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itsharleystuff · 9 months

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↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place.

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #smut

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aquagirl1978 · 2 months

Text

Happy - Ellis Twilight x Reader (Ikemen Villains)

A/N: Congrats on your route release, Ellis!

Pairing: Ellis Twilight x Reader

Prompt: jam jar seen in Ellis' pv

Word count: 713

Tags: fluff with a spicy kiss (and an appearance by Jude)

Divider by @natimiles

“Hey Ellis,” you called out when you saw his tall figure walking in the hallway, “are you busy? I was out with Victor shopping earlier. A new bakery just opened and I bought some cookies.”

Rather than answer, Ellis quietly entered the room and took a seat next to you at the table. He smiled softly as you nudged the plate of treats towards him.

“Is that raspberry?” he asked, peering closer at the pile of jam thumbprint cookies mounded on the plate.

“Yes, it is!” Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you spoke, quietly dying to know if he would like them. “I got them just for you,” you added. Picking one up, you held it between your thumb and forefinger, offering the sweet treat to him.

“Oh no, you first,” he insisted. He took the cookie from your hand and held it up to your mouth. His lips curled into a sweet smile as he watched you bite into the cookie.

“How is it?” he asked, his gaze tender, his voice softer than usual.

“Delicious…” Your eyes closed as you savored the buttery taste of the cookie, the raspberry jam sweet on your tongue.

He leaned closer to you; his twilight eyes twinkled like the stars in the night sky, easily capturing yours. Your hand holding the cookie fell to the table as he cupped your cheek in his palm, bringing your face to meet his.

“Can I have a taste?” he whispered. Nodding, your lips parted, awaiting his kiss.

Catching a glimpse of his smile, a happy sigh escaped before he covered your mouth with his. He deepened the kiss, his tongue probing open your soft lips. Your tongue twisted with his, sharing the buttery sweetness of the cookie.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, your body inched closer to his. You were in heaven and could have sat there all night with him. But Ellis broke the kiss, his body tensed as the sound of faint footsteps were heard.

And a moment later, it was gone and silence filled the room.

Ellis rested his forehead against yours; gazing into your eyes affectionately, he stroked your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Are you happy?” he asked. The way he leaned in, your name a whisper on his lips, made your breath hitch as your eyelids drifted closed.

“Yes,” you sighed, your lips melting against his. Ellis wrapped his hand around the back of your head, needy for your kiss. Everything felt warmer as his tongue swept inside your mouth, stealing your breath.

Ellis’ mouth traveled along your jawline, peppering your skin with tiny kisses, your breath shuddering as he mouth moved down your neck and his hand slid up your thigh.

“Ellis…” you panted as he rained biting kisses upon your sensitive skin, “are you happy?”

He lifted his head and looked up at you with the gentlest smile.

“All that matters is…”

“Ahem….”

Standing in the doorframe with his hands on hips, was Jude, an ugly scowl marring his otherwise handsome face.

“Ellis! “ he barked, eyeing the big plate of cookies on the table. “What do ya think this is, snack time? You’ve got a job to do for me. Now get!”

“Sorry, Jude.” Ellis rose slowly from his seat, a wistful smile on his face as he gazed into your eyes. Boss’ orders, his eyes said silently. He kissed the top of your head, his shoulders sagging as he walked away.

Ellis stopped before he reached the doorway and turned his head, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Leave some of those cookies for later, okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, lifting your hand in a wave goodbye.

Jude watched your sad goodbye and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, princess,” Jude smirked, “he won’t be dying. Well, not tonight anyway.” He winked at you as Ellish brushed past him, the two men turning and leaving in the night.

Picking up a cookie from the plate, you bit into it; the raspberry jam melted into the crisp, buttery cookie, instantly reminding you of your sweet Ellis. As you returned the remaining cookies into the box, your heart thrummed in your chest, excited to share the rest of them with him later.

I hope I make you happy, too, Ellis.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine @pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @starlitmanor-network

#ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikevil #ellis twilight #ikevil ellis #ikemen ellis #ikevil fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic #starlitmanornetwork

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 7 months

Text

The Art of Failing [2]

Werewolf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, Vampire!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Warnings: violence and mild gore, mentions of blood and injures, reader is described as active and able to fight, eventual smut, loss of a child, angst to fluff, more warnings to come based on individual chapters

Chapter Warnings: violence, mentions of blood and injuries

Word Count: 9.6k

Summary: The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. You are desperate to solve the case, to prove your ability, and you find yourself with unlikely allies⏤ a werewolf running from his pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. The stakes are high, lives are at risk, and success hinges on the three of you learning to work together.

[a/n: sorry this came out a day late, but thank you to everyone who wished me luck on my interview😌]

DANGER AT DUSK

"you better hold on tight, spider monkey." -twilight (film)

The idea you came up with overnight was by no means ideal. After getting back to your apartment, you and Joel traded phone numbers and you said you’d text him in the morning with an idea. Tossing and turning all you could come up with was a finding spell. The finding spell itself was a good-ish idea, but with only a name you’d need someone especially skilled to cast it. That was where the problem lied. The best person you’ve ever met when it came to finding spells was your ex-boyfriend who you avoided like the plague.

However, this situation was obviously dire and you weren’t going to let your discomfort get in the way of reuniting Joel with Ellie.

Standing in your kitchen, still in your pajamas despite it being late in the morning, you sent Gavriil a text requesting his help and he, unsurprisingly, responded very quickly. ‘So good to hear from you, my queen. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your arrival.’ You blanched at the nickname and groaned. You typed out a text to Joel as well telling him he could start heading over to your apartment to discuss the plan. He didn’t respond immediately, and you set your phone down to search through the fridge for some juice.

A knock nearly made you spill the juice you were attempting to pour. You nervously padded toward the front door and your first thought was Roberts had shown up since you weren’t answering his calls. However, a quick glance through the peephole relieved you of that worry. You unlocked the door and pulled it open with surprise, “Joel??”

“Hey.” He nodded. The flannel he wore was a different color but the overall outfit looked the same. You stared at him, your sleep heavy mind trying to wrap around the sight of him, and Joel took that time to drag his eyes up and down your body. You remembered you were just in your pajamas and squirmed in place. “Can I come in?”

“Right!” You stepped to the side and Joel passed you to enter. “I… I just texted you. How are you already here?”

“I was already in the neighborhood.”

“Already in the…” You blinked. “What time did you leave your house?”

You walked back towards your kitchen and Joel followed without answering your question. He sat down at the small dining table off to the side of your kitchen and cleared his throat. You raised your eyebrows and he sighed, “I didn’t go home.”

“You didn’t… Joel, did you sleep in your car?” You asked in shock. Joel shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Why??”

“Don’t trust fangs.”

“The Mandalorians? Did you think they were gonna follow after us?”

“Dunno.” Joel drummed his fingers against the table. “Wasn’t gonna risk it.”

Your gaze softened at his words. It was touching that Joel essentially stood guard overnight because he didn’t trust that the Mandalorians wouldn’t come after the both of you. Your lips twitched into a small smile and you rubbed your arms. “Well, you should’ve told me. You could’ve, I don’t know, slept on my couch?”

“Didn’t need to. Not the first time I slept in my truck, won’t be the last, I reckon.”

“Still. Thanks.” You replied. Joel had been staring at his hands, but he lifted his gaze to finally meet yours. He gruffly shrugged away your appreciation, but a nervous energy lingered in his eyes. You pointed behind you to the counter, “Coffee?”

“Please.” Joel nodded. You turned to make a pot of coffee and the silence that filled your kitchen was far from uncomfortable. The machine was prepped with the pot in place and you were pressing buttons when Joel chimed up. “What’s the plan today, sweetheart?”

“Well,” You finished with the machine and turned back around, “I think our best bet is a finding spell.”

“Thought we talked 'bout this last night?” Joel shook his head. On the drive home yesterday, you had asked him if he attempted anything other than coming to the DMA for help and he confided in seeking out a Finder that came up with nothing. Either Ellie specifically was hidden or the location she was at had a charm to reflect finding spells. “Didn’t work.”

“For Ellie.” You held up a finger. “I want to use a finding spell on the Mandalorian⏤ Din Djarin.”

Joel furrowed his brow and rested his arm on the back of the chair so he could face you. “Thought you needed more than a name for that kind of spell.”

“Usually, yes, but I, uh, I know a guy.” You mumbled. The sound and smell of the dripping coffee swirled in the air around you. Joel took a slow deep breath and you assumed it was to soak in the comfort that came with the smell of morning coffee. “He’s a Xagrim warlock.” Joel’s face folded in a mix of surprise and wariness. The Xagrim clan of warlocks didn’t have the greatest reputation. The dark magic they chose to play with made them more weird than evil, but there was no denying that they had skilled members in their ranks. As you well knew. “So we’ll go see him.”

Joel nodded. “How do you know he’ll help? They aren’t known for their generosity.”

“Mhmm.” You grabbed two mugs and poured coffee in each. You asked if he needed anything for it, and when he shook his head you brought him over a mug and sat next to him. “He will definitely help us.”

“He owe you a favor or somethin'?”

“Something like that.” You said. Joel took a sip of his coffee and you shrugged and mumbled. “I, sort of, used to date him.”

Joel choked on the sip of coffee he had taken and it took him a minute to clear his throat. Finally, he motioned to you, “Really?” You bit your lower lip and gave an awkward nod. Surprisingly, Joel’s cheek twitched in amusement and you briefly saw a dimple before he coughed to hide a chuckle. “You dated a Xagrim warlock?”

“He seemed nice!”

“Was he?”

“Well, no. It wasn’t a, uh, good relationship by any means.” You sighed. Joel’s amusement vanished and you watched his eyes harden. He straightened up in his seat, and you could see the question in his eyes. You held a hand out. “No! It wasn’t⏤ He wasn’t abusive or anything. He was just… weird.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.” You tried to find an easy way to explain it without diving into the entirety of the relationship. “I hate using the word obsessed because it makes me feel conceited or something, but… He was obsessed with me. In a weird way.” Joel’s shoulders had relaxed marginally and you shrugged. “But hey, you know what they say about hindsight.”

Joel raised an eyebrow at you, “He’s a Xagrim warlock, sweetheart. Seems to me like regular sight should’ve caught that one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and you got to see a flash of that same dimple before it disappeared again. Joel took a long sip of his coffee and when he settled the mug back down his solemn air returned. That same understandable worry and anxiety clouded his vision.

“I’m gonna get ready, then we can get going.” You shot him a tight lipped smile.

“Thanks.” He murmured.

You picked up your mug to carry with you to your bedroom so you could finish it as you got ready for the day. It felt unusual to be getting ready for some place other than work. This time yesterday you had been pulling on your blazer and high tailing it to work to get coffee orders. You pushed aside the dress clothes in your closet to find something less formal. It still felt odd to wear what used to be your mother’s shoulder holster, but Gods forbid you need it and not have it. The last thing you pulled on was the same jacket from yesterday with the badge in the pocket.

When you stepped out of your bedroom, Joel stood at your kitchen sink washing his coffee cup. You carried yours over to stop him, “Hey, you don’t gotta do that.”

“Ain't nothin', sweetheart.” He mumbled and reached out for your mug. “You done?”

You hesitated before shooting him a smile and handing him your empty cup. It was an oddly domestic task to watch a man wash dishes at your sink, and it reminded you of how painfully single you’ve been. Your last date was a couple months ago and it hadn’t been terrible, but it also hadn’t led to anything. As for an actual relationship, that had been over a year ago and you were going to go see him right now. Joel turned off the water and it jarred you back to the moment. Joel shook his hands dry, and you got your head back in the game.

Gavriil lived in a neighborhood where the supernatural tended to drift toward. There was no specific area designed for non human housing specifically, but like found like. His house was a small one nestled in a cul de sac, and if you remembered correctly Gavriil had a few warlock neighbors as well. When you pulled outside of his house, you heaved an involuntary sigh.

“You sure 'bout this?” Joel asked.

You forced a broad smile, “Yes! Absolutely. Gavriil is gonna cast the spell, we’re gonna find this Din Djarin guy, and we’ll have our next clue to get us to Ellie.”

“Alright.” Joel replied slowly.

He still looked skeptical and you gave him a thumbs up before climbing out of the car. Before you could lose steam or determination, you sped walk to the front door with Joel only a step behind you. You rapped your knuckles against the front door and heard Gavriil calling out that he was coming. His voice alone made you cringe. The door swung open and Gavriil beamed at you. He was tall like Joel, but whereas Joel had strong, broad shoulders, Gavriil was skinny. Gangly would actually be a more apt term.

“My queen!” He cooed with a smile. He reached out for a hug and you held out an arm to awkwardly pat his shoulder and keep him from wrapping his arms around you. Just as you remembered him, he wore a full, elaborate suit with a bow tie. His blond hair pushed back and out of his face. “It is so good to see you again.” His blue eyes raked up and down your body and you resisted the urge to shudder. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

“Thank you for having us, Gavriil.” You sighed. “Appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course! Come in!”

Gavriil turned to hurry back into his house and you hesitated for only a second before stepping in. Joel’s hand wrapped around your elbow and your eyes widened in surprise at his touch. Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion, “You dated that?”

“Uh, yes.” You replied with a bit of shame. “It was… a phase?” It wasn’t an entire lie. Back when you first started dating Gavriil, a portion of the decision had been focused on annoying your mother. “It wasn’t a long relationship.”

“You seem uncomfortable, sweetheart.” Joel replied as he shut the door behind the both of you. “Are you sure you’re okay bein' here? I don’t like the way he looks at… I just don’t like him.”

You appreciated him looking out for you. It must have been a wolf thing. Joel was just naturally protective. “It’s fine. I promise. I know he’s kind of odd.” The two of you walked deeper into the house through a foyer hallway and into a living room. You scrunched your nose at the pea green color of Gavriil’s walls⏤ recalling the familiar walls with disdain. “But he’s a nice guy overall. He’s just…” Your words came to a halt as your eyes landed on a two foot by two foot sized picture of you and Gavriil still hanging on the wall. A table covered in rose petals and unlit candles sat under it. “…insane.”

“I cannot express to you how happy I was to receive your text, my queen.” Gavriil sighed. He must have noticed that you were still staring at the wall in shock. He chuckled, “I know. Beautiful, right? That was such a wonderful day.”

To be honest, you literally could not recall the day he was referencing. You were obviously in the picture and were out with him, but for the life of you there was no memory of that moment in your mind. You slowly shook your head, “Gavriil, this is…”

“Yes?”

“Look, I thought I made the text clear, this is strictly a business visit.” You said firmly. You motioned back to Joel. “This is Joel Miller. I’m currently working with him on a case⏤”

“I know what you said, but I can read between the lines.” Gavriil hummed. This had always been the problem with the warlock. He was delusional with the state of your relationship, and the pedestal he had placed you on was so uncomfortable. It tended to make your skin crawl. It wasn’t devotion or loyalty⏤ it was possession and obsession to a dizzying degree. “Let me get the two of you a drink. We can get around to the spell, and then afterwards the two of us…”

Gavriil was reaching out for you again. You were prepared to sidestep him and reiterate your boundaries, but Joel’s hand snapped out making you jump in surprise. Gavriil yelped as the wolf’s hand clamped down around his wrist. You turned your head to see his confusion from earlier had melted away into irritation. “It’s clear she don’t want you touchin' her.” Joel stepped closer but didn’t let go. “So either you keep your damn hands to yourself or I’ll rip 'em off. Got it?”

“G-Got it. I understand.” Gavriil blurted.

Joel roughly shoved the warlock’s hand back toward him. He focused back on you and you sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity of his gaze. Joel Miller was a werewolf with razor sharp claws and a snarling bite designed to kill, but the deadliest thing about this man had to be those brown eyes. Joel nodded, “You okay with that picture hangin' or you want it gone?”

“I… I’d like it gone.” You replied.

Gavriil jumped to try and pull it down, but Joel beat him to it. The wolf pulled the frame off the wall, slammed it onto the table so the glass of the frame shattered and tinkled to the floor, and when it was in pieces he took the picture itself. Gavriil watched, with terrified eyes, as Joel tore the picture to shreds right in front of him.

“This makin' my point clear or do I need to spell it out for you?” Joel demanded.

“Nope! I am⏤ I am on the same page.” Gavriil stumbled over his feet as he backpedaled down the hall. “Let’s do a, uh, spell! Spell time. Yeah, we can⏤ okay.”

The warlock rushed into a room stiff as a board and you let out an amused chuckle. Joel was already watching you when you shot a glance his way, and you shook your head, “You didn’t need to do all of that for me.”

“Was nothin'.” He shrugged.

“No, it was… thanks.” Joel gave you a small nod. “Anytime I’m mean to him, he just thinks I’m flirting with him.” You rolled your eyes.

You both drifted further down the hall. Joel shrugged, “I don’t think I’ll be havin' that problem with him.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think you will.” You grinned and pointed to your own eyes jokingly. “The homicide in your eyes really gets the point across.” Joel chuckled. “But who knows? Maybe next time we have to hustle the warlock for a spell there’ll be a Joel Miller shrine hanging up.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Gavriil’s casting room was as you remembered it as well, though you hadn’t spent much time in here at all. Dark walls to match the deep red carpet, windows painted black, a circular table at the center covered in an ivory colored cloth, and the bookshelves lining the floors were overflowing with more than just aged books. Bones, greenery, feathers, and things you couldn’t even recognize from a singular glance. Tools and tricks of his trade. When you stepped in, you scrunched your nose at the sharp smell of magic hanging in the air. It tickled your nose the same way antiseptic cleaners would but there was a sickly sweet undertone lingering with it.

“For fuck’s sake.” Joel barked out gruffly.

“Sorry, I’ve been prepping for the spell.” Gavriil said while pulling things off his shelf to stack on the table. He rustled through a cabinet to find a golden thin, metal bowl that he set at the center of the table. “I know it’s strong. If you want you can wait outside⏤”

“Tryin' to get her alone??” Joel replied gruffly.

