your own rapid heartbeat. You heard footsteps on the corridor. Slow and heavy. They came closer and stopped. In front of your door. Right behind you. You pressed the palm of one of your hands against the wood. And you stopped breathing. Your mind racing. Trying to remember if you had locked your door.
It was still, completely still apart from your own heavy breathing, muffled by your own hand.
Then you heard footsteps again and another door, open and close.
And you still couldn't move.
When you finally made it to your bed, after checking if you indeed had locked your door, you didn't find real sleep for the rest of the night. Again and again you woke up, hearing the dripping sound of water or raspy breathing close to your ear.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you opened your eyes next, the sun was shining right into your face and it was almost noon. You groaned as you turned in your bed. It was unusual for you to get up this late. You got dressed, wearing a sweater and your jeans shorts. It was most probably too hot outside for wearing a sweater, but with the air conditioning working, it was a bit chilly inside.
You went to the kitchen to get some coffee and something to eat to finally start the day. On your way downstairs, you heard Wheezie's and your mother's voice from another room. You figured that at this time of the day, the kitchen would be empty. Except it wasn't.
You stopped in the doorway when you saw Rafe. His back turned towards you, wearing a loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants, Rafe was standing at the coffeemaker.
Involuntarily, you let out a gasp, which he must have heard, because his head turned around. His eyes met yours. Just for a brief moment, then he turned his attention back to the machine in front of him. He didn't say anything, but you could have sworn that you saw a tiny smirk curling up the corners of his lips.
You took a deep breath. Something inside you told you to just go and run upstairs, lock yourself in your room. But your feet started moving and you walked to the fridge. It didn't seem as if Rafe even cared that you were in the same room with him. So you supposed that he had resumed his usual stance of just ignoring you. Besides, you still heard your sister's voice from the living room close by. Even Rafe wouldn't dare to do anything with his family, with his little sister so close by.
You went about grabbing something to eat and making yourself a coffee, while Rafe was doing the same quietly. You didn't look at him, just heard him move about and saw his frame from the corner of your eyes.
Your hands rested on the edge of the counter, fingers curling, your weight shifted to one foot, the other foot rubbed over your calf, feeling the warm woolen fabric of the sock, you were deeply in thought, while waiting for the coffeemaker to finish the program for your cappuccino.
“You're done with the staring?”
That dark voice directly behind you made you flinch and you lost your balance, tipping to the side, you almost fell – if it hadn't been for a strong hand catching you. And even when you were standing securely on both feet again, that hand didn't let go off your waist.
You felt your chest widen with the deep breath you took.
Rafe's body was so close to yours, you could feel the heat radiating from it. You could feel his muscles move as he leaned down to you, his chest pressing against your back.
“So, did you like what you saw? Last night? You left in such a rush. What were you doing in your room? Lying in your bed, thinking about my cock, touching yourself?” His lips grazed your ear as he whispered those words that made you involuntarily shiver, despite the heat you felt under your sweater.
You turned your head to look at him, when you felt something poking at your back.
Your lips parted and you felt them quiver as his face moved closer. His breath caressing your face, his eyes holding yours as his lips hovered over your mouth. Your breathing hitched as you felt his other hand move up to reach for your face.
“Finally you're up!” Wheezie's voice made you gasp. You felt pure heat rushing to your head.
Rafe’s hand – a second ago almost brushing your cheekbone – reached up to the cupboard above your head, taking out a glass. He walked to the fridge to take out the orange juice and pour some into the glass.
You grabbed the mug from under the coffeemaker, turned around and lifted it to your lips even though the contents were still too hot to drink. Your sleeves covered your wrists and you held the mug with both your hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. You nodded at Wheezie and tried to offer her a smile while your whole body was trembling.
Rafe had downed the orange juice and was pouring himself another glass, when Wheezie came over, snatched that newly filled glass from his hands and turned towards you while taking a sip.
“I needed your help with that tiktok,” she said and her accusing tone made you feel guilty, even though you couldn't remember having promised her to help her.
“I'm sorry,” you muttered. “We can do it now?” You offered.
Wheezie exhaled dramatically.
“Now is too late. We're about to leave.” Wheezie looked at you with her dark eyes, pouting. “But you could come and we can make it on the ferry,” she asked sweetly all of a sudden and took another sip from the orange juice.
Rafe, obviously having decided that he was still thirsty, had stepped closer and took out another glass from the kitchen cupboard above your head. His arm brushing your hair as he did so. And you felt goosebumps crawling over your skin, spreading on your neck.
Your eyes darted up and you noticed that Rafe's eyes traveled to your neck, and that look felt more intense than any touch and caused another shiver.
“You cold? Are you sick? Is that why you slept in?” Wheezie sounded seriously concerned now.
That shiver must have been visible. You cursed your own body for reacting so intensely and so weirdly to your stepbrother's presence.
“No, no, don't worry, Wheezie. I'm fine. I just spent the whole night reading.”
You heard a scoff coming from Rafe, but didn't look.
“Oh, that book with the dragons? You need to tell me all about it!”
“I will,” you smiled, and it was a real smile. You loved your little sister's enthusiasm.
“But not today. Denny is coming back from his family trip and we're meeting this afternoon.”
Wheezie's lips formed a disappointed ‘O', but then she nodded and took more sips from her glass.
“You're spending a lot of time with that boy lately,” Ward had entered the kitchen, and he offered you a warm smile. “You should invite him over for dinner, so we can officially meet.”
“Oh, my god, dad. You sound like a total patriarch,” Wheezie rolled her eyes.
“I do? Now the patriarch tells you to get in the car, Wheezie, we're already late,” Ward tilted his head and looked at his youngest daughter with warmth in his eyes.
Wheezie rolled her eyes again, muttered an annoyed “Fine,” put her glass down on the counter next to you, hugged you as if she was about to leave for months. When she let go, she turned towards her brother standing by the fridge.
“Bye, Rafe. Thanks for the juice,” she said, twirled around and literally danced out of the kitchen, as Rafe mumbled his reply.
You noticed how his stance had changed completely, his shoulders were drawn up, he was looking down. He seemed more tense ever since his father had come into the kitchen.
“If you don't find it too patriarchy of me, I’d like to get to know the boy that my daughter spends so much time with.”
“No, of course, that would be nice. I’ll ask him,” you quickly replied and smiled at your stepfather. You couldn't deny it, it always made you feel sort of happy when Ward casually called you his daughter, making no difference between you and his biological daughters.
“Now that's settled then,” he said. “Enjoy your date.”
“Thanks,” you took a sip from your cappuccino, which was now cool enough to drink.
Ward gave you another smile, before turning his attention toward his son.
“I asked you to drop off the crates at the site by 2.”
“I – I will. I'm on it,” Rafe gazed at his father who frowned at him.
“That's what you always say.”
“But I will.”
“It's a simple task, Rafe. If you can't even do that –“
“No, I said I will!” Rafe straightened up, took a step closer to his father, his body tensing up, you noticed.
“Honey? We need to get going,” your mother looked through the kitchen door.
“You have a nice day with Denny, sweetheart,” she addressed you, before just frowning at Rafe and leaving.
Before Ward also left, he smiled at you again – this time, the smile was a bit strained, you noticed.
He shot a less than friendly look at his son.
“For a change, just don't disappoint me again.”
When your parents had left, you remained in the kitchen and there was a strange silence.
You looked at Rafe, he was biting his nails.
“You okay?” Your voice soft, full of real concern.
He turned his face towards you, glared at you.
“Shut up!” You flinched as he yelled at you and then stormed out of the kitchen.
You let out a shaky breath after he had left. You weren't hungry anymore, so you just emptied the remains of your cappuccino into the sink and went upstairs.
Wrapped in a towel after taking a long hot shower in your sisters' bathroom, you returned to your room, only to find Rafe standing at your bed, looking at the clothes you had picked out to wear.
He held up the top you had put on the bed.
“You gonna wear that to your date?” He tilted his head, looking at you, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“Give that back,” you tried to snatch it from his hand, but Rafe's reflexes were better and he held it up, out of reach. Still you tried to get a hold of it, reaching up with one arm, while you held the towel close to your chest with your other hand, feeling it loosen from the quick movement.
Rafe looked down at you, just with his eyes, and there was a glint in them, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.
You frowned and held both your arms now in front of your chest, clutching the towel.
The tip of his tongue flicked out and wetted his lips. As if it was some reflex, you bit your own lips, and he chuckled in response. You only now realized that his body was so close to yours that you felt that vibration in your own body.
“You want to seduce him? Want him to fuck you?”
“Why are you so –” You looked up at his face and tried to step back when you felt the edge of the bed hitting the back of your legs and stopping your movement.
“So what?” He bowed his head down and his piercing blue eyes stared at you.
“Mean,” you said.
“You like it, don't you?” He tilted his head to the side and that grin on his lips changed.
“No,” you said quickly and as firmly as you managed to.
“No what?” He mocked you.
You looked at him, your brows furrowed. Still holding the towel with both hands, you tried to push at his chest with your elbow to get some distance between you two.
“I like you better when you're not mean,” you said, no longer looking up, but your eyes on his chest that you were trying to push away.
“That so?” His voice was lower than before and you lifted your gaze to see his eyebrows raised. “Like when?”
“Like when you were nice.”
"What is nice, hm?”
You felt a heat crawling under your skin and lowered your gaze.
His fingers under your chin tilted up your head, made you look at him again. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.
“This nice?” His voice a raspy whisper.
The sudden softness of his touch made you shiver.
Your lips parted and you drew in a sharp breath as he leaned down.
“This?” His voice so low, you could hardly hear it, but feel it so intensely, as his lips moved close to yours. And you could taste his breath, taste the coffee and the orange juice and him.
You held your breath and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. You closed your eyes. Exhaling through your mouth, you felt that trembling growing. Your legs suddenly unsteady. But you didn't fall. His arm wrapped around you and held you close to his body as he slowly lowered you on the bed.
His lips were so incredibly soft as they covered your face with tender kisses. His body was hovering over yours as you lay on your back. You felt its warmth, but not its weight.
His hand touched your face, his long fingers caressed your neck, brushed over your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your heated skin. His mouth traveled over your cheekbone to your ear. His breath made you gasp and whimper as the tip of his nose touched that spot you didn't know was so sensitive. Slowly and without any resistance from you, he uncurled your fingers that were wrapped around the towel. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder, and your fingers, like they had their own will, grasped at it, held onto him, as your body arched and a moan escaped your lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin on your neck. His big hand cupped your now exposed breast, kneading it, fumbling it, no longer touching softly. His knee pushed between your legs, parting them. And you felt the pressure at your core as your hips rose to meet him.
Your breathing, slow and loud, was all that could be heard in the room. And then the soft sucking sounds of his lips on your neck, leaving a mark.
Both your hands were on him now. The one hand at his shoulder, grabbing so hard, it was shaking. Your other hand touching his back. The lightest pull from you and he rocked his hips against yours, making you gasp and open your eyes in surprise as you felt his hard length urging against your thigh. Being completely inexperienced, you couldn't quite judge whether it was normal that it was so huge. And your mind was cloudy with all those unknown sensations that you were unable to tell whether this was right when you felt his fingers rub along your folds, when they parted them and pushed inside you.
You tensed up, cried out, as you clenched around the intruding digit. Your hands no longer pulling Rafe closer but trying to push him up, like pushing at an unmovable rock.
You whined as his finger pushed deeper, your face turning to the side, away from him as a tear ran down your cheek. He let out a hissing sound, his mouth close to your neck. His finger remained inside of you but stopped moving further. You already felt so incredibly full. His lips started moving over your skin. He kissed your chin, kissed your cheek, licked at your tears.
“No,” your voice a hoarse whisper, your hand balled into a fist, pressing at his shoulder uselessly, in vain trying to push him off you.
“No,” you said again and that word turned into a moan as you felt something pressing against your most sensitive spot. His thumb rubbed your pearl and your traitorous body reacted by shivering. And your legs parted further. He moved them up, made them bent, giving him room. His finger curled inside you. Your body convulsed. You opened your eyes, but you couldn't see anything clear. You felt your body heating up, sweat covering it. Your hands clutching at Rafe's shirt as you made those noises that didn't sound like coming from you. But they came from you. From something deep inside you. Something Rafe had just started to awake. You bit your lips to make those sounds stop as you felt that throbbing at your core with Rafe's fingers caressing, pushing, rubbing, pinching, curling, thrusting.
His other hand gripped your chin, turned your head and you looked up at him, just for a second, before his lips met yours and he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one you remembered from all those years ago, that tender kiss. This kiss was hungry and fierce, and intoxicating. Your mouth opened for his tongue. He claimed it. And when it pushed inside you, it felt like it was your own hunger. You felt like you were starving as he was devouring you.
Wide-eyed, your face burning with heat, your body aching with an unknown need, you gazed up at him when he broke the kiss, lifting his body, no longer touching you. But you still felt him, felt him on you, felt him inside of you, tasted him in your mouth. He had let go off you for a moment to take off his shirt and his sweatpants.
He was completely naked when he hovered above you, resting on his hands pressed into mattress on either side of you. The muscles in his arms tense and hard. Everything about him was hard. Solid like a rock. He was kneeling between your legs. Your body shaking, shivering as if you were cold when you felt that sweat covering it and that wetness between your legs. You were so much the opposite of him, in every way. You felt it so much at that moment when he just looked down at you. Something in his eyes so harsh that it made you shudder and close your eyes. You shook your head and stopped when his hand touched your face and held it. You opened your eyes. His face only inches away from yours.
“I'm gonna be gentle, alright? I'm gonna be nice.” His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss and your body arched up, despite your hands being balled up into fists and your arms pressed close to your chest as if you were trying to shield yourself.
You felt a movement, felt the bed tilt. And when you opened your eyes, you saw him kneeling in front of you, touching his hard cock, pumping it.
You gasped at the sight. It was even bigger than you had thought from what you had felt earlier. It was too big.
“Just the tip, alright? I won't push it all in. I know you're too delicate,” he said as if he had read your mind – or just saw the fear in your eyes.
He leaned down to kiss you and whisper at your lips.
“Just the tip, I promise. You will like it.”
As if proving his point, your hips moved up on their own and a hot shiver made you moan as his fingers touched your needy core. A smile appeared on his face, not quite a smirk, but you weren't sure anymore what you saw, what you felt, what you wanted. All reason was clouded and still, you knew that this was wrong.
You closed your eyes as he lifted one of your legs.
“Look at me,” his voice dark and so low, you felt a tingling at the back of your neck.
You obeyed and opened your eyes. Your arms were still pressed against your heaving chest, but it was easy for him to move them and place your hands on his shoulders as he lowered himself onto you.
“Look at me,” he said again and your eyes were fixed on his face, watching his features, seeing that little smile, that glint in his eyes, seeing his mouth open, and his face contort the moment his tip parted your folds. At first it felt slick and smooth and then suddenly so painfully rough. The thick tip was stretching you unbearably wide. Your legs automatically pressed against his body, desperately trying to close and shut out the intruder. He pushed them apart and you screamed, screamed out loud at the top of your lungs as he pushed inside you. Too deep, too hard, too rough, too fast.
Waves and waves of stinging pain rushing threw your body, making it convulse and shake, making you whimper and whine, you felt like you were being torn apart. You pushed at his shoulders, pressed at his chest, but his hips kept moving, rocking hard against you. Urging his hard length into you.
“So good,” he muttered between strained breaths. “So tight,” he panted. “All mine,” he growled.
His movements so rough and relentless, he seemed lost in his own pleasure. His eyes fixed on you, but not really seeing you, he seemed like he had forgotten all about you, your part in this, your existence.
“Rafe!” You screamed his name, screamed it at his face, screamed it so loud, your throat hurt.
His eyes flickered and he looked at you, really looked at you. And something changed in his features. For the briefest of moments, he paused, leaned down to kiss your lips, whispering something you didn't understand. And then you felt his fingertip touching that spot his thumb had teased before. Only now it wasn't teasing any longer. You didn't know how or why he knew exactly what to do, but that touch, that movement with his fingertip was all your body needed, all it craved for that moment. Your mouth opened wide as you moaned, then just gasped. The back of your head pressing into the mattress, your eyes rolling back. Your fingernails digging into Rafe's tense muscles at his back, as you were pulling him closer, ever closer, when that pain all of a sudden turned into pleasure, a painful, hot pleasure that left you in a state of rapture. Your body bending, trembling, shaking, as Rafe fucked you through your first ever orgasm.
You heard him groan, an animalistic sound. You felt your walls tensing up in waves and clenching so hard around him, making his thrusts only more ruthless, more forceful, as he took you, took all of you. And as the rush of your fierce high faded, you felt him so intensely. Felt him pushing inside you, filling you, feeling you, breathing on you, touching you, holding you, kissing you – it was like he was melting into you, when all of a sudden he stopped his movements, gazed down at you with hazy eyes, his features tensing up for a moment, and the next, the absolute opposite: all soft and lovingly, so sweet. He lowered his body onto yours and you felt his heavy panting syncing with yours. He kissed your face, breathless. Kissed your lips and after pushing into you a few more times, he pulled out and rolled his body off yours.
You kept lying on your back, next to him. Your legs still apart, knees bent. And you felt the cool breeze from the air-conditioning on your heated body, covered in a film of sweat, yours and his. And between your legs, you felt another kind of throbbing. And something sticky dripping out of you. You shut your legs and winced, rolling on your side, you turned away from him. It was as if reality hit you hard, and despite the fact that you still hadn't composed your breathing, despite the fact that your body wanted to remain in that blissful state, you felt a sudden wave of shame and guilt and something else that hurt even more, even deeper than the burning pain at your core.
At the touch of his hand, you flinched. You didn't want to, but your body curled up and you moved away from him, when in fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, to tell you that it was alright. That everything was exactly how it should be. That you were safe. With him.
Instead, you felt the bed tilt and you heard him get up and put on his clothes.
You moved your head so you could look up at him, look at him through teary eyes.
He stood in front of the bed, looking down at you. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to lie down again. Then his features hardened. A frown appeared on his brow. His hands balled into fists, his jaws clenched.
“Now you can lie about that too. When your boyfriend fucks you tonight, you can lie and say it is you first time.” His voice so cold, so hard, it took the air out of your lungs.
And you only exhaled when he had left your room and the door shut behind him and you cried and sobbed and wept.
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a/n: this was kinda intense. Much darker than my recent fics. And so long. But I didn't want to rush it. I needed to write it as it is. I still hope you liked reading it. Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated. btw, it's my birthday today.
xx
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rrickgrrimes8 · 1 year
Text
Your Bear Part II
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summary: you are found (part I)
Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader
warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))
not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!
also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :) 
masterlist
request guidelines (new)
requests are open
word count: 2.3k
22 Years Ago...
The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.
You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.
“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.
But which way had you come from?
You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.
He twitched.
Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”
He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.
You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.
You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.
You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”
The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.
But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.
A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.
“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”
x
You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.
You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.
You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.
You wished you remembered your dad. 
Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).
In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.
They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.
But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated. 
Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.
Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.
So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.
A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.
You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”
Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.
“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”
“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”
“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”
You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”
Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.
“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.
“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”
Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.
Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.
Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.
“Baby,” She cooed.
“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”
Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion? 
Joel.
Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.
“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.
Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?
She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.
But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.
But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?
“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.
“Is everything okay?”
Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”
A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.
“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”
You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.
You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?
The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.
He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”
Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.
“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”
“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”
“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”
“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.
“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home. 
You had a baby.
You were here, alive.
x
You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.
You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.
You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.
The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.
You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.
Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?
And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?
Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.
It was... yours.
Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.
You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.
Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.
Different but the same.
“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.
Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.
Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.
You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.
“How long have you known?”
He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.
You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.
He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.
“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.
“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”
You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.” 
x
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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month
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so glad i found you
for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is coparenting'
rated t | 1,428 words | cw: mention of previous marriage (steve's) | tags: established relationship, single dad steve (except he isn't anymore *wink wink*), steddie dads, modern au, marriage proposal
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
"Sarah, come on!" Steve yelled from the kitchen, his eyes drifting to the clock that he hoped was lying. They were gonna be late for school. Again.
"Daddy, I can't find my jacket!" Sarah came running through the kitchen, only half-dressed, no backpack in sight.
"What do you mean? It was on the hook last night."
"It's not now."
Steve groaned.
And then a jacket was thrust into his hands and a sleep-rough voice was in his ear. "Found it on the floor in the bathroom."
Steve grabbed the jacket from Eddie, kissing his cheek in thanks.
"Eddie found it, let's go!" Steve yelled before whispering to just Eddie. "Thank you, baby. Sorry for waking you up."
"Needed to get up anyway. Wanted to say bye to Sarah."
