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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months

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Immortal Beloved - Chapter Two.

Well, here we go with the next instalment, guys. I won't lie, I'm a bit disheartened that chapter one did not do as well as the prologue. I just hope that's because people are busy and haven't gotten around to it yet, rather than 'oh, this sucks, not reading it any longer.' Sadly because of events not too long ago, that's exactly where my worried little mind always goes :( Huge thanks to all of you who have interacted, though. Maybe I can encourage some of you who don't already to leave a comment, or reblog it? It would mean the world to your hardworking author.

Previous chapters - Prologue One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,700

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Holy shit.” Patting his pocket quickly, he was mildly dismayed to find himself without the silver letter opener he had stashed in there, the only thing made of the metal he could find that would work as a weapon against the shadow walker stood before him.

“Do you search for this?” There within her handkerchief covered grasp was the very tool he’d been told to arm himself with, the vampire tilting her head back. “You know what I am now, for you to be carrying the very item that could destroy me within your pockets.”

Looking at her unflinchingly, the blue of his eyes burned cold through the amber of his eyelashes, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I do.”

Puzzlement tugged at her grin. “But why? I pose no threat to you, John. I told you this.”

The caution in him continued to amp, but swirling around it came a feeling of great juxtapose. His first encounter with her had been truly terrifying, appearing before him more beast than woman. As she stood mere inches from him now, there was a gentleness to her quite palpable, the feeling of a storm stilled, the raging rain and howling winds broken by glittering beams of sunshine. He kept the words of Polly and Tommy firmly in mind, though.

“How’d you know my name?”

“Your walls are thin, and vampire hearing is quite the thing.” Smiling, she watched as he mirrored it for a flicker of a second, his face swiftly altering, blankness stilling his features. She read him like a book, though. “Your aunt, she is incorrect.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“When she spoke of us being evil incarnate. I for one am not.”

His soft snort was muffled by the blast furnace once again roaring, but she still heard it. He could have snorted in disbelief three streets away from her and the sound would still reach her ancient ears. “You tore four men to pieces last night. That counts as evil in my book.”

“Then you are evil too, John Shelby. For the weapons you wield, the intent behind the bullets you direct at your enemies, or the razorblades within your cap intended to blind and maim. I could say we are the same.” She had him there, he had to concede. “I saved your life, there was a purpose to my slaying of the Rasmussen men. That, and I happened to be quite famished.”

He sighed, flicking his cigarette away, returning the toothpick to his mouth. “Look, love. What the fuck do you want, eh?”

She cocked her head, smiling, reaching for his cheek. “For you to be calm, John. All this coolness towards me is unneeded, I swear to you. I would also like for you to be a gentleman, escort me down to the public house and buy me a glass of wine. I am partial to a nice, dry red.” She held the letter opener forth, gesturing to it with a nod. “A show of faith. Take it. I trust you; I would like for you to trust me as well.”

They shared a weighted silence, pulled in by one another’s gaze, the vampire speaking once again as her eyes toured him. “Gods, you are so strikingly handsome.”

She watched as the confidence he carried himself within seemed to slip a little, his cheeks colouring a tad as he looked away for a moment, a tiny slither of shy disbelief fluttering through him.

He looked back at her with a sniff, his shoulders bobbing lightly. “I ain’t bad.” There within the sharply dressed gangster, the man with the feared surname that preceded him, was the tiniest smidgen of boyish bashfulness. Oh, how she adored it.

“So,” she began, eyes glittering at him through the gloom of the evening, “that drink?”

The stroke of her fingernails against his cheek soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain, feeling himself pulled into the glacial vortex that was her eyes as he returned the letter opener to his pocket. “Alright.” He suddenly remembered Arthur’s reaction, coupled with the warnings of Tommy and Polly. “We can’t go in The Garrison, though.”

“This is of little matter to me,” the vampire began, adjusting the black fur of her collar. “I much prefer The Brasshouse.”

“You mean the place on Broad Street? Bit far, ain’t it?”

She smiled, taking his arm. “Not too far at all. Now, hang on tight. We shall arrive in a jiffy.” Suddenly, he felt as if he’d been shot out of a canon, the air whirling past him at great acceleration, his feet finding the floor below after a few seconds. Looking up, he saw the doors of The Brasshouse to his left.