“Gods, no!” Gavriil balked and stumbled over his words before burying himself in boxes of his ingredients. He murmured under his breath and you could almost see the cold, panicked sweat dripping down the back of his neck. His hand shook as he found candles to light.

You sat down at the table and Joel took the seat beside you. A chuckle left you, “You’re just screwing with him now.”

“Maybe.” Joel shrugged and you loved the sight of the slightly crooked smirk that briefly graced his face. “Can’t say it’s not fun.” Joel being intimidating Gavriil just to be a little shit hadn’t been a side of him you expected to see, but you found it amusing. He tilted his head, “This seriously your type though, sweetheart?”

“No. I told you it was a phase.” You argued. “I don’t have a type. Not really.” Joel raised an eyebrow at you mockingly and you resisted the urge to shove him. “I don’t! And if I did, my type wouldn’t be gangly, obsessive warlocks.”

“Gods, I hope not.”

Gavriil glanced over his shoulder, “You know I can hear you, right?”

“Yeah?” Joel scoffed. “So?”

“Right.” Gavriil turned back to his work. You shot Joel a dry look and the wolf just shrugged at you nonchalantly. A minute or so later, the warlock was sitting down across from you and Joel with an armful of supplies. “This spell won’t give you an address by any means, but it will allow you to see what the person can see. Hopefully, you can identify their location based on that. It’s a quick look, only a minute at most. The tricky issue with finding someone by name is names can be common. Can you shut the door?” Joel leaned back in his seat and stretched his long arm out to swing the door shut. The room darkened so the only light came from the candles now lit on the table. “I can limit our search area which helps but…”

You shook your head, “Our guy’s name is Din Djarin. As long as you limit it to Austin, I think we’ll be good.”

Gavriil pointed at you in agreement and began to dust out a crushed red powder in concentric lines on top of the ivory cloth and surrounding the bowl. He poured water into the bowl, about halfway up, and sprinkled more ingredients into it. In terms of magic, you knew a spell or two off the top of your head, but those were two part spells that any chump off the street could pull off with the right materials. Nothing to the immense degree that Gavriil was putting together right now.

“The more minds working on this the better.” Gavriil said. “Place your hands on the basin and think his name in your head. Focus only on that name.”

You settled your hands on your side of the basin alongside Joel, and his fingers pressed against yours. His skin was warm, unsurprising for a wolf, but you didn’t expect to fill you with a heat of your own. From where his fingers rested on top of yours, up your arm, into your chest, and down to your core, you felt ablaze. Enough so that you nearly pulled away in shock. If Joel was affected by the touch, he didn’t show it. His face remained folded in careful, gruff concentration. You forced your gaze to the rim of the bowl and tried to shove every other thought out of your head save for the Mandalorian’s name. It didn’t extinguish the fire now burning in your chest, but it would have to do.

Gavriil began to murmur words in a language you didn’t recognize and an unusual breeze filled the air. The water in the basin began to swirl and the ingredients that had been floating at the top drowned into the water and dissolved until the water itself began to glow a light blue.

You were yelling the Mandalorian’s name in your head desperately. If this didn’t work you’d be back to useless with nothing to offer the wolf but condolences. Gavriil shouted a few more words and the candles blew out leaving the room in the dim glow of the water. An image began to swirl to life and simultaneously the three of you rose from your seats to peer in.

“That’s funny.” Gavriil hummed. You narrowed your eyes at the image glowing in the bowl. It was a plain hallway with ugly pea green walls and the door Din Djarin was apparently staring at looked suspiciously like the door you had walked through only moments ago. “Looks like my⏤”

The realization clicked with both you and Joel at the same time. Unfortunately, it was the same second that Din Djarin kicked down the door. The vampire came barreling through the door in his armor and slammed it directly into Joel who was sent to the ground with a grunt. In one movement, the Mandalorian flipped the table to take Gavriil down, not that the yelping warlock required much work, and a gloved hand clamped around your throat. You clawed uselessly at the hand as Din dragged you out into the hall to slam you into the wall.

You hissed in pain and your eyes widened as you found yourself staring at your own reflection as the Mandalorian’s helmet sat inches away from your face. In a low, deadly voice⏤ modulated by his armor⏤ he spoke a string of rushed Mando’a followed by English.

“Why are you searching for me? Who sent you?” He squeezed tighter around your neck and you winced in pain. Din pushed you harder against the wall as he barked out, “Where is Grogu!?”

You didn't have the air to voice your confusion, but it didn't matter. A large body tackled the armored man and you dropped to the ground gasping for air. You rubbed your neck instinctively and stared wide eyed as a monstrous sized, brown wolf wrestled the Mandalorian to the ground. They were a blur of russet and silver.

“Joel!” You cried out in concern. It was hard to see who had the upper hand. Every time Joel seemed to get ahead the vampire managed to slip out of his jaws, and whenever Din Djarin had him pinned down the wolf managed to twist away. All that actually mattered was the flash of red. They were crashing through Gavriil’s furniture, but the smears of red blood against the warlock’s carpet called out to you like a siren’s song. Joel was bleeding.

You sprinted back into the spell room and cursed when you saw a bookcase of materials had been knocked over. Based on the shreds of clothing scattering the floor by the splintered wood, you assumed that had been Joel. Quickly, still hearing the sounds of the fight, you scrambled for two familiar ingredients. You found the first, phoenix ash, but the second was eluding you.

“Gavriil! Where’s your dragon’s breath!?” You yelled. Gavriil whimpered in response as he hid under the remains of his table. You picked up a book and threw it at him. “Gavriil! Dragon’s breath! Now!”

The warlock crawled to the side, wincing when another loud crack came from the living room, and rooted inside a drawer before holding out a thin circular jar filled with the volatile air. You snatched it from his hand and opened the first lid to push in as much of the phoenix ash as you could then rushed back out to the living room while shaking it in your hand. You could feel the glass beginning to grow hot.

Din and Joel remained tangled with one another in a fight and as much as you wanted to help you knew getting in between the two able bodies would crush you in a second. Their combined strength would grind your bone to dust.

The jar was beginning to burn against your skin, but the moment you waited for came. Din grasped Joel by the fur and threw him hard enough into the unlit fireplace that bricks shook loose. You sprinted forward to jump onto Din’s back⏤ wrapping around him like monkey. Din’s hands reached back to grab you by arm and he flipped you over his shoulder. You hit the ground, losing all the air in your lungs, but as he was bent over and still in your face, you clapped your hands together and smashed the thin, burning glass in your hands. A bright flash of burning light went off directly in his face. Helmet or no helmet, with the bottled sunlight going off so close to him, Din grunted in pain and fell back and collapsed in a heap of silver armor.

That bought you at least a few minutes.

The downside to setting off the spell directly into Din’s face was that it had also succeeded in blowing back on you. You weren’t a vampire so it didn’t knock you out, and you had closed your eyes in time to avoid blinding yourself, but your cheeks burned as if you had been out in the sun too long. You felt shards of glass resting on your face but your hands stung too much to try and rub them away.

“Fuck.” Joel’s voice was suddenly in your space, he grunted out your name. Those same hot hands cupped one side of your face while the other carefully brushed away the shards of glass. “Sweetheart, open your eyes.” You slowly blinked your eyes open, wincing a bit, and were met with Joel’s eyes blown wide with worry. “There you go. Good girl.”

“Got him.” You croaked followed by a groan. Joel was kneeling beside you and he helped you sit up. “Are you…” Joel’s nose was bleeding and blood covered his teeth and stained his lower lip. Bruises lined his body and you caught sight of a cut on his side, but your gaze was derailed. Your eyes had set out on an innocent mission of ensuring he was safe and took a sharp nose dive into admiration. Joel had freckles on his broad shoulders, ones born of being out in the sun, and somehow he looked even more broad naked. Your gaze traced down his chest, peppered in dark and silver hair, to the small pudge of belly and then down to⏤ Your eyes snapped back up to his and you didn’t know how it was physically possible but your face burned hotter now than it did seconds ago with a literal handheld bomb going off above you. “Okay.” Joel’s brow furrowed and you cleared your throat. “Are you okay?? The fight?”

Joel shook his head, “I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry 'bout me.”

“You don’t look fine.” Mindlessly, you reached out and brushed your thumb against the corner of his mouth where a bit of blood escaped. The touch lasted a second before you were snatching your hand back into your own personal space. “The um… the vampire.”

You turned in place, away from the very naked Joel Miller, and over to where Din Djarin still laid on the ground. Gavriil had come out of the room and your eyes widened when you saw he had drawn a large containment circle around the fallen vampire. He gave you a tight lipped smile, “I helped.”

“You did.” You blew out a tired breath and glanced back at Joel with a tight lipped smile. “He did.”

Joel groaned in exhaustion.

You sat cross legged on the floor staring at the vampire who was bound to wake up soon. Joel was off with Gavriil seeking out a pair of pants or some kind of covering, and you absentmindedly rubbed at your neck. Of all the parts of you that hurt, your neck was the least of your problems, but being pinned against the wall by your throat at the hands of a Mandalorian had been jarring. The entire moment had been so high adrenaline. You were only just now grasping everything that had happened.

There was a quiet gasp and you straightened your posture as the Mandalriaon sat up quickly. His head swiveled to the sides taking in the scene before landing on you. You awkwardly gave a wave, “Hi. Me again.” You shrugged. “Sorry about the bottled sunlight, but you were tossing around my friend so… I think we’re kind of even, you know?”

“Who are you?” He demanded, voice hoarse.

You quickly introduced yourself then motioned to him, “And you are Din Djarin. Right?” The Mandalorian didn’t respond. “That’s okay. Don’t actually need confirmation.” You cleared your throat and rubbed at your neck again. “So, is Grogu your kid?”

Din tensed, shoulders went stiff, before he jumped to his feet. You startled at the sudden movement, but Joel’s voice barked from down the hall. “Hey!” You pushed to stand and Joel rushed over. He wore a silk, kimono style bathrobe that ended mid thigh and strained against his wide shoulders. A laugh slipped out of you, and Joel turned to watch you slap a hand over your mouth. The navy blue silk decorated with a Japanese landscape and flowers was tied at his waist but you could still see most of his chest. Joel gave you a dry look and you shook your head⏤ keeping your hand locked over your mouth. Joel grumbled and turned back around. “Back off, bloodsucker.”

His voice still managed to carry the weight of his threat despite the ridiculous robe on him. You set a hand on his arm in reassurance. Joel held your stare for a beat before sighing and backing away from the trapped vampire. He crossed his arms and stood a step right behind you like a kimono covered guard dog. When you looked back to Din, you finally noticed the black ichor on his side. Vampires didn’t bleed⏤ not like we did at least.

“Shit.” You blurted and leaned to the side to try and see the origin of his wound. The suit under his armor was saturated in the black blood like fluid that oozed from his wound, and you could see torn material, but you couldn’t make out the degree of the injury. “You’re hurt.”

“Good.” Joel blurted.

You gave the wolf a glare that he didn’t wilt under and Din seemed to still no react to your reaction of his wounds. The air around you hung awkward and tense. Finally, you sighed and shifted your weight. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here.” You tried again. “You probably don’t recognize me, but yesterday morning⏤”

“I remember you.” Din cut you off curtly. “You were in the hallway. DMA Headquarters.”

“Yeah!” You nodded. “We passed one another. I spoke to the Captain right after you and I saw that you filed a missing persons report for your kid.” You motioned back to Joel. “This is Joel Miller. He came in later that afternoon for a similar reason. Him and I are working together to find his daughter and any other missing kid⏤ there’s been a weird amount of them this last month.” Din’s helmet tilted marginally and you wished you could see his face to garner a guess at how this was going. “We went to the Mandalorian coven to find you in hopes that maybe something you knew could help us.”

Din crossed his own arms, mimicking Joel’s stance, “I know. I was tipped off that someone was looking for me. That’s why I found you. I don’t need a human and a wolf chasing after me and getting in my way.”

“Fuckin' Mandalorian⏤” Joel grumbled.

You shot the wolf a light glare over your shoulder before turning back to Din. “Look, I know this isn’t an ideal situation by any means, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” You pasted on the best friendly smile you could muster. “Ipso facto, we’re friends!”

Joel and Din responded at the same time in an unsurprising way.

“We are not friends.”

“We ain’t friends with him.”

You blew out a breath and tried to get a handle on this again. “Look. I get it. Werewolves and vampires have been at each others’ throats for a millenia.” You clasped your hands together then winced at the stinging wounds that brushed against one another. “But you’re not that different.” Both men began to argue. “You’re both fathers.” Joel and Din went silent. “You’re fathers who would do anything to protect your kid, and right now that’s all that matters. Whether you guys like it or not, we’re on the same side.”

After a long pause that you prayed would end with agreement, Din shook his head, “How do you expect me to trust you either, human? You’re DMA and their hands have been in all of this. If the wolf had half a mind he wouldn't trust you either.”

“Well, actually I’m not officially⏤ wait, what?” You blurted. Din’s gaze was covered by dark glass, but you could still feel his stare boring into you. “The DMA… What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?”

You stepped forward, panicked and frazzled, and Joel’s hand wrapped around your wrist but you didn’t turn around, “Don’t know what??”

“The Division of Mythological Affairs is involved. Either in covering it all up or directly, I don’t know yet.” Din responded. Your jaw fell open to argue, but the words got caught in your throat. “I have an inside source. A siren that works with the DMA as an informant. She let it slip. That’s why I haven’t been back⏤ why I’m handling this alone.”

One of your hands lifted to rest on your forehead as you tried to wrestle together an argument. There was no reason to trust a vampire who had hearsay from a siren. There was no reason to believe that the DMA would have their hands in something so dirty. There was no reason for you to doubt the organization your mother had been a part of, the one you wanted to be a part of, except… Deep in your belly, there was a vague nagging suspicion. Not enough to vocalize, not enough to stomach, not enough to grasp. It left a shadow of doubt in your mind though and that made you nauseous.

You needed to talk to Captain Roberts.

Not listen to his voicemails or call him back.

No, you needed to sit down in front of him and demand answers.

At the very least, he could restore your good faith in the DMA and help you find the missing kids.

“How long has your child been missing?” Din suddenly asked.

Joel’s hand around your wrist, the one you just now noticed was still there, tightened at his question. He hummed, “It’ll be 48 hours tonight.”

“I assume they were taken from your home.” Din said. “Do you live in the Dripping Springs neighborhood?”

“Yeah, how’d you⏤”

“That’s where we were. The area at least, my son and I.” Din replied as his shoulders sunk. His next words were mostly mumbled to himself, “I never should have left him alone. I thought it would be safer, I was on a hunt, but…”

Determined, you tugged your hand away from Joel to kneel down and begin rubbing a break in the containment circle. Joel grasped your shoulder with a warning hiss. Gavriil, who you thought had stepped outside to hide, cried out in alarm. You hushed away their worries and broke the circle. When you stood back up, Din was closer. Nearly chest to chest, but you kept your shoulders back and your chin high.

“We’re gonna save them. Ellie.” You motioned back to Joel. Then you nodded toward Din, “Grogu.” The vampire stiffened. “All the kids. We’re gonna find and save them, but we’re stronger together than apart.” You sucked in a breath to settle your nerves. “Please, Din, will you help us? Will you let us help you?”

The silence that filled the room was achingly long, but Din finally gave a curt nod of his head. You couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief. It was official. You had managed to string together the weirdest team in history, but it was a team nonetheless. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Now, to catch us up to speed, I assume you’ve already tried a finding spell?” You asked. Din tilted his head at you deadpan. “Right. And it didn’t work. So, taken from the same region about the same time, both your son and his daughter can’t be found via tracking spell. I think that’s enough evidence to say this has to be connected. Although, I can’t figure out what the kids would have in common. A vampire and⏤”

“Grogu is not a vampire. Not… entirely, at least.” Din said. “I don’t think his other half is human, but to be honest I couldn’t guess the other side of his genetic makeup.”

“So, he’s mixed, just like…” You glanced back at Joel who looked surprised himself.

It wasn’t surprising for a Mandalorian to adopt a non-vampire child. They had a tendency to pick up stray humans as well. But if you had learned one thing from your mother it was this⏤ there are no coincidences in this line of work. If you didn’t have a good enough reason to visit Roberts at DMA Headquarters before you sure as hell did now. You wanted to look at the other missing person cases and see how many of those kids were mixed.

“I need to meet with someone. Joel, I’ll drive you to my place first so you can pick up your truck.” You said. “Then we can meet up at my place later today? After I, uh, get some more information.” Joel seemed agreeable and his dark eyes stayed narrowed at Din as if waiting for the vampire to annoy him in some other way. However, Din just bobbed his head once⏤ ignoring the wolf. You passed Din to step into the kitchen and rooted through a kitchen drawer to fetch a notepad and pen. “Here. Let me write down my address.”

“I already know where you live.” Din responded as you scribbled it down.

“You already…Wait, you already know where I⏤” You looked up to question him further but somehow the vampire was just gone. You scanned the living room as if his large, silver form would be hiding behind Gavriil’s skinny form or if he’d be cowered under the remains of the couch. “Oh.”

“Fuckin' fanged stalker.” Joel grumbled.

You tossed aside the notepad. If Din knew where you lived already, you wondered if that meant he had been following you and Joel all morning⏤ or even last night. Gavriil cleared his throat and you and Joel focused on him. He wrung his hands, “This has been fun, and it has been so good to see you, but erm…” The warlock scrunched his features up as he sought out his words. “Can you both leave?”

A sheepish smile flickered on your features, “Right. Thanks so much, Gavriil. Sorry about the…” You motioned out to the absolutely wrecked living room. “The mess.” The warlock was quick to usher you both our of his home and the last word you got in was the promise to send him some money to make up for the damages⏤ though you doubted you had the kind of money to fix much of this.