Steve watched as Eddie walked over to the cabinet that held their vitamins. He reached in and grabbed the gummies Sarah was supposed to take every day. Steve wasn't always the best about remembering them, but Eddie never forgot.
He reached in the fridge next, grabbing the smoothie Steve forgot about and handing it to him. "Since I know you didn't eat anything," Eddie kissed his cheek again and leaned against the counter holding the gummies for Sarah.
"Thanks, Eds," Steve said as Sarah came crashing back into the kitchen and reached for her jacket. "Why did you move this into the bathroom?"
"I didn't."
"Ah, I fear the ghosts are at it again, Steve," Eddie said, smirking when Sarah giggled. He handed her the gummies once she had her arms in the jacket. "Vitamins to make you big and strong, your highness."
"Thanks, Dad."
Everyone froze. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. The air was sucked out of the room.
Sarah was bright red, and because she wasn't the type to stick around an awkward situation, she turned and walked out of the room.
Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe.
He'd been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn't technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah's emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.
She hardly knew her mom, only spent two weeks every summer with her and was perfectly fine with that. Steve's ex-wife had admitted from the beginning of the pregnancy that she thought it was a mistake and when she filed for divorce when Sarah was six months old, Steve wasn't surprised. She had no interest in being a mom the way Steve had so desperately wanted to be a dad. But even still, Eddie never wanted them to feel like he was trying to force any type of parental power.
She'd called him Eddie until this moment, and he'd been completely fine with it. He would've been fine with it forever if it meant he got to have them both.
"I can talk to her. I don't think she meant to say it and it's okay if you don't want her to. She'll understand and-" Steve started rambling, trying to prevent Eddie from panicking.
But he wasn't. He was just doing his best not to start crying.
"But did she mean it?" He asked, voice shaking as he realized how much he did want her to call him Dad.
"I dunno, Eds. Probably. You know she never says things she doesn't mean. But we can talk to her-"
"No. I mean, yes, we should. But not because I don't want her to." Eddie took a deep breath. "I've kinda been her dad for a while now. It feels like it, at least. We've been in this together for most of the last year, ya know? I wanna be this for her and for you."
Steve was going to melt into a puddle, maybe right through the floor into the apartment below them. The nice old couple who lived there would have to mop him up.
"Daddy? Da-Eddie?" Sarah's small voice said from the doorway.
"Come here, sweet pea," Steve got down closer to her level. She was tall for her age, but even at eight years old, she was barely level with his chest. "Do you wanna call Eddie Dad? There's no wrong answer."
Eddie nodded, getting down to her level, too.
"It won't hurt my feelings if you just said it by accident, princess. I promise I love being your Eddie," he smiled at her.
He meant that, he wouldn't lie to her. But a small part of him hoped she wouldn't go back to calling him just Eddie after that. Not after he had a taste of what it could be like to be her dad.
"Well, you do dad stuff with me. Like when we built that birdhouse because I was scared the robin would have her eggs in a tree and they'd fall and crack and the babies would die. And when you took me shopping for a dress so I could go to Daddy's awards for work. And you always read to me with the voices and stuff." Sarah was playing with her hair, a nervous habit she'd somehow picked up from Eddie in such a short time. "And that's stuff that Daddy does with me all the time too, like when you're not here with us to do it. And sometimes even when you are and you both do it it feels like I have two dads. I like having two dads."
Steve and Eddie were both barely holding back tears as she spoke. She'd always been incredibly brave about her feelings.
"I like doing all that stuff with you, princess. But I would love it all no matter what you called me, okay?" Eddie said around a barely contained sob.
"But you love Daddy and me right?"
"Of course."
"And you kinda live with us."
He let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do."
"And you maybe will get married?"
Steve nearly choked on his own breath. "Sarah, honey, remember I told you that kind of decision is something that takes time and-"
"Yeah, princess. I think maybe we will. Not right now, but someday," Eddie interrupted.
Steve resisted glaring at him. He knew better than to make promises to a child, they'd already been over this before, and he could already see Sarah's wheels spinning.
"Wait-"
"So I can wear a pretty dress?" Sarah asked, as if that was the most important thing. "Can I hold both your hands?"
"If your Daddy is okay with it when it happens. But you know what has to happen first?" Eddie poked her dimple, smiling at her with teary eyes. "He has to say yes."
Sarah looked over at Steve, who was...confused.
"Daddy! Say yes!"
"He's gotta ask!" Steve exclaimed. "And he doesn't have a ring. We've only been together a year."
"Stevie."
Something in Eddie's voice made Steve pause and look at him instead of Sarah.
"I have a ring. Not with me, but. I already know you're it for me." Eddie held Sarah's hand and Steve's. "I just wanted to make sure Sarah was okay with it first. So. Sarah Harrington."
"Yes, Dad?"
Jesus, Steve was pretty sure he would die from this. In a good way, maybe the best way, but Jesus Christ.
"Would it be okay if I ask your dad to marry me? I could be your other dad and I promise I can read to you every night."
"Hm." Sarah thought for barely a second before she beamed at Steve. "Daddy, I'm saying yes. So you have to say yes. I want Eddie to live with us forever."
The most important thing to Steve was someone who Sarah loved and who loved Sarah in return, someone who was part of their family because they wanted to be, someone who felt proud to be theirs.
Eddie checked off all of that and then some.
He looked at Eddie and smiled. "Well, you heard the princess. Yes!"
Being late for school turned into being absent from school. Steve and Eddie skipped work for the day so they could all be together. Eddie went to his apartment to get the ring and Sarah made decorations for a "real" proposal.
He didn't mind that it wasn't anything extravagant. None of them did.
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deantfwinchester · 1 month
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Late Nights
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Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship
Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.
Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?
——————
It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.
You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.
When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.
On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.
This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.
You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:
Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:
Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?
Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.
You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.
You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.
Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)
Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️
And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.
He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.
————
A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.
It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.
Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:
“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.
“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.
You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.
You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.
You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:
“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”
“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.
“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.
“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.
“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.
“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.
“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.
He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.
You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”
He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.
“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.
He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”
You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.
You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.
——————
He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.
You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.
“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.
The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.
“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.
“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.
He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.
“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.
“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.
“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.
“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.
You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.
You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.
“Good night, sweetheart.”
“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.
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angelofcigs · 10 months
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The Confession
Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warning: smut, little bit angst, lots of fluff, p in v, oral (f receiving), etc.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Being the daughter of the Outer Banks’ most respectable lawyer has its downsides and its perks.
One of its perks being the not-so-humble abode it provided you, as well as the cars, booze, and clothes.
But it’s downsides: boy were they downsides. Your father being protective as hell due to the amount of crime he’s seen in court being one of the largest downsides.
In fact, your father was so worried about his “sweet Angel” of a daughter being influenced by a pogue or anybody with bad intentions led him to his most protective move yet- forcing you to tag along on his most important client meetings, one of them being the Cameron family.
With your family alongside the Camerons being the golden families of the island, forced family hangouts and your father leaving you with the Cameron children while he and Ward discussed business deals wasn’t rare.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
“Wheeze, that’s not fair!”, you whined as she made up her own rules in a game of uno between you, Wheezie, and Sarah.
“It’s in the rule book?!”, Wheezie rolled her eyes at you.
You glanced at Sarah, hoping for some help in this.
“Wheez, it’s really not.”
Staring down at your own cards to decide your next move, Rafe walked in and sat on the couch next to you.
Leaning closer to the armrest of your side of the couch, you continued, “Wheezie, seriously. You win this one fair and square and I’ll let you borrow my clothes for a year- that’s how confident I am that you can’t win this shit without cheating.”
Rafe groaned beside you, “Just let her win.”
“And let her go on in life thinking she can cheat her way into things? Yeah, no”, you glared back at him.
Stretching his arm out to reside above you, against the couch cushion, he proceeded, “It’s easier to let her cheat than to just keep arguing. Besides, I’ve cheated my way into things and I turned out just fine?”
Sarah snorted, “We must have very different definitions of ‘fine’ then.”
Falling into a fit of giggles, you nearly dropped your cards at her response.
“Don’t you have homework to do or something? You too, Wheez”, he scowled at them.
Jaw dropping in offense, Wheezie yelled, “What the fuck did I do?”
“Okay first of all, language, second of all, you cheated”, you scolded only to be met with a glare from Wheezie. “But that's fine, it didn’t really work anyways,” you said, holding in your laughter as you dropped a ‘+4’ card.
Sarah gasped, dropping in her ‘+4’ card as she high-fived you.
Picking up 8 more cards, Wheezie huffed, “You guys are cruel.”
Grinning at her, you slyly responded, “It’s a cruel, cruel world, Wheezie. A cruel world full of cheaters.”
“Wheez, homework”, Rafe reminded her.
“When did you ever do your homewo-”, she retorted.
“Dad! Wheezie isn’t doing her homework!”, he tattled with a smirk.
Hearing Ward’s footsteps towards the door, you picked up a pillow and covered your face trying not to laugh.
Glaring at Rafe, Ward scolded, “Rafe, I’m in the middle of a business meeting.” The boy’s face only dropped in disappointment. “Wheez, homework. Now. Same with you Sarah- there’s a reason that math grade is so low.”
“Yeah, 'cause the teacher sucks.” She rolled her eyes at him, and only listened when she saw the serious look on her dad’s face, making her obey and sulk back to her bedroom.
“Y/N, honey, do you need anything? Water? Fruit?”, he lightened his voice towards you.
“Um, fruit would be good. Thank you Mr. Cameron”, you warmly thanked him.
He snapped at his son, “Rafe”, and pointed his head out the door, signaling his son to get the food for the girl. Once Ward left the door, Rafe rose to get the food with a heavy sigh.
Busying yourself with your phone, Rafe soon walked back to you, placing a bowl of fruit as well as a glass of water on the coffee table.
“Why does your dad snap at you like that?”, you curiously asked, pulling at the bottom of your blue dress skirt as it threatened to rise when you shifted to grab a piece of fruit.
Shrugging, he calmly answered, “He’s always been like that. You know, tough with me.”
Biting into a cherry as you pulled off its stem, you asked again, “Doesn’t that bother you though? If I had siblings and my dad talked to them differently, nicer, just like your dad did with Sarah and Wheezie, it’d drive me crazy.”
“Not everybody is their dad’s favorite, princess.”
You tried to not blush at the nickname. “But, your his son?”
“Doesn’t stop Ward Cameron. Kind of like how you being your Mom’s only daughter doesn’t stop her from trying to control your life.”
You nodded, wondering how he knew that much about your family life, as it wasn’t a common subject between the two of you. “Yeah, I guess it’s just that they want us to succeed so badly. It’s like they want us to make up for the mistakes they made in life.”
Letting out a breath you were holding in, you turned back to look him in the eyes. “Don’t you ever feel like that? Sometimes, I swear my mom just wants me to become a carbon copy of herself. Everything she failed at, I need to succeed at.”
Grabbing a strawberry from the bowl, he answered, “Yeah. But, my dad knows who I am, I don’t get why he just can’t accept that.”
Looking at him, your eyes full of sympathy, he had a hard time not just forcing your mother to love everything about you, because how couldn’t she?
“It’s whatever. They’re probably too busy making money to be even thinking about us that much”, he chuckled to himself.
“Hey, at least we have this, though,” you smiled, looking around you at the beautiful house Rafe lived in, glancing at the now-setting sun, and adjusting the fabric of your dress. “I don’t know what I’d do without these expensive ass dresses my parents let me spend money on.”
Playing with the hem of your blue dress, he grinned, “Anybody who would refuse to buy you all the dresses you want would be out of their mind.”
Tossing another cherry into your mouth, you blushed at him, “You’d buy me the dresses?”
Dropping his arm lower from the top of the couch to play with the strap of your dress, he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, “I’d buy you all the dresses in the world if it meant you’d be here, next to me.”
You leaned in closer, the closest you’ve ever been to him, and studied the features on his face. “You better not be lying because I have one dress I’ve been wanting for a while now.”
Placing his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, he stared back at your doe eyes and the adorable blush that tinted your cheeks. “You know I’d never lie to you, sweetheart”, he whispered.
Reaching to the nape of his neck to play with his hair, you softly answered, “Then tell me the truth.”
“You know the truth, Y/N.”
“I know, but I want to hear you say it.” You wanted to hear it directly from him, that the rumors spreading about the kook king being in love with the forbidden fruit of a family friend’s daughter was true.
Leaning back into your touch, he stared at the ceiling as he tried his hardest to focus when you scratched at the back of his head.
Turning his head back towards you, his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. “Yes, princess, I’ve had a crush on you for a while. Ever since I was 9, to be exact.”
Climbing over his legs to straddle him, you continued to play with his hair, now with both hands. Biting your lip, you asked again, “Say it again.”
He blushed, stating he “always liked you”, he just was too afraid of fucking up the one thing in his life that was always happy, you.
Leaning in to kiss his lips for the first time, he pulled you in closer by the backs of your thighs.
The first kiss was sweet, but it quickly turned into desperate kisses, longing to taste one another after so many years of pining over each other. Gripping your hip to place you down on his lap, he groaned into the kiss at the feeling of you positioned on his clothed cock.
Chasing your lips for another kiss, you pulled back as he followed your lips, teasing him. Locking an arm around your waist and another up your back, he pulled you close to him.
As he kissed down your neck and onto your chest, you grind down on him, making his fingertips slip up your dress. Gasping at the feeling of him getting closer to your panties, he sucked at the sweet spot below your ear.
Breathlessly asking, “Are you sure you want to do this, princess, because I’ve been thinking about this for so long that I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself if I finally get you”, he was pleased and smirked when he was met with a whimper and an eager head nod from you.
Pushing you back up onto your legs, he placed his hand over yours and tugged you towards his bedroom, making the same familiar route feel so foreign knowing what was about to take place. Opening the door and shutting it behind the both of you, he couldn’t contain his smile at the sight of you sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting for him.
Striding over to you, he cornered you up to the bed, like a predator approaching its prey. When his hips pushed up against yours on the edge of the bed, the room suddenly got too hot, leading you to tug at the back of Rafe’s shirt, signaling him to remove it. Leaning back to tug it off, he groaned into the kiss when he felt your long nails scratching down his chest.
As he made out with you, he tugged at the straps off your dress and kissed their path. Wrapping your legs around him, you pushed him onto you.
While breathless quiet moans left your mouth, you begged, “Rafe, please.”
“Please what, princess?” He knew what you wanted, but just like you did earlier, he wanted to hear you say it.
Pouting up at him as he towered over you, you pulled him closer to you by his shoulders, “Please, touch me.”
Smirking at you, he continued to trail down his kisses closer to your breasts, and back up to your mouth, all the while he slipped his large hands up your dress’ skirt.
Leaning back from the kisses, he watched your face as he slipped his long fingers over the wet patch on your panties, mesmerized at how perfect you looked.
Rubbing light circles over your clothed clit, he kissed you as he slipped his fingers under your panties, now touching your bare puffy clit, the breathy moan you gave him his motivation.
Playing with your clit for a few seconds and watching your face respond, he pushed your limits even further when he slipped a finger in.
“Oh, Rafe”, you moaned, thrashing your body around at how good it felt.
“Yeah, that feel good baby? Tell me how good I make you feel.”
Sure, he wanted a verbal response, but the pornographic moan you let out in response to him adding his ring finger, the same one that had the infamous gold signet ring on, he was more than satisfied. The stark difference between his warm hand, your wet pussy, and the cold shock of the ring left you a babbling mess.
Everything he gave you wasn’t enough, you wanted more, even when he was already giving you everything you could handle.
When you grabbed his wrist to push him in further, he pulled back and grabbed the edges of your hips to remove your panties.
When you whined in response, he kissed your now red lips, “Relax, I’m just taking these off.”
Peeling your soaked panties off of your pussy, his mouth watered at the sight. “You always this wet?” he said, licking his lips at the sight.
Reaching down to one of his hands on your hips, you grabbed his fingers and intertwined them with yours. You gripped onto his large hand, and your nails dug into his skin at the feeling of his breath near your cunt.
Sucking hickies onto the insides of your thighs, he turned you into a whining mess, the only words leaving your mouth now being his own name.
Finally reaching your pussy, he kissed it and began to suck on your clit. As your legs closed in on his head, he grabbed his empty hand and kept your legs open, and did the same with the hand that held yours.
Full on making out with your pussy, as if it was his last meal on earth, he stared up at your face, your reactions keeping him going. Holding onto the end of your dress and clenching it in your free hand, your moans got louder when you made eye contact with him. Pulling the top of your dress down, you revealed your tits and played with them, making Rafe groan into you, sending you into a state of bliss.
Unlatching your hands, he continued to suck on your clit as he inserted his fingers and finger fucked you, watching your reaction as you squirmed in bed.
Moaning at the taste of you, you came around his fingers as he rode you through your high, lapping up everything your pussy gave him. Kissing your thighs again, he reached up to grab your dress and fully pull it off.
Kissing down your whole body, he flipped the two of you over, with you on top. Gripping your hips and placing your still-wet pussy onto his abs, he reached into his bedside drawer and ripped a condom open with his teeth.
Before he put it on, he paused. “You’ve, uh, done this before, right?”
Blushing, you answered, “Yes, Rafe, I’ve had sex before.”
His jaw dropped in jealousy, “With who?!”
Grabbing the condom wrapper from his hand, you scooted back on his body, unzipping his pants as you continued the conversation, “Rafe, I’m not telling you who took my virginity as you're about to fuck me.”
“No, tell me- who do I have to beat up? You know I’ll do it, especially if it was a pogue. If it is a pogue God I’ll-” You shut him up as you rolled the condom onto his cock.
“Sometimes you just need to learn when to shut up”, you straddled him again, kissing his lips and reaching beneath you to place his cock near the entrance of your pussy.
“You’re acting like I don’t know how to shut you up either.”
Before you could argue with him, he pushed his thick cock into you right as you opened your mouth, turning your argument into nothing but moans.
Pushing you onto his cock as deep as he could go, he watched as your mouth hung open in pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought”, he grinned.
Waiting as you got adjusted to his length, he placed your hands onto his shoulders and moved the hair, stuck to the sweat on your face, out of the way.
Fully adjusted, you rocked your hips in his dick, mimicking the same ‘O’ shape Rafe’s mouth was making. Gripping an arm around your waist and the other on your ass, he helped you as you began bouncing on his cock.
Your moans worked in symphony with his, the two of you seeming to work perfectly together in pleasuring one another.
“Rafe, fuck, right there”, you moaned, scratching at his chest at the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot.
Holding your hand down on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you and held you up as he fucked into you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.
Whining at the feeling, and clenching around him, he comforted, “I know baby, I know. Let go- I’m right behind you.”
Finishing his last thrusts strong, the two of you moaned in unison. As the two of you panted in each other's arms, he pulled you closer, like he was in fear of you getting up and leaving.
Once the two of you caught your breath, you stared at each other as you scratched his back.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Rafe…”
“No, I’m serious. I really do- and it’s not just the sex I mean don’t get me wrong the sex was great,” he nervously ranted, “but I really do love you. You, not who your mom wants you to be.”
You smiled back at him and kissed him sweetly on the lips, “I love you too, Rafe Cameron. You know I do.”
“And I was serious about the dress thing, alright? If that promise is what makes you act like that in bed, I’ll buy you every fucking dress you’ve ever asked for”, he added, making you shove at his chest.
“I’m serious princess. Get some sleep because you’re doing some serious shopping tomorrow.”
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Thank you so much for reading, leave feedback if you'd like, it means so much to me!! Also, ignore the possible typos as I am so fucking exhausted. - Angel
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whxtedreams · 2 months
Text
When You're Sick
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Summary: Drabbles about how they would look after you when you're sick/unwell.
Word Count: 3.5k
Tags: Fluff, comfort, they're just soft babies, I am sick while writing these, Javier being a soft jerk - he means well, Din doing his best, Frankie just being a soft bf, Joel is nothing but caring, sick!reader
Characters: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña
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Joel Miller
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Joel: How’s my baby girl doing? You: Honestly Joel, I have a killer headache and just want to go home. 
Joel frowns at the small screen in his hand before he looks down at the shirt he is ironing. He had planned on surprising you and taking you out to dinner tonight since Sarah was at a friend's house for the night but he quickly scraps that idea.
Joel: Come over after work  You: I just said I wasn’t feeling well… Joel: No funny business. Promise 
Joel spends the afternoon bringing every pillow and blanket he owns into the living room. He drags chairs from the dining room and drapes blankets over them, making a nice dark blanket fort in his living room. He digs around in the Christmas storage boxes in the garage until he finds battery operated warm fairy lights that Sarah begged him for one year. With a few grunts and mumbled swears, he manages to hang them on the chairs within the blanket fort, hoping you liked it and it wasn’t too bright. 