“How... the fuck did you do that?”

Her smile flashed a set of pearly white teeth. “You bared witness to the stealth that I move with. The Bentley Motor Company has nothing on me.” She took his arm again, his warmth delicious against her perpetually cool body. “Let us head inside, and perhaps I shall tell you more about myself. I sense you have many questions.”

She absolutely wasn’t wrong.

As he entered the cosy surroundings of the pub, with its long, polished oak bar, bare brick walls and tiled floor, he wondered whether he’d completely taken leave of his senses. There he was, escorting a vampire towards the bar, intent on purchasing her the dry red she had made it known she was partial to, against the grave warnings of his family. He was nothing if not a risk taker, though, a man who lived life in the moment, caution thrown to the wind.

Imagine the stories he could tell his grandchildren; about the time he’d courted a vampire.

Was it even courting, though? Perhaps such a notion was getting ahead of himself, John realising that for all the thrill seeking within his nature, he should still perhaps not throw his caution to the aforementioned wind entirely. After all, he still had no idea over her intentions towards him.

“Large whiskey, Irish, and a dry red for the lady.” John instructed the barman, who nodded before bustling away to prepare their drinks.

All around him, the eyes of the patrons were drawn to his companion, how much she stood out compared to the other female persons there present. Short hair styled in finger waves was all the rage, but the vampire couldn’t have been further from that, with her dark curls tumbling almost to her waist. The stares did not abate once they’d taken their seat in a booth, John noticing one man at the bar practically salivating over her.

“Oi, mush. This ain’t a museum and she's not on display,” he barked, his frown deepening. “Put your fucking eyes back in your head.”

The man scoffed, leaning back against the bar in a casual, unbothered manner. “And who are you to tell me what to do, eh lad?”

“John Shelby.”

At the mere mention of his famed surname, the man’s face dropped, picking up his drink and moving with his cohorts across the pub, John muttering beneath his breath.

“That was very gallant of you, but I do not mind being stared at so much. I know that I am somewhat of a curious sight to behold,” she began, running her fingernail around the rim of her glass. “I do not look like other women.”

His eyes roamed over her, pupils inking into the blue. “No, you don’t.”

“And you enjoy that,” she asserted, her pretty lips curling, looking at him through the flirtatious flutter of her long eyelashes as she sipped her wine.

On impulse, he reached forward, wiping the drip of Cabernet from her lip, bringing his thumb to his own mouth and sucking it momentarily. It made her shiver within. “I do,” he finally confirmed, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. Oh, how she loved a man who had the confidence to stare so unblinkingly at her. “Do I get to know your name?”

“Brynhild.”

He was taken aback a little. “That’s a strange name,” he began, eyes still fixed firmly on hers, so much so that she shuffled slightly in her seat. He was much too handsome for his own good. “No surname?”

“It is a very old name. As for surname, I do, but it is not like a surname that is known today. My people used patronymics, and what that means is to combine the father’s name as the prefix, and then either son or dottir as the suffix. I am the daughter of Leif, so therefore my name is Brynhild Leifsdottir.”

He was fascinated, if not a little confused, closing the gap between them as he leaned across the table. “I think I’m just going to call you Bryn.”

Her laugh at his dryly delivered assertion tinkled through the air. “That is fine with me. I like that. Nobody has ever shortened it before.”

“Who were your people? You sound foreign but I can’t place your accent. I’m a fucking clod with nationalities, geography an’ all that.”

“No, no,” she assured, her hand pressing to his forearm for a moment. “You are correct, for even though my accent has softened, I am not English. I am Norse, or Norwegian. My people were Vikings.”

His eyes all but fell out of his head. “What, as in the fellas who came over and terrorised a load of monks up north all them years ago?”

“You say that you are, to use your term, a fucking clod with nationalities and geography, yet you know this correctly, John. Not as much of a clod as you think, hmm? You know your history, also.”

He shrugged. “Me sister is a right bookworm, she rattled something off about it once and I remembered.” He paused, momentarily wetting his lips with a flick of his tongue. Again, she shivered internally. “I know it’s bloody rude, to ask a lady her age, but...”