Standing outside his door, Joel hummed, “Good news, I don’t think he’ll be botherin' you ever again.”

“True.” You nodded and shot him a smirk. “Also, you got that really cool robe.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

The best part of screening all your calls, and purposefully ignoring Roberts’, meant that you had technically not been fired yet. Can’t be fired if you refuse to talk to your boss. Nima had called you on your way in to check in on you after yesterday, and you got to inform her that you were working with a werewolf and a vampire to find missing children. Not just any werewolf or vampire either. A werewolf with no pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. You managed to render Nima speechless which was not an easy feat.

“Just please, please, please be careful.” She pleaded over the phone. “This sounds dangerous as hell.”

“I will, Nima.” You reassured.

“Yeah? Because from what I hear, you’ve already been choked out by a Mandalorian and you visited your weirdo ex.”

You nodded. “In my defense, the Mandalorian didn’t choke me out. He just…grabbed me roughly.” Without saying a word, you could hear her skepticism somehow. “Plus! Thanks to Joel, I don’t think Gavriil is gonna bother me again.”

“Really??”

As you walked into the Headquarters, keeping your head down, you told her about what Joel had done for you. You were half distracted during your story telling trying to keep an eye out for any face that could mean you trouble.

“We also destroyed half his house so that could be part of it.” You mumbled at the end of your story. You peered around the corner to see Captain Roberts’ personal assistant still sitting at the desk outside his office. The Captain usually ended up staying late. He had a bad habit of letting his work seep into after hours, but he never forced his assistant to linger with him. She left on time, and being that it was a few minutes after five she had to be leaving soon.

“Interesting.” Nima said. You pulled back around the corner and hid off to the side on your phone. “Sounds like he was very… protective over you.”

You snorted, “He’s a wolf, Nima. That’s kind of their thing.”

“Yeah, for their pack, which you said he does not have,” Nima replied, “Or…”

“Or?”

“Babe, do I really need to say it?”

“That would be helpful, yes.”

Nima scoffed, “He’s into you!”

You shook your head immediately as if she’d be able to see your disbelief, “No. His daughter is missing and⏤”

“I’m not saying he’s gonna be making a move. Obviously, his priorities are on his family as they should be, but I think it speaks to some level of interest that he’s instinctively protective of you.”

“That’s⏤ You’re⏤ No.”

It was a weak argument, but you couldn’t let your mind get stuck on that line of thought. It was distracting enough that you could easily recall the strong lines of his bare body. If you started picturing the taste of his skin on your tongue, or the warmth the brush of his hand alone could bring, you’d drown in your desire at just the sight of him. Right now, with the stakes being what they are, you couldn’t afford to let anything slow you down.

Nima began to argue when you spotted the very pregnant assistant leave her desk and start walking down the hall away from you. “Nima, I gotta go.”

You waited until she was in the elevator and off the floor entirely before hurrying around the corner to Roberts’ office. The door was locked with a code, but it was one you knew by heart. Once in, you shut the door behind you and began to search his office. Any missing persons report got stored with the Captain for at least a few months. Once enough time had passed, or if the case was solved, it got moved to the digital records alone. All of the kid cases you wanted to see would still be active.

The stack you were able to find in the filing cabinet was about half of the ones filed. You couldn’t find any others, but this would at least be a start. You dropped down into the Captain’s chair and began to flip through the case files. The main information you were seeking didn’t take long. Half-nymph. Half-vampire. Half-siren. Half-fae. Half-djinn. It was the trend you thought you might find. Just like Ellie and Grogu, all the other kids were mixed. You threw aside the folders and sunk in the chair. This was plainly obvious to see. It was a pattern that anybody off the street could look at and notice.

How could an entire organization, skilled and trained Agents, look at this and not see it?

Din’s words haunted you and you felt ill.

Realistically, you should leave now before you got caught, but you needed answers. You needed someone to look you in the eyes and admit to this disaster. You sat in Roberts’ chair waiting, knowing he’d have to be back eventually, but after ten minutes of wallowing in the worst case scenario thoughts that flooded your mind you began to nosily root around his desk drawers. In the drawer on the same side of his computer, you found a picture of Roberts and your mother. It reminded you a lot of the picture you kept of you and your mother at your graduation. They were celebrating and there was pride in Roberts’ eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Your eyes snapped up to see the Captain standing in his doorway with his eyes narrowed at you in annoyance. You shook your head, “Nobody has fired me yet.”

“First, that is not the winning loophole you think it is.” Roberts replied and came around his desk. You stood from the chair and circled at the same time so your positions were reversed. “Second, I meant what are you doing in my office?”

“Finding answers.”

“Did you find them?”

You stayed silent and just stared. Roberts’ looked more worn down than before, exhausted, and the tired lines were carved into his aged features. He sat down in his chair and readjusted the mess you left on his desktop. “The missing kids.” You blurted. “Tell me the DMA is working on solving the case and they aren’t involved in any other unsavory way.”

“Cases. Plural.”

“No. Case.” You corrected again. “And the fact that nobody else sees that makes me seriously question what’s going on here.” Roberts remained silent. “You not giving me a straight answer isn’t helping, Roberts.”

“Kid, it’s not that simple⏤”

“No.” You repeated yourself, and you felt anger began to boil under your skin. “It is that simple. Hell, it’s black and white. Is the DMA looking the other way on this case purposefully??”

Roberts leaned back in his chair and his fingers drummed against the desk. You were too amped up to sit down. It was a miracle you weren’t pacing the floor in front of him. Finally, he flattened his hand on the desk and sighed, “The DMA now is not the DMA your mother was familiar with. Things have changed and not for the better.” You knew what his answer was most likely to be, but hearing it in his voice made it all the more real. “We are not actively pursuing the case.”

“Are you fucking kidding me⏤”

“Look⏤”

“They’re kids, Roberts!” You slammed your hands on his desk. “Literal children! The youngest I saw in the case files I found was a 2 year old!” Roberts at least had the decency to look ashamed at your outburst. “You’re okay with this??”

His eyebrows furrowed into a glare, “Of course, I’m not⏤”

“Then why aren’t you doing anything!?”

“My hands are tied!” Captain Roberts roared. It was the loudest you had heard him raise his voice at you and it was filled with desperation. “I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t, and the powers that be will not allow a low level Captain rock the boat.” Roberts always seemed to carry so much responsibility and respect that hearing him refer to himself as low level felt wrong. “They’ll get rid of me in a heartbeat and put someone in this office who will actively try to please them instead of just appeasing them when necessary.” Roberts scoffed. “The system is broke.”

You threw a hand up, “Then let’s fix the system.”

Roberts stared at you for a long moment before sighing, “You sound just like your mother.” He locked his jaw and rubbed his face once before adding. “She thought she could change the world too.”

“Roberts…”

His eyes darted beyond you, up to the wall where a clock sat, and he stood up, “You need to leave.” You began to argue. “This is not up for debate, kid.” Roberts pulled out a drawer to root around until he found one of his business cards. He flipped it over to scribble on the back. Roberts came around the desk to shove it into your hand and began to push you toward the door. “Find Agent Brancato. He’s undercover and I’m not the lead on his unit so I can’t offer any leaders, but he can help.”

“Roberts, come with me.” You turned on your heels to face him. “Help me find him and solve the case. Together we can⏤”

“I can’t, kid.” He sighed and reached out to squeeze your shoulder. His eyes scanned your features, “Your mother meant a lot to me. She was the daughter I never had and…” Roberts shook his head. “I wish you would let this go, but I know you won’t because she wouldn’t. Just please be careful.”

“I will.” You mumbled. A million more questions lingered in your mind, but Roberts was shutting his office door before a single one could be uttered. You stood there a little longer in hopes that the Captain would reopen the door and offer you more concrete answers, but it remained sealed shut. You heaved a sighed and began to leave.

The card in your hand had the name ‘Tim Brancato’ written on the back with no further information. It wasn’t a name you were familiar with, but if he worked in the undercover world that made sense. He wouldn’t be very good at his job if you had heard of him. You could always twist Gavriil’s arm into another name finding spell, but this name was a lot more common if you had to guess. Plus, most Agents warded themselves against that kind of spell.

The parking garage was empty which wouldn’t normally worry you at this time, but a ball of anxiety sat heavy in your gut right now. Maybe it was just the talk with Roberts that had put you on edge. You took steady steps to your vehicle but they slowed when you spotted someone by your car. Miles Jackson had his arms crossed as he leaned against the back of your car. You tensed at the sight of him. He caught your eye and lifted his hand to give you a mocking wave. Before you could react, rough hands grabbed you from behind and a bag was pulled over your head.

You screamed in alarm but a thick and heavy hand clamped down over your mouth through the bag. Multiple hands manhandled you and dragged you across the parking garage floor. You threw your elbows back and tried to kick out, but without a line of vision your attacks were useless. A car door slid open nearby, one found on a van, and you were suddenly shoved forward. You grunted in pain when your knees hit the metal of the van’s back.

“Get off me!” You screamed and thrashed but a knee pressed down in the middle of your spine.

As soon as the pressure was applied it was immediately taken off and you heard the familiar sounds of a fight filled the air. You scrambled to get the bag off of your head as something heavy hit the van hard enough to shake the entire thing. The second you had the bag off, you flipped over to face out the door and drew your gun. Panting, you held it at the ready, but the person standing outside the van door hadn’t been what you expected.

“Din?” You breathed.

He had his hand tangled in the jacket of an unfamiliar man who was half unconscious and weakly thrashing. Din’s helmeted gaze met yours and with little effort he threw the man in his arm back. You heard the heavy body hit the ground.

“Are you alright?” Din asked. You were still trying to let the shock wear off, and Din surprised you by holding out a hand. It shook you out of your disbelief. You took his hand and he helped pull you out of the van⏤ letting go of you as soon as you were on your feet. Two other men were lying unconscious at Din’s feet.

“Where did you… How did you…” You tried to decide which question you wanted to ask first.

“I didn’t trust you.” Din responded. “No offense.” You blinked and slid your gun back into the holster. “I saw you were coming here and I had to be certain you weren’t with them.”

“With them?”

Din nodded back toward the building you had left, “The DMA.”

You rubbed your face briefly and scanned the ground. “There should be one more guy. Miles Jackson.”

“A man got into his car and sped away. I didn’t give chase. Should I have?”

You pushed past Din to reach the barrier of the parking garage and peered over the edge. You were on the third floor and as you scanned the roads below you spotted Jackson’s flashy, red camaro. As he sped away, the vehicle faded into the distance⏤ merging with the red and orange hues that decorated the dusk skyline. “No.” You heaved a sigh and shook your head. “We gotta get out of here. I got the info we needed.”

“And that is?”

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the card to hold out to the vampire beside you. His gloved fingers took it from you so he could read both sides. “That man. Tim Brancato. We find him, we find answers.”

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theetherealbloom · 1 year

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UNEVEN ODDS — CH. 3

Chapter Three: Light Carries On Endlessly Even After Death

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, tiny fluff, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Singing, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, Zombies, eventual SMUT, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N: This chapter is inspired by a mix of quotes and songs! Super unrelated, but it occurred to me, if I was in TLOU universe, I would not survive. I need my antidepressants and immediately would call it quits LMAO. (I know dark humor sorry :,) If you want to see my thought process (idk if you want to) I’ll put it at the end notes! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and notes! I genuinely appreciate it and it means alot to me <3

Song: Make You Feel My Love by Adele

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD — 2023

TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON – DUSK

You trek your way into the forest, you hear your footsteps squishing through the mud and dirt, and the pounding of your breath. The sun is beginning to set, dusk then brings you moonlight, a time to reflect on the day that has past and look forward to the day that will be refreshed by the glow of the sun. It is the time when the birds sing farewell till the stars call them to sleep under the wings. Each color intensifies in beautiful solemnity, uniting in the darkness.

No one spoke for the entirety of the hike, the silence carries your melancholy, yet it is a permanent friend of your subconsciousness. The deafness is only broken by ragged breaths and the beating of human hearts. Joel comes to a stop, his back facing you and Ellie as he speaks, “We’ll camp here for the night. I’ll take watch.”

You look to Ellie who merely shrugs, the two of you say nothing and begin to set up camp on the forest floor. You hear the rushing water of a river nearby and realize where you’ve ended up. Placing your backpack on the floor, you raise your arms and stretch to the sky, undoing the painful knots in your back and neck. You let out a sigh of relief and prepare for the inevitable. Joel calls out your name and you turn to face him, ready to take on the brunt of his pain and rage.

His eyebrows lower slightly, and the tone of his voice goes down a pitch, “You and I need to talk.” You take an uneasy breath and nod in agreement despite the sweat coating both palms. He takes a step closer to you and asks, “Did you know?” he raises his voice a little, “Did you know about Tess?” You look down in shame and whisper, “Yes.”

It takes everything he has to keep his control, jaw clenched and narrowed eyes, “Why?” he says. A question so simple, a three-letter word holding so much weight, and so much anger towards you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You swallow and avoid responding, choosing silence over an argument. He scoffs and shakes his head, and you cross your arms across your chest. The more he fumed, the smaller you made herself.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, and only look up to see his broad shoulders and back facing you, he mumbles with a quiet rage, “I’m gonna go check the area and make sure it’s safe and that there aren’t any infected nearby.”

“This ain’ gonna work if you keep hidin’ secrets from me Hummin’ bird.” He turns and walks away, disappearing into the woods. “Well, that was dramatic.” You turn to find Ellie sitting comfortably, back resting against the pine tree in a crisscross position, you open your mouth to ask if she was okay but decided against it. Instead, you nod, “Yeah. I’m, um, sorry about that.” Ellie only shrugs, “He must’ve loved her or something.” Your gaze softens as you whisper into the cool navy twilight, “Or something.”

YOUR ORIGINAL OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE — JANUARY 2023, NOON

WASHINGTON STATE UNIVERSITY, FUNDAMENTAL QUANTUM PHYSICS LAB

The sleeves of your white lab coat itch your arms as you focused on typing up your report. The clacking sound of your keyboard could be heard from around the lab as you typed. You were invited to assist in a study focusing on quantum mechanics and theory. The lab wasn’t as busy today, most of them had decided to join the conference that was being held at Harvard, busy networking and connecting with possible investors or fellow researchers.

It was only you and Adam that was left in the lab, his excuse was he would rather put acid in his eyes than shake hands and give fake niceties. He’s nearby testing his new hypothesis, and decides to make conversation with you, “If we manage to prove this, then it is possible, somewhere in the many worlds, a pandemic happened earlier in a different universe.” You roll your eyes in amusement, “Yeah, I guess so.” You’re in thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think humanity won? Like, they overcame it?” He hums, “Maybe. Or maybe they lost.” You snort and throw a careless joke, “Everyone would blame our shitty government and us, the scientists. How ignorant must you be for it to happen twice?”

“Well, all disaster movies start with a scientist being ignored.” He says matter-of-factly, and you give no response, and you continue typing up your report. Silently hoping that if it were true, that humanity would still have hope, small but just enough to let the shine through, and believe that they haven’t lost yet. You look at the time and log out of your work computer, packing up your things, and asking Adam if he would like to join you for lunch he politely declines, so you bid him farewell as you head out the doors to step on the grey pavement of the campus and make your way to a nearby restaurant. It’s a beautiful day, you think to yourself, clear blue skies and a cool breeze that caresses your skin. You take notice of the blue butterfly fluttering its wings and flying right past you, you smile as it leaves an afterimage of change.

TLOU WORLD — 2023

TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON — CIVIL TWILIGHT DAWN

You wake up with a deep inhale, your eyes struggle to open, and try to understand where you were. Tired from the dream, well, a memory that replayed like a cassette tape on a player that pressed rewind. You blink a couple of times before rubbing your eyes awake and retrace your steps in your mind as you recall what happened last night, only to remember giving Ellie your jacket and waiting up for Joel to come back from scouting the area for any signs of danger.

You sit up a little straighter and crack the aching parts of your neck, you look next to yourself and see Ellie lightly snoring up against a tree, still asleep. You look at the familiar jacket draped over your body that had kept you warm during the cold night. Joel must’ve placed it on top of you when he found you barely awake and functioning.

You can’t help but smile and feel your heart flutter at the thought of him taking care of you. You feel the muscles of your cheeks tighten as you try to hide away your smile and hoist yourself up quietly, not wanting to disturb Ellie’s slumber. Letting Joel’s jacket drape off of your shoulders, you use your hands to hold the collar, creating a cape that drapes behind you.

You head towards the sound of the stream, it burbles as it travels along its bed, bubbling over rocks and branches. It was a delicate duck-egg blue, like the delicate sweep of a painter's brush. It snuck and snuck its way past all impediments, even the river's stones. Twigs spun across its murmuring surface, small messengers from the mountain trees that had brought them there. The creek rushed across the riverbed's pebbles. It sounded like a starling flock's airy, silky spin.

In the background, the mountains stood silently, a sullen presence of sky-punching glory. Snow brooches adorned their lofty peaks, which were encircled in angel-white wreaths. A weeping torrent cascaded down the granite wall. It appeared to be a silk-blue slide pouring down the mountain. It looked to be bound in silver as it carried its burden of ice crystals. It emitted a distant thrumming sound, similar to the constant rumble of a drum roll. It glowed brightly as it fed the riverbed, the forest's lifeblood. It was a breathtaking sight.

Your gaze turns to fine Joel’s figure kneeling, hunched over, and quietly picking stones from the river’s edge. You watch from a distance as he silently stacks a pile of stones to create a cairn, a memorial for Tess. You make sure your footsteps can be heard as you approach him, but he gave no acknowledgment as you decide to sit atop a large rock. It takes a while before he looks at you, and finds you staring right through him with sorrowful eyes.