He checks his watch that Sarah fixed for his birthday last year and swears when he notices the time. 4:24pm, you’d be over any minute now. He scrambles around the living room making the last final touches. He rushes up to Sarah’s room and looks through her cupboard for her small candle collection. As he goes to grab a vanilla scented candle, he freezes as he remembers you mentioning that the heavy scents make your headaches worse. 
Okay – so no candles then. 
He’s taking the stairs two at a time when he hears your knock on his door, still not wanting to let yourself in even though he’s told you on multiple occasions that you’re more than welcome in his house. 
Joel opens the door after turning the last light off by the front door and his smile drops as he sees the pain behind your eyes. He takes hold of your hand and you sigh as you enter the dark house. 
He gently guides you into the living room and watches you as you take in the space he made for you, a small smile falling to his lips at your soft expression. Your arms are around him in an instant as his hand wraps around your shoulders, his other hand softly rubbing your head, hoping to ease a little of your pain. 
He lifts your head to look up at him when he feels the subtle shake in your chest as he hears you try to muffle a cry. “What’s wrong?” He quietly asks. 
“Nothing, my head just hurts and this is beautiful.” You reply as you turn your head to look over at the pillow fort, the soft warm glow illuminating the room from inside the blankets. 
“Come.” Joel offers as he detaches your hands from his waist and continues to guide you into the living room. He lifts a corner of a blanket and ushers you inside. He crouches at the entrance as you crawl in, taking in the small bowls of snacks and fruit carefully placed on the edge of the blankets and pillows. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you some pain killers, and fresh popcorn, yeah?” He asks and you eagerly nod in agreement. 
On his return, he shoves the bowl inside before crawling in, thankful for the softness of the blankets on his old knees. You take an overly big handful of popcorn and shove it to your mouth, small crumbs falling into your lap. He hands you a bottle of water and the pills and you struggle to swallow the popcorn before you take the pain killers. 
“How’s your head?” Joel asks as he pushes your hair behind your ear. 
“Think it might end up being a migraine.” You sigh as you pull a blanket over your lap, the crumbs falling into the pillow beneath you. The father in him dusts it to the side without thought, years of cleaning up after Sarah subconsciously implanted into his brain. “Might take tomorrow off work.” You mumble as you lay down, nestling into the pillows. 
Joel huffs as he picks up the popcorn bowl and your hand shoots out from the blanket, tugging it back beside you. “Darlin, if it’s that bad, then let's forget about the popcorn, the snacks and the blanket fort and get you to bed.” 
You frown as you pull the blanket up to your chin and hum in protest. “No. This is nice, I don’t want to move.” You grumble. 
“You sure? I know it's comfortable but if it’s turning into a migraine, you should go lay down.” Joel offers as he leans on his elbow, his other hand slowly tracing your body over the blanket. 
You sigh at the touch and close your eyes, smiling. “Really, it’s nice and dark in here. You did a good job, it’s sweet. I just want to stay here with you.” You open your eyes and look up at him and his heart clenches in his chest.  “But I'll let you take me to bed if it gets worse, deal?” 
Joel’s fingers grip onto the blanket before he soothes the blanket on you. “Yeah, okay. But if I even see the slightest hint of it getting worse, I'm taking you straight to bed, no arguments.” He says in a false firm declaration. Knowing full well that you won't do anything you don't want to.
“Deal.” You say on an exhale as you hug the pillow under your head. 
Joel leans over and kisses your temple, soothing a hand over your hair and you sigh at the touch. 
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Din Djarin
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Din knows something is wrong when the cockpit is silent for more than a few hours. You had muttered that you were going to go lay down a mere six hours ago, and he didn’t think anything of it, thinking you just needed rest. 
When it hits hour eight, he descends the ladder in search of you. He finds you curled in on yourself in his bed. His bed. He stands there blinking at you for a moment before looking around in search of anything that could explain what was going on. Nothing.  
He says your name but you don't move an inch. He sighs before he wraps a gloved hand around your ankle, instantly making you recoil from his touch as your leg curls into your chest. 
Okay, so not asleep then. 
“What’s wrong with you?” Din asks as kindly as he can but he knows it came off harsh, he normally does. 
“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Your voice is distant and weak and he’s taken back by how you sound, not used to anything but your overly positive attitude. 
Din might get frustrated at how lively and energetic you are, but he definitely wouldn't trade it for anything. Your personality is what makes you who you are and he loves – no, tolerates it no matter how hard it is to keep up at times
Your sniffle brings him back to the moment and he tilts his head at the sound. He would have blamed it on his imagination but he hears it again. “You’re crying?” He asks.
“Din, I said leave me alone.” You snap and he raises his eyebrows under his helmet. 
He turns to leave, listening to your demand but he hears you sniffle again and he stops as he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He turns the lights off, sending the room into darkness. He takes armour off piece by piece, carefully placing them on the floor before he walks back to you in his flight suit. He takes a strip of cloth and leans over you, pressing the fabric in your hand. “Put this on.” He orders. 
It’s now you finally look over your shoulder and frown at his lack of usual Beskar. “Wha-” 
“I said put it on, cover your eyes.” He points at the cloth and you slowly nod. He watches as you tie it around your head and waits until you lay back down until he takes his helmet off. 
He crawls into the bunk behind you and tugs your back to his chest, a startled gasp coming from your mouth as he moves you. 
“What are-” 
“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, worry laced in his unmodulated voice. His bare hand holds onto your stomach as he holds you close to him, your own hand covering his. 
You shake your head as you sniffle again. 
“Then why are you crying cyar'ika?” He pushes as his thumb lazily draws circles on your clothed stomach. 
You shrug in his arms and he slowly nods, his lips landing small kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t like it when you push me away.” He sighs into your neck. 
“I’m sorry.” 
He turns his hand from your stomach and holds your hand, squeezing it. “Talk to me cyar'ika. Please.” 
“I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel this way.” You almost choke on your words as you sniffle again and he squeezes your hand again. 
“That’s okay. We can lay here for as long as you need mesh’la.”   
And you do just that, until you turn in his arms and wrap your arms around him. Your head resting on his chest and you sigh contently.
“Feeling better?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. 
“Sort of.” 
“Anything I can do to fix that?”
“Just hold me.” 
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Frankie Morales
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To say that he’s in a good mood would be an understatement. Why is Frankie in a good mood? Well, that’s easy, he knows you’re at home waiting for him when he gets home from work. As much as he hated that you were gone before he woke in the mornings, coming home to you made your difference in working hours that much better. 
You’ve been living together for an easy month now and that blissful honeymoon stage never seems to end, and frankly, he doesn’t think it will. 
His mood does however falter when he opens the front door and he doesn’t hear you. Normally there would be the smell of dinner or the sound of music but there’s nothing. Which he thinks is completely fine, just out of the ordinary. He calls your name, thinking maybe you’re in the backyard by the pool but he hears your grumble from the living room.
Okay… 
He cautiously enters the living room, his head peeking around the corner before the rest of his body. 
His happy mood completely vanishes at the sight of you gripping your stomach and taking deep breaths as you lay on the lounge. He rushes to the couch and kneels in front of you. He places his hand on your stomach as his other hand wipes the hair fallen on your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, a frown settling on his face. 
“‘M fine.” you grumble and he shakes his head. He’s about to protest but you continue, “Just a bad period, ‘m fine.” You say before your breath falters, your hand gripping onto your own shirt. 
He sighs in relief, his forehead resting on yours as he begins to rub your lower stomach. He pushes himself from you and sits on his heels as he looks down at you. “Why didn’t you text me? I could have brought some stuff home?” He asks as he moves his hand to hold yours. 
“It’s okay.” You sigh as you sit up and his hands rests on your thighs as he looks up at you, his hands slowly running up and down your thighs. 
“Do you have everything you need? I can go to the supermarket, it’s no problem baby.”
You nod as you reach out and run a hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and sighs at the touch before snapping his eyes open and swatting your hand away with a playful frown. “Stop it – it’s supposed to be me looking after you.” He laughs as you roll your eyes. 
“Frankie–”
“Nope, you sit right there, Doctor Frankie will look after you.” He grins as he leans in to kiss your forehead before standing from the couch. 
“Babe–” 
“You’re stuck with me now, your fault for moving in.” He teases as he reaches to take your hands in his. “We can order in if you like? Chinese?” He offers and you nod with a smile. “Perfect! I’ll go get you a heat pack and some chocolate from my stash.”
Your head snaps to him as he moves to go into the kitchen. “You have a hidden chocolate stash?” Your words rushed and your jaw hangs open in shock. 
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickers as he enters the kitchen. He reaches for the back of the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal you hate and empty the chocolate onto the kitchen counter. 
“IS THERE CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT?” you yell from the living room and it takes everything he has not to burst out laughing at your reaction. The exact reason he began hiding the chocolate when you moved in. 
He walks back in with the warm heat pack and block of chocolate and you snatch the bar from his hand. “I will tear this house apart Frankie.” You mutter as you open it and shove a whole row into your mouth. 
He falls into the couch beside you and smiles down at you as you moan at the taste, your eyes closing in bliss. He reaches around your shoulder and tugs you into his side and you willingly snuggle into him. He rests the heat pack on your stomach and you sigh at the feeling.
He finds it oddly amusing that your entire mood changes at the consumption of chocolate, that all the pain you were feeling vanishes. He knows that’s impossible, but it’s cute. He does however rub your stomach at every strained breath, trying to take your focus away from the cramps you felt. 
“Thank you.” You smile as you rest your head on his shoulder. 
“Anything for you baby.”
“Will you tell me where you hide the chocolate?”
“Oh, not a chance.”   
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Javier Peña
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Javier lifts his hand to knock on your apartment door for the fifth time. His foot taps on the carpet below him and he sighs in frustration as he hears no sign of movement inside. 
“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he digs in his pocket for the space key you gave him; for emergencies only. He really didn’t want to walk into your apartment uninvited but he considers this an emergency.  
It’s been just shy of a week since you last showed up at work, just shy of a week since he last ran into you in the hallways of the apartment complex you shared.
He slowly pushes open the door, half expecting you to start yelling at him – but you don’t. 
He spots the pile of dirty dishes in the sink first and he instantly knows something is wrong since you’re always nagging him for leaving his empty coffee mugs on your desk at work, hating the mess he made just to annoy you. 
He spots the couch next, blankets and pillows left unattended with used tissues covering the floor. Gross. 
He moves to your bedroom door, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed as he looks at you in your bed. Your eyes are closed and your chest struggles on each inhale, the sound of your blocked nose filling the room. He almost laughs at that, hearing you snore – but then remembers that you’re actually sick. Great. 
Not wanting to disturb your sleep, he moves to leave. 
“Please tell me you’re here to put me out of my misery.” You groan as you sit up, wiping the snot dripping down from your nose. 
He scrunches his nose at the sight, ignoring the way he wants to rush to get you a tissue. 
“Your place is a mess.” He says instead as he looks down at the sea of tissues both in your bed and the floor and instantly feels guilty as you start coughing, your hand clutching at your chest. 
He frowns then, wanting to rush to your aid but he doesn’t. His feet feel as if they’re concreted to the ground, not allowing him to set foot in your bedroom. 
“You’re welcome to clean up if it bothers you, because I ain't doing it.” You mutter as you collapse back into your pillows. “While you’re at it, can you get me a heat pack?” 
Yeah, he can do that. It’s the least he can do, right? 
He pushes off from your doorframe and walks the short distance to your med cabinet above your stove. He takes the purple sack from the cabinet and tosses it into the microwave as he leans against the counter. He taps his foot as he looks down at the countless plates and half empty take away containers. 
He takes the pack when the microwave beeps and strides back to your room, freezing in the doorway before sighing and walking over to your side. He outstretches his hand and offers you the pack. He pulls it back however as he sees sweat trickle down your forehead as you shiver. He places the back of his hand to your forehead and swears. 
“You’re burning up.” He frowns as you grab for the heat pack. “This is the last thing you need.” 
“But I’m cold Javi,” You whine and he shakes his head. 
“When was the last time you took any Tylenol? Or had a damn shower?” He asks and you shrug. 
He sighs again and walks back into the kitchen, tossing the useless heat pack on the counter along with all your other mess and opens the cabinet again, taking out the container you use to store all your medications. He digs through it and takes out the Tylenol packet and groans when it’s empty. He looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. 
Of course it’s empty, why wouldn't it be?
It’s then and there he decides he’s dragging you out of this apartment and into his own. Because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving you here when you’re doing what seems to be a very poor job at looking after yourself. 
He walks back into your room without hesitation this time and grabs onto your hands. You groan as he lifts you to sit up. “What are you doing?” You ask with a frown as he continues to lift you from the bed. 
“Comin’ ‘cross the hall with me.”
“What?”
“You’re going to take a shower, take the Tylenol that I actually have and sleep in a bed that’s not full of snotty tissues.” He softly orders as he drags you across your bedroom. He stops in the middle of your room as he looks down at your snot covered pyjamas. He moves over to your dresser and takes out the first set he sees and continues to march you back to his place. 
You sigh in defeat and follow him, because let’s be honest – you’re in no shape to argue with him right now. 
He hands you the set of clean pyjamas and pushes you into his bathroom. He waits until he hears the shower start before he moves into his bedroom, quickly cleaning up the dirty clothes from his floor and shoving them into the hamper he bought, telling himself that he would actually use it. He hasn’t.  
He pours a cold glass of water and sets two pills on the counter. He stares at the counter and scratches the back of his head, maybe some tea?  
He opens his pantry and kneels as he searches for the box of tea he knows you left here months ago when he had nothing you wanted to drink that last time you were there. He pushes cans around until he finds the box tucked away. 
By the time you exit his bathroom, you look like a different person. Not quite healthy, but no longer looking like you’re on your deathbed. He ushers you into his bedroom and you protest when he motions for you to get into the bed. 
“Get your fuckin’ ass into this bed.” He orders without a hint of anger and you roll your eyes as you do what he says. 
He comes back in with the water, pills and tea. He places the hot tea on his bedside table and hands you the pills and water. You smile as you thank him and he looks around his room, not knowing how to take your thanks. 
“Yeah, well can’t really have you dying across the hall. They’d think it was me.” He jokes instead and you laugh before it sets off another cough and he swears at himself for making you cough.
“Right – well, get some sleep.” He mutters to the floor before he leaves, leaving the door open a crack in case you need something. 
He waits until he hears you snore before he walks over to your apartment and begins cleaning. 
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Notes
I am so sick pls tag me in sick!reader fics
My desk is covered in tissues. My bed is covered in tissues. The tissues that make it to my bin, my puppy tips over and starts eating.
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house-of-lovin · 10 months
Text
legally binded - 7
Jenna Ortega x F!Reader
masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part
Chapter 7: The Afterparty
Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.
Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)
(this is all fiction!)
Note: so... lovely weather we're having. 🙂
Word Count: 4k+
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“Where’s Y/N?” Enrique asked as the door of the van shuts closed, for a moment, the incessant sounds of camera shutters and the crowd shouting her name become muffled.
And in that same moment, Jenna feels like she can finally breathe properly through her own lungs. 
“Upstairs,” Jenna mumbled, leaning her expertly pinned hair against the headrest, and closing her eyes.
“I take it things didn’t go well?” He fiddled with his cap, frowning as he watched the young actress’ exhausted features.
Jenna hummed in confirmation but said nothing else, looking out the tinted window as the van started driving slowly. 
Staring up at the hotel, she scanned the various, nearly identical windows for your hotel room. Jenna didn’t even know if your room was facing this direction but she looked anyway, a wishful part of herself hoped to catch a glance of you.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. You two will be okay.”
Jenna snorted, shooting her stylist an incredulous look. “I thought you were mad at her?”
“I’m mad at her for being stupid and for hurting you… even if she is a cutie.” He rolled his eyes, getting comfortable in his seat.
The actress laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that, you know she has a massive ego.”
Enrique joined in on the laughter before his tone dropped, “You know Sarah and Liv are going to find out that the two of you didn't go to the same party…”
Right now, Jenna could care less about whatever kind of consequence she may get. The embers from her argument with you are still burning bright.
“That’s an issue for later.”
***
Jenna tried to make the best of a bad situation.
She really did.
Even though this wasn’t how she expected to spend the rest of her night — she somehow found a way to let loose. Maybe after she found a few familiar faces that pulled her in to dance, tipped back a few drinks and sang along as Janelle Monae performed for her after-party.
But even still, under the guise of alcohol and a good time. There was an unpleasant churn in her stomach whenever she allowed her mind to drift off to you.
“I’m gonna go to the washroom!” Jenna yelled through the music. Enrique nodded, continuing to cheer Janelle Monae on stage.
Laughing, she walked away while shaking her head; amused at her friend. Glad that he’s having a good time. One of them deserves to be having fun, at least.
As Jenna pushed through the heavy-panelled door of the powder room, she sat on the couch and placed her purse down. Grateful to be stretching her aching legs. 
She takes a second to breathe and in that moment, allowed herself to think about you; wondering which party you went to and who you were surrounded by.
And for a split second, that unpleasant churn in her stomach reemerged as her mind drifted to all the worst possible outcomes of what you could be doing tonight.
Are you safe?
Is someone looking out for you?
Jenna’s decided not to ask Link about you this time, deciding that you two do, in fact, need space for the time being.
She knows she should apologize for the way she acted all day, even all week. Jenna knows she was just projecting her unresolved feelings about you from Coachella and instead of just telling you that she’s been worried and just wants you to talk to her, to let her in. 
She decided to be petty and give into the heat of the moment, instead..
Jenna hopes the two of you can talk about it later tonight. But then she remembers the fact that you’re probably drinking, partying and doing god knows what else so that conversation and apology would probably have to wait until you’ve sobered up.
Standing, Jenna's decided she's had enough of wallowing in her own misery and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.
“Oh, hi!” A sweet-sounding higher pitched voice greeted her from behind after the sound of a door opening and heels clinking.
Immediately, she linked gazes with a certain Hailee Steinfeld through the mirror.
Jenna tried hard to school the surprise on her face.
“Hello…” Jenna smiled politely and glanced away, continuing to wash her hands.
“I’m Hailee…” The other woman greeted, sliding into the sink beside her, a pearly white smile on her full-pink lips.
“I’m Jenna, I would shake your hand but…” She gestured down to the running sink.
Hailee shook her head and laughed. “It’s okay, I’m glad to finally meet you! Can I just say how gorgeous you look! I thought your carpet look was amazing but this — you look stunning!”
“Oh! Uh— Thanks?” This time her surprise is hard to subdue. Feeling flushed under the weight of the other woman’s compliments.
She's never been great at accepting them. 
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed,” Hailee smiled sheepishly. Her thick brows furrowing in her own embarrassment. 
The heat begins to crawl up her neck. “It’s okay! I— I appreciate it. You look gorgeous as well.” 
Taking the time to scan her, the younger actress has to crane her neck up to see Hailee’s face — it’s no wonder you ended up dating her. The woman is gorgeous. 
She tries to stave the green-eyed monster clawing at her chest at the thought of you two together because the woman standing across from her has been surprisingly pleasant.
“Please!” Hailee waves off, smiling softly, turning to wash her own hands.
Jenna allows the silence to take over the room, unsure of what to say next. After washing her hands, she turned off the sink and walked over to grab paper towels.
Hailee cuts in before she can think about it too hard.
“Hey,” The singer called out as Jenna was about to pick up her purse, “thank you... for looking out for her.”
“What?” Jenna turned, raising her brows in question.
Hailee sighed, leaning against the counter to face Jenna.
“I know Y/N’s not the… easiest. She tends to push people away. I think it’s just the way she’s always been. I’m not really sure. With the whole Vegas situation and these rumours going around about a possible arrest — which, you know, is bullshit, Y/N doesn’t do drugs — her first instinct would’ve been to run and push people away. But you’re still here… so something tells me you’re special.”
Jenna feels her heart drop at the other woman’s words. 
“Y/N can be reckless and cold at times, but I think it’s just an act," She continued; smile contorting sadly, “so she doesn’t actually have to open up to people… I’ve—uh, tried, so I kinda know.”
Jenna was stunned, unsure of what to say to that. Hailee made it sound like you were the one that got away or something. She also caught the openness that accompanied her tone, like the other woman had accepted the circumstances of the situation.
Like she just... let it be.
There wasn’t a lot of things Jenna was certain about but she knew she didn't want to feel that way about you, to just accept your coldness and inability to let people in.
“Anyways, she said you’ve kept her standing on her feet these last few months.” Hailee smiled softly, sincerity burning bright in her eyes. “So thank you, 'cause she deserves someone patient like you.” 
“Thank you…” Jenna finally managed to say despite the barbed wire feeling around her throat.
You really said that? Did you mean it?
If you did then she feels terrible.