“One thousand and seventy-two. If I am to count my human years, then I am one thousand, one hundred and two years old.” She reached for his mouth, placing two fingers beneath his chin to close it after it had dropped open.

“Fucking... hell.”

“And you are?”

He suddenly felt a little inferior to his companion, that tiny little show of bashfulness making an appearance once more. “Um, twenty-eight.”

“Ahh, then if you are to discount my vampire years, we would not be so different. I had just turned thirty years of age when I was made what I now am.” His face remained a picture of wide-eyed incredulity. “Does my ancientness bother you?”

“No, not at all. I’m just... bloody hell. The things you must have seen and learned in your time. Fuck.” He laughed softly, shaking his head in wonder. “You're fascinating, Bryn.” Their chemistry already mingled in the air like magical alchemy.

She beamed, and he felt his pulse quicken. “You are very complimentary. What else do you wish to learn about me?”

He sipped his whiskey, returning the tumbler to the table with a soft clunk. “Whatever you want to tell me, love.” He winked, taking her hand and laying a soft kiss to her cool fingers. It took all she had not to reach across the small space and plant her lips to his.

Everything. She wanted to tell him everything as the blue of his eyes pulled her further to him, her usual aloofness banished to a place she could not reach to pull it back. Not that she wanted to. Bryn scarcely encountered humans who were quite a confident in themselves as John, especially in the face of all that she was. She knew he’d been afraid of her the night before, but that no longer seemed to linger within the body of the well-groomed, handsome young man.

He was unfazed, he did not cower to her. She was the most powerful apex predator on earth, yet he treated her like a lady. It had been many years since she had experienced that. He’d watched her decapitate a man with her bare hands, he knew of her savagery, yet it dented neither his chivalry nor his flirtation as they fell into long conversation together.

“To answer your question, yes, I can eat and drink, but they have no nourishing effect upon me. I could drink every last drop of alcohol within this public house also, and it would not affect my equilibrium. I do so merely for the pleasure when it takes me, and to blend in. A woman at a dinner party pushing her meal around with a glass that never empties draws attention, the type I do not always wish to receive. All the food in the world could vanish and I would not be concerned, for truly I only need the blood of humans to survive. Animal blood works too, but not as well. We weaken without our life’s source.”

John listened keenly as she talked, remaining mostly silent as the evening passed by, his eyes darting to the large clock in the corner every so often, willing it to tick backwards. He’d been there with her for four hours, and he wished for nothing more than another four to follow. “What else about being a vampire make you different from humans?”

She was only too happy to share that, but there were some secrets she would keep back. Even when in the company of a man who she viewed with as keen interest as she did John, she never gave everything up at once. “My speed, which you have witnessed. My strength is boundless, too. I could – and have – uproot a tree by pushing it, for example. I could also hold a car up one handed and throw a grown man across the room with a mere shove of my hand into his chest.”

His eyes sparkled. “You’ve done that, ain’t ya?”

Leaning close, she licked her top lip momentarily, her grin broadening. “Too many times to count.” She paused, cocking her head slightly. “You know exactly what I am and yet, you do not fear me.”

His shrug was light, finishing his drink. “There’s no point. If you wanted me dead, I’d be gone within a blink, I suppose. It was like being scared when I went to France. If I thought about it too much, then I wouldn’t have been able to do what I was there for and defend me country.” His eyes seemed to dull a little, John clearing his throat before offering a candidness he seldom ever uttered. “It did scare me, though. If I let it.”

The war hadn’t affected him quite like it had Tommy, John’s perpetual cheer and effervescence shining through the shadows left behind by the harrowing darkness of war. Only very, very occasionally did the Flanders blues bother him.

She placed her hand atop his, John moving his thumb out from under hers, stroking the soft skin just below her first knuckle. “Anybody who claims not to have felt fear in battle is a liar. I remember it well, thought it was so very long ago.”

“Some kind of vampire war?” he asked curiously, Bryn shaking her head.

“No, John. When I was human. I was what is known as a shieldmaiden. I fought side by side upon the battlefield with my Viking brethren. I became extremely adept in burying my axe in the heads of many an Englishman.”

He looked very impressed at that revelation. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve spent your entire existence basically being a fucking