You let out a huff of air before speaking in a neutral tone, “I don’t mean to keep secrets from you. If I had come here a day before the pandemic, a day before your birthday, I would have done everything to make sure this never happened.” You paused for a moment then continued, “You asked me why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you because I thought I could do it on my own. I’ve been doing this for my whole life, keeping the peace and fixing things by myself, and I got it right every time. And the one time I get it wrong it cost someone’s life.”

You feel your voice quiver as you spoke, eyes darting to look past him, afraid of the rage and grief he feels, “Someone you loved is gone. I’m sorry, Joel. But God, I know that will never be enough and no amount of apologies will bring her back. I had a chance and I fucked up. If I could… If I could press rewind and trade her life for mine I would if that would make it any better for you.”

“No.” Joel states and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and slowly bring your eyes to look at him, “No?” And he shakes his head and picks up another rock as he says, “I accept your apology, but stop doin’ that.” You tilt your head quizzically, “Don’t do what?” He gruffly replies, “Minimize your life as if it doesn’t matter. As if it ain’t just as important.” She felt her breathing pause and peered intently at him before trying to argue, “But–” He shuts her down before she could go on, “Stop it, as you said, no amount of apologizin’ is gonna bring her back. She’s gone. I made a promise to her that I’m plannin’ on keepin’, you gonna help me or not?”

That throws you off balance, you expected him to lash out, maybe throwing a rock or two at you, not this. Slowly you nod, “Yes. Yes, I will.” Joel looks and searches for any form of malice or lies and finds none. He simply stretches his arm to you, the rock he previously took from the river’s edge, and holds it out to you like an olive branch. You slide off the rock you were sitting on and take the rock from his hand, crouching down and quietly placing it on top of the cairn.

You stare at the pile of rocks for a moment, quiet in thought, but then Joel says your name in a whisper that wouldn’t even fog the glass, you raise your eyes to look at him as he asks, “Was she, in your world, did she, um, already um…” And you already know what he’s wondering before he tries and say the words, so you save him the trouble of continuing, giving him a nod you reply solemnly, “Yes.”

“And when we get to Bill and Frank’s? What do you know about that?” He says, and you blink back your tears, flashbacks of that episode occur in your mind, remembering their love for each other and what would happen once we got there. You apologetically smile at him, “Out of respect for the both of them. It’s best to find out when you get there.”

His eyebrows arch inwards in concern, “Are they okay?” And you hesitate, thinking how to appropriately word this without lying, but then you remember, “Yes, they’re content.”

Joel’s eyes look back down at the cairn the decides to get up. You see him hold out his hand for you, and you take it to hoist yourself up. “Let’s go back and see if Ellie’s awake.” He states, then let’s go of your hand, making his way back to the kid. You stand there for a second, glancing at the pile of stones that represent her legacy, then back at Joel, you decide to walk forward toward your future beginning to unfold.

TEN MILES WEST OF BOSTON — DAY

The sound of birds chirping can be heard as you walk behind Joel, finding Ellie awake with her sitting upright with her knees pulled to her chest and your jacket still being used as a makeshift blanket. Joel goes through his pack to get a bark of food and Ellie breaks the silence to question you, “You want your jacket back?”

You nod and grab it from her as she holds it out to you, putting it on, you remove Joel’s brown jacket to place it on top of Ellie. Her face drops, “Seriously?” And you shrug to whisper, “You guys need to talk too.” You begin to pack up and wear your backpack.

Joel takes a bite from his food only to crumple the wrapper to throw it at Ellie as if she was some dog. You look at him in slight annoyance as Ellie rolls her eyes and takes picks it up from the ground to also take a bite of food. He makes himself busy as he adjusts the strap of his worn-out backpack, trying to ignore the kid, but Ellie is persistent, “I’ve never been in the woods.” She chews before continuing, “More bugs than I thought.” Joel doesn’t respond, disregarding her statement, and fidgets with the buckles and straps. Ellie huffs, her shoulders tense and her voice louder as says, “Look, I’ve been thinking about…”

Joel shoots straight up to swing his backpack over his shoulder, “I don’t want your sorries.” Your eyes swing over to Ellie as she retorts, “I wasn’t gonna say I’m sorry. I was gonna say I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or Tess take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan.” Joel stands there as he listens to her go on, “You needed a truck battery or whatever and you made a choice.” Then her voice lowers an octave and slightly quivers, “So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”

Joel has his jaw clenched and you could see the vein in his neck preparing to burst, but all he does is give a silent nod at Ellie, then she looks away. Joel picks up his rifle and Ellie stands up to walk to him, backpack, and food, in one hand and Joel’s jacket in the other. She stretches out her arm for Joel to take it from her, a truce, as he gently grabs it and folds it. A small smile stretches across your face and you relax.

“How much longer?” Ellie asks him, and he responds calmly, “Five-hour hike.” The kid nods and states, “We can manage that.”

You take note of the trees arching and twisting from above you, the leaves creating patterns with their shadows, and not a single blade of grass out of place. It’s surprisingly quiet and almost peaceful as you follow Joel and Ellie across the wooden bridge, letting your mind wander, and quietly hum tunes that remind you of home. And when you no longer wanted to hum, you reflected on what happened on September 26, 2003. When it all fell apart on Joel’s birthday. The day seemed so normal, with clear blue skies and a celebration of life between a father and a daughter. You should have known, but now you learn, blue skies were a sight you never trusted again.

“You’ve gone this way a lot? No infected?” Ellie asks, seemingly exhausted from not talking for so long. “Not often, no,” Joel replies, steadily looking for any form of danger, “What are you looking for?” And you respond for him, “People.” Ellie hums in acknowledgment, “Are Bill and Frank nice?” Joel replies lightly, “Frank is.” Glad you’re behind the two, and maybe it’s the past that’s talking, but flashes of their love come back to you in a blur.

Ellie continues asking Joel the question, “Where’d you get that scar on your head?” You frown at that and remember exactly how he got it, he sighs at her. “What? Is it something lame? Like you fell down the stairs or something?” Ellie teasingly said, and his whiskey-deep voice gravelly replied, “I didn’t fall down any stairs.”

“I fell down the stairs a lot in high school. Every year for four years.” You mumble your input without any thought and Ellie looks over at you with concern, “How the fuck are you still alive.” And you frown slightly, “To be honest, I have no fucking clue either.” The kid turns back to Joel, “Okay, so what then?” Ellie asks and Joel vaguely replies, “Someone shot at me and missed.”

“See, that’s cool. Did you shoot back?” The young girl states and looks at Joel with so much wonder and amazement, Joel glances at her and then responds, “Yeah.” Ellie continues, “You get him?” He’s practically done with her asking so many questions but replies anyway, “No, I missed too. It happens more often than you think.”

“Because you suck at shooting or, like, in general?” You then bite back a laugh at Ellie’s comment, however, your eyes crinkle as you do. Vexed, Joel turns to look at Ellie, then away from her, “In general.” You snort at his response and this time he looks over his shoulder to look at you and you stare right back at him.

Ellie glances at Joel’s revolver gun in its holder and looks back up at Joel, “You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us, and she has a gun already, I was thinking I should pro–” Joel doesn’t hesitate with his response, “No.” Ellie only rolls her eyes at his response and keeps quiet for a bit.

The three of you step over a fallen electric pole and turn a corner, “Cumberland Farms.” Ellie reads out the sign as you pass by it, Joel hurries his pace a bit before saying to you both, “Hang back a minute. I gotta grab some stuff I stashed.”

“Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?” Ellie asks still following Joel, irritated he says, “You ask a lot of goddamn questions.” She smirks, “Yes, I do.” Joel opens the door to the store, the sound of metal scraping against the floor as he does. “So, you gonna answer me or what?” Joel sighs and gives in, “We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear which I currently am because…”

“No way!” Ellie exclaims happily, and hurriedly makes her way to a Mortal Kombat machine, “You ever play this one?” You watch her mash buttons and mess with the joystick, while Joel lingers around, “I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There’s this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones.” She sighs, “Oh man.” You look to Joel, entertained by him looking through a bunch of junk, Ellie turns to notice what you're looking at, “You forgot where you put your stuff.”

Joel shakes his head and denies, “No. I’m just zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple of years.” You lightly laugh, your shoulders slightly bouncing up and down as you do, “So, what? You’re using echolocation to look for it?” Joel only glances at you and sighs. Ellie smiles and says, “Okay, well, I’m gonna take a look around. See if there’s anything good.” Joel kicks something and replies, “Trust me, it’s all been picked over already.” Ellie hums thoughtfully, “Maybe, maybe not.” She makes her way to an open door and asks, “Is there anything bad in here?”

“Just you.” He retorts, and Ellie sighs, “Ah, getting funnier.”

Joel shoves something and it doesn’t budge, “Fuck.” You laugh again at his struggle, and he looks at you unimpressed, “Do you, by any chance know where it is?” You smirk, “Yep.” He raises his eyebrows at you, “Do you wanna, maybe, I dunno, help me?” You twist your mouth to the side, cross your arms across your chest, and look up, mockingly thinking, “Eventually.”

Joel sighs at you, one hand on his hip as he does, then he says your name in a low-pitched voice, and you smile innocently at him from across the store. “And why won’t you tell me where it is?” You shrug and playfully say, “I like seeing you struggle.”

Electricity fills the air and you feel the warmth on your face, his brown eyes have now turned a shade darker than usual, and you watch him breathe a little deeper. Your tongue darts out a little bit to wet your lower lip and feel your heart race wildly. He stands there confidently, you notice his salt and pepper hair, his beautiful tan skin, and how the lines under his eyes and forehead remind you of maps you wish to trace your fingers on as they stretch, and there are too many miles to count.

Wide-eyed in realization, you open your mouth, finding words to explain or excuse yourself but found none. Closing your gaping mouth, you quickly turn around to walk out of the store. Joel says your name, low and thick, you can feel the vibrations through your bones, it stops you in your tracks with your back facing him, “Where do you think your goin’? Turn around.”

You close your eyes for a second and try to quiet your beating heart, you follow his command, like a puppet on a string. “Where is it?” He asks as you feel his stare roam all over your body even from the large gap between you two, and you blink owlishly at him and out of breath, “Um, it’s at, um…” You clear your throat and try again, “It’s at the end of the aisle, underneath the newspapers.”

“Come over here and help me lift this shit.” And your feet move forward to the man who is now crouched down and waiting for you. You kneel next to him, and as you tilt your head to look at him, you are now inches apart and unknowingly even closer at heart. You shyly look down on the piece of wood hiding his stash, “You should um, probably open it.”

He says nothing in response and you watch as he pulls his knife out and slices through the wood to create a small gap to lift it off the ground. You help him move it to the side, fingertips brushing against each other, feather-light touches that ignite a fire within you. In the corner of your eye, you see him begin to dig through the supplies he had left behind. It then occurs to you that you haven’t heard from Ellie in a while, you look to Joel with a concerned look, “We haven’t heard Ellie in a while,” you whisper.

He nods and proceeds to call for her, “Ellie?” He receives no response and the worry expands in your belly. Joel gets up and so do you, this time you try to call for her, “Ellie.” Getting nothing as well. Joel pulls out his revolver and turns to you, “Wait here.” You nod and follow his request, he approaches the door, “Ellie?” and she walks out fine and unscathed, “Picked over, my ass.” She says holding up a box of tampons.

You let out a sigh of relief, even though you knew she would be fine, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you that things could change for the better or worse in any situation. Your being in this universe has an effect now, especially the fact you’re running around with the two main characters of this story. Whatever you say or choose not to say will have repercussions if you’re not careful. That’s something you learned the hard way.

Joel puts his gun away as Ellie shoves her find into her pack. He kneels down to put away the green toolbox and rifle under his stash, Ellie watches and asks, “What are you doing?” He responds, “There’s not much ammo out there for this thing. Makes it mostly useless.” You help him put the board back on and to no one’s surprise she tries to take advantage of the opportunity, “Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there…” Joel stands and you follow suit, he looks at Ellie sternly, “No.”

He turns to walk out of the store and Ellie follows after him, defeated. You watch the two go-ahead before glancing at the open door, knowing exactly what Ellie had found down there. Swallowing down your fear, you force yourself to keep going.

You continue to walk along the road, the clouds march on and the trees bow down to give their leaves, to offer you some shade along your journey. Walking by you see the wreckage of an airplane atop a hill, broken parts, and pieces scattered along the field. Ellie breathes out, “Holy shit.” The three of you stop walking to gaze at it fondly, “You fly in one of those?” The kid asks you and Joel, and he replies, “Few times, sure.”

Ellie is looking up at you, searching for your answer, and you give her a nod, “Yeah, a couple of times.” She brings her focus back to the wreckage and sighs, “So lucky.” Joel disagrees, “Didn’t feel like it at the time. Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich.”

“Dude, you got to go up in the sky,” Ellie says, and you frown, simple things that got taken for granted, you knew all too well. “Yeah, well, so did they,” Joel says with dejection in his voice, then decides to keep moving. Something all he’s ever known. Ellie mutters, “Grim.”

“So everything came crashing down in one day?” Ellie questions and Joel nods, “Pretty much.” Ellie doesn’t settle for that and chooses to follow up with a, “How? I mean, no one was infected with cordyceps. Everybody’s fine eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then, all at once? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to get infected, then who bit the first person?” She pauses, “Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”

You huff in amusement, “If it were a monkey, this wouldn’t have happened.” Joel looks at you then turns back to Ellie and replies, “It wasn’t a monkey. I thought you went to school?” Ellie frowns, “FEDRA school. They don’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”

You flinch at her statement and think for a nanosecond, fuck. You hear your memories echo back to you. You snort and throw a careless joke, “Everyone would blame our shitty government and all the scientists. How ignorant must you be for it to happen twice?” Adam replies, “Well, all disaster movies start with a scientist being ignored.”

You painfully exhale and look to Ellie, parroting back the words you heard not long ago, “All disasters start with a scientist being ignored.” Joel and Ellie listen to you intently as you remember what had happened, and you continue on, “A scientist named Dr. Neuman sometime in the 1960s had feared this would happen. People laughed and brushed it off.”

You close your eyes and try and untangle the strings of memories and information about their world, “Your outbreak started in Jakarta, Indonesia on September 24, 2003. A flour and grain factory, on the west side of the city. The perfect substrate. A normal woman suddenly turned violent, attacked four of her coworkers, and bit three of them. They locked her in the bathroom and when the police arrived, she tried to attack them, and they shot her. The people she bit were taken for observation. You could imagine what happened a few hours later.”

You open your eyes to realize you had stopped walking and see Joel and Ellie analyzing the new information, you press on, “No one knows who bit her first, but there were fourteen coworkers missing. Possibly already spreading the virus. The cordyceps mutated because the world got warmer, and some of it go into the food supply. Flour was the case, and there were certain brands of food that were sold everywhere all across the country, and across the world. Bread, cereal… pancake mix.” You paused, unable to go on, so Joel picked it up from there and continued walking as he spoke, “If you eat enough of it, it’ll get you infected. So the tainted food all hits the store shelves around the same time Thursday. People bought it ate some Thursday night or Friday morning. Day goes on, they started to get sick. Afternoon, evening… they got worse. Then they started biting. Friday night, September 26, 2003. And by Monday, everything was gone.”

Ellie is quiet for a bit then nods, “It makes more sense than monkeys. Thanks.” Joel lifts a shoulder, “Sure,” while you only nod with the silence that you continue to carry. Joel raises his arm to stop you and Ellie, “What?” She asks him. He exhales, “We’ll cut across the woods here.” Ellie looks at him skeptically, “Isn’t the road easier?”

“Yeah, it’s just… There’s some stuff up there you shouldn’t see.” Joel says, the tone in his voice very fatherly. You look to Ellie expectantly, as she cheekily smiles at him and walks ahead, “Well, now I have to see.”

“I don’t want you to.” Joel comments disapprovingly, but Ellie marches on, and he grunts, “Serious. Ellie.” You follow after the two, and the young girl asks, “Can it hurt me?” Joel replies straightforwardly, “No.” She turns and walks backward as she talks to him, “You’re too honest man. Should’ve said ax murderer.” Ellie carries on walking normally, while you and Joel look at each other consciously, with full awareness.

You decide to take a risky leap, gently take his hand, and squeeze it reassuringly. His weary eyes are drawn to your linked hands, fingers interlaced like a beautiful zipper of prayer. Hands are the maps and compasses we use to navigate our lives. Some people read palms to predict the future but you read hands to predict the past. Every scar has a tale worth sharing. Each calloused palm and fractured knuckle represents a missed punch or years spent in a factory. Your eyes tell him, ‘It’s okay, let her know.’ And he seems to understand, giving you a short nod. Because, what is a girl if not a buzzing creature discovering what the world will take from her?

“Whatever it is, I think it’s gone,” Ellie yells out to you both, only to stop short moments after to look at the ditch below. Skeletons were jumbled together and littered the dirt. You and Joel reach Ellie, with hands still intertwined, she’s looking up at you both for an explanation. Joel emits a long, deep, audible breath expressing his sadness, “About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers… went through the countryside and evacuated the small towns. Told you you were going to a QZ, and you were… if there was room.” He hesitates, “If there wasn’t…”

These people were wiped clean away, leaving only a wristwatch or a blanket. The only proof that they ever existed. Ellie feels out of sorts as she mutters, “These people weren’t sick?” Joel replies fixed and controlled, “No, probably not.” The girl nods while blinking away her melancholy and frustration she asks quietly, “Why kill them? Why not just leave them be?” You take a shaky inhale before responding, “Because dead people can’t get infected.”

Joel squeezes your hand in reassurance, and it grounds you from remembering what had happened that sunny day. How easy it was for the government and military to manipulate everyone into believing everything was under control. People that you trusted and elected for a hopeful cause only for them to betray you in the end. You tip your head up to Joel and he looks at your sparkling eyes, looking up at him searching for some kind of answer. But he gazes at you, with no answers, instead, is filled with promises. Because what is an adult if not a terrified being desperate to protect something you can't save?