“No, thank you, I was scared Link and Y/N were gonna grow old and still be living together. They’re weirdly co-dependent.” Hailee jokes, breaking the heaviness in the room.
Jenna couldn’t help the snort that leaves her mouth. 
And just like that, it felt like two friends enjoying an inside joke.
Jenna's laughter trails off before it turns to a heavy sigh as she grabs her purse. “So I should probably apologize to her, huh?”
The corner of Hailee's mouth tugs a small smug smile. “Depends on what she did… maybe let her sweat it out for a bit more then apologize.”
Jenna chuckled before nodding. “Noted… thank you, Hailee.”
Hailee nods, smiling softly as Jenna turned to walk out of the bathroom.
A surprisingly pleasant feeling appeared in her chest the farther she walked away.  
She felt a bit lighter after that conversation, which is a shock considering she just talked to your ex-girlfriend. For a moment, Jenna felt guilty for her earlier reservations about the other woman. Not wanting to admit that she had let her jealousy cloud her judgment of character.
Hailee had nothing but great things to say about her — and you for that matter. A testament to how, despite your hot and cold demeanour, there’s someone worth knowing underneath.
Ugh. She hated it when she was wrong.
But there was also that nagging echo in her head that had to admit that she was glad she was wrong about you.
I’m sorry for what I said. Can I come see you? Are you still at the other after-party?
Swallowing her pride, she hit send then walked back to the party to find Enrique, hoping she can distract herself as she waits for your reply.
20 minutes go by without a response and Jenna doesn’t know if she should start feeling annoyed or worried; the line between the two is thinning by the second, she concluded. She decided she leaned more on the latter and stepped away from the party once again. Roaming the halls before stepping out onto a secluded balcony; grateful for the warm night in the early May month. 
Pulling out her phone from her clutch, she called Link immediately, knowing that if anyone knew your whereabouts it’d be him.
“Hello?” Link answered breathlessly and in the background, the actress can hear sounds of traffic and people talking over one another.
“Link? Can you hear me?” Jenna spoke into the lonely night air.
“Yeah— yeah, sorry.” It sounded like Link walked away from the noise because when he spoke again, it sounded much clearer. But she immediately noted the urgency in his voice. “Hey.”
“Hey, I texted Y/N 20 minutes ago but she didn’t respond, is everything okay?” Jenna got to the point, chewing her lip.
“Shit—“ Link cursed. “Uh, about that.”
“Link, what does that mean?” Jenna felt every muscle in her body tense at his words, like before a big drop on a rollercoaster.
“We can’t find her.” Link confessed. 
Jenna’s stomach dropped. Yeah, except that rollercoaster has just derailed.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” 
“We lost her. She said she was going to the bathroom but she never came back.” He recounted nervously.
“What—“ Jenna was dumbfounded, mind on overdrive as a sudden wave of coldness washed over her body as she processes what she’s just been told.
You're missing.
No one knows where you are.
“Are you looking for her now?” Jenna manages to ask, gripping the balcony railing for support. She thinks she feels a little light-headed but she pushes that thought away because you are more important, right now.
“Yes, of course. We checked everywhere. But uh—it’s been almost two hours since anyone’s seen her…” Link hesitated before confessing.
The last thing they need is for Jenna to start freaking out too.
Jenna’s stomach dropped again. This time she feels like she’s been launched off the rollercoaster entirely and is free-falling mid-air.
“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay. She does this, it’s kinda her thing. We’ll find her soon. Don’t worry.” Link reassured after Jenna doesn’t respond.
“When was the last time that she did this, Link?” Jenna asked shakily.
A beat passed before the man answered. “Vegas…”
“Shit…” They said in unison.
“What—what do we do?” Jenna asked.
“Just keep texting and calling her. I’m out looking for her right now, I have her entire security team with me.” He reassured her once again but she can still hear the trepidation in his tone.
“Okay…” Jenna trails off, not really sure if she’s actually listening at this point.
“Jenna— we’ll find her, don’t worry.” Link said with certainty but it didn’t ease the anxiety in her chest.
“I know…” Jenna mumbled, grasping her phone with a mighty grip and forced herself to take a calming breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll start calling her. Maybe I should go back to her room, in case she comes back?”
“Yeah, that’s a great idea, keep me updated Jen.” 
“I will.”
The line goes dead as Link hangs up.
“Shit.” Even with Jenna’s trembling fingers, she contacted your number with haste.
But the call never even rang. 
***
It’s past 2 AM and no one has still heard from you. 
She had left you a total of 26 missed calls and almost 50 text messages. That’s not even counting the ones she’s sent you through Enrique’s phone.
At this point, Jenna was ready to go to the police but Link advised her that they wouldn’t be able to do anything because it hasn’t been 24 hours yet. Your closest confidant also warned her of adding fuel to the fire with the press if headlines that you're missing are released.
The actress feels an excruciatingly sharp pain forming in between her brows; the early stages of a migraine, the longer she paced around your room.
“Where is she, Link?” She chewed on the bottom lip, anxiously. “What if something bad happened? She doesn’t have security with her...”
“Her whole team has been driving around the city looking for her but we already checked the other after-parties and she wasn’t there. I hate to say it, Jenna, but if Y/N doesn’t want to be found, you won’t.” Link sat down on the couch in the living room.
The wrinkled exhaustion and worry were clear as day on his face. Jenna sighed, sitting down beside him. “I know you tried your best. Thank you for looking…”
“Yeah… of course. How are you though?” He turned, scanning her equally exhausted features. 
“I feel terrible if I had just tabled it like she said–”
“Hey–” Link cuts in, shaking his head. “Don’t. Y/N’s gonna do whatever she wants, you can’t put this one on you.” 
Jenna nods unconvincingly, slumping against her seat. “What about you? How are you?”
He stared off, deep in thought. “She’s like my sister, you know. We didn’t have it easy growing up. I know she’s— stand-offish and hard to get along with at times…”
Jenna turned to face him at his sudden confession, deciding to stay silent.
“You can’t even imagine how many times I’ve tried to quit being her assistant.” Link chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. “But I could never really do it. ‘Cause even though she has these massive walls around herself and that annoying-ass nonchalant attitude. I know sometimes this job is a lot… even for her.”
Jenna huffed, slouching back into the soft couch, trying to be understanding. “I know… trust me I know the job, we all do–”
Link shakes his head. “You don’t. Not her story at least…”
Snapping her head to the side, she watches the assistant’s side profile, noting the deep wrinkle on his forehead. “What does that mean?”
She couldn’t help but ask.
He sighed, “It’s not my place to say but Y/N's been through some stuff. Stuff that you wouldn't wish on anyone.”
“What?”
He sighed again, debating if he should open the can of worms. “At the time, I was living with my grandmother. She’s the only family I have left, it’s probably why I can’t let go of Y/N too. The money I make from working with her, I send to take care of my nan… But even with all that, Y/N was dealing with her mom.”
“She told me she was controlling or something — wanted more money?” Jenna scrunched her nose in disgust at how someone can treat their own flesh and blood like that.
“She wasn’t just controlling, Jenna… she tried to sue Y/N over it. She tried to take away her right to make decisions over her own career and when that didn’t work she tried to get her to quit the industry."
Jenna’s stomach dropped. “What?”
Linked nodded, watching Jenna’s stunned reaction. “Yeah… Jake and Liv fought against it. It never turned into a legal case, thank god. The judge dismissed her claims but it really fucked with her head you know. That her own mother could do that to her."
Jenna stared off into nothing as she processed his words.
No wonder you’re so closed off and scared to let people in. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about what you’ve gone through and how, even despite all of that, you still managed to stay standing on your own two feet and carry on as if nothing happened.
She wonders how long it’s been since you’ve really let anyone in.
“I knew she’d been dealing with things… these last few months. She had a packed year last year and her schedule was only getting busier. She never outwardly said it was becoming too much but I could see it. It started small; missing texts, calls, alarms… then she wouldn’t come home cause she was partying all night… it got too much. I think that singer and his friends were taking advantage of her fame but she always brushed me off whenever I said something. We even got into a big fight before Vegas so I stayed with a friend for a couple of days to cool off.”
“Link…” Jenna trailed off, she heard the guilty tone accompanied by his words. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No… I know. Y/N’s going to do what she wants, I’ve learned to accept it. It still doesn’t make me feel any better that she’s in this situation and that I could’ve done something to prevent it.”
Link cleared his throat, sitting up a bit. “Just saying… from Y/N’s person to the other – I get what you’re feeling. She’s definitely not the easiest but I don’t know… when she shows she cares, you know she means it.”
“You think I’m Y/N’s person?” Jenna asked shocked. “We barely know each other.”
Link rolled his eyes, sending her a flat look. “Yeah ‘cause you two communicate through silent looks and then don’t talk about your feelings. If you guys fix your shit then maybe you can be her person too.” 
Jenna opened her mouth for a rebuttal but the sound of something smacking against the wall interrupted her.
Immediately, the assistant and actress spring up, walking spritely to the foyer. When they round the corner, Jenna is torn between feeling relieved or furious.
They spot you, slumped against the wall nearly slipping on your own two feet, piss-fucking-drunk as you dropped the keycard to the floor.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Link scoffed but briskly walked over to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder. "What the hell happened to you?"
“Sorry for being a disappointment, Dad.” You mumbled as Link dragged you down the hallway. Eyes barely opened and even then, Jenna can see the alcohol-muddled haze through your slow blinks. 
“What the fuck, Y/N?” Jenna echoed as she watched how you had to be carried, too drunk to do it yourself. 
It scared her, this was not a version of you that she liked. 
She doesn’t want to listen to that small voice in her head again, the one that’s saying you’re bad news. You’re a party animal, this is what you do. You’re reckless. But the other part of her wants to give you a chance to explain yourself, especially after what Link just told her – it’s hard to keep that sentiment when you act like this though.
“Oh hey, Jenna.” You waved as if nothing is wrong, toothy smile on your lips. “I tried looking for you at the party… then I realized we fought and that’s why you weren’t with me. Are you still mad at me?”
Jenna didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet and followed Link as he lead you to the bedroom, nearly throwing you onto the mattress. 
“Fuck, Y/N. You can’t keep doing this.” Link sighed out, taking a few steps back from the bed to scan you. 
“Who’s gonna stop me?” You snorted, sitting up to tug your shoes off, chucking them without care.
“Dude, for real? We spent nearly four hours looking for your ass. Do you realize what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten into if–” 
“–yeah, yeah,” You wave off and Jenna can see Link’s eye twitching and jaw clenching in anger. He knew better than to fight with a drunk person. Especially if that person is you. 
He lets out a deep breath, then turned to younger actress, “I can’t be around her right now. I’m sorry.” 
Then he walked away, slamming the door loudly behind him making Jenna flinch. A few seconds of silence pass without a single movement.
“What are you still doing here?” You asked in a snipped tone, breaking the quietude. Jenna doesn’t know if she should feel offended. 
Crossing her arms, she scans your dishevelled attire. Your tie is loose, buttons are undone, and dress shirt is half-tucked – in short, you looked like a hot mess. “I’ve been calling you all night, where have you been?”
“Phone died.” You yanked your blazer off, throwing it on the floor, “and out… drinking.”
“With who? By yourself or with someone?” Jenna asked, walking closer, and helping you take off your tie.
“Doesn’t matter..” You grumbled as she helped you, looking at a spot on the wall and Jenna clenched her jaw cause you were closing up again.
“Well, it matters to me,” She yanked the tie off your neck.
“Why?” You looked up at her.
“What?”
“Why do you care so much? I thought this was all just for the press?” You pushed off the bed, wobbling on your feet. Jenna took a few steps back but kept close, in case you needed help but you shrugged her attempts away.
She tried not to take it personally.
Jenna called after you but you ignored her and just stumbled to the bathroom. She trails behind, still keeping a close eye.
“No, seriously. You kiss me and let me stay with your family and then you shut me down? What kind of fucked up shit is that?” You spoke up, venom laced in your words.
Jenna knows it’s the alcohol talking. But drunk words, sober thoughts?
“Well guess what? Fuck that. I may be closed off but at least I don’t lead people on.” You seethe, stopping in your tracks to spin around and face her.
The anger in your eyes is not an emotion she had seen before. This was different than your other petty disputes and arguments. You meant it.
Jenna blinked, shaking her head furiously, “What? No! That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I don’t care! I’m over it. If you wanna believe the press over me like everyone else, go ahead. I’m fucking used to it.” You grumbled, turning away to keep walking but this time Jenna grabbed your elbow, stopping you.
“Can you just stop for a second and let me explain!” But you yanked back like you’ve been burned and Jenna thinks she can physically feel her heart splitting down the middle. 
“No, fuck that!” You yelled before taking a deep breath, using Jenna's stunned silence as a chance to keep talking. You looked deeply into her eyes and said the next words with pure conviction. ”I’m sick of trusting people and letting them in just to be fucking burned over and over again — After the Met Gala, I’ll go to Jake and Liv and tell them this is over. Next week, it’ll be three months anyway. Then, we’ll never have to see each other again.” 
There was no slurring in your voice or wobble in your stance as you said those words.
Jenna blinked back the tears forming in her eyes, clenching her jaw. Not recognizing this version of you standing across from her.
This isn’t the same person that treated her family kindly and won over their hearts.
This isn’t the same person that won over her heart.
So, she listened.
“Okay….” Jenna nodded weakly, then turned walking out of your room not being able to look into your eyes.
She missed the instant regret in them as you tracked her disappearing figure.
***
i told y’all this slow burn would be slowwwww.
***
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hier--soir · 4 months
Text
a lover's pinch | six
joel miller x f!reader
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pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.
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Sunday.
“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  
There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.
A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.
“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”
“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”
“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.
“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”
Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”
A moment of humming, crackling silence.
“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”
“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.
It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.
Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.
Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.
It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.
And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.
Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.
“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.
A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.
“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.
The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.
Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”
And she says, “I know.”
More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.
Plucking out the blade.
“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”
Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.
When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.
“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”
“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”
He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.
They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.
“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.
“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”
Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  
“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”
“Mhm, tomorrow.”
“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”
“She is.”
“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”
“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”
“Yeah, you told me.”  
“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”
Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.
“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.
“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”
She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.
And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”
Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?
“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.
“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”
“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.
“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”
“Jesus,” he deflates.
“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.
“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.
She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”
So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  
With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.
And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   
Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.
“You okay, Rach?”
“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”
Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.
“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”
He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.
“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.
“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”
Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.
“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.
“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”
His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.
Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.
His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.
“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.
“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.
“That I loved you.”
It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.
When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”
He’s convinced his throat is tightening.
“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”
“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.
“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”
Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.
And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  
Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.
“Rachel—”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Please, don’t apol—”
“I shouldn’t have said—”
“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”
She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.
“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.
And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.
“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.
Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.
“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”
She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.
“You never mentioned anyone.”  
“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”
“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.
The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 
“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  
In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.
Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.
“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”
Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.
“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”
“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”
“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”
Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.
There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.
Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.
Are you enjoying your dinner?
The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.
Yeah, the restaurant is nice.
What are you doing? 
Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed
Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.
His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.
Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  
Want some company? he types next.
“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.
Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.
He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.
“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.
Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”
She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”
“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”
“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”
—lose you.
“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”
“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”
“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”
He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.
The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.
When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?
Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.
Show me.
And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.
I know you want to show me, sweetheart.
And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.
Because her skin.
So much skin.
Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.
It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.
He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.
And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.
Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.
A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.
A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.
Jesus.
Are you wet?
You know I am.
Are you touching yourself?
Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.
No.
He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.
Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.
Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 
Your fault, your fault, your fault.
And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?
But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.
Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.
What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.
And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.
Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.
No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.
And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.
Good.
Dinner finished early. Where are you?
And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.
Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.
Where to?
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**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.
thank you for reading! x
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stylesispunk · 3 months
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"The not so invisible string" | part 2
Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader
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summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?
chapter summary: You and Joel had a "lunch" together and some things were said, and the past between you both is meeting the present.
word count: 5k.
warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). I probably made some grammar mistakes because I write things fast. Not proofreading, ups. Italics are flashbacks <3
a/n: Chapter two is here!! Thank you so much for your nice comments and appreciation for the previous chapter, I didn't think it would be good enough but thanks for appreciating. This one is less intense than the first one, but we still have a story to develop. I'm on my summer break from work, so I hope to have time to keep writing. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 p.s if you wann be taglisted, please I'm so shy so I feel asshamed of tagging people if you don't tell me 😳 and if I forgot someone, sorry 😭
dividers by @/saradika
"Are you waiting to see her again?" Sarah asked when Joel was parking outside school before driving to his job.
"Who?" He asked, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling settled in his stomach at the minimum possibility of seeing you again.
"Tara's mom?" She said, leaning toward his dad, "What's the issue with her, by the way? Was she your ex or something?”
"No,” he said immediately.
“So why did you get so nervous?"
"She is the love of my life," he confessed, not turning his face to Sarah in shame of being seen in such a vulnerable state.
When you were a parent, you never showed yourself vulnerable in front of your children; you never allowed them to see that part of you that’s beneath what they knew. But when they grow up, they understand you would never be a hero, but a human living life for the first time too.
Sarah's eyes widened at Joel's unexpected confession. The revelation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension inside the car.
"The love of your life?" Sarah echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. "But you never mentioned her before."
Joel sighed, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel as if it held the answers to a long-buried history. "It's complicated," he finally admitted. "We were each other's first love, but things didn't work out. We went our separate ways, and I thought I had moved on."
"But seeing her again..." he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "I never expected her to be here again."
Sarah studied Joel's profile, recognizing the struggle in his eyes. "And what about Tara's mom? Does she feel the same way?"
"I don't know," Joel confessed, a heaviness settling in his chest. "It's been thirteen years, and a lot has changed. She has a daughter now, and I have my own life."
Sarah reached out, placing a comforting hand on her dad’s shoulder. "Well, life is surprising," she said. "Maybe it's a chance for both of you to find closure, or maybe even something more. Who knows?"
Joel nodded, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future swirling around him.
“Perhaps” He said, “Okay, now go to class before you get late.” He hurried Sarah, but before she closed the door, a bolt of thought invaded his mind before he could even think.
“Can I ask you for a favor?”
She nodded.
“Ask Tara for her mother’s number, please.”
Sarah grinned, nodding her head and blowing a kiss to his father.
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The days had passed, and life had settled into a new routine for you, unemployed and doing house chores, feeling just as the same twenty-two-year-old you once were.
But that wasn’t your only thought in the back of your mind. Since the day you had seen Joel, you hadn’t been able to take him off your mind, and as if it weren’t already difficult, Tara and Sarah were slowly becoming best friends, just as you and Joel were someday back when you had anything to lose.
For Joel, things weren’t different. There wasn’t a second of the day since he had seen you that he hadn’t thought about you. About how gorgeous you still looked and how much he had missed you for the past years. Despite the investable passing of time, the past seemed to cast a long shadow over the present; he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that had resurfaced since he saw you.
Late one night, he found himself staring at his phone. Since Sarah got your number from Tara, he has been doing the same, contemplating whether to send a message. The words formed in his mind, but typing them out was a whole different thing for him. Trapped between the enormous desire to know about you or to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.
But before he could even formulate the thought, he pressed send.
Unknown number
"Hi, it’s me, Joel"
Your phone vibrated on your side of the bed.
"Honey?" Dwight called out,
“Yes?" you asked from the bathroom.
“Why is a Joel messaging you at this hour?”
You paused, the sensation of cold cream on your fingertips suddenly forgotten. The name "Joel" seemed too foreign on Dwight's lips; you even felt guilty.
"It's probably just something about Tara," you replied, forcing nonchalance into your tone. But the unease crept into your voice, betraying the facade.
Dwight's curiosity lingered in the room as you picked up your phone. The screen illuminated with a new message, and the familiar ache resurfaced in your heart.
Unknown number
Sorry for sending this at this time, but I've been thinking a lot about you since our unexpected meeting, and I was wondering if we could talk. No pressure, just a conversation.
You felt a mix of emotions—surprise, apprehension, and a tinge of curiosity. The late-night timing added an unexpected layer of intensity to the message.
"Honey, is everything okay?" Dwight's voice carried a note of concern.
"Yeah, it's probably about Tara or something. I'll go better call him,” you replied, forcing a smile. But deep down, you knew that hearing his voice through a phone would do enough damage to you.
“Hello sunshine! How it’s my best girl doing?” he exclaimed, his sleepy voice from this time in the morning melted you.
“I’m better now that you called”
“Remember I’m always just a call away from you, doe”
The hallway felt colder as you left the room, and the phone gripped tightly in your hand. Your heart raced against your chest, its rhythm echoing the uncertainty of the moment. As you pressed the button to call Joel, each second felt like an eternity.
The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, Joel's voice filled the air. "Hello?"
"How did you get my number?” you asked
"I... "I... uh, well," Joel stammered on the other end of the line, a hint of unease in his voice. "Sarah got it from Tara.”
Your mind raced with a mix of emotions—surprise, frustration, and a touch of understanding due to your daughters’ becoming friends.
"You could have asked," you replied, the tension evident in your voice. "But fine, what did you want to talk about?"
There was a pause, and you could almost hear Joel gathering his thoughts on the other end. "I've been thinking a lot about the past, about us," he admitted. "I never got the chance to properly apologize for how things ended. I just want to talk, to understand, and maybe find closure."
Closure. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years gone by.
You didn’t want to have closure with him; you didn’t want to forget.
"Joel, it's been thirteen years," you said, a mix of weariness and frustration coloring your words. "We've both moved on. What's the point of digging up the past now?"
"I know, and I respect that," Joel responded, his tone earnest. "But I've carried the weight of what happened between us for a long time. Maybe talking about it will help both of us. Besides Sarah and Tara, we could talk about them."
You sighed, the complexity of the situation settling around you. "Fine, let's meet. But just this once. I have a life, Joel, and I can't afford to let the past disrupt it."
"Thank you," Joel said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "I appreciate this, truly. Let's find a time.
"Tomorrow,” you said, interrupting his rambling.
Tomorrow? It seemed like too soon you were conflicted between the desire to see him again and the guilt of not being able to erase that part of your life.
“Okay, tomorrow at lunch” he spoke after what it seemed like minutes “I’ll send you the address.”
“Okay.” You whispered, “Have a goodnight, Joel”
“Good night, doe” he replied, before realizing how he had called you, he ended the call leaving you with no chance to answer back.
You were speechless, and the hallway felt emptier than before. Nobody had called you “Doe” since you parted ways with Joel, as if the nickname was forbidden from the lips of any person who wasn’t him, carrying a reminder of a time when the two of you shared your own language.
“From now on I’m calling you, Doe”
“Why?” you asked, tilting your head
“Because you looked so innocent with those bright eyes of you and you remind me of Bambi but I don’t want to call you that”
“What’s wrong with Bambi?”
“Nothing” he replied, “We could actually be like Bambi and Thumper”
As you walked back into the bedroom, Dwight looked up from his book, sensing the turmoil in your expression. "Everything okay?"
You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, just Joel wants to meet tomorrow to talk."
Dwight raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I can go."
"No, I know," you replied, sinking onto the bed. "But it’s nothing bad... I actually know Joel from before. "You confessed without looking at Dwight.”
Dwight's expression softened as he processed your confession. "Before we met?"
You nodded, finally meeting his gaze. "Yeah, Joel and I have history. We were close—really close. We were actually best friends,” you said, omitting the “he is the love of my life” part.
Understanding flickered in Dwight's eyes, and he reached out, gently cupping your face. "You don't have to go through with this if it makes you uncomfortable. I trust you, and I trust whatever decision you make."
A mix of gratitude and guilt welled up within you. "I appreciate that, Dwight.”
He nodded, offering a supportive smile. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."
After that, Dwight closed his book and said goodnight to you, falling asleep a few minutes later. It seemed odd for you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird because of his attitude, as if he didn’t care about you meeting with another guy.
Dwight's seemingly indifferent response to your revelation about Joel left you feeling conflicted. Was it a sign of trust and confidence in your commitment to the present, or was there an undercurrent of something else?
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As you drove to the restaurant Joel had suggested, your mind buzzed with memories of your shared past. The streets seemed to echo with the laughter and conversations of your younger selves. Navigating through familiar lanes, you couldn't escape the gravitational pull of nostalgia.
The restaurant's entrance loomed ahead, and you found yourself hesitating. The realization struck—this wasn't just a casual meeting; it was a reunion with someone who had once been the center of your world.
Once you stepped inside the restaurant Joel told you about, you were faced with reality. You were a married woman, going to have lunch not with another man who was your ex-boyfriend but with the love of your life. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribcage that you almost felt how your bones crashed at the impact.
You stopped at the entrance; your face was heating up. You wanted to leave, but before you could even make up your mind, those brown eyes found you, and you couldn't turn away.
Breathe in, breathe out.
One step, then another step.
It seemed like hours, but there you were, in front of the boy with brown eyes who put a bandage on your knee when you fell on the pavement at 5 years old. You were there in front of the teenager who kissed you at seventeen on a random night after doing homework in your bedroom.
You had decided to conquer the world—or at least the little corner of it that belonged to your shared imagination. As you ran through the streets, giggles and laughter echoing, it happened—the inevitable collision with the ground. Your knees met the pavement, and the sting of scraped skin sent tears streaming down your cheeks.
That's when Joel appeared, like a knight in a tiny superhero cape. His mom, hearing the commotion, had rushed him outside to play. In his hand, he held a box of colorful, cartoon-themed band-aids. With the unwavering confidence of a five-year-old, he approached you.
"Don't cry, okay? I've got something to fix you up," Joel declared, his eyes wide with sincerity.
As he carefully placed a band-aid on your scraped knee, something shifted. It was more than just a simple act of putting on a band-aid; it was the beginning of a connection that would thread through the fabric of your lives for years to come.
"See, all is better!" Joel announced, grinning proudly as if he had just mended the universe. “I’m Joel,” he said happily. “What’s your name?”
You were surprised and speechless; you felt enamored by the kid in front of you, but in your brain, the boy was still gross.
Joel's expression mirrored a mix of surprise and recognition. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you both stood there, caught in the gravity of your intertwined past.
But it seemed to be the night you were back in the house he had bought with the help of his parents, where you were supposed to grow old together. It looked like that night you came back, hoping to begin again.
But it wasn't, and time didn't stop because two lovers couldn't survive in the currents of the sea.
"Hi, doe," he greeted you, standing up from his seat.
Doe.
"Joel," you greeted back, gracing a small smile.
"Lovie" is forbidden now.
"Please, take a seat," he said, signaling at the seat in front of him.
You didn't know how to react, what to do, or what to say, so you sat on the chair, trying to ease your heart's beating.
Joel's gaze never left your form; instead, it traveled down your figure, but the golden band on your finger stopped his curious gaze, and somehow he felt the urge to cry.
He had always pictured the shiny rock he had bought for you back those years ago, wrapped around your finger.
If he had told you he spent those late nights doing extra work only to buy that piece of jewelry for you, perhaps you would be the one wearing it now, and in this situation, it would be one of those moments you share lunch between your work schedules.
But that shiny ring wrapped echoes of missed opportunities, and the haunting what-ifs painted a poignant portrait of a love that had slipped through his fingers.
You had been waiting, the anticipation mingling with worry as the hands of the clock inched forward. The scent of a hastily prepared dinner lingered in the air, growing colder with each passing minute. Joel's absence, became a palpable presence in the room.
As the door finally creaked open, revealing Joel's figure in the dim light, a wave of emotions crashed over you. The relief of his arrival was quickly overshadowed by the frustration that had been building within.
"Joel, do you have any idea what time it is?" you snapped, the words escaping before you could temper the edge in your voice.
Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. "I lost track of time at work. I'm sorry," he offered, attempting to diffuse the tension.
The apology, however, fell on ears numbed by the repetition of similar excuses. The words that followed, laden with accusations and frustrations, transformed the night into a battleground of emotions. The promises made in the glow of love were replaced by the harsh reality of unmet expectations.
"I can't do this, Joel. I can't keep waiting for you every night," you uttered your voice a mix of exhaustion and hurt.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm doing all of this for us. I'm working hard to provide for our future."
He had never sold the ring; he couldn't do it, thinking you would have come back to your home and built your story from the cracked fragments.
But he had made a mistake; however, that mistake that made you slip through his fingers brought his daughter to him, and he couldn’t find the strength to blame that night anymore.
And he thought that for you, it may have been the same; you have had a daughter too, and he knows that you love her more than life itself.
It was almost poetic; the mistakes that had separated you had, in a strange twist of fate, become the catalyst for a reunion. The bond between Joel and his daughter, the same bond you had with Tara, seemed to mirror the intricate threads that wove your lives together once again.
“So, how have you been?” he began asking.
“I thought you wanted to talk about our daughters,” you replied, deflecting the conversation to the common ground that had brought you back together.
Joel's eyes held a glimmer of nostalgia. "Come on, Doe, you know I care about you."
“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded in almost a whisper.
Joel's expression shifted, a mix of realization and regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he apologized, the sincerity in his voice evident. "I didn't mean to.”
“But I’ve been fine.” You finally said that, looking at him.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I can’t help but be surprised about you being Tara’s mother."
“Why? Is it too hard to believe I’m a mother?”
Joel's eyes softened, and he shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's surreal, you know? Seeing you as a mother, I mean, Tara is the same age as Sarah.”
“I got pregnant a few months after we..."
“We broke up,” he said, ending the sentence for you.
“Yes. I met Dwight one night, and I got pregnant.”
“You got over things soon, then,” he added in an undertone.
“What does that mean?” You asked in a defensive tone.
Joel sighed, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... seeing you move on so quickly, it's
"No, tell me!” you exclaimed. “Do you think it was going to be easy for me to stay with you while you take care of another woman who was carrying your baby? 2
“Yet, you still had a daughter with another man.”
“So what? It was forbidden for me to hook up with a guy because I was fucking broke. Yes, I ended up pregnant, but...
“But what?” he inquired.
“It should have been you!" You cried, not knowing why you were acting so childish. "It was always supposed to be you." You repeated, calmer, "Since we were seventeen, I picture you being the father of my child."
Joel's gaze held a mix of surprise and remorse, realizing the depth of your emotions. "Doe, I never meant to hurt you. I had my own struggles, and I made mistakes."
"It's not about the mistakes, Joel," you said, wiping away a tear. "It's about the dreams we had and how they shattered. I loved you, and I imagined a future with you.
The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the weight of unsaid words and the echoes of a shared past. The restaurant seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unresolved emotions.
“You know this is repeating again,” you chuckled between tears. “I’m here with you while I’m crying all over again. I had to leave my job and move back to the city that throws the past in my face, and I can’t find a  job."You covered your face with your hands.
Joel's eyes held a mixture of empathy and regret as he listened to your words. The ache of the past lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the dreams that had slipped through your fingers.
"I wish I could change it all," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of shared regrets. "I never wanted you to leave, and seeing you hurt now... it hurts me too."
"But we can't go back," you replied with a resigned tone in your voice. "We're both different people now, living different lives. Maybe it's time to accept that some wounds don't fully heal."
“But we can be civil to each other, at least for our daughter’s sake,” he said, his voice soft.
You looked at him, your tear-streaked face reflecting a mixture of pain and acceptance. For a moment, you considered his words, acknowledging the shared responsibility of raising daughters who were connected by a blossoming friendship.
"Yeah," you agreed, a weary smile on your face. "We owe it to them to be civil, to show them that even when things don't work out, people can still be respectful and caring."
Joel nodded, a somber understanding passing between you. At that moment, you both recognized the importance of setting aside personal grievances for the sake of your daughters.
“You know? About the job, Tommy and I need an assistant.”
Your eyes widened at Joel's unexpected offer; the surprise was evident on your face. The mention of a job opportunity brought a glimmer of hope amid the emotional turbulence. It was as if a door, long thought closed, cracked open with the possibility of a new beginning.
"An assistant?" you repeated, the idea taking a moment to sink in. "Are you serious?"
Joel nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I am. We're expanding, and having you would be nice.”
"I appreciate the offer," you finally said, your voice cautious. "But-
“Just think about it; if you want the job, you can call me tomorrow or go to our office," Joel added, his tone sincere.
“You know what? He asked after your silence, leaning into the table, "You are still looking at me with the same eyes you did before.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. There was a moment of vulnerability in his eyes—a flicker of the past that hadn't entirely dissipated. The connection between you, despite the years and the changes, lingered in the unspoken words that floated in the air.
"I don't know what you mean," you replied, attempting to mask the emotions that swirled within.
Joel chuckled softly, a nostalgic warmth in his gaze. "Doe, you always had this way of seeing through me. Even now, those eyes of yours... they haven't changed."
"I'm married."
“So what? Can’t you have friends? He asked.
“What about Sarah’s mother? Wouldn’t she get mad at you for being with your ex-girlfriend?"
“That’s funny because we’re not together,” he confessed with a weird smile on his face. “We never were together. After Sarah was born, she left us.”
The revelation hung in the air, a mix of surprise and confusion settling between you. The complexity of his past mirrored your own, and in that shared vulnerability, there was an unspoken understanding.
"I'm sorry to hear that," you offered, genuine sympathy in your voice.
"It's okay," Joel replied, a shrug accompanying his words. "She is married to another man, and she had a son, but I won because I had Sarah.”
“It’s fun how our daughters brought us together,” you said calmly.
"It's true," Joel acknowledged, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Our daughters seem to be the common thread weaving through our lives now."
You smiled, feeling butterflies dancing inside your stomach. The closeness to Joel felt foreign yet so familiar, and all the sentiments making your way through your heart were there again, suffocating you.
“I should get going,” you said, out of the blue.
“But you haven't eaten yet.”
“I know, but it’s getting late, and I have to go back to my house.”
"Okay,” he said, knowing you were making a lie to run away again, yet he didn’t pressure you.
"I appreciate you taking the time to talk," Joel said, breaking the silence. "And about the job, just think it over. No pressure. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you, even if it's just as a friend."
“Thank you, Joel,” you smiled.
And when you walked away to leave the restaurant, you stopped by the door just to have a second look at him, and when you turned, he was looking at you just as you knew he would.
You smiled at him, and he smiled back at you, mouthing a quiet "take care" in a language only your interlocked gazes understood.
And once you stepped outside, he was left in the restaurant, following you with his eyes.
You weren't the mother of his friend's daughter, but the girl in two ponytails was crying because of a scratch on her knee.
You were once his best friend,
You were once his lover, but that word was a small portion of what you were to him. No, you weren't his lover, but his twin flame that painted every single day of his life blue—the flame that never allowed him to dream about anybody else but you.
And you were the love of his life.
But Joel would do anything to get back on the first step, just to keep you close. He would rather have you back as his best friend than not have you anymore, even if his heart hurts in the process.
You were never his, but he felt the string pulling you together, just like the unbreakable chain you had hanging around your neck since he had memories of you, and he was going to do things right this time because he wasn't able to play pretend knowing there was no gap between you anymore.
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You drove around the city for an hour straight, navigating through the streets. Joel used to drive you around when trying to ease your mood after fights with your parents.
You had taken your love and packed it in a tiny little box to protect your heart from breaking.
And when you stopped outside your house, you cried. You sobbed like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. Joel still echoed in your mind, and you accepted that you would never be able to let that part of your life go, so you sobbed, and in that moment of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to grieve for what was lost.
“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry,” Joel said when you didn’t say your name after his introduction.
As the tears subsided, you took a deep breath, the weight in your chest easing slightly, and you stepped out of your car and walked to your house.
The key turned in the lock, the door creaked open, and you stepped into the coldness of your home. You thought about the offer Joel talked to you about, but accepting would be a suicide, and as tempting as the invitation seemed at the edge of your consciousness. However, spending more hours of the day seeing him seemed like being unfaithful to your husband.
As you walked into the living room, Tara glanced up from her phone, and you noticed the concern in her eyes.
"Hi, mom," Tara said, greeting you with a smile on her face.
"Hey, sweets," you said, smiling back at her.
"How was it with Joel?" she asked, setting aside her phone.
"It was... complicated," you admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her.
Tara placed a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Complicated how?"
"He offered me a job," you explained, "and it's not an easy decision to make."
"A job? Why?" Tara asked, her curiosity piqued.
"He thought it could be a good opportunity for us," you replied, choosing your words carefully.
Tara's eyes widened in realization.
“To rekindle our friendship,” you said, before she thought badly of you.
"Are you considering it?"
You sighed, grateful for your daughter's understanding. "I don't know, sweetheart. It's a lot to think about. It's not just a job; it's a connection to our past, to him."
Tara nodded thoughtfully. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Just make sure it's what you want.”
“And what about your dad?” you asked
“He is not your boss."
Tara's straightforward response made you chuckle. "No, he's not. But he's my husband, and I should consider his feelings too."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Mom, you're allowed to have a life outside of being a wife.”
You admired Tara's maturity, appreciating the clarity in her perspective. "You've grown into a wise young woman, you know that?"
A hint of a smile touched Tara's lips. "Well, I've had a good teacher." She leaned in for a hug, and you embraced her, thankful for the bond you shared.
You found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.
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Later, after Tara had gone to do her homework, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, still not in sight of Dwight coming home, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.
Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed Joel's number. The call rang for a few moments, and then his voice filled the silence. "Hello?"
"Hi, Joel. It's me," you said, the hesitation evident in your voice.
"Doe?" he responded, surprised.
"What did I say about calling me that?" you asked, with a tiny smile on your face.
“Right. I’m sorry”
"I've been thinking about your job offer. Can we meet tomorrow at your workplace to talk about it?"
A brief pause followed, and then Joel replied, "Of course, I'll text you the address.”
"Okay,” you said. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow,” he replied. “Take care.”
The call ended, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was coming into your life again.
Towards the end of the conversation, Tommy glanced at Joel with a skeptical smile on his face. "Do we really need an assistant?" he inquired, unaware of his brother's hidden intentions.
"No," Joel replied, a smile playing on his lips. "But we're going to have one."
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tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981
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amorchai · 2 months
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📁 ₊˚⊹ "i'm gonna teach you how to kiss" with jj maybank !! pls i know you would write him so well !
jj teaches you how to kiss.
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pairing(s): jj maybank x reader
words: 781
warnings/tags: pet names, mentions of embarrassment, r being inexperienced when it comes to kissing, + jj being jj, this isn’t based off season three, i haven’t watched it yet so cleo hasn’t been placed as a main in this.
a/n: jj was so suited for this one you know him too well omg, prompt taking from prompts via my boyfriend.
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“y/n, what was your first great kiss?” john b had asked. it had been a question going around the group, each answering their own story of them getting past the awkward kissing stage and experiencing their first good kiss.
you had dreaded it coming to you, staying quiet in hope they forget, but your heart falls to your stomach when john b asks. everyone is now looking, jj with an amused, waiting look while sarah looks completely intrigued to see what your answer is.
“uh…” you trail off, not wanting to lie but also unable to think of one at the same time. “oh, come on, you have been kissed before, right?” asks kiara, her expression dropping at the end in realisation that maybe you haven’t.
“yeah. just never knew what i was doing, i guess.”
jj sits up, mouth slightly agape, “you’ve never had a great kiss? never enjoyed one before?” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment, trying to hide your shy expression at the sudden interrogation.
“it’s okay, that’s nothing to be ashamed of…” sarah trails off, interrupting jj’s shocked gaze, “no it’s not that, it’s just- it’s y/n.” the rest of the group laugh at him, knowing jj for one to constantly talk about you.
it quickly moves onto another topic, kiara noticing your embarrassed state of fidgeting hands and restless legs and it wasn’t brought up again until the stars were out.
pope was asleep on one side of the bonfire while you watched, feeling the warmth and listening to the rest of the group laughing and shouting by the water. and your content state starts to smile knowingly when you see jj jogging back towards you.
“hey, bored?” jj asks, sitting down next to you, his bare shoulder bumping yours and you shiver. “no, i’m good. you know pope would freak out if he wakes up and none of us is there.”
jj laughs at this, lounging against the tree stump behind and looking at you longingly. you could feel it, tearing your eyes slowly away from the orange flames and to jj’s blue gaze.
he’s looking all across your features, every inch until landing to your lips as they part with a long breathe, “you’ve really never had a good kiss before?”. you’re both quiet, whispers catching due to the close proximity, jj leaning further towards you.
“i told you, j. i don’t really know how it works still,” you say honestly because if jj kisses you right now he would be disappointed by the inexperience. but jj doesn’t waver, in fact his hand reaches up to dance his fingers delicately across your cheek while leaning further in.
“w-what are you doing?” you ask alarmed, jj mimicking your expression while assuring you, “i’m gonna teach you how to kiss.” he says it as if it’s simple, as if it’s a normal part of being friends.
you know the moment his lips touch yours, your feelings for him would only grow stronger which is a dangerous game. but seeing him so close and feeling his breath against your lips pull you in.
“okay?” jj asks, pausing, eyebrows raising and you nod, “okay.”
his smile is wide, scanning your lips before moving his grip to your chin, angling it so your lips line to his before whispering his last lines, “just follow what i do, you’ll get it in no time, honey.”
before you could properly process, jj’s lips are against yours and your eyes close immediately. there’s an internal panic, wondering what to do as jj moves his lips slowly against yours, but jj smiles while both his hands firmly hold my face.