AMHERST COUNTY, MASSACHUSETTS, LINCOLN, – NOON

You, Joel, and Ellie approach the electric fence gate surrounding the small town of Lincoln. The site is hauntingly beautiful, a white large house can be seen from a distance, while trees dance in the wind, you can picture this neighborhood having plenty of kids playing out on the street without a care in the world. As you approach the gate, there’s a number keypad attached to the side, he glances at you and Ellie, “Stay there.” He punches in the four-digit code and there is a high pitch ring, indicating that the passcode was correct, and the metal gate unlocks.

Joel opens the gate for Ellie to walk through first, and then you. He closes the gate behind him as he follows you both inside. The environment is suspenseful and suspiciously quiet, Joel places his hand on his revolver while noticing the wilting yellow flowers outside the house. He pushes down on the door handle, surprised that it was left unlocked, he removes his revolver from the holster and cautiously walks inside. Ellie mumbles, “What the fuck?” while Joel yells out, “Bill? Frank?” Your palms begin to sweat and you discreetly wipe them down on your pants, Joel turns to look at you and Ellie, “You stay there. You hear anything… you see anything yell.”

“What if they’re gone?” Ellie asks and Joel doesn’t respond, only looking at her before turning and opening the door to the kitchen. She sighs and proceeds to look around the house. A grand piano sits in the living room, and Ellie curiously presses on a bunch of keys to listen to the notes play. And then you spot it, head tilting, you carefully take the envelope and key that sat on top of the wooden table, and feel the sense of sorrow you knew followed you around like a shadow.

You look to Ellie who was staring at you expectantly and then hand her the letter. You didn’t need to read what you already knew. Your footsteps are heavy as you pull out a seat from the dining room table, and fold your arms atop the desk before bending your head down. Your muscles were aching and exhausted, while the pounding in your head decided to return for another round. Ellie pulls out the chair next to you and opens the letter, quietly reading it.

You hear Joel from down the hall, trying to knock and unlock the door of Bill and Frank’s room, but hear the front door shut from the wind. This causes him to jump and call out for you and Ellie. None of you decide to reply. He stalks down the hall and turns right to the dining room, to find you quiet and resting your head against the dining table with Ellie reading the letter.

“It’s from Bill.” The girl says, and Joel decides to holster his revolver again. She reads aloud, “‘To whomever, but probably Joel’. I figured I fell into ‘whomever.’” And then shrugs, “It came with this,” she pushes a key across the dusty table adjacent to her and he removes his backpack before tossing it to the floor. He grabs the key to inspect it and then states, “So they’re dead?” Ellie nods, “Mhm. You wanna…” Joel shakes his head no, “Go ahead. You do it.”

Ellie clears her throat before reading out loud the words you cried over for a good week, “August 29, 2023. If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell but it will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe.” She pauses in confusion but goes on, “Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you but still, it’s like we’re friends, almost. And I respect you.”

You can already feel the flip in your stomach before you’ve even heard the part that would hit him the most, “So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving.”

And it all comes rushing back to you, the love story of Bill and Frank, a chance meeting that would have only happened during the end of the times. You quietly tried your best to sit up straight, but your posture is still drooping and sagging. Placing your elbows on the table, and folding your hands, interlocking your fingers, you closed your eyes and let your head rest against your hands. And when your eyes closed, your guards came down, tears freely flowed down your cheeks, mentally deadened, tired, and nauseous as you listened, “That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…” Ellie stops abruptly, not wanting to continue.

Ellie purses her lips together in a line while Joel snatches the letter to read what she could not. To keep Tess safe. He swallows down his guilt and anger, “Stay here.” You open your puffy, bloodshot eyes as you hear him storm out of the house leaving the door open behind him. Feeling out of focus and indisposed, like a single loose thread that comes all undone. You curl one leg up to your chest and let your chin rest on top of it, and you can feel the snot dripping down your nose as you do. Bring the sleeve of your jacket, to wipe it off from your face, then use the palms of your hands to wipe the tears away.

But it proves useless as the tears continue to flow, Ellie silently moves to stand next to you and then gives an unexpected, but not unwelcomed, hug. You continue to cry harder, choking on every breath you take as you do, as you wrap your arms around Ellie’s waist and silently stroke your hair. Joel comes back to the house finding the sight of you broken and sobbing uncontrollably. Ellie only looks at him with saddened eyes, and a silent plea to help you.

You’re uncomfortably shattering into pieces, stitch by stitch it tears you apart, and a stained-glass variation of the truth leaves your brokenness on display. Joel walks behind you, unsure what to do or say, but he can feel the magnetic pull of wanting and needing to help you, quietly he asks you, “What do you need?”

He wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t incredibly silent if your voice hadn’t echoed off the walls, your voice hiccuping, so small and soft as you admit, “I don’t know…” But Joel does. Without question, Ellie gently lets go of you, to be replaced by Joel’s large arms wrapped around your shaking frame.

The seasons will eventually change, and you may choose to go into them shattered and busted, with stiff souls, wounded hearts, and raggedy spirits. But the tiny part of you will continue on because hope endures the agony of sadness; it does not require your protection or defense. For now, you will allow yourself to cry, sigh, and wish for things to be different in the comfort of the two people you’ve grown close with. Later, you will discover raw, wrung-out calm when you allow yourself to be human.

After a reprieve, you willed yourself to stop crying. You take a shaky inhale and be the first one to pull away from Joel. Sweaty, puffy, and slightly dehydrated, from the amount of crying you’ve managed to do in a small amount of time. You feel drowsy, exhausted, overwhelmed, and embarrassed. Rubbing your face with both hands, you heavily exhale and try to regroup yourself as you do.

Joel gently holds your wrist to reveal your face, he’s kneeling down in front of you, “You good?” Your eyes shift uncontrollably across his face, not able to focus on him properly but you nod anyway, you have to keep going, “Mhm, yes. I’m good now,” you said. He gives you a short nod and slowly pushes himself up to face Ellie who was quietly sitting down again, “Show me your arm.”

Ellie stands up and lifts her sleeve to reveal the bite on her arm already healing. Joel nods and says, “I just finished making a truck battery. It’s charging right now.” Ellie nods back, “Okay.” He continues on, “I have a brother out in Wyoming. He’s in some kind of trouble and I’m headin’ out there to find ‘em. He used to be a Firefly.” Ellie continues to silently nod, indicating that she was listening to him as he spoke, “And my guess is he knows where some of them are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is.”

Ellie blinks, “All right. Listen about Tess…” But Joel shuts that down pretty quickly, he lifts his hand to stop her, “If I’m taking you with me, there’s some rules you gotta follow. Rule one, you don’t bring up Tess. Ever. Matter of fact, we can keep our histories to ourselves. Rule two, you don’t tell anyone about your… condition. They see that bite mark, they won’t think it through. They’ll just shoot you. Rule three, you do what I say when I say it.”

Joel looks at you pointedly, “Rule three applies to you too Hummin’ bird.” Your face scrunches up in annoyance and exclaim, “But I’m a grown adult!” Joel only lifts his eyebrows, “Do you know exactly what happens now from here on out? You ever lived in an apocalyptic world?” You move your eyes away from him and mumble defeatedly, “No, and just a few hunches and theories, I guess.” He harrumphs and looks at you and Ellie, “Are we clear?” He says. You both respond, “Yes.”Joel’s eyes narrow and says without smiling, “Repeat it.”

“What you say goes,” Ellie says and he looks to you for the same statement, “What you say goes, Cowboy.” He lets out a huff and shifts his weight to his other foot, “Okay,” he mumbles. The kid questions aloud, “So what now?” And Joel decides it’s time to start preparing, “We grab what we can.”

Loud footsteps are heard as the three of you descend the metal stairs, Joel flicks on a switch and the lights flicker open. The sound of the 80s playlist playing can be heard filling the room. Joel goes to pause it while Ellie takes a good walk around the bunker, and looks at the wall of guns, “Holy shit. This guy was a genius.” You laugh lightly at her comment, walk over to Joel’s side to look at the playlist and security cameras, saying “Well, under normal circumstances, this would be seen as paranoid.”

Ellie snorts in amusement and acknowledgment, she turns to Joel and asks, “Why was the music on?” Joel places his hands on the table and replies contemplatively, “If he doesn’t reset the countdown every few weeks, this playlist would run over the radio.” Ellie makes her way to the side of the monitor, she peeks at it and states, “‘80s.” He glances from behind him, not wanting to dwell on it any longer, and tells the kid, “Grab some cans from over there. Nothin’ dented or swollen.” She lingers a bit by the wall of guns on display and points at it saying, “Dude.” Only to be replied with Joel’s firm, “No.” Ellie exasperated, “There’s a wall of them.” He gives her one hard look and Ellie pinches her lips into a thin line, walking away to start grabbing the canned food.

Joel’s gaze turns to you, while you tilt your head to the side to look up at him, and you feel a question forming on the tip of your tongue, the way you hold your breath as you wonder if it’s even worth bringing up, you and him inches away from touching, lingering and wanting you to say something. Instead, you pull away from his malt-musing mountain gaze, away from the comfort of his warmth and inviting pull. Afraid of what this could mean, or the possibility you might wake up and find yourself alone again. To only find his ghost wandering in your kitchen, haunting you if this all turns out to be nothing.

“I’m gonna go, um, help Ellie.” You say pointing behind you with your thumb, and then stumble your way around the bunker to look for the young girl. He watches you leave his side, and if he could have one wish it would be to have more time. He’d like to stop the clock and make time stand still because this is just how he always wants to feel. To hear the way she stumbles when she answers, and just for a little bit, secretly, he forgets about his cynicism because he can't wait to see what happens next.

You three end up going through everything in Bill and Frank’s home. On the upper floor, you and Ellie look around the bedroom as Joel opens the door to a closet, pulls on the pull cord switch of the light, and grabs a box of women’s clothes in Ellie’s size and yours. You and her open the box and happily dig through the pile of clothes that had been left behind. Eventually, you settle on a basic white tee, a pair of cargo pants, new white socks, and a lovely maroon leather jacket.

All three of you decide to check on the battery, Joel turns the knob of the charger and grunts, “Needs another hour.” Ellie checks the faucet by the sink and turns it to the right and happy squeals, “They have hot water! I’m taking a shower.” She then looks to Joel who was busy sorting through the clutter, “And then you’re both showering. Because seriously…” And before walking away she makes a sound to signal you both that you reeked of sweat and more stench imaginable. She walks away to go back inside the house and leaves you both alone together.

Not knowing what to do or say, you give yourself a hug, arms folding in front of your middle, eyes darting to everything but him. Joel watches the way you shift around the bunker. He does not know what you are thinking, how you prefer your tea, if you take sugar in your coffee, or whether you like walking in the rain. He takes notice of the way you keep going just like he does, when you laugh it sounds like a melody he’s all too familiar with but there’s a different hidden note between each breath you take.

You are impossible. Impossible is admitting you came from a different universe, it’s also attempting to connect in this world, trying to hang on to others while everything around you is exploding. And yet you’re standing there in front of him, real and full of light. He does not want to believe it, he worries in his mind that he will destroy each and every part of you, engrossing darkness and bitterness he has accumulated for the past twenty years. Beginning on the day the world fell apart, when it took Sarah away from him. And the weight of the world was placed on his shoulders.

You begin to hum to yourself as you take a walk around the bunker and appreciate the lengths Bill went through to keep him and Frank safe. Joel finally gives in to the tug of war in his mind and asks, “What song were you hummin’ on the hike here, Birdie? I didn’t recognize the melody this time.” His question pulls your attention away from the wall of guns and you incline your head toward him, “Oh? Uh, just a song from my world, I guess…” He looks at you expectantly and you take it as a cue to continue, “It’s a song by Adele.” You said as you scrunched your nose a bit. A look of puzzlement crossed his face, “Who’s Adele?” he says. You slowly blink at him, “Damn, your world ended too soon and robbed you of Adele.”

The conversation continues on, it goes from books to favorite drinks, and bit by bit you’re beginning to piece together the man in front of you. It astounds you, how he kept going even when the world took away the people he loved. And later you hear Ellie yelling from the house, telling you both she’s done, you look to Joel and he tells you to use the shower first. You smile at him and give him a small thanks as you head up the stairs. The small talk you both had left him floating and hates that his mind continues to think about worse-case scenarios and look for emergency exits just in case. But is it courage or faith that he shows up every day? And maybe one day he won’t be afraid.

After the nice steaming hot shower, and changing into your new-ish clothes, you yell Joel’s name to tell him it’s his turn. He proceeds to go into the bathroom and you go downstairs to see Ellie messing with the piano keys, you gently tap her shoulder and she looks up at you with adorable eyes full of wonder, “Scoot over.” The kid moves and you sit down on the piano bench next to her, you mumble, “I’m surprised it’s still tuned after all these years.” Ellie’s ears perk up, “You know how to play?” and you tilt your head to the left, “Just enough to impress friends now and then.” She smiles, “Can you show me? Please?”

Your mouth pinches in thought, wondering which song you could play, “Hrm, I guess I could. But you might not recognize this piece of music since it was never released here.” She nods excitedly, “It’s no big deal. I need to hear you sing since you keep humming all the time.” You roll your eyes at that, “Okay, okay.”

You ready yourself, comfortably slouched, and your head down. Your fingers glide over the keys and you begin to sway as you play the starting notes of Adele’s ‘Make You Feel My Love’. “When the rain is blowing in your face. And the whole world is on your case. I could offer you a warm embrace. To make you feel my love,” You sang softly as your fingers continued to dance over the ivory keys, your spirit became virtually an allure with each small sway of your head and body. Joel silently walks down the stairs, enchanted and allured by your melodious voice. He leans on the frame of the foyer, slicked back salt and pepper hair, and currently has the softest eyes for you.

“The storms are raging on the rollin' sea. And on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free… You ain't seen nothing like me yet.” You sang and the buildup as it developed into a slow roll that shattered into the souls of everyone who listened like a tremendous tsunami. Joel and Ellie were entranced by the enticing music emanating from your voice, resulting in a tranquil silence. The lyrics soared and swelled from the depths of your spirit as if everyone in that room could sense your hope and affection. Your love became their love, and the audience and singer became one.

“I could make you happy, make your dreams come true… Nothing that I wouldn't do. Go to the ends of the earth for you, to make you feel my love. To make you feel my love.” You vocalized and slowly stopped playing on the ivory keys, letting out a sigh of relief you turn to Ellie who is in awe of your talent and skill. “Damn, I wish we could bring this with us.” She says and you throw your head back in laughter, your shoulder moving as you catch your breath, “Joel would break his back carrying this thing.”

“You callin’ me old, sweetheart?” Joel says smugly, you and Ellie swiftly turn to look behind you, to find him relaxed, happy, and all cleaned up. You can feel your body begin to burn in embarrassment and attraction to the pet name he called you. Including the fact, he’s pulling off the wet look pretty damn fucking well. Ellie saves you from having to explain yourself and comments on his appearance, “Well, don’t you look pretty.”

That brings him back to reality and begins to become grumpy old Joel once more, “Shut up.” He mutters and then tosses her a stick of deodorant which she catches. The kid looks at it and comments, “Nice,” then proceeds to get up from the bench with you following after the both of them.

You make your way to the blue Chevy S-10, Ellie goes to the front passenger seat but Joel clicks his tongue, “Go sit in the back, Ellie.” She groans and as she was about to walk to the back of the Chevy you shake your head, “It’s okay, you can take it for the meantime, I suspect you haven’t been in a car before.” And Ellie is practically vibrating with joy as she hops inside the car, Joel looks at you from the rearview mirror and you give a thumbs up while Ellie continues to explore parts of the car, “It’s like a spaceship,” she says and you hide a laugh while Joel mumbles, “It’s like a piece of shit Chevy S-10 but it’ll get us there.” And after a moment he adds, “I think.”

Joel begins to put on his seatbelt and he tells Ellie to do the same, but she only gives him a perplexed look, which he then shows her and she clicks it in place while smiling, “So cool.”

He turns the key and the engine rives to life, Ellie opens the glove compartment and finds a cassette tape, he glances at her, “Would you leave it?” Ellie gives him a cheeky grin to slide it into the radio. “Put it back. Ellie.” Joel states in a serious tone. Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Long Long Time’ begins to play, the first ever song you hummed a couple of days ago. You look out the window to the left, Joel and Ellie converse as you tune out the rest of the world, only listening to the music. You hear the buzzing of the gate open and Joel drives into the open road, and the lovely voice of Linda Ronstadt reminds you that love will transcend into every universe, and the thought of that lulls you to gently close your eyes and let yourself fall asleep.

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter

End Notes: (Idk do people read this? Btw this is lengthy since lol almost 10k words o-o)

Yes, Type 9 is The Runner-away-er of Conflict… hecking I had this whole argument planned out at first, all the yelling and fighting between the reader and Joel and nearly going through with that concept, but in the end decided against it. Because to me, it felt too soon. It wouldn’t progress the story forward, it would have just taken twenty steps back lmao. Joel is the type to keep going, to keep moving cuz he has to. So him reminiscing would be out of character and the reader getting mad and confronting him wOULD ALSO BE OUT OF CHARACTER LMAO

Anyways, as you read, I ended up giving them a moment to mourn and talk it out, because I felt like you needed to hear those words too. Do not throw away your life just to make someone happy. That’s destructive.

I tried my best to write about grief this chapter, and had to rewatch Episode 3 to put myself through the torture again hooray! Towards the end, you can see my writing become somewhat poetic(?) but honest. I didn’t want to extremely exaggerate it but just enough to hopefully make u cry a bit. If you did cry pls tell me, it tells me that I wrote okay enough for you to cry)

But I also wanted it to give you some hope and to remind you that you are a light in many people's lives I promise.