“just move your lips with mine,” he murmurs against your lips, and the internal panic seizes into nothing, your thoughts pulled from your head until all you can focus on is jj.
he moves more desperately when you kiss back, the feeling unlike anything else as he moves further towards you. “that’s it, baby,” jj says against your mouth, unwilling to pull away just yet and you only kiss back, so wrapped up.
you could get used to this, very easily. only if it was jj’s lips, and by the way he’s holding you and kissing you makes you believe he felt the same. you would find out later, hesitant to pull away as his nose nudges yours while he moves his head.
“could you do that inside, please?” you both pull away at the voice, pope glaring at you both tiredly before his head lobs down to go back to sleep and jj kisses your cheek before reaching for your hand, “he makes a good point.”
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amorchai masterlist . taglist form
amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.
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kiwisbell · 5 months
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kiwi's fic recs - volume one!
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Hi, friends!! It's been a few months now since I came to tumblr, and in that time, I have read a lot of fics. Like, a lot. So, I thought it was about time I compiled some of my faves into some appreciation posts in order to show all of these amazing authors some much-deserved love!!!
This volume consists of all my October reads, to maintain some semblance of timeliness (and to give myself less of a headache!). I will be creating subsequent volumes, so this functions as a kind of trial run - for now, I hope you'll find something below that you enjoy. I can pretty much guarantee that you will!
You'll find my scrambly thots listed next to the -> under each fic. For instalments of series I've read in the past month, I've linked the masterlist, so you can find all the chapters in one spot!
Please see individual fics for tags and warnings. Not every work is going to work for everyone, and that's okay! A large proportion of these fics are 18+ only. Thank you kindly xoxo
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JOEL MILLER
Thirsty --- @chloeangelic -> stepdad!joel fucks me in the kitchen?? oops i'm signing up -> this is quick and dirty and really fucking hot -> joel's characterisation and the writing in this fic is unbelievably sexy, what a fic omg!!!
punishment --- @joelsgreys -> beast!joel didn't work out, so we're getting fucked by lumberjack!joel (i am not complaining) -> i know you said you wrote this in one night but baby it does not come across that way like.. this is delectable -> i'm dressing as belle next year strawberry --- @joelsgreys -> self-indulgent fics are what we need more of in this economy!!! -> such a perfect one-shot injected with so much obvious love and care that you have no choice but to become obsessed
Divine Dynasty [series masterlist] --- @cavillscurls -> i'm obsessed with this series and with the new prequel, i'm in much deeper now -> you can tell mya cares so deeply about these characters and this world and every single sentence puts that across -> the writing in this series is so good and the dynamic between joel and reader is really special, everyone read this now pls Eyes On Me [joel x reader x tommy] --- @cavillscurls -> it's hard to sum up my thots when i've already annoyed mya with a huge reblog but this is so. hot. -> gorgeous gorgeous communication in this relationship and the aftercare is everything -> tommy can watch anytime i stg Someone to Lean On --- @cavillscurls -> joel miller braids your hair and eats you out -> need i say more?? Sugar & Spice [sequel to Soft & Sweet] --- @cavillscurls -> some of the best joel characterisation i've seen on this godforsaken site and i mean it!! -> just discovered i'm saving myself for joel miller -> such an entrancing read and with mya's writing that is no surprise
creep it real! --- @swiftispunk -> halloween specials will always have me kicking my feet but this is on a new level han -> my reblog was a little unhinged but i will be more composed here -> the dialogue is genuine perfection, the backstory we get on reader is so entrenched in the story (esp. for a one-shot!!), and the smut sent me to mars -> joel opens a beer with his belt buckle. will you read it now?? yeah, that's what i thought. your summer dream [series masterlist] --- @swiftispunk -> han already knows how much i love this series but i'll scream abt it here too -> this series lives in my head rent-free -> if you haven't read it, literally what else are you doing?? -> i've reread this a million times and it will never be enough
trick or treat --- @tieronecrush -> halloween!joel -> woody!joel -> me and sam screaming at each other in DMs about those huge shoulders in that cow-print vest -> a seriously gorgeous rumination on being a dad to two girls and the insecurities that come with getting older -> sarah and ellie being adorable, reader and joel being adorable, everyone being adorable hot & heavy [series masterlist] --- @tieronecrush -> can you tell i love sam?? -> she put out the bangers this month fr -> one of my favourite series ever
to freeze or to thaw --- @joelscruff -> absolutely stunning writing -> such a short and captivating fic with some seriously filthy smut (in the snow!!) -> made me feel like i needed to run away into the woods and find a slightly evil man to keep me warm -> this scratches every itch just right and in so little time.. i'm blown away
YOU'RE POISON, BUT A GOOD KIND --- @northernbluess -> i screamed about this fic in my reblog and in my DMs with el but this is SO FUCKING GOOD Y'ALL -> the desperation, the imagery, the smut??? screaming and shaking -> i am a sex pollen lover and i am not ashamed to admit it
Watch Party --- @sweetercalypso -> literally such a fun and creative idea!! and so hot too oh my god -> sign me up for a railing by poltergeist!joel Texas Hold 'Em --- @sweetercalypso -> strip poker babyyy -> bold!reader and bold!joel while we're at it!!
quit it --- @iamasaddie -> dear god the oral fixation -> psychological freudian smut is not what i expected this month but it is what i received and it is what i now crave
a lover's pinch [series masterlist] --- @hier--soir -> some of the most stunning writing i've seen on here -> so many references to academia and literature that simultaneously trigger me and make me horny -> the writing will fling you into the sun i promise -> an absolute must-read, perfect in every way
Something Bad --- @fettuccin-e -> kinktober: corruption -> i'll s*** his d*** anytime anywhere anyhow
made by hand --- @tinycozycomfort -> alex. writes. poetry. bitches. -> copying the comment i left in my reblog bc it sums up my thoughts about this fic -> this fic is a masterclass in brevity, emotion, smut—it's so good. everyone please read it immediately flowering --- @tinycozycomfort -> sub!joel yes please?? -> my first fic of alex's and i fell in love -> baby... the dialogue.... i was shocked. i was in tears almost
go ahead and cry, little girl --- @party-hearses -> actual poetry here folks -> ridiculously sexy but also ridiculously gorgeous writing like??? HELLO? -> so real about needing to have the feelings fucked out of you
never enough --- @amanitacowboy -> the dirty talk in this fic..... -> holy shit -> filthy and nasty and hot and perfect yupyupyup
a matter of time --- @cupofjoel -> made me cry -> absolutely stunning writing (but it's bea, what you u expect) -> a vulnerable and emotional joel is something we rarely see but is such a treat -> the ending!!!! i read this on the train so the ppl behind me got a good show body language --- @cupofjoel -> the first fic i ever read by bea and i never looked back!! -> so fucking HOT -> cameras? cameras.
love me better, kiss me back --- @bastardmandennis -> snowball kiss!!! -> i thought about this for so long after i finished it be my daddy --- @bastardmandennis -> my first introduction to lexi, and fuck what an impression -> huge huge fan of the writing style and the obvious care and dedication that went into this fic -> it's all perfect just read it -> dad!joel hehehe
Old Habits --- @wheresarizona -> such a palpable and genuinely sweet dynamic between joel and reader, plus fantastic smut!!
Sins of My Father [series masterlist] --- @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin -> angela indulging my sugar daddy fantasies tbh... -> *in stefon from snl voice* this fic has everything, protective!joel, sugar daddy!joel, infidelity
grab the bull by the horns --- @proxima-writes -> save a bull ride a miller!! -> i am SAT for male whimpering -> such a fun fic to read and the writing is so dynamic
my special toy --- @millerscoffee -> turned me into a rabid animal that needed to be put down -> the amount of daddy!joel i've read this month has changed me as a person
JAVIER PEÑA
When You Wish on a Shooting Star --- @mandoisapunk -> husband!javi will forever occupy my mind [pussy] and soul -> wedding anniversary antics!!!
ONLY ANGEL [series masterlist] --- @tieronecrush -> ch. 6 just came out and i did scream actually!!! -> such a sweet and sexy and sad rollercoaster of emotions and with such beautiful writing because... it's sam... so obviously -> javi and bebita are so beautiful and i need them to be happy pls and thank you (looking directly at you bestie)
FRANKIE MORALES
The First Time --- @fettuccin-e -> frankie has a big dick pass it on -> size. kink.
i only have eyes for you --- @tieronecrush -> this one is pure fluff, like so fucking sweet -> frankie gets glasses babyyy -> really just a heartwarming fic & a total pick-me-up -> frankie getting the love he deserves
Tag-Teaming [frankie x reader x santi] --- @fettuccin-e -> kinktober: threesome -> dizzy and throwing up and crying
DIN DJARIN
Just This Once --- @fettuccin-e -> bestie is making the rounds in this wrap-up -> din cannot physically control himself he is down horrendous and it's super hot -> for such a quick turnaround for all of your kinktober fics your writing literally never disappoints omfg.
DAVE YORK
Obsession --- @tropes-and-tales -> kinktober: voyeurism -> SUCH an underrated dave fic!!! oh my god!! -> the writing has so much personality and i loved every single sentence!
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Whew, that took just about forever. I hope I didn't fuck anything up lol. If you've made it this far, congratulations!! I sincerely hope you'll check out some of these amazing works because I really love and admire every one of these authors.
If you have any recs of your own that you would like to send me, my inbox and DMs are always open! Until the next volume, besties!!
xoxo kiwi 🥝
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yelena-bellova · 1 year
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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Six
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Chapter Six: Road Trip
Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie continue to make their way cross country, and Joel and Y/n’s truce is heavily tested.
Warnings: tlou ep.4 spoilers, language, insinuation of killing, mention of a p*rn magazine, guns, (16+)
Word Count: 7.1k
A/N: This chapter feels like filler, but there’s still lil’ nuggets that will come into play later. Thanks to HBO for throwing that curveball of a Friday episode, now I gotta hustle to get the next chapter out within two days 😂
As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be tagging anyone who does not have their age in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀
I hope you all enjoy this one and prepare for the next one because….anyway, enjoy!
———————
June 2nd, 2002. Austin, Texas.
——————
Joel and Y/n had gone out for three weeks, equaling a total five dates. Between their respective work schedules and Joel being a parent, they had to get creative if they wanted to see each other. They’d meet on their lunch breaks or, if they were too busy, Joel would stop by the hardware store in dire need of help finding something and only Y/n could possibly help him. It gave them a good twenty minutes or so to wander the aisles together.
On a particularly slow Tuesday afternoon, Y/n was doing inventory. Joel and her had made plans to grab coffee on his way home and she was counting down the hours till he came through the door.
A small voice broke her out of her daydreams, “Excuse me?”
Y/n turned and met the face of a girl, no older than maybe thirteen. She had dark skin and a head full of curls pulled back with a scrunchie. She looked slightly out of breath, but determined.
“How can I help you?” Y/n asked curiously.
“Are you Y/n?”
She confusedly furrowed her brows, “Yeah…”
The girl huffed with a grin, “Okay, good. I asked, like, three other people where you were and they had no idea.”
Y/n awkwardly smiled along with her, “C-can I ask how you know my name?”
“Oh,” the girl snapped back to the current conversation, “I’m Sarah.”
“Sarah…” Y/n repeated, wracking her mental index of high school friend’s kids, before it hit her. Her eyes widened, “Wait…Sarah…Miller?”
She nodded, “Yeah.”
Y/n’s body locked up, to say she was surprised was an understatement. Joel had told her that he wanted to wait a while before introducing her to Sarah. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since Sarah’s mom and was trying to figure out the best way for them to meet. Y/n hadn’t taken any offense, she’d supported it, actually. She’d never dated anyone with a kid and she wanted to do everything as close to perfect as she could.
“D-does your-“ Y/n braced herself against her inventory cart, “Does your dad know you’re here?”
Sarah’s mouth twisted, “Not exactly.”
“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, suspicious, “And not exactly means…?”
“Not at all,” Sarah nervously smiled.
Y/n gathered the little oxygen left in her body and laughed. “How did you get down here if you’re by yourself?”
Sarah shrugged, “I took the bus.”
“Ah,” Y/n nodded, “And you ride the bus alone without your dad’s permission a lot?”
The girl gave a guilty smile and balanced on the heels of her Converse. It was all the answer Y/n needed.
“So, why are you here?” Y/n asked, feeling like she was doing something wrong.
Sarah sighed, “I got tired of waiting for my dad to introduce me to you. I’ve asked him, like, ten times and he keeps saying no. I knew you worked here so…I figured this was the only way I could meet you.”
Y/n couldn’t help but be a little touched, and also terrified. She was more nervous about impressing Sarah than she had been Joel.
“I mean,” Y/n rubbed her forehead, “Yeah, I knew your dad was waiting to introduce us but…I didn’t realize his daughter was a secret mastermind.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Sarah smiled, resting a hand on Y/n’s cart, “So…you’re dating my dad.”
Y/n nodded, “Seems that way, yeah.”
“Well, he really likes you,” Sarah replied, “Like, really likes you. He’s in a way better mood than usual.”
“Is he now?” Y/n inquired.
“He’s smiling all the time, he’s cooking,” Sarah’s face turned serious, “Which never happens ‘cause he kinda sucks at it. He’s even singing.”
Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Singing?”
Sarah nodded, “Uh-huh. Just under his breath, but still…”
Y/n was trying hard to restrain her grin, but Sarah was making it difficult. It was nice to know Joel was as uplifted by their short time together as she was. She’d practically been floating down the aisles.
“He’s just never this happy and…” Sarah shrugged one arm, “I really wanted to meet whoever was responsible.”
“Well,” Y/n smiled, “Your dad’s pretty great. And he loves you, never stops talking about how well you’re doing in school and in soccer…”
Sarah’s posture visibly improved upon hearing the compliments.
“Look, my dad’s never going to work up the nerve to let us all hang out together,” Sarah began to explain, “But the county fair’s on Friday night, me, him and Uncle Tommy are gonna go and it would be really fun if you came.”
Y/n inhaled deeply, a family outing. Was she ready for that? Were her and Joel at that point?
“I don’t know, Sarah,” she hesitate, “I should really talk to your dad first.”
“No,” Sarah urged, taking hold of one of Y/n’s hands, “He’ll just get all squirmy and frown and say that it’s not time yet.”
Y/n thought for a second, “He does frown a lot.”
“A lot,” Sarah chortled, Y/n joining in soon after, “Just think about it. Please?”
Y/n was between a rock and a hard place, or rather, the guy she was dating and his crafty daughter. She wanted Sarah to like her and they were already a step in the right direction. She didn’t want to blow it.
“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll think about it.”
“Yes,” Sarah cheered under her breath, still holding onto Y/n’s hand. “I gotta go, the bus is gonna be back any minute.”
As she moved to go, Y/n took a step forward. “I-I really don’t like the thought of you on the bus by yourself,” she objected, “Why don’t I drive you?”
“But you’re working,” Sarah replied.
Y/n gestured to the empty space around them. “I think they’ll survive without me for twenty minutes.”
Sarah gave a small smile, she was getting to spend more time with the woman she had a million questions about. Sneaking around had paid off substantially.
“Come on,” Y/n removed her apron, draped it across her cart and pulled her keys from her pocket, “You can tell me what your dad’s been singing on the way.”
The two girls headed out of the store, giggling to themselves as Sarah did an impression of her father humming old country tunes to himself while washing dishes.
—————————
Later that afternoon, Joel arrived to pick Y/n up for their quick coffee. When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. After asking around, and finding out she had stepped out momentarily, he decided to wait at the empty checkout line for her.
Y/n walked back into the store with a new spring in her step. Sarah had not only spilled a lot of dirt on Joel, but she had talked about herself a lot. Y/n felt like she’d already been able to make a connection.
Joel spotted her before she did him, waving a little to catch her eye.
“Hey,” Y/n greeted, apprehension taking over.
“Hey,” Joel replied, his smiling fading the closer he got, “What’s that look?”
“What look?” Y/n asked, unaware of how nervous she appeared.
“You look like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar,” Joel smirked, taking her hand lightly into his, “What’s going on?”
Y/n sighed, she’d been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Sarah all the way back to the store. Joel’s gentle touch was only heightening her nerves. “Why don’t I drive us to coffee?”
Joel squinted in confusion, “Okay…”
The two of them drove off in Y/n’s old Toyota, but she waited until they had their drinks in hand and were walking down the main street to start talking.
“So Sarah came by today,” she blurted out.
Joel nearly choked on the sip he’d been taking, “My Sarah?”
“Uh-huh,” Y/n nodded, anxiously holding the cup close to her chest.
“H-how’d she get down the-“ Joel began to ask before pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes, “She took the bus, didn’t she?”
“Yep,” Y/n answered.
Joel sighed, he was already starting to find grey hairs across his head. Sarah was going to turn the whole thing silver before she was 16.
“She said she was tired of waiting for you to introduce us so she was going to do it herself,” Y/n retold the story.
“Yeah, sounds like her…” Joel replied with a loud sigh, “Look, I know you wanted to meet her-“
“Yeah, but I was perfectly fine with waiting,” Y/n was quick to say, “You said you wanted to do this the right way.”
“Yeah, well, the right way was decided for us,” Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what’d you two talk about?”
Y/n smirked over her coffee cup, details of the conversation still fresh in her mind. “Girl stuff,” she answered, quickly taking a drink.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Joel asked with an eyebrow cocked.
“She, uh, she invited me to the fair this weekend,” Y/n changed topics, “With you guys.”
“Ah,” Joel nodded, he didn’t know whether or not to thank Sarah for speeding his relationship up. Lord knows, he was too nervous to do it.
Y/n held a hand up to Joel, “But I didn’t give her an answer. I wanted to talk to you first.”
With the obstacle of Sarah’s approval out of the way, there was nothing to stop him from saying yes. And he didn’t want there to be, he was just used to using excessive caution around his family that anything else felt unnatural. 
“You should come,” Joel answered, turning to Y/n with a shy smile.
Y/n inched back a little, placing her hand on Joel’s arm, “Are you sure? Joel, I don’t want to insert myself anywhere.”
“How can you insert yourself somewhere you were invited?” Joel replied, settling his hand over Y/n’s, “Come.”
Taking a deep breath, Y/n knew that this was a big step for them. Joel’s daughter was his world, and Y/n was being given the privilege of being a part of it.
She blew out her cheeks, “Okay.”
Joel’s smile was earnest, rubbing his thumb over the back of Y/n’s hand. 
“If all goes well, I won’t have to hide you so much,” he said.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re doing that great a job,” Y/n chuckled at Joel’s confusion, “Johnny Cash?”
Joel’s face turned sour, “Can’t believe she told you ‘bout that.”
“Hey, I thought it was a cute story,” Y/n held her hands up in surrender, “Your daughter thought it was a laugh riot.”
Joel lightly rolled his eyes, letting them rest afterwards on Y/n’s face. A stray bit of hair had fallen in her face, thanks to the breeze, and Joel brushed it away, cupping her cheek.
Joel and Y/n had made the decision that they wouldn’t take their relationship any further without having Sarah’s approval. They had yet to even kiss.
“If this works out,” Y/n started, “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”
“Who says I want to?” Joel muttered, their close proximity allowed him to lower his voice.
They both knew if they stayed in the moment a second longer, their wills could cave. Y/n shoved her coffee cup between their mouths, allowing them both a breathy laugh.
“Come on,” Joel reached down and clasped Y/n’s hand, “I gotcha for a little while longer.”
The two of them walked off into the Austin evening, savoring every short second they got together.
—————
2023. Somewhere in rural America.
Joel, Ellie and Y/n had been driving for one day and no one had yet to end up in a body bag. A win if ever there were one.
That wasn’t to say they hadn’t come close. Joel and Y/n’s truce was an uneasy one and with the promise made to Ellie that they’d get along, their arguments had phased to thin lipped smiles barely concealing their disdain for one another. Still, their guns had stayed in the holsters. That was progress.
Joel pulled over at an abandoned gas station somewhere, needing to refuel. Ellie headed off to the bathrooms while Y/n and Joel went about setting up the siphon.
As Y/n handed Joel a rag, she noticed the state of his hand. It was still healing, and after using it so much in one day, it was beginning to shake.
48 hours ago, she would have let him suffer, but in the interest of a truce…
“Here,” she scooted closer, taking the siphon into her hand.
“I got it,” Joel protested.
“I know you do,” she placated him, gently prying his hand off the device, “Now move.”
She inched him out of the way and took over attaching the device. Joel crouched next to her in the dust, he felt useless if he wasn’t working.
Footsteps signaled that Ellie was coming back. She glanced over the abandoned car at Y/n and Joel.
“We have to do this every hour?”  
“Gas breaks down over time,” Joel answered, “This stuff’s almost water. Back in the day, we’d drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere.”
“So where’d you go?” Ellie asked.
Y/n continued working, bouncing the memories off that threatened to stick in her mind. 
“Pretty much nowhere,” Joel answered, it was technically the truth, but so there was unclaimed life resting in his ‘pretty much.’
Y/n huffed a large breath into the siphon, the gasoline dripping into their canister.
“Nice,” Ellie complimented, “How does that work?”
“It’s a siphon,” Joel explained as Y/n monitored their levels, “It’s when liquid…travels against gravity because pressure-“
Ellie nodded smugly, “You don’t know.”
“I know it works,” Joel quickly replied.
Y/n smirked and looked over her shoulder, “Please teach us more about physics, professor.”
Joel frowned at his ex before turning his attention back to a walking Ellie, “No wandering.”
Ellie thought a moment, “Okay,” she went into her backpack, “This is your fault then.”
She whipped out a small paperback that made Y/n shut her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, sweet Moses, not that book…” she muttered.
Joel started to speak, “Wha-“
“‘It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope,’” Ellie recited, “‘It’ll still be stationary.’”
Joel blinked, Y/n let her forehead rest against the car.
“‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too’ by Will Livingston,” Ellie held up the book to Joel, “Volume Too. Look, you get it? Too? Like t-o-o?”
Joel mumbled something under his breath and got up.
“‘What did the mermaid wear to her math class?’” Ellie asked her captive audience, building tension in the silence, “‘An algae bra,” she laughed, “Like algae bra. ‘I stayed up all night-“
“No,” Joel shook his head, like that word carried an ounce of power with Ellie.
“‘Wondering where the sun went,” the girl continued, “‘And then it dawned on me.”
“Feel free to wait in the truck,” Joel suggested, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Well, Y/n thought it was funny,” Ellie retorted, she’d tested the jokes our on her watcher back in the QZ.
“I laughed at one out of, like, fifteen, Ellie,” Y/n grunted as she got to her feet, “That’s not the win you think it is.”
“Okay, but just know,” Ellie held up the book again, “You can’t escape Will Livingston. He’ll be back. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”
Ellie took her backpack and her jokes and walked back to the Chevy, leaving Joel and Y/n by themselves.
“You get that book,” Joel started, trying to break the silence, “I’ll roll down the window.”
“Oh, that’s not even the worst of ‘em,” Y/n replied, wiggling the toe of her boot into the ground, “But they make her smile. Like I’m in any position to put a stop to that.”
Joel glanced over at Y/n, taking a temperature reading of her once again. It was hard to see so much of the person you’d once loved with your whole heart mixed with who they’d become. Every once in a while, he got flashes of his ex-girlfriend in the light she used to radiate. But something inevitably came through and blew out her flame. More than often, all it took was his mere presence.
“We should be good,” he said, changing his train of thought and kneeling down to pack up the siphon.
Y/n took the gas they’d collected and carried it back to the truck. Heavy as it was, she wasn’t about to ask Joel to help her. She’d lived through twenty years of their dystopian hell-space, a gas can wasn’t about to best her.
Once the truck was filled up, Joel and Y/n hopped in the front seats with Ellie sitting in the back.
“Must’ve been some truck,” Ellie commented, staring out the back window at the fleet deserted vehicles.
“Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such,” Joel said.
Ellie spun around in her seat, “I wanna see a tank!”
“You will,” Joel replied, “Tanks, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.”
By now, Joel was background noise to Ellie as she dug around the back of Bill’s truck.
“I got somethin’,” she announced proudly, waving another cassette tape in between Y/n and Joel. “Here, does this make you all nostalgic?”
Joel took the tape from her, it was Hank Williams. Y/n and him shared a sideways glance, if Ellie had any musical knowledge, they’d have been insulted. 
“This is actually before our time,” Joel handled the cassette.
“Great,” Ellie settled back in her seat, unamused.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not good,” Y/n stated, watching Joel pop the tape into the player and adjust the volume.
The speakers flooded with the warm sounds of the country legend. Something about it made both Joel and Y/n relax into their seats a little more.
“Oh, man,” Joel mumbled to himself, briefly closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.
“Yeah,” Y/n absentmindedly replied, staring out her window.
“Got somethin’ else,” Ellie announced, the sounds of magazine pages flipping behind Joel and Y/n, “It’s, uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures.”
Y/n and Joel peered into the dashboard mirror, catching a graphic cover. Their protests overlapped.
“Oh, no, no, no, put that back.”
“Ellie, don’t read that.”
“That’s not for kids, Ellie.”
“There’s nothing you need to see-“
Ellie opened up the centerfold of the x-rated magazine, her jaw dropping at the sight, “How would he even walk around with that thing?”
“Ellie,” Y/n unbuckled her seat belt, flipping around in her chair and stretching into the backseat, “Put it back.”
The girl slid to Joel’s side of the truck, too far away for Y/n to reach. “Hold you horses,” she argued, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”
While Joel watched nervously through the mirror, Y/n was not so easily defeated. She kept clawing at the air, trying to rip the magazine out of Ellie’s hands. Ellie turned away just enough so Y/n’s fingertips barely touched the paper.
“Why are all the pages stuck together?” Ellie asked.
“Uh,” Joel elongated, unsure of what to do, “The-“
“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Ellie burst into laughter, reaching past Y/n and slapping Joel’s shoulder with the magazine.
Y/n slid back into her seat, moving as far away as she could from Joel’s shoulder.
Ellie unrolled the back window, the whipping winds blowing through the truck. She tossed the magazine out with a grin, “Bye-bye, dude!”
Y/n sighed and put her hand to her temple, nearly laughing at the absurdity of the moment.
They drove for most of the day, answering Ellie’s occasional question, but mostly sitting in silence. Somberness would fall over the truck whenever they passed by some piece of the old world, ruined and rusted by time. They drove by an abandoned amusement park, a rickety coaster still standing. A sign for what used to be a Love’s truck stop. A bridge that had collapsed at some point in the last two decades. To Ellie, it was a lost future. To Joel and Y/n, it was the world they didn’t know if they’d ever see again.
When the skies grew began to grow dark, there wasn’t much driving left for them to do.
“All right,” Joel announced to the truck, “That’s enough for the day.”
One part of their agreement was that Y/n would trust Joel’s ability to get them to Wyoming. Her rebellion against his every word made her want to argue that they could go a little longer, but she was trying to keep up her end of the deal.
Joel pulled off the main road and drove them into the nearby forest. They set up camp deep enough that they were hidden, but close enough to the road to escape quickly, should the need arise. Joel and Y/n took care of preparing dinner, using a portable stove and cutlery they’d taken from Bill’s house.
Eventually, they all sat down to a lukewarm meal of ravioli. Ellie practically inhaled it while Joel and Y/n tried to make it last.
“Slow down,” Joel cautioned.
“This is slow,” Ellie replied with a full mouth, “What am I even eating?”
“That is 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli,” Joel answered.
“That guy was good,” Ellie complimented, stuffing another piece in her mouth.
Joel stared down at his meal, “I actually agree.”
Y/n swirled a piece around her plate, “It’s technically food.”
“How long are we staying out here?” Ellie inquired.
“I figure I sleep tonight,” Joel answered, “And drive tomorrow, all day, all night, and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.”
“You know I can take a shift, right?” Y/n asked, Joel’s stony silence served as his reply, “Ah, so you do know and you’re choosing to ignore it.”
“In the interest of gettin’ us there the quickest, it’s better I drive,” he stated.
“Yes, navigating a highway,” Y/n retorted, taking a sarcastic tone, “That’s men’s work.”
“What happened to getting along?” Ellie smirked as she watched the exchange.
Joel and Y/n glanced over at her and backed down. They had to watch themselves.
“So can we start a fire?” Ellie changed the subject, “I’m freezing.”
“Now, why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel replied shortly.
Ellie shrugged in defeat, “Because Infected will see the smoke.”
“No, fungus isn’t that smart,” Joel said, “This is too remote for Infected, anyway.”
“People?” Ellie came back with.
Joel nodded.
“So what are they gonna do? Rob us?”
“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that,” Joel answered, never once looking up from his plate.
Y/n had lived a vastly different life than Joel had, post apocalypse, but she knew the horrors people willingly committed against each other. Being cold for a night was the ideal.
Once the sun set, the three of them rolled out their sleeping bags, another courtesy of Bill and Frank, and set up for the night. Y/n laid her head next to Ellie’s, while Joel stayed on the complete opposite side of them.
Ellie took a whiff of the inside of her bag, “Actually smells kinda good.”
“Well, that would be Frank’s then,” Joel quipped.
“If mine smells like gunpowder,” Y/n held her sleeping bag up, “I’m gonna assume-“
“Bill,” Joel took no time in answering.
Y/n nodded, “Copy that.”
Before they could lay down for the night, Joel and Y/n made a point of each checking their shotguns and laying them at their sides.
Ellie and Y/n nestled into their accommodations beside one another, Ellie pulling something out of her backpack before switching the lantern off and turning on her flashlight. Y/n’s back was turned, or else she would have put a stop to what was about to happen
“Joel?” Ellie eventually called out, “Y/n? Joel?”
“What?” Joel jumped to attention, he still moved with the urgency of a father. 
Y/n turned over, “What is it?”
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Yeah,” Joel said for both of them.
Ellie sighed deeply, “‘Why did the scarecrow get an award?’”
Y/n and Joel both looked over at the same time to shoot Ellie a glare. She kept a straight face as if she really needed the answer.
“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Joel answered.
Y/n groaned, “Oh, God, there’s two of you.”
“You dick,” Ellie laughed, “Did you read this?”
“No,” Joel turned over, smirking only to himself, “Now go to sleep.”
Ellie victoriously smiled, having successfully chipped away at a little bit of the ice man’s exterior.
“Admit it,” Ellie whispered to Y/n, “You like them.”
“I will smother you in your sleep,” Y/n mumbled into her pillow. She’d never admit to cracking a smile.
They had just settled back into the sleepy silence when Ellie spoke up again, this time truly serious.
“Those people you said…there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us.”
Joel and Y/n both stiffened, they could only guarantee so much. Where they were was as close to safe as they could get. But that wasn’t something you told a scared kid who wouldn’t admit to being scared. You gave them hope, confidence.
“No one’s gonna find us,” Joel confirmed.
“Okay,” Ellie accepted the answer and flipped over. 
Y/n lay on her back, staring up at the stars. Her paranoia had softened the longer she survived, but laying in the middle of the open woods with a big flashing red sign above that read ‘FREE KILL HERE’ was resuscitating it.
A few feet away, Joel was feeling the same thing. He couldn’t pretend like he was fearless leaving himself completely vulnerable. And now that he knew Ellie was nervous, it only woke him up further. He eyed the shotgun, calculating in his head how little sleep he could make the drive on. If he counted on Y/n to take one of the shifts, they could still make good time…
They both unzipped their sleeping bags at the same time, turning to one another in the dark. No matter how hard they tried, they were on the same wavelength.
Y/n sighed, “You take the first shift?”
Joel’s nod had a heaviness to it, “Yeah.”
Y/n settled back onto her side, this time facing where Joel was heading to take up his post. She fell into an uneasy sleep, only after keeping watch over Joel until her exhaustion forced her to stop.
——————
It was a few hours later, Joel eyelids were beginning to droop. His ears were beginning to ring. He needed sleep.
After doing one last scan of the area, he walked back to their campsite. He came over to Y/n’s sleeping bag, ready to wake her, but stopped.
He stared down at her, her lips slightly parted, her hair framing her face and her lashes fanned across her cheeks. The frown she carried throughout the day faded in sleep, softening to a content expression as if she was between the bliss of unconsciousness and the evil of the waking world. It was the most at peace Joel had seen her in the last few days.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.
She’d be mad at him in the morning, he knew it. She’d berate him for thinking he didn’t need her and probably make a crack about him falling asleep at the wheel. That was fine, he thought as he went back to his post, he’d take it. Anger and nostalgia were waging a battle within him, and right now, he was allowing his wistful memories to win.
——————
Y/n woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the rustling of something in their truck. Seeing that Joel wasn’t in his sleeping bag, she grabbed her shotgun and bolted upright. The barrel of the weapon found Joel, packing up the truck, cocking a brow at her.
Y/n exhaled and set down her gun, running a relieved hand over her face. “You didn’t wake me up,” she said when she came to fully.
“I had it covered,” Joel said softly, not wanting to wake Ellie yet.
“I didn’t ask that,” Y/n replied as she stretched, already annoyed with him. She rolled out of her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Well, I’m driving this morning. I’m not ending up dead just because you’re stubborn.”
Joel didn’t look up as he tied his sleeping bag up. Right on cue.
“Coffee’s on,” he changed the subject.
Y/n felt like Joel knew that would distract her enough to move on. He wasn’t wrong. She reached over to grab her backpack, feeling around for her travel mug. Her hand graced the plastic butterfly she’d taken from Joel’s apartment, freezing as she did.
Grief, much like heartbreak, had to be danced around. If you got too close, self destruction would swallow you whole. Y/n collected her thoughts and led them back to where she was, quickly finding her mug and zipping the pack up again.
Ellie rolled over, awake finally, and sniffed the air. She scooted over to where Joel had the coffee boiling and carefully opened the lid. 
“Ugh,” she gagged, “What the fuck is that?”
Joel turned to her, “You don’t like coffee?”
Ellie grimaced, watching the bubbling brew a second longer before throwing the lid back down and rolling back onto her pillow.
“Uh-uh,” Y/n shook her head, nudging Ellie with her boot, “Up and at ‘em, come on.”
Ellie stuck her middle finger out, “Fuck you, man.”
“Up,” Y/n repeated, tugging on the bottom of Ellie’s sleeping bag.
The girl moaned and sat up, glaring at Y/n, who went to pour her mug of coffee. Whether it was the first sip of caffeine shifting her mood or she simply was making an effort, she wasn’t sure, but when Joel walked over with his mug, Y/n poured it for him.
“Thanks,” Joel mumbled, “Why don’t I drive for three hours, you take over after?”
“Two,” Y/n countered, “Those bags under your eyes make you look like you’re in a fucking Tim Burton movie.”
Joel sighed, remembering the truce. “Fine.”
Y/n and Joel finished packing up their supplies and the three of them were back on the road in minutes.
“Is that what the Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asked, eyeing Joel’s mug.
“Well, there’s was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah,” Joel answered, “This is what they sold.”
“The world used to run on this stuff,” Y/n added.
“Smells like burnt shit,” Ellie mused, smirking over at Joel.
Joel, straight faced as could be, raised his mug and took a big slurping sip. Y/n bit down on her lip to keep from rewarding him a laugh. 
“Eyes on the map,” Joel ordered.
“76 west and then 70 west for, like, ever…” Ellie read, Y/n had taught her how to navigate directions and she was still getting the hang of it.
“Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” Ellie asked Joel.
“Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody,” Joel answered.
Ellie scanned the map, “Cody. Cody…Cody…ah, man. That is deep up in there.”
Y/n peekd over Ellie’s shoulder to take a look, “Do you know where he would have gone other than there?”
“Odds are he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel answered, “Probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming.”
The second part of his reply was meant more for Ellie. She was getting a crash course in geography.
“Chee-Yen,” she read off.
“Cheyenne,” Joel corrected, he’d studied that map so intensively that he could have found his way around the state blindfolded.
“Chey- really?” Ellie double checked before reading again, “Cheyenne…Laramie…Casper? What’s his name?”
“Whose name?” Joel asked, avoiding the question another five seconds.
“Your brother,” Ellie replied.
Joel paused, “Tommy.”
A wave of nostalgia crashed around Y/n, hearing his name made her think of cheap beer and belly laughter.
“Younger or older?” Ellie continued to question Joel.
“Younger.”
“Why isn’t he with you?”
Joel sighed, stretching his neck out slightly, “A long story.”
“Is it longer than 25 hours? ‘Cause I think that’s what we got,” Ellie asked, turning around to Y/n, “Do you know?”
“No, I don’t,” Y/n clocked Joel in the dashboard mirror, “And if I’m risking my life to find him, I think I deserve to know.”
Joel met her eyes in a fleeting glance, she was backing him up against a wall.
“Tommy’s what we used to call a “joiner,” he began to explain, “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right outta high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm,” he allowed for Ellie’s confused gaze, “That’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the Army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years late, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did…mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.”
Y/n’s stomach turned, she wasn’t just hearing about what had become of Tommy…she was hearing about what had happened to Joel after they broke up. Gaps she’d wanted filled for twenty years.
“It’s where we met Tess,” Joel continued, breaking for a sip of coffee, “And that whole crew, we, uh…well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen,” Joel’s tone turned bitter, his voice quivering an almost undetectable amount, “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him. Fireflies, all of ‘em…” he didn’t dare meet Y/n’s eyes, “Delusional.”
Y/n lifted her feet up and hugged her knees, she knew the remark was meant for both her and Tommy. And while her anger with Joel hadn’t lost its momentum, she let him continue. He needed to get it all out.
“‘Course last I heard, he quit the Fireflies too,” Joel went on, “So now he’s on his own out there, and…I gotta go get him.”
The car was washed in a somber silence. Only one of them was brave enough to break it.
“If you don’t think there’s hope for the world,” Ellie said, “Why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”
“You haven’t seen the world,” Joel said, a little wistful, “So you don’t know. You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”
The five words pierced through Y/n’s heart, the wooden arrow splintering inside the chambers. Each syllable was like taking a knife to the carefully placed stitches around her soul.
“I’m not family,” Ellie said, blissfully unaware of the situation surrounding her.
“No,” Joel agreed, “You’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.”
Numbness set in and Y/n rested her head against the window, focusing on the rolling fields of rural America. If Ellie wasn’t in the car, she would have let herself go off on Joel, but it wasn’t the time.
“What if you don’t find him?” Ellie asked the man.
“I will,” Joel replied,
“How do you know?” 
“I’m persistent,” Joel stated before switching gears, “You got up pretty early, if you wanna grab more sleep.”
Ellie scoffed, “I’m not even tired.”
Within a few minutes, Ellie was beginning to doze off. Y/n gently tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to climb into the backseat. She helped pull her through and Ellie settled against the opposite window.
Joel drove them for an hour in silence before Y/n couldn’t stand being still anymore.
“Pull over,” she told him, “Let’s switch.”
Joel was tired enough to listen to her, stopping the car in the middle of the road. They unbuckled and got out, meeting at the front. 
“You’re wrong, you know,” Y/n said once they were face to face, “About Tommy, about the Fireflies…all of it.”
“You wanna prove me wrong, have at it,” Joel replied, disgruntled by the whole idea.
“Tommy wanting to be a hero is him wanting to help people,” Y/n kept going, “To fight. To do the right thing. When has that ever been a bad thing?”
Joel nearly scoffed, “Maybe when it gets him killed.”
“If he’s still here after all these years, maybe you need to stop looking at him like he’s some idiot kid. You don’t get to judge the people who are trying to get some of this,” Y/n spread her arms out to the wide open space around them, “Any of this back. It’s a hell of a lot more than you seem to be doing.”
Joel rested a hand on the truck’s hood, “Maybe I don’t feel the need to waste my time on a pointless cause. Last time I checked, that was all the Fireflies ever accomplished.”
“At least I’m doing something,” Y/n fought back, “I’d rather spend the rest of my life on a pointless cause and go to sleep with what’s left of my soul than sell it to the devil and not recognize my own damn reflection.”
Joel felt the last part of her sentence push into his gut like the tip of a spear. She was hitting too close to home without knowing it.
“‘Keep going for family,’” Y/n repeated, practically spitting the last words, “When was the last time you fought for anything?”
Joel reached out, grabbing Y/n’s arm roughly as she turned away and spun her around. If she hadn’t dug her boots into the asphalt, she would have fallen right into him.
“You don’t know what I’ve fought for,” he growled, his eyes boring into hers.
Y/n’s chest rose and fell rapidly with rage, inching her face closer to his to show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “Neither do you,” she seethed.
Their breaths mingled in the few inches left separating their mouths. Neither one of them were making any real threats, there was simply too much tension between them to ensure a safe car ride. They needed to let it out.
Joel realized his fingers were digging into Y/n’s arm, it had happened when she had moved closer to him. Habits were tricky to break, but the body didn’t hold grudges like the mind.
The close proximity wasn’t lost on Y/n, but she was able to free herself from it before muscle memory took over. She yanked her arm out of Joel’s grip and took the keys from his other hand, stomping around to the driver’s seat and getting in. Joel unhappily followed, and their wordless journey continued…
—————————
Joel caught maybe thirty consecutive minutes of sleep while Y/n drove them. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, he just wasn’t used to not being in control of a situation. He gripped the map tightly as they drove into downtown Kansas City.