Furthermore, I lowkey procrastinated on this chapter, I was hoping it would be out by Wednesday but the new Hogwarts Legacy game has me in a chokehold so I 1000% got distracted!

OFF TO EPISODE 4 I GOOOO I LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING UR COMMENTS MWA ILY <3

-Grace

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @themysticmonstercturtles @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @romans-roys @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m

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#uneven odds joel miller #joel miller x reader series #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x modern reader #uneven odds #joel miller #joel miller x reader au #joel miller x reader tlou #joel miller x reader masterlist #tlou rewrite #tlou series #tlou #tlou remake #tlou hbo

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 year

Text

Safe

Summary: “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: G

Warnings: !spoilers for episode 6 of TLOU!, established relationship, mostly fluff, domestic fluff I would almost say, little angst, talking about feelings, comfort, some touching, mention of periods

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fic updates

It was almost scary how normal everything in Jackson was. The old normal, not the new normal.

The moment you had seen the fully decorated christmas tree you felt like you were in the twilight zone.

You had arrived earlier with Joel and Ellie on horseback, almost making Joel laugh as you sang “Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson, Look out, Jackson town,” against his ear, fully intending to bully him into singing the Johnny Cash song at some point when you found a guitar for him.

If you were honest you would have never thought you actually would find Tommy. Then again you should know better by now.

Joel Miller could not be stopped once he set his mind towards something.

You had given them space.

Time for them to catch up and talk.

Something in Joel had changed after Kansas City. More than once you had caught him staring at Ellie when he thought nobody was watching.

You knew why.

This was not just a job anymore or a promise to fulfil.

He was starting to care.

Years ago when you had come into his life, it had been the same. Once he realised that he was starting to feel something for you.

It had taken almost a year for him to admit that he had feelings for you too.

Joel was afraid.

Afraid of catching feelings.

Afraid of letting himself care for people.

Afraid of moving on.

The first time he had spoken about Sarah was almost four years after you had met him.

You had made the mistake of asking about his watch, genuinely curious. He had looked at you like he had been shot before uttering an excuse under his breath and leaving your then shared apartment.

He came home after curfew, smelling of liquor.

And then he started to talk.

Joel and you…

He was your person.

He was the one thing that kept you going in this fucked up world.

The one person who made you feel safe, no matter what was happening around you.

The man you, against all odds, had fallen in love with while the world was ending.

And you were the one person he allowed himself to be fully himself with. He let you see the good and the bad.

It’s why you knew that it would only be a matter of time he would do or say something stupid.

The house was quiet when you finished your shower. You had said goodnight to Ellie before you went to the master bedroom, getting out of your filthy clothes and allowing yourself to just soak under the hot water.

Maria had spent the whole day showing you around and providing new clothes. She even offered to give you a haircut.

You did not like the way she talked about Joel. She knew only one side of the story, but you had chosen to not start an argument only hours after getting to safety.

For the first time in six years you shaved, using the razor you had found under the sink.

You felt like in the twilight zone as you pulled the big, surprisingly fluffy towel around your body, grabbing the bottle of shea butter you had almost cried as you spotted it and walked back into the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed with a sigh, closing your eyes.

Tonight would probably be the first night since leaving the QZ you might get a full night of sleep.

Pulling the towel down you opened the bottle to start and rub the lotion into your skin.

The familiar scent invaded your nose, making you remember better days when your biggest problem was deciding what takeout to order while you watched the newest episode of Friends.

Fuck, you never found out how it ended.

Chuckling to yourself you shook your head, slowly working your hands up your body.

You jumped when you heard voices all of the sudden, your eyes flying around the room to spot the closest gun before you noticed who it was.

Joel and Ellie.

You could not make out what they were saying but it did not sound like a pleasant talk. Setting the bottle of lotion on the bedside table you grabbed the towel to walk back to the bathroom to hang it up to dry.

You put on an old tshirt to sleep, switching off the lights just when the door to the bedroom opened and Joel stepped in.

He closed the door behind him, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

You sucked your bottom lip in.

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes opened, finding yours. You could see tears in them.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Are you…” you started to ask but he shook his head and walked past you into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You suppressed a sigh, deciding to give him space as you climbed into the most comfortable bed you had laid in in years, pulling the covers over you, falling asleep within minutes.

You woke up when Joel got into bed behind you. His nose nuzzled into your neck, kissing your shoulder softly, as his arm pulled you against his chest.

You allowed yourself to melt into his warm embrace, putting your hand over his that laid on your stomach.

“I asked Tommy to take her to the Fireflies,” he said. You closed your eyes.

“Joel…”

“I’m old. I’m tired and I’m… I’m fucking scared. I can’t….” he took a shuddering breath and your heart broke. Carefully you turned around, your hand coming to rest on his cheek.

“Look at me baby,” you said and his eyes opened, finding yours in the soft light that came from the lamp on the bedside table.

“She’s not Sarah,” you whispered. He tensed, like everytime someone mentioned her.

“You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened twenty years ago. It was not your fault. You are allowed to move on. You are allowed to care for other people And no matter how much you tell yourself that she’s only Cargo. You care for her.”

He sighed, his arm around you tightening to pull you even closer.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said quietly.

“The heart wants, what the heart wants,” you smiled.

You kissed his nose, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“You should apologise to her,” you said.

“How do you…?”

“Joel, I’ve been dealing with your moods for almost six years. You probably said something you didn’t mean. I learned to deal with it, but she’s fourteen. And she has no one but you.”

And she’s on her period, but you chose to not tell him that.

“She has you too,” he whispered.

“Yeah, but I did not piss her off,” you smiled softly and he groaned and closed his eyes. You let your hand run through his wet hair, making him hum.

“You smell good,” he said, his nose nuzzling against your throat.

“I am so stealing that lotion when we leave,” you smiled and he chuckled.

“Shaved too. I feel like 2003 all over again,” you closed your eyes.

“You shaved?” he asked and you opened one eye.

“Jep,” you grinned, closing your eye again. You felt his hand run down your legs, his rough hand brushing over your smooth skin. You made a mental note to make him put lotion on his hands in the morning.

“Everywhere?”

“Mhh,” you nodded, feeling his hand go up your inner thigh.

“Joel?” you asked, feeling his fingers brushing over your trimmed pussy.

He hummed.

“Sleep,” you mumbled, feeling his body shake in a silent chuckle. He kissed you softly, pulling the covers up to both your noses.

“I love you,” you whispered just before you fell asleep, missing how he whispered those same three words into your skin.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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annadoingshitpoorly · 9 months

Text

FRIENDS IN THE DARK - Chapter 1

Ellie Williams x Reader x Abby Anderson - TWILIGHT AU

Word Count: 6.1K+

Content Warnings: Uninvited Visitors, parents being proud of you, USE OF Y/N, nicknames (from parental figure), motor vehicle accident, being chased/hunted, Ellie-Abby beef, Abby having beef with Mel, Abby in general in this tbh…

Men, Minors and general fuckheads DNI 💚

The prologue can be found here

Jackson, Wyoming. It’s a quiet town. The sort of town where nothing ever seems to happen. Surrounded by hills and woods, people who are born there eventually move away nine times out of ten, those that do stay have been there for generations and can’t escape the monotony of the town. It’s the kind of town where one is never rudely awakened. Especially on the weekend.

The morning after your first night in Jackson, the nearly eerie silence that seemed to descend across the valley is broken so abruptly that the thundering noise can only be described as strange, forcing you to wake early and not due to your body clock. But to a heavy handed knock on your front door, maybe choosing the room with the front facing window was a bad idea but you’d made your bed now all you had to do was lay in it… well a you put a mattress on the ground and had to lay on top of it, but that’s besides the point. Throwing a fleece blanket over your shoulders you peek out the open window, stood there was a girl. You lean on the window ledge and poke your head further to try and see her better, but with little success, only being able to gather that she was blonde with an extremely impressive shoulder span.

Shrugging into your jeans from the day before, you quickly get down the stairs to answer the door, the blaring of the radio from the kitchen explaining why your mom hadn’t answered the knocks. As you stand in front of the door, you smooth the creases in your shirt from having slept in it last night and pull the doorknob.

Blue eyes meet yours and a small smile comes to her face. “Hi. I’m Abby, I live across the street." She tilts her head towards a rather impressive two storey house with a vintage Chevy out the front. You pause for a moment looking towards where she motioned but thankfully catch yourself and open the door wider, “Wanna come in?” She nods and steps in as you close the door behind her. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Mom’s in the kitchen if you want?” Politely Abby nods and follows behind you as you head into the back where you push the door and find something akin to a bomb scene. Amid pots and pans, silverware and slow-cookers, stands your mother with her hair tied out of her face with a bandana and beads of sweat amassing on her furrowed brow.

“Mom. Mom! MOM!”

“Huh? OH, GOOD MORNING SLEEPYHEAD!” She turns and twists the volume down on the little portable blue radio, “Who’s your friend, doll?” At this Abby extends her arm towards your mother and shakes her hand, her grip is firm and confident, “Abigail Anderson, ma’am. I live down the road.” They continue to chat as you lose yourself in thought…

It’s the name that causes you to stop in your tracks, shattering your coherence. Wait- this is Abigail Anderson?! The same Abigail that was your first kiss in elementary school at eight years old?! The same Abigail that braided your hair at recess in the school yard? The same Abigail that always swapped half of your peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich for half of her chicken salad sandwich? The same Abigail that hugged you so tight that last day of school, whose tears had made your shoulder damp and you held each other one final time before you left Jackson for what was supposed to be forever… Abigail- Abby. She’s all grown-up now, you suppose you have too, she probably didn't recognise you for that very reason just as you hadn’t clocked on to her. Looking at her as she talks to your mom, her hair is still the same dirty blonde more golden than hay-like as it had been but it is confined to a braided prison that falls over her shoulder and onto her shirt, a shirt that does nothing to hide the fact her shoulders are so toned and broad how she’s clearly built an incredible amount of muscle. The freckles up her neck are new, maybe from the summer sun. And they trail up to her ears, little golden brown flecks and her eyes piercing blue, glacial and bright. Further down her face her mouth is moving, and she’s looking at you- She's talking to you. Oh fuck. OH FUCK-

“Sorry, I lost my train of thought… what was that?” Shit. Count on you to sound so fucking ditsy, but at least she’s smiling, maybe she likes bimbos. Wait why would you think that-

“I was asking if you needed a lift to school on Monday? You’re going to Johnson-Bailey High right?” Abby’s trying to start a conversation and you can’t even think straight.

“Oh yeah, I am.” Awesome, common ground to start from again, “Are you going into senior year too?”

“Yeah! Hopefully we’ll have a class together,” She’s moving from her spot on the breakfast bar, and is dusting herself down, “well, I’ll leave you to get sorted out. Call me if you need a hand with those tables and boxes?”

Your mom is wrapping her arms round over Abby’s shoulders to hug her as the blonde girl attempts to make it to the door, and you’re left following behind the pair. “Thanks for coming over Abigail, please tell your father he’s welcome over anytime and you are too.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N?”

“I’ll see you later, Abby. It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too, really nice.”

As you close the door you walk away as Abby waits outside the door for a few moments, mumbling under her breath, before jogging away of her own accord. Meanwhile your mother returns to the kitchen, you in tow.

“It was nice for her to offer you a lift, make sure you thank her on Monday.”

“I will, mom.” And boy you wish you could do more than just thank her.

The rest of that Saturday breezes by, from unloading the moving truck to constructing the newly purchased ikea furniture, with your hands full the whole day you never even notice how tired you are until the your head hits the pillow on top of your now put together bed, the Friday night’s mattress now having a place to rest, your phone on your nightstand and plugged in to charge buzzes with a notification just as you’re dozing off. You decide to check in the morning. Despite your tiredness and complete willingness to fall asleep, something keeps you tossing and turning. A burning sensation, like someone holding a lighter too close to your flesh. Pulling the quilt over your head eases the feeling a bit, enough for you to finally fall into a deep rest.

When you wake on Sunday morning at a far more reasonable time than the day before, you pick up your phone, finding all that's displayed on the screen is the time. You could have sworn that you’d gotten a message last night but brush it off.

That Sunday morning and afternoon follows a similar path as the previous, unpacking the boxes and shuffling around mini mountains of clothes and kitchen ware. It hadn’t occurred to you in the chaos of the past two days that you had school starting that next day, the weekend had been rattled through so quickly that both you and your mother hadn’t had time to rest - the rest that the weekend would serve you under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal circumstances. Abby had come over around noon, said she was coming back from a jog and left you her mobile number for the morning. You had forgotten that she’d offered you a ride.

Pushing past your mothers relentless teasing of ‘oh you’d be so cute together’ and ‘such a pretty couple’, you finally get her to back off with a sharp “Mom. I don’t know if she’s even into girls.” With your mom now quelled at least partially, you hide in your room opting to sort through the boxes of your personal belongings.

By the time books are on the shelves and the majority of your clothes have been tucked away into the closet that sits to the left of your bay window, it’s late. Like super late, 11:45 isn’t that late you tell yourself initially but then remember that you should be up at 6:30 at latest… Deciding that you’d be best sleeping immediately you text Abby as you crawl into bed to check that her offer of a ride still stands and much to your relief it does. With clothes for the morning on the desk beside your full and definitely heavy backpack, you feel confident enough in your preparations to set your alarm. Abby will pick you up at 8:00AM with that thought in your mind you drift into a contented sleep, small smile on your lips.

The alarm sounds and your phone vibrates on the nightstand, you wake with a most unhappy groan spewing from your mouth. You definitely should have gone to bed earlier. Steam and hot water provide your achy muscles a modicum of relief as you soak in the spray of the shower, the water pressure is definitely better here. Getting dressed, you look outside the window relief rushing over you as the morning is misty and overcast but for the first time since Friday night, it’s not raining.

You greet your mother as she comes out of her bedroom, dressed in her casual wear. “There’s some cereal in the cupboard and milk in the refrigerator, but I’m going to get groceries after talking with the doctor.”

“Are you not feeling good?” She shakes her head, yawning while trying and failing to speak at the same time. “You’re trying nursing again?”

“Hey! I’m good at it, plus it’ll pay more than waitressing or being some retail assistant.”

“Fair.”

You sit at the table, scrolling through your phone. While checking your tumblr a knock at the door snaps you from your passive scrolling, the digits on the corner of the screen read ‘07:53’. Abby likes to be early. Noted. Leaving the spoon and bowl to clatter in the sink, you snatch your backpack and throw it over your shoulder before yelling a hasty ‘Bye Mom!’ to your mother through the front door from the front porch.

Abby waves at you from the bottom of the driveway, her posture is relaxed as you open the car door and drop down into the seat.

“Hey, you ready to go.” The blonde looks to your face firstly then to the backpack at your feet and finally back to your face once more, meeting your eyes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be?”

She smiles at your answer but doesn’t mention why as one hand puts the car in drive and the other pulls at the steering wheel. Her stance never changes from the calm, confident and collected aura she exudes. The small talk she makes is pleasant, the little tidbits of information the two of you exchange quickly help you re-establish a bond and the twenty minute car ride goes by in what seems like a blink of an eye. Her dad hadn’t remarried since her mom had died, she was captain of the lacrosse team, she’d broken up with her boyfriend 3 weeks before you’d arrived because she found him cheating on her. It was nice to talk to someone other than your mom, and boy did it help that Abby was easy to talk to.

Pulling into the large gates and red brick walls that bordered the grounds of Johnson-Bailey high school, Abby parks the car up in a section set aside for the seniors. The school looks much less intimidating than it did when you were younger, the brick carries on from the walls and makes up the exterior for the front school building but the extensions and external gym building juxtaposes the classic red brick with their stark white and metal make up. Hundreds of grumpy teens and even grumpier teaching staff mill about the front of the school, reluctant to be back to normality following the summer break. It feels normal. Normal is good.

Abby waves goodbye to you as the assistant principal singles you out and pulls you over. Standing next to the finely dressed lady (‘Miss Dandridge’ she had said) is a very pretty girl, thick curly hair tied back from her face and light makeup enhancing her dark features. She introduces herself as Nora, and your personal ‘buddy’. Despite the forced friendship aspect of the introduction, Nora is extremely likable as she makes small talk and gives you a quick tour of the school building on your way to your joint home room. Opening the door, Nora heads to the back of the room and sits in the spare spot next to a familiar blonde.

Following the lead of Nora you move further into the classroom and find a seat next to a tall Asian boy with the floppiest black hair you’ve possibly ever seen. He leans over and offers you his hand, “Jesse. You new?”

Taking his hand, thankful for him approaching you first, “Yeah, Y/N. I’ve just moved back.”

He smiles, “Well, it’ll be nice to have a fresh face ‘round here. Jackson’s a bit shit, to be honest.”

You laugh at his seeming ‘down to Earth’ness and continue talking with him until the man that had previously been sitting at the teacher’s desk gets up from his spot and the scraping of chalk against black board alerts you to his shift in demeanor.

“Good morning, Class S-1. I hope you had an enjoyable summer, I’ll be your home room tutor and your English teacher. My name is Mr O’Bri-”

The door opens and a girl comes in a heavy blush on her face as she rushes past and sits down at the desk directly in front of you and Jesse and as she scurries around, fixing herself in the seat Mr O’Brien locks eyes with the girl. “Dina, see me after first period.”

“Goddamn it…”

Aside from the initial interruption of the Dina girl, the period passes swimmingly. And the one after that, and the one after that. The day continues smooth and steady as a drumbeat and lunch rolls around before you have time to realize. Following the stream of students into the cafeteria, you look around and spy Nora and Abby sitting beside some other people in letterman jackets around a circular table in the corner, after a small amount as you approach the table. Abby gives you a smile as you approach, pull a chair out and sit down. You breathe a sigh of relief as Nora introduces you to the rest of the table, a few guys and a couple of girls. There’s a tension you immediately pick up on a few side glances between Owen and Mel, deciding to ask Abby about it on the ride home at three thirty you keep your voice down and occupy yourself with the mystery meat in a hamburger bun.