Surrounding them were rusted abandoned vehicles, but the tunnel in which they needed to go through was blocked entirely by a semi. Y/n brought the car to a halt, glancing over at Joel knowingly.
“Wait here,” she told Ellie, who had just woken up.
Joel and Y/n got out, Joel grabbing their shotguns from the backseat. He handed hers over and the team took calculated steps towards the tunnel. Joel crouched down to get a peek at the open road waiting on the other side of the mess. The semi was parked that way deliberately.
Joel walked back to the truck, Y/n only a step behind him. They got back in their seats seat, Ellie squeezing over the glove compartment. 
“Where are we?”
“Kansas City,” Joel answered quickly, taking the map from her. The three of them studied it.
“How far back do we have to go to get around this?” Ellie asked.
Joel traced their route with his fingertip, Y/n tugged the map closer so she could study it too. There weren’t a lot of options if they had a prayer of getting to Wyoming within their time frame. They could either go back, costing them a few more hours, or take their chances passing through the city.
Y/n sighed, everything she was about to say went against what she wanted to say….
“It’s your call.”
Joel was honestly surprised that she had relented so quick. “Screw it,” he muttered, “Head back ‘round the tunnel, get on the next ramp. We’ll be back on the road, minute tops.”
Y/n put the truck in reverse and backed them up, swinging around a shoulder of road that would take them into the city.
“You guys are my eyes,” Y/n said as she navigated the first set of streets, 
“Tell me where to go.”
“Look for any signs,” Joel instructed while Ellie read the map.
They drove for about five minutes, having gotten no closer to finding the open road.
“Where the fuck is the highway?” Joel complained.
“I can’t tell from this,” Ellie let her hand fall against the map, “I’m all turned around.”
Joel was trying to help Ellie navigate while also keeping an eye peeled for potential threats. “Well, don’t look at the state map, look at the inset,” he directed.
Ellie groaned, “Well, I don’t know where we are in that either! This is my second day in a fucking car, man. I mean, I think we’re heading north?”
“I don’t even see any fucking signs,” Y/n mentioned.
“It’s gotta be the right,” Joel said, shaking his head, ”What the fuck?”
“Y/n stop,” Ellie exclaimed.
Y/n threw on the brake, bringing them to a halt in the middle of the street.
“Is that the QZ?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide as she peered over Y/n, “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”
Joel and Y/n got a look at where the Quarantine Zone should have been, zero military presence. That was unfathomable.
“Hey,” a voice called, their attention was drawn to a man limping towards their truck, “Please help.”
Y/n and Joel’s blood ran cold, they knew exactly what was about to go down.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Joel told Ellie, throwing his on as well.
“Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asked innocently.
Y/n said a silent prayer to anyone who was listening for survival.
“No,” Joel answered, looking to his ex, “Drive. Now.”
Y/n pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, the “injured” leaping out of the way. The man cried something out she couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears.
“Y/N!” Ellie screamed.
Y/n was too busy driving to see what Ellie and Joel were watching, but the message was received when a large object got dropped on their windshield. Y/n swerved, Joel reached over to steady the wheel as she regained control. In their mad dash effort, they didn’t notice the strip of nails ahead of them. The truck shook as its tires began to deflate. 
“Fuck!” Y/n yelled, “What do we do?”
“Hard right into that building,” Joel shouted, there was another guy in their path, “Now!”
Instincts ignored, Y/n pulled to the right, holding her breath as they smashed through the glass windows of the nearest building.
——————
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𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞
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HE'S HOLDING UP THE FUCKING LINE | SOFT!JJ MAYBANK X READER | IMAGINE | 
PAIRING: Soft!JJ Maybank x Reader
SYNOPSIS: The gang secretly ships Y/N and JJ, hoping they'll admit their feelings
WORD COUNT → 400
WARNING(S): Flirty banter? not much really, just cuteness.
AUTHORS NOTE: Saw this tiktok and imagined JJ saying it to you lol.
JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST | OUTERBANKS MASTERLIST | TAG LIST |
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The sun hung low over the Outer Banks, casting a golden hue across the sandy shores as the Pogues gathered for another adventure-filled day. John B, Pope, Kiara, Cleo, Sarah, Y/N, and JJ had become an inseparable crew over the years, taking on the highs and lows of life on the islands together. 
As the gang set up their beach chairs and spread out their towels, Y/N couldn't help but notice JJ stealing glances at her. He had always been a bit of a flirt, but lately, there was something different about the way he looked at her. She had a hunch, but she wasn't ready to jump to conclusions just yet.
Pope, always the observant one, picked up on the tension between Y/N and JJ. He decided to break the ice. "So, Y/N, you've been talking to someone for six months now?" he asked with a sly grin.
Y/N smiled and nodded, "Yeah, we met online, and we hit it off. We've been talking ever since."
JJ leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Six months, huh? And you haven't been talking to anybody else?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Y/N chuckled, "No, not really. I mean, I've had some other conversations, but nothing serious."
JJ smirked mischievously, "So, he's your boyfriend then?"
Y/N laughed, shaking her head, "No, we're not dating. We're just friends... for now."
The group exchanged knowing glances. Cleo shook her head in amusement, while Sarah gasped dramatically. Kiara couldn't help but roll her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Of course, not dating."
JJ, always one to seize an opportunity, stood up and pointed at himself and Pope. "Okay, so does he want you or not, because he's holding up the fucking line," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
The rest of the Pogues burst into laughter, cheering on JJ's boldness. Y/N blushed, looking down at her towel, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth. She knew JJ had a crush on her, but they had always danced around the topic.
As the day went on, Y/N and JJ continued to share secrets, laughs, and stolen glances. The rest of the gang watched, amused by their playful banter, all secretly hoping that someday, those two would finally admit what was obvious to everyone else – that they were meant to be together.
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proxima-writes · 1 year
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Title: cruel summer | chapter 2
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)
Chapters: 6/6
Read on AO3 | Join the tag list
Summary:
Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.
He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.
Content warnings: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content
Additional tags: oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, angst, internalized guilt, Joel Miller is emotionally constipated but Trying His Best. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!
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Joel stops eating lunch with you after that day in the kitchen. You try not to let it affect you, but you miss him. You miss the easy conversation and the way he makes you laugh without even trying. It’s hard to focus on studying with him constantly on your mind, especially when he’s so close but just out of reach.
A few days pass without any interaction with him at all. He comes inside and immediately heads upstairs and the only reason you even know he’s there is the heavy footsteps above your head.
So you’re surprised when one day he comes downstairs and heads straight towards you, stopping a respectable distance away. He clears his throat and runs a hand nervously through his hair.
“Sarah’s daycare just called. I forgot it was a half day for them, I gotta go pick her up,” he says. “I’ve got grout mixed upstairs. I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’ll have to see if Tommy can come watch her.”
“Oh. Why don’t…you can just…bring her here? I can watch her, if you need,” you reply. He stops his nervous fidgeting, hands dropping to his side.
“Really?” He asks. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to interrupt your studyin’.”
“Not getting much done today, anyways,” you say pointedly. He presses his lips together.
“Right. Well, uh, if you’re sure. I’ll go get her now.”
“Why don’t you give me your cell number. You can call me if you change your mind and are going to take longer getting back here,” you suggest.
He nods, digging his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. You pass him yours from the table. After entering your number, you exchange devices again. You check your contacts, biting back a smile seeing the entry titled “Joel (contractor)”.
As if you wouldn’t know who he was.
“Okay, well. I’ll be back,” he says, heading out the door with a lingering look.
————
Sarah is sitting in her car seat, asking Joel a thousand questions about where they’re going.
“Daddy’s gotta work, sweetheart. But I’ve got a very nice friend who’s goin’ to watch you while he’s busy,” he explains. “We’re going to her house.”
“Oh. Does she have toys?” She asks.
“I’m not sure. She might.”
“I hope so. Does she have snacks?”
“Probably.”
Her questions continue in the same manner until he pulls into your driveway. She frees herself from her car seat and hops from the truck, running to the front door faster than Joel can catch up. She’s bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as he pushes the door open, but she clings to his arm as he enters the hallway.
Joel checks the kitchen but finds it empty. He calls out your name.
“In the living room!” You shout back.
He’s surprised to find you surrounded by a couple large storage totes, digging through one and pulling out another box stuffed with what looks like fabric. You look up when they enter and smile brightly.
“Hi! You must be Sarah,” you say to his little girl, giving her your name as well. “Do you like Barbie dolls?”
Sarah nods, her grip loosening from her dad’s arm as you start to pull some Barbie dolls from one bin. Joel watches you tell his daughter about how they’d been yours when you were her age, and that they’re very excited to have someone play with them again. You open the box of clothes and accessories, Sarah’s face lighting up at all the options.
Watching you with his daughter feels like a fist to the gut. You’re so attentive and kind, patiently explaining the different dolls to her and their backstories that he just can’t look away.
It’s not until you look up at him and your smile falters the slightest bit that he clears his throat and says, “Alright, sweetie, you all good here?”
“Yes, daddy,” she says dutifully, focused on changing the outfit on one of the dolls you’d given her.
“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” he says, more to you than to Sarah. You only nod in response.
He trudges up the stairs with a lump in his throat and a vise grip around his heart.
_______
Sarah might just be the best kid you’ve ever met. She’s smart and funny, making up the silliest stories for the Barbie’s to act out. You can see why Joel is such a softie for her.
“Do you have anything else we can play with?” She asks after about an hour of playing with the dolls.
“Why don’t we head outside?” You ask, picking the toys up off the floor.
“Okay! Can I show you my cartwheel?” She asks, jumping up from the floor and trailing after you towards the back door.
“Uh, absolutely!”
She runs full speed out the sliding glass door, bypassing the pool and heading straight for the grassy yard beyond. “Watch! Watch!” She calls out to you as she plants her hands to the ground and shows off her cartwheel.
“Wow, that’s awesome, Sarah!” You call out. You dig in the pool storage and pull out a forgotten soccer ball that you’re pretty sure has been in there since high school. It’s a little flat, but it’ll do.
Sarah continues to do cartwheels through the yard while you kick the ball around. She catches sight of what you’re doing and runs over to join, watching as you demonstrate some of the footwork from high school sitting in the recesses of your mind.
Sarah eventually starts to complain about being hungry, so you head back inside to set up a snack for her. “Give me one second, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”
You jog up the stairs and head to your parent’s room. Joel’s wiping the excess grout from the shower tile he’s just laid when you tap on the doorframe to get his attention. He looks up at you in surprise, dropping the wet sponge in the bucket and standing.
“Hey. I was just about to make a snack for Sarah and I wanted to make sure she doesn’t have any allergies or anything?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment before taking a step closer, hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging your lips to his.
You’re surprised but your traitorous body responds before your brain can, your lips moving hungrily against his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He presses you back against the door frame, his calloused and slightly damp hands coming up to grip your face and angling it to his liking. His tongue slips past your lips and tangles with yours, making you whimper.
He pulls away all too soon, smoothing a hand against your hair as he stares into your eyes, his breathing quick and labored.
“No…no allergies,” he finally says. You huff out a laugh.
“Right…you could have just said that,” you joke. He cracks a smile.
“Get back downstairs. I’ll be done soon.”
________
Joel tried to do the respectable thing. He really did. He was going to let that one slip up be left in the past, move on with a perfectly normal working relationship. No more lunches, no more lingering in the doorway to talk to you when he comes in the morning and you’re still sleepy, sipping your coffee that’s more sugar than anything. No more after dark thoughts of you as he lays in bed palming his cock. Just him and the bathroom remodel.
But then you’d offered to look after Sarah, and you could have easily stuck her in front of the TV while you went about your day, but you gave her your undivided attention. He’d watched from the window as you showed her some fancy soccer footwork that he didn’t even know you knew how to do. You cheered for her when she landed six cartwheels in a row and then laughed when she crashed to the ground, dizzy and giggling. He’d watched you run around the yard with her on your back, a pool noodle held in her hand as she commanded you to charge forward.
And just like it always does when it comes to you, the weak walls of his resolve crumble around him.
To top it all off, you came upstairs to ask him the most innocent but thoughtful question and goddamnit, he can’t do this. He had to kiss you.
Now that you’re no longer standing in front of him, the logical part of his brain kicks back on and the guilt returns. What the hell is expecting out of this? He’s here temporarily, for a job, and so are you. You’ll return to school at the end of the summer and he’ll be here…what? Pining after a girl fifteen years his junior who could have any number of men her age falling at her feet?
Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Much as he hates to admit it, he’s going to have to man up and have a real conversation about all this. He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Tommy to see if he can come over and keep an eye on Sarah tonight after she goes to bed.
________
Joel comes down about thirty minutes later and Sarah runs towards him, throwing her arms around his legs and hugging me tightly.
“We had so much fun, daddy! She watched me do all my cartwheels and we played calgary!”
You snort. “Cavalry, sweetie,” you correct.
“That!” She exclaims. Her head tilts back to look up at her dad with big brown eyes so full of love it makes your stomach flip.
“It sounds like you had a great day, baby,” Joel says, running a hand over her curly brown hair. “It’s time we head out.”
She pouts and Joel hits her with a look that’s so quintessentially dad that you have to bite back a laugh. The young girl sighs dramatically before stomping out of the room towards the front door.
Joel reaches a hand out towards you and you step forward, slipping your hand into his. “Can I come over later? To talk?” He asks quietly, fingers tangling with yours.
“S-sure,” you reply. He gives you one last nod before he lets go of your hand, heading out the door after Sarah.
_______
Tommy comes over around 8:00 that evening, after Sarah’s in bed following another chapter of James and the Giant Peach. He lets himself in, joining Joel in the kitchen where he’s cleaning up after dinner.
“Where ya off to this late, old man?” Tommy asks, opening the freezer and peering inside. “No ice cream?”
“Get outta my fridge,” Joel snaps, whacking him with the dish towel in his hands. “And none of your business, nosy lil shit.”
Tommy holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, touchy.”
“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go riflin’ through the pantry, either, I already hid the cookies.”
Tommy’s annoyed groan follows him out the door. In the truck, he finds your name in his contacts and opens a new text thread.
On my way.
_______
Your phone chimes on the coffee table, screen lighting with a message notification from Joel letting you know he’s on his way. It’s the first time he’s ever contacted you by phone, and you smile down at the brand new text thread despite the dry, no nonsense message.
You fight the urge to reply, fidgeting in your seat with nerves. You have nothing else to focus your attention on as you wait for Joel to show up. You’ve already cleaned up after dinner and your second glass of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve changed into your pajamas, a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized UT t-shirt you’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend.
The man himself puts you out of your misery with a soft knock at your front door. You open it to find Joel standing there in another pair of jeans, dark wash instead of the light wash work pair he usually wears, and a soft looking flannel, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes roam your body, every place they linger tingling under his gaze. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m surprised you didn’t just use the key.”
“Key is for the job. This ain’t part of the job.”
“Right,” you mumble, trailing behind him as he heads for the kitchen. “You want anything to drink? I’ve got beer.”
“Sure.”
You grab a can from the fridge and carry it with you to the living room, setting it beside your glass of wine on the coffee table. You take a seat, folding your legs under you. Joel stands near the doorway, like he’s not sure whether to sit or make an escape.
Finally, he joins you on the couch, a healthy cushion length of distance between your bodies. He smooths his palms over his thighs before grabbing the can of beer and popping the top.
“So…you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the tense silence. He sighs.
“I wanted to apologize. For what happened the other day,” he says, staring at the can of beer like it’ll say the words for him. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. After.”
You remain quiet. It had been shitty, getting left behind, all the adrenaline leaving your body and making you feel untethered. You’d cleaned yourself up and hidden in your room the rest of the afternoon, curled up in your bed.
“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he confesses.
“Sure felt like you knew what you were doing,” you comment. Your smile is smug as you watch his cheeks heat.
“What I mean is,” he continues, throwing you a sharp look that reminds you of the one he’d used on Sarah that afternoon, “I don’t know what you’d want with a guy like me, baby. You’re goin’ back to school in a month, you’ve got dreams and goals I couldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, and you’re just a kid—“
“Don’t call me kid, Joel. I’m a grown fuckin’ woman, and I don’t need you making choices for me out of your own guilt.”
Joel clenches his jaw, his grip on the can of beer going tight enough to dent the aluminum.
“I don’t feel guilty about wanting you, Joel. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. We don’t have to define anything, we just…go at this with no rules. See what happens.” You shuffle closer to him, walking across the cushions on your knees until you’re kneeling beside him.
“No rules?” He asks. You can practically taste your victory.
You lean closer, bringing your palm up to turn his face towards you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes search yours.
“No rules,” you whisper.
________
This didn’t go at all as Joel had planned. He’d been intent on coming over here, apologizing for his behavior, and explaining that he wouldn’t be sending you any further mixed signals. That all of this had to stop.
But instead, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap, his lips pressed to yours to swallow your gasp. His hands shift the long hem of your shirt out of his way so that he can grip your ass and drag you closer.
Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to get them undone. Your mouth leaves his to plant kisses to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth nipping as you go. Joel groans your name, his hips flexing as you push apart his shirt to expose his chest to your greedy hands.
Your nails scrape down his pecs, catching on his nipples and making him hiss, his head dropping back against the back of the couch.
Your weight leaves his lap and he looks up, ready to complain and haul your ass back where it belongs. But you’re dropping to your knees between his spread legs and looking up at him through your lashes as your hands smooth up his thighs.
“I want you in my mouth, Joel,” you tell him, voice pitched low. “I think about it a lot. What it would be like to suck your cock.”
“God, baby, I think about it, too,” Joel confesses, hips thrusting as you undo his belt and fly. He helps you shove his pants down far enough that his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his stomach. “Put your mouth on me, sweetheart.”
Joel should have known you wouldn’t make this easy. You don’t listen to his plea. Instead, you wrap your delicate little hand around his throbbing length and give it a few leisurely pumps that have him gritting his teeth.
Then, holding his dick steady, you lean forward to grace him with just one little kitten lick to his head, tongue swiping through the bead of precum that’s already pooled at the slit. Your eyelids flutter and you hum appreciatively and Joel has to fucking will himself not to come all over your pretty face.
“You’re such a lil fuckin’ tease, aren’t ya,” he bites out. You give him your most saccharine smile, the mischievous glint in your eye unmistakable.
He places a hand on your head, fingers flexing against your scalp but not pressing or directing. No, this is your show and he knows that.
You lick up the underside of his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth. He groans at the sensation, the tight wet heat the best thing he’s ever felt.
At least for now.
You show him no mercy, taking him as far back into your throat as you can before coming up for air and circling the head with your tongue before diving back down. You gag a couple times, each time making your throat tighten around the head of his cock and making him moan out your name.
Joel catches movement below and lifts his head further to see your hand wiggle its way into those little sleep shorts you’re wearing. “Are you wet, baby? Did you soak yourself just sucking my cock?”
You nod, mouth too full to respond with words. You look so goddamn pretty with your mouth stretched around his thick length, your lashes wet with tears.
“You wanna come with me, sweet girl?” You nod. “Listen to me, then. Slide just one finger into that pretty cunt for me, okay?”
You nod again, doing as you’re told. He can’t see anything past this giant t-shirt you’re wearing and he growls in frustration.
“Bet that feels good, huh, darlin’? Ridin’ your fingers with my cock stuffed down your throat. Add another finger for me, that’s it.” You moan around his length, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.
“Can you take a third finger for me? We gotta get you nice and stretched if you’re gonna take my cock someday soon.” You give a little whimper as your motions pause while you work a third finger into your pussy. “That’s it, Christ, you look like fuckin’ sin, sweetheart.”
Eyes shut, you work your hand in the same rhythm as your mouth. When you start to get sloppy, Joel begins to thrust into your mouth.
“Focus on yourself, that’s it. You just worry about makin’ yourself come all over your fingers and I’ll worry about fillin’ this gorgeous fuckin’ mouth.”
With your other hand free, you use it to rub fast circles on your clit. It only takes Joel a few shallow thrusts before he’s spilling down your throat and you’re swallowing around him as you reach your own peak and crash through the ecstasy.
Joel waits until your limbs start to go limp before hauling you back into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.
“Wow,” you mumble against his shoulder, making him grin. You pull back to look at him and Joel hates the bit of fear hiding in the back of your gaze. “You don’t…have to leave right now, right?”
“No, baby, I can stay with you a bit longer.”
Joel’s fingers scratch lightly down your back, making you wiggle appreciatively. He fiddles with the hem of your shirt.
“Where’s this shirt from?” He asks innocently.
“Oh, it’s an ex’s shirt,” you murmur sleepily. Joel hums.
“Maybe I have one rule,” Joel says just as you’re nodding off.
“Hmm?”
“We’re getting rid of this fuckin’ shirt.”
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