The lunch is pleasant and the company is definitely the cause of it being so. As you find yourself walking back to class with Manny, the brown haired boy keeps you in chat as you head towards the physics classroom. Manny sits behind you as the teacher instructs you to sit along the benches each row separated by gender.

There are no familiar faces in the room, but as class drags on you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. That’s familiar, but you can’t place why or where from. Looking back at the rest of the class, green eyes meet yours. They’re burrowing into yours as you struggle to break the contact. You finally snap back to reality with a nudge from Marta who’s sat beside you. You clear your throat and try to ignore the churning in your stomach as you can still feel the pine needle eyes stabbing into your back. As the bell rings, you rush to your final class. Throwing the notebooks and pens haphazardly into your backpack, charms around the zips clinking together in your attempt to make a quick get away. You don’t notice as one of the button badges on the front of the bag pops off as you fling a strap over your shoulder. But she does. Her eyes lock onto the cute little smiley face pin. Long fingers wrap around it and slip the accessory into a jean pocket.

By the time the final bell rings to signal the end of the school day, you’re relieved to say the least. The flushing of students towards the front of the school and out to the parking lot sweeps you away until you’re in front of Abby’s car, waiting for her to show up. To be fair to her, she had warned you that would most likely be running a bit behind the rest of the student body as the coach would be looking to talk to her. And as it was currently twenty to four, she was turning out to be correct. Nora walks past and waves as she hops into her car, a little green fiat. Abby can’t be too far behind as Nora was a part of the lacrosse team too. Scrolling through your phone, enjoying the screen time for the first time since lunch, you get lost in the endless dopamine hits the silly little TikToks give you. You’re completely in a world of your own when a poke to your arm shocks you. And there she is. Staring you down once more, is the green eyed girl from Physics.

She says nothing as she sets her longboard on the ground allowing herself to slide a long, bony hand into the front pocket of her baggy jeans, the belt seeming more of an accessory than a functional piece of clothing as it does nothing to support the denim laying loose around her thin hips, you get your first good look at her the auburn shaggy bob she has frames her face nicely if not causing her to appear a even more gaunt than her skinny, pale frame already is, the freckles across the bridge of her nose and up her cheekbones are comparable with constellations. Pulling her hand out of the pocket you see she’s holding something, something small and sentimental. She holds it out for you to take, “here,” she says and you take it hesitantly from her. You meet her eyes again, they’re still looking at you with as much focus as when you had your first encounter. You give a soft, nervous smile, “Thanks, where did you-”

“WILLIAMS. FUCK OFF.”

Abby’s voice booms out across the empty parking lot. You turn on your heel to look at the blonde as she moves at great speed towards you and the other girl, Williams… it must be her last name. As Abby comes to stand between the two of you, the slight warmth to the auburn girl’s eyes vanishes. She backs up and pulls the skateboard away with a slight yank of her leg, one foot rests on it allowing her to rock back and forth giving an air of arrogance to the smaller girl. “Easy! Down girl,” this elicits a guttural rumbling from Abby, “I was just returning something.” Abby lunges towards the skinny girl but you grab the blonde’s arm and pull her back. In comparison to Abby this strange girl was akin to a rag doll, small and frail looking in your eyes. The skater girl takes this as her chance to back up and she does.

“Watch it, Williams. You better fuckin’ watch it.” Abby calls out after her as she moves away towards the backgate of the school.

You reach out and meet a muscled shoulder with your hand as your touch causes Abby to snap back to reality. She opens the passenger side door for you and lets you get in before hopping around to the drivers side and sliding in. The journey home is quiet and tense. Turning your head to face the blonde, she answers your question before you even finalize it in your own mind. “Nobody, nobody good anyways. She is trouble. She will always be trouble.”

“Why’s that, Abby?”

“Bad breeding, at least in my opinion.”

She clicks the knob for the radio and music starts wafting through the car easing the tension as Shania Twain comes out from hiding in the speakers, as the karaoke begins any tension is washed away with the titters and giggles of pure unadulterated fun.

Abby drops you off at yours before pushing on towards her own home. opening the door you find the house empty and devoid of life, letting your backpack lay up against the breakfast bar you spot a yellow sticky note on the worktop, ‘Got some groceries. Snakes Snacks are in the pantry. Got an interview for the hospital. Love you, Mom.’ With a fistpump of celebration, you poke your head into the pantry only to see it much fuller than nine hours ago. Thank god. Grabbing a cereal bar you go upstairs and get stuck into your homework, this keeps you occupied for a few hours until eventually the front door opens, closes and the scuffling of shoes being cast off and relegated to a corner tells you your mom is home. “Sweetheart! I brought take out!”

With a fist pump and silent cheer, you close your laptop over and chuck your history textbook to the end of your desk. The Oregon Trail can wait, you’ve got chinese food to eat. “Comin’ now, mom!” You yell whilst running down the stairs, stepping into the kitchen you see your mom holding a plastic bag with several takeout boxes inside. “You grab plates and I’ll get some drinks, then we can have a TV dinner and you can tell me all about your first day?” Your mom suggests as she is already head and ears into the refrigerator, poking around for some cans of soda.

The flickering of whatever late night chat show is on the screen makes for ambience as you spill the gossip of the day to your mother, her face is nothing short of comical as you tell her about the tension between Owen (your mom laughs heartily at the description of him you give, of his hair being a dirty blond hedgehog with his eyes being too close together, like an opossum,) and Abby. The strange girl that had returned your pin. You even mention joining one of the clubs at school.

“Sweetheart,” your mom starts, “can I talk to you, adult to adult?”

You nod and panic flashes across your mind and definitely across your face, but your mother doesn’t seem to catch it and looks relieved.

“I’m glad you’re being so open. I was scared… I was very scared about coming back. And when your dad…”

You keep quiet, letting her ramble and fumble through her words as you watch as she becomes more and more lost in her mind before you wrap your arms around her, comforting her, soothing her worries, bringing her back to earth with a few words,“I know, mom.”

She sobs into your arms, tears wet your shoulder leaving your t-shirt damp and darkened on one side. She cries long and hard until she eventually falls asleep, grip on you loosening as your mom loses consciousness. You wiggle out of her grasp, take the blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over her, placing a kiss on her forehead you move to the kitchen and do the dishes. The street lamp light doesn’t reach this far around the side of the house but the moon is enough to at least not leave you to stare into an abyss of total darkness, the tree line starts about two hundred and fifty yards from the back porch and you watch as a fox pokes its head out from the brush. It makes its way across the portion of grass that makes up your backyard before stopping dead in its tracks. The dishes are forgotten as you watch the small canine look around panicked. It quickly sprints back into the green foliage and it disappears from view.

Getting back to the dishes, you finish the chore quickly and choose to make your way to bed, turning the TV off on your way while making sure your mother hasn’t woken up. She hasn’t.

Returning to your room, you see that you’ve left your laptop open and your books are still scattered about the desk. Taking one look at the half finished homework, you close the laptop and stash it away into your backpack. “That’s enough of that,” you mutter under your breath.

Stripping and getting dressed again for bed, you crawl in under the covers and settle down for the night. Turning over onto your side you see the curtains in The corner of your room flutter as though there was a light breeze, it’s then that you notice the window cracked open a few inches. “Fuck me…”

Feet meeting the cold floor you scuttle across the room and close the window completely, good and tight. Hopping back into the warmth of the various layers of quilt and blankets, you’re asleep as soon as you close your eyes.

The days in the valley town turn to weeks with nothing strange or startling to really speak of. You seem to be getting more forgetful lately. Your things are seemingly shifting about your room. You’re probably just being silly and misplacing things, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

The high school lacrosse season has started and Abby had tried her best to rope you into joining the team, but with the absolute disaster that was tryouts you’ve come to the realization that sitting on the bleachers cheering on your friends (new and old) is definitely the best place for you.

Abby had let little tidbits of information slip, about how Owen was her ex and left her for Mel and how she’d later come out as bisexual as a result of the relationship disintegrating. The confirmation that she was into girls had you internally kicking your feet, punching your fists and screaming until your throat was so raw that it could bleed, but you decidedly keep that to yourself. The little crush that had completely taken over your mind, Abby crawling into every little crevice that wasn’t taken up by school or the various relationships you’d been establishing or reestablishing.

You’d grown close to Dina again, her boyfriend Jesse by extension. Dina is… talkative to say the least, occupying most of your AP math class with her chittering, and you’re yet to meet this elusive Ellie you’ve heard so much about from her venting and seemingly never ending gossip. From ‘oh my god! Ellie and Cat from S-3? They kind of had a huge argument-’ to ‘Ellie is ditching class again, I’m surprised she hasn’t been kicked outta here by now, that’s what happened to her back in Boston!’ Based on what you’d heard, Ellie could only be described as a badass juvie escapist. And that’s how you’ve come to be sat in Jackson’s only diner, The Clay Pit BBQ, on a Friday evening after school waiting for ‘Ellie’ and Jesse to show up.

Dina sits across from you in the booth as you take in the cringe worthy old western themeing that seems as though it was plucked from a young child’s bedroom or a roadside tourist trap. A milkshake is sat in front of Dina with her admitting to herself more than saying to you, “I really shouldn’t be having this… lactose intolerance is a big thing with my family,” you nod at her more to quell her than to actually provide any opinion on her predicament, while a large cup of water and a plate of fries in front you. You both thank the waitress and begin to eat until a cough and playful punch lands on your shoulder. Jesse. You scooch further into the booth, the old faux leather squeaking underneath your movement. But as you turn to look at the others it’s not Jesse that’s sat beside you but the ‘Williams’ girl. The one that had returned your pin and the dots line up in your head. Dina had always said about her ditching to go skateboarding, and under the table is the same longboard as she’d made her escape on weeks prior.

“Ellie, this is Y/n.”

Dina turns to you now, “Y/n, this is Ellie.”

The air fills with a heavy tension, Dina and Jesse both look between the two of you and to each other as though having a silent conversation while Ellie keeps looking at you, as though trying to read you. Green eyes meeting your own eyes with such intensity that a heat begins to spread up your neck and it takes Jesse kicking the auburn haired girl and jolting her out of her trance-like state before she sticks out her hand. “Hi?”

‘Is that all she’s going to say’, you think to yourself as a laugh escapes your lips outwardly and you shake her hand. “Hi.”

Ellie doesn’t eat much but orders an apple cobbler and attempts to make small talk, despite the encounter starting off stale and almost jumpy as the ice breaks you find yourself relaxing into her company as though you’d known her as long and as well as you had the other pair, but you can’t seem to shake a niggling at the back of your mind that there was something off about Ellie Williams.

As the evening continues you settle into a comfortable chit chat, and discuss this and that, what’s there and what’s not. Everything under the sun. Until the waitress from before approaches your table to tell you that they’re closing up for the night and you gather your bits and ready yourselves to leave. As you stand outside the diner, you realize that your phone had died and with the only way to contact your mom dead as a doornail, Jesse asks you something you hadn’t planned for, “How’re you getting home?” You give a huff of frustration and shrug your shoulders, “I’ll walk it’s only a half hour anyways, I can take a shortcut through the woods. Dina pops her head from around Jesse's side and pipes up, “Are you sure, I can’t carry everyone but Jesse can walk home if you want to get on?”

“No I’m fine, genuinely! Besides, you both live on the other side of town.”

Ellie shuffles her way from inside to stand beside you.

“I can walk her home.”

“But Els, you live-”

“Dee. I’ll walk her home.”

Sensing the finality in Ellie’s tone and probably wanting to avoid being the cause of a scene, Jesse and Dina hop onto her minty vespa scooter, and the tall boy waves a long limb as they pull out of the street and down the road out east.

“Ellie. I appreciate the sentiment but I think a bit of alone time would be good for me?” You tell her, its the honest truth but not the whole truth. Internally you’re screaming. ‘Why would she do that? Dina said Ellie lived near her. Why would she offer to walk you in the completely opposite direction to where she needed to go?’

“Oh…” She looks disappointed but quickly fixes her face, “I- I guess I’ll see you round then?”

“Yeah, see you at school?” She lets go a small smile at your good natured teasing.

“Yeah…”

You part ways as she sets off on her skateboard, quickly picking up speed as she propels herself forward, following the same road as Dina and Jesse had just gone down. In a flash of flannel and beaten converse, she’s gone and you start the trek home.

The late evening twilight turns to night it seems as you set off and you are left with a predicament. Either brave the dark of the woods and be home fifteen minutes faster, or take the long way round and stay in the safety of the luminous orange of the streetlights… Taking one look at the storm clouds beginning to form in the western sky, you quickly make up your mind. Woods it is.

Pulling the purple hood up over your head as the occasional spitting of raindrops turns into a gentle pouring, getting past the small saplings and shrubs that make up the treeline you breathe out a sigh of relief at the umbrella provided by the canopy of the tall ancient pines. A thick, choking mist is rolling in, concealing the ground from your vision. The trek is tedious, those people that came before you and also opted for your choice of the protection of the trees have left a somewhat easily traversable path between the roots. The silence of your surroundings that during the day would be comforting is anything but as full darkness takes hold. The only sound is the trodding of your feet against pebbles, leaves and twigs. The half moon peeks out from the clouds occasionally amid the rain, the slivers of light it gives off let you know you're still on the right path and spur you onward.

Snap.

Loud and clear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The cracking rings out over the pitter patter of rain on the leafy surroundings.

It’s what causes silence to break and it dawns on you why the woods had been so silent before. They were afraid. The birds, the deer, and the elk. The moose, the eagles, and horses. They were all afraid. And doing their best to stay out of the way of the local apex predator. You had walked head first into the lion's den. Panic sets in as you pick up speed, feet propelling you forward over tree roots and through branches.

Run.

You have to run.

As you run the backpack on your shoulders jostles around, keyrings making clinking sounds with each step. Another creaking noise pulls your attention back towards your surroundings as you attempt to focus on something aside from your labored breaths and the blood thundering in your ears. The same sound comes from behind you again. “Fuck.” It sounded closer than before, ‘where’s it coming from… holy shit… I’m not ready to die…’ Fear has you whipping your head around to the direction you think the sound had originally come from. You hear a follow up rustle as if it knows what you’re thinking. ‘Shit.’

You feel like an antelope in a nature documentary. Meager, mortal prey for a wild, powerful, immortal predator. All common sense is thrown out a shattered window, basic human necessity drives you. The animalistic need to escape courses through you. Instead of sticking to the path, you run straight. Jumping over logs, and avoiding puddles. Your sneakers are going to be destroyed, your hoodie is flailing about as your arms pump back and forth. A glimmer of hope in the darkness appears ahead as the rows of trees begin to thin, the tawny light of a streetlamp. Through the rain and the mist it’s hard to determine the exact distance left, the orange tones bleeding through the weather like paint through a cup of water. The trees are skinny and short, saplings and bushes as the ground turns to soft green grass beneath your feet, you don’t stop until your feet hit hard tar. A road now under your feet.

Your legs burn, your head is light.

The glow of the streetlamp above you fills you with warmth as the adrenaline fizzes out and your breath comes back to you. Lungfulls of damp, cold air rake through your chest.

Just letting the relief flood your mind, you feel the warmth of big wet crocodile tears tracing down your cheeks. You remain unmoving as the rain continues to soak you, you haven’t felt more alive than at this moment in an exceedingly long time. The surreal nature of your escape has you standing in the middle of the road, head reeling. As you close your eyes and take another deep breath, you fail to see the lights coming around the corner.

Your ears hurt before anything else does, the screeching of rubber on tar. Cold metal throws you several yards, searing pain in your shoulder, up your neck, and down your side. Above you is a girl. The light above her head like a halo is the last thing you see as you collapse in her arms.

I hope you guys enjoyed the first proper chapter, I wanted to keep it a little longer but felt that this was the best place to cut it off.

If you wanna be added to/removed from either my TLOU tag list or the tag list for this series (FITD) drop me a message!

Tag list: @moonlightdivine @hi2647 @jasmine-gazaille @mortallyfurryjellyfish @soft-and-lush @viswifetotallyreal @chrry1ovr @paleidiot @sawaagyapong @macaroni676 @godswlwwarrior

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou x reader #tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #Ellie Williams x reader x Abby Anderson #tlou twilight au #twilight au #werewolves #vampires #Friends in the Dark

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 2

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC),other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Not too much. A mention of recurring nightmares, some talk of fears.

Word Count: 4,240

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Thank you SO much to everyone who was so kind and gave such a lovely reception to the first chapter of the series. I hope you enjoy this new chapter too! ❤️

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers used here were created by @saradika .

The big, wide log cabin seemed so completely empty after Dean Winchester left, as though his presence alone was what had filled it.

The blue-eyed man - Castiel - ran after him quickly, shouting an order to a guard outside to let no one go in.

So Y/N sat completely still, listening to the muffled sounds of camp life happening on the other side of the pine walls. Her exhausted brain was trying to comprehend what had happened, trying to piece it all together.

The first person she'd encountered had been the woman, Risa. She and another soldier had been guarding the border of the camp when Y/N and Emma finally stumbled out of the forest.

Y/N was fairly certain she would have been shot on site if Emma hadn't been there. Instead, their hesitation gave her the chance to swear up and down that, despite appearances, she wasn't a Croat.

The two soldiers had eye-balled each other and Risa had finally told the other guard to stay at the outpost.

“The Boss is still out on the raid. I'm taking them to Castiel.”

She'd pulled the heavy chains and manacles out of the guard post shack, and brought Y/N, cuffed and bound, to see Castiel. She’d met with him in the big cabin, tying Y/N to the table and then explaining things to him. He'd seemed a bit out of it at first, but then seemed to sober up quickly when Risa explained the situation to him a second time. Then he examined Y/N and made her tell him the story again. His face got progressively more dumbstruck as she spoke.

When he was informed that the Boss was back, he'd told Risa to take Emma away somewhere safe while they all talked.

Now, in the big, lonely cabin Y/N had to shake her head. She’d been so certain, in the end, that she was going to die. But Dean had walked away and left her breathing.

Just another miracle that somehow kept her alive for one more day.

The evening wore on and the light began to disappear, leaving only a dusky blue twilight inside the cabin. She didn't like the night time and the dark. It was a fear that had started with the poltergeist when she was sixteen - when every time she turned off the light and closed her eyes, something evil emerged to cause her pain and terrorize her in the dark.

Before long, the very last of the twilight left the room, and unknown, unkind darkness loomed all around her, and she began to feel the panic rising. But suddenly, just before it could take hold completely, Dean strode through the door, carrying a bright lantern that banished the dark. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to see him in spite of everything.

He moved to stand directly in front of her, almost exactly where he stood when he’d elected not to shoot her. She looked up at him and gave a slight smile, not knowing what else she could do. Then she thought to ask the question foremost on her mind.

“Can I see Emma? I'd like her to know I'm safe.”

“No.” He said, shooting down the request without hesitation. He moved over to a metal folding chair that sat at the end of one of the tables and pointed at it.

“I'm gonna sit right here, all night, not sleeping. And if you so much as twitch? I promise I'll put you down.”

Y/N still couldn't help but appreciate the light he'd brought in for her, and the fact that she was still breathing, so she gave another half smile. “Okey dokey.”

He looked briefly taken aback by her response before his scowl returned. He plunked himself down on the chair and folded his arms across his chest, sitting up ramrod straight. It didn't look very comfortable.

But then, her spot on the hard floor, chained to the table, wasn't all that comfy either. But she decided she was grateful that the length of the chain allowed her to comfortably move her arms around. That was something.

She leaned back against the wide metal leg of the table and tried to relax. But soon her active mind was wandering and she stole a glance at Dean, wondering about how very different he was now. Of course twelve years was a long time in the best of circumstances. Twelve years spent fighting monsters and battling through an apocalypse was bound to change a person.

As she stared at him he turned his head and caught her at it outright. She blushed slightly and decided to cover with a question. “Can I see Emma tomorrow?”

“No.” Dean said before going back to staring at the far wall.

His outright refusal was frustrating. But she worried that arguing with him might be considered “twitching”, so she kept her mouth closed.

The silence stretched out again and made Y/N antsy. She was used to Emma’s little-girl-babbling, her singing, and just her general five-year-old noisiness. The camp was mostly silent on the other side of the wall as well, only the crickets could be heard, playing their creaky songs.

Her eyes once again settled on the only interesting thing in the room, Dean. She tried to be less obvious about staring this time, but realized she’d failed when he spoke harshly without looking in her direction.

“Why are you staring at me?” His voice was full of annoyance.

“I’m not.” She said quickly and unconvincingly.

He finally looked at her and his face was cold and angry. She remembered that he used to have a really bright, beautiful smile.

“Why can’t I see Emma?” She asked, aware she was probably pushing buttons she shouldn't.

Dean ignored her and slowly looked away again. Y/N huffed out an angry puff of air and despite her worries about riling him, decided to argue. “She’s my daughter. I just want to make sure she’s okay, and let her know that I’m okay too.”

He remained silent and Y/N’s voice became desperate. “Please!”

Dean swung his head back to look at her angrily. “Look, I’m probably going to end up shooting you. When that happens, do you want her to have to go through all of it again? Or worse, have her sitting in the room when you turn and I have to take you out?”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, but she shook her head. “No.” She said softly.

Dean lifted his hand and then dropped it, looking away again. “So okay. Then shut up about it.”

Y/N was only a little offended and sighed slowly. After being quiet for a minute she spoke with another frustrated sigh.

“Okay, but do we just have to sit here? This is boring.” Her eyes lit up slightly. “We could play twenty questions.”

Dean looked back at her and his expression was finally registering as something other than angry or blank. He obviously thought she was nuts.

She shrugged. “Just to pass the time.” When he just continued to stare, she shook her head. “No? How ‘bout the alphabet game?”

Dean’s perplexed expression fell back into his usual scowl but Y/N trudged on anyway. “The alphabet game is where you pick a subject, like countries of the world, or 80s action movies or something, and then go back and forth, each having to come up with something that matches the next letter. Like if I said ‘Action Jackson’, you’d say…’Beverly Hills Cop’, then I’d say-”

“Shut. Up.” Dean said succinctly. His mossy green eyes were dark, and quiet frustration oozed out of him.

Y/N slumped back against the table leg. “Sorry. I talk when I'm nervous, and when I’m bored. So, it’s a double whammy here. Hence the motor mouth.”

“Go to sleep.” Dean said in a clipped tone.

“I have too much adrenaline for sleep. I WAS almost shot today, after all.”

Dean’s jaw clenched before he looked away from her again and leaned back slightly in the chair. “If you don’t shut up and go to sleep I may change my mind about the ‘almost’ part.”

Y/N bit her lip trying to suppress a giggle as exhaustion and adrenaline combined with her twisted sense of humor. The result was a loud snort that had Dean once again looking at her like she was nuts.

She smiled at him, wishing he’d smile back, and shared the movie quote that was tickling her funny bone.

“Good night, Westley. Good work, sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

When Dean just stared at her silently, she shook her head. “Princess Bride? No? It’s a classic.”

She swore she saw his hand move towards the holster on his thigh and she raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.”

Dean stared a while longer at her and she wondered if he really was contemplating shooting her, until he finally looked away and settled himself more comfortably in the chair.

She sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

***

Y/N was floating down a river in a little canoe. Emma was sitting across from her and talking to her, though she was still a baby.

“We’re lost, Mommy.” She said and Y/N shook her head. She had to keep her baby safe and that included keeping her safe from the truth.

“No we’re okay, baby.” Y/N said as the river got choppy and sharp rocks jutted out, waiting for them around every bend. They careened straight towards one, and Y/N could do nothing to steer the canoe around it; the one oar she had was mostly turning her in circles. They smashed into the rocks and the boat began filling with water.

“Mommy, the water is coming up.” Said Baby Emma. “We’re gonna drown.”

“No, we won’t baby. I won’t let us.”

Y/N tried to scoop the water out with her hands, but it was just too fast. They were sinking. Y/N grabbed for Emma but the baby began to float away.

“Emma!” Y/N called out to her daughter as she floated farther and farther away. But even though she was almost a mile away, Y/N could still hear her little voice right in her ear.

“You lost me, mommy. I can’t come back, I’m lost.”

“No! I didn’t!” Y/N cried out, jerking awake.

The cabin had sunshine pouring in through the east-facing windows. It was morning, she was alive, and so was Emma, she reassured herself, she was just out somewhere in the camp. Her recurring nightmare could be left in the shadows. She took a deep breath and looked over at Dean. He was staring intensely at her. She raised her hands.

“Sorry, not ‘twitching’, just a bad dream.”

Dean still didn’t blink. It was unnerving. “Did you really not sleep at all?” Y/N asked.

“Said I wouldn’t.”

Y/N took in his posture in the chair, straight and alert; he’d barely moved an inch all night. It made her smile and shake her head.

“Huh.”

Dean’s scowl was firmly in place. “What?” He questioned.

Y/N shrugged. “No, nothing. It’s just good to see that things haven’t changed much, after all.”

Dean scoffed. “Woman, everything in the world has changed.” He looked away from her. “And it just keeps changing every day.”

“Maybe,” Y/N conceded. “But yet here you are, all these years later, and you’re still protecting people.”

His head swung back towards her and he seemed offended. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Y/N lifted a manacled wrist and gestured beyond the cabin. “You sat up all night, in what I can only assume to be the world’s most uncomfortable chair, to make sure that everyone in the camp was safe from a potential monster.” She shrugged again. “Because you’re still protecting people.”

“That is not what this is.” Dean said angrily, and Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“No.” Dean reiterated. “I am the leader of this camp, and leaders do their own dirty work. If you turn, I’m gonna be the one to shoot you.”

“To save your soldiers having to do it.” Y/N said with a nod.

“No!” Dean barked. It surprised her that he was so angry about what she was saying. It was obvious to her. The hunter she’d known may have turned into a soldier, may have gotten a little harder, but from everything she’d seen, he was still Dean Winchester underneath.

His face was a snarl now, though. “Look, I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of benevolent nursemaid here.” Dean tried to explain. “Everyone in camp has jobs, has their roles. It’s how we’ve all survived so far. My role is to keep the camp guarded. And I do that so everyone else can perform their roles. It’s simply a matter of survival. If you turn into a Croat and start killing folks, that lowers our numbers, makes us all more vulnerable. That’s all this is. So don’t go thinking I’m some kind of bleeding heart. When the time comes, I will take you down.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Okay.” She said calmly. She didn’t really believe a word of it. But she wouldn’t argue with his need to make her see him as deadly.

“I mean it. I won’t hesitate.” Dean said coldly.

“But,” Y/N looked at him and gave a small smile, “you already did. Hesitate, I mean.”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Are you taunting me?” His voice was low and very menacing.

Y/N raised her hands, making the chains rattle. “No!” She denied vehemently. “I’m not taunting you, I’m thanking you. That hesitation saved my life.”

Dean’s glare was hot and angry. “Well, like I told you, things change real quick these days, so don’t tempt me.”

He turned away from her again and Y/N lowered her hands. His attitude was not what she’d expected. He honestly seemed insulted that she’d implied that he was a good man who made it his mission to keep people safe.

Silence descended again, until Y/N began shifting around, noisily rattling her chains.

“Stay still.” Dean barked without looking at her.

“I can’t.” Y/N said, slightly embarrassed. “I…I have to…pee.”

Dean turned to look at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew.” When Dean made no move to rectify the situation, she let out an annoyed huff. “Do you at least have a bucket?”

Dean continued to stare at her for a long time, before calling out. “Johnston!”

A thin man holding a rifle stepped in the door. He’d clearly been standing just outside. “Yes sir?”

“I need your help with the latrine.”

“Sir?” The young man’s face was confused and Y/N snorted out a laugh.

Dean shot her a dirty look. “Shut up.” He ordered. She bit her lip to stifle her smile.

He turned back to the soldier. “With her, Johnston.” He said, pointing at Y/N. “I need help taking her to the latrines. I’m gonna hold her chains, so I need you to keep a gun on her.”

“Oh!” The man was clearly very relieved. “Yes sir.”

Dean stood up and took a key from the inside pocket of his green canvas jacket, bending to unlock the padlock that kept Y/N attached to the table. He pulled her to her feet and she stumbled into him, her legs being slightly wobbly and asleep from her uncomfortable position.

“Sorry.” She said, suddenly shy as she stood so near him. She looked up into his face and was slightly mesmerized by his shining emerald eyes and the dusting of freckles on his cheeks. He really was remarkably beautiful, moreso today than when he’d come to save her all those years ago.

Dean just grunted and stepped back, holding her thick chains in his big hand easily. He took the lead, his long strides forcing her to jog along behind him or risk being dragged all the way.

The camp was still just waking up and she could smell coffee brewing around the campfires where people sat sleepily rubbing their eyes and then popping them wide open as the strange procession passed by them. She tried to smile at them, but the fear on their faces made her remember her bloodshot eyes, and she lowered her head. They probably thought their leader had gone crazy, dragging a Croat around on a leash.

After a few minutes of walking they reached a row of outhouses, plain but well built. Dean pointed to the one on the end of the row and Y/N went in. She stopped just inside the door, looking back at Dean.

“Are you going to let go of the chain?”

“No.”

She frowned and waved her hand at the wooden door. “I can’t close the door if the chain is in the way.”

Dean just shrugged in answer.

Y/N’s face was imploring. “Come on.”

Dean said nothing.

Y/N gritted her teeth. “Well could you at least look the other way?”

“No.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out a little growl of frustration. “For pete’s sake, I am in chains, and you’re holding on to them! Where the hell am I gonna go if you look away for a minute?”

Dean stared at her a moment longer before finally, begrudgingly, turning his head.

“Thanks.” Y/N mumbled, trying to pull the door over as far as it would go with the chain stopping it.

When she was finished, she came out with pink cheeks. There was no way both men hadn’t heard her peeing. There were definitely some real indignities involved in people thinking you were a monster.

When they got back to the cabin, Dean was locking Y/N back up to the table, crouched down beside her, when her stomach rumbled from hunger. He ignored it, double checking her manacles before walking out and leaving Johnston watching over her with his rifle.

A few minutes later though, a young girl, probably no more than thirteen, came in with a bowl of oatmeal and some canned oranges. She also had a cold glass of water on the tray and Y/N groaned out loud. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she saw it there. Her groan seemed to startle the girl who was approaching Y/N with considerable trepidation.

Y/N tried smiling again, knowing there was nothing she could do to change her bloodshot eyes, but hoping she could still show kindness in them.

“Hi.” She said softly. “My name is Y/N, what’s yours?”

“Theresa.” The girl said, as she came a little closer. “Boss told mom to make you some breakfast and she sent me to bring it.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you so much. It smells delicious. Tell your mother I said thank you as well.”

Theresa nodded back and finally came up beside her to set the tray within reach on the floor. Then she scuttled away quickly and Y/N tucked into the food. The oatmeal was slightly stale and plain with nothing to go in it, but it was warm and filling and the oranges were sweet and juicy despite their slightly tinny taste. It was the best meal she’d had in well over a week and she was grateful to Dean, the man who didn’t care about anyone, for providing it for her.

She hoped Emma was eating well this morning too, and that she was somehow coping with everything. She closed her eyes and tried to send her daughter strength.

The next few days passed much in the same way. Dean would watch her every night, assuring her that he was watching for any signs she was turning. But a couple days in, she woke up in the night to see his head slumped onto his chest, exhaustion finally winning out over any remaining fears he had of her changing.

On her fifth morning, Dean was locking her back up to the table after a visit to the latrines (during which he now allowed her to take the chain in with her and shut the door), when he swore and grabbed onto her right hand. He pushed the manacle up further on her arm and examined her wrist where it had been rubbed raw on the underside.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t hurt that much, and I figured you wouldn’t care, you know, if you were still figuring on shooting me.” She said with a teasing smile.

Dean gave her his usual dirty look. “Yeah well, I wouldn’t want you to die of sepsis before I get the chance.”

He called to Patrick whose turn it was to guard the cabin for that morning. When the red-headed man stepped inside, Dean told him to bring a first aid kit from the medical tent. When Patrick left, Dean pulled another key from inside his jacket and unlocked the manacle on Y/N’s right hand.

Her arm felt strange without the extra weight of the manacle and chain. Dean checked her other wrist, satisfied that she only had the one wound. When Patrick returned with the first aid kit, Dean began cleaning the raw spot on Y/N’s grubby skin.

As he worked, Theresa came in with Y/N’s breakfast. She pulled up short when she saw Dean there, since he was usually gone by the time she came in. Y/N tried to encourage her forward.

“Thank you, Theresa. Don’t worry, your boss is just fixing up a scratch on my wrist. You can still bring breakfast over.”

The girl hesitated before moving over to Y/N and setting the tray on the floor. “Have you seen Emma today?” Y/N asked.

Most of the time, she tried desperately not to think about what her daughter was going through. If she were to dwell on it too long it would drive her mad. As it was, the nightmare of watching Emma float away from her, was coming two or three times a night now.

The girl looked afraid to answer with Dean there and kept glancing over at him, clearly nervous. “It’s okay.” Y/N reassured her again. “Please, how is she?” Y/N asked, aware that desperation laced her voice.

Theresa looked up at Y/N, her big brown eyes far too wise for a thirteen year old girl.

“Sad.” She said simply before standing and scurrying out of the room.

Y/N felt like a knife was twisting in her gut. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her tears from falling, but simply couldn’t. Two fat tears fell down her cheeks as she stared into her lap. Without saying anything, Dean tied a bandage around her injured wrist before tying more gauze around her uninjured left wrist, protecting it from the rough metal.

He cleaned up the first aid kit and left without a word. It was a few minutes before Y/N realized he hadn’t re-manacled her right wrist.

All that day it felt as though a heavy stone sat in her stomach. She barely touched her breakfast (an egg and some sliced fried potatoes) and didn’t have a bite of lunch. She felt terrible wasting the food and insisted Patrick eat it. It tasted like ash to her and she simply couldn’t swallow. All she could think about was Emma and how she was hurting.

Her ability to compartmentalize her pain and fear was breaking down as worry and heartbreak took over everything.

That evening, Dean showed up earlier than usual. He walked right up to her and, kneeling beside her, unlocked her other manacle so that she was free of the chains at last. She gave him a quizzical look.

“What are you doing?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s been nearly a week that you’ve been here and almost two weeks since you got bit.” His usual scowl was highlighted by confusion in his green gaze. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but it seems increasingly unlikely that you’re gonna start foaming at the mouth any time soon, so…”

He stood up and moved away, nodding to someone outside. Risa stepped through the door and behind her, holding her hand, was Emma.

Y/N gave out a loud cry of surprise, too many emotions flooding her at once to articulate any actual words. She tried to leap to her feet, but ended up stumbling back to her knees as Emma launched herself at her.

“Mommy!” Emma’s tears and sobs soon choked anymore words out of her as well.

Y/N wrapped her daughter up tightly in her arms. “Oh, baby, baby!” She buried her face in her daughter's long hair, squeezing her too hard, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so terrified she’d never get a chance to hold her again, so she savored the moment briefly before turning her head to where Dean was standing by the door.

Her throat was choked, but she pushed the words out. “Thank you. Thank you.” It was all she could say.

Dean didn’t respond and just walked out the door.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

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#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series #spn fan fic #endverse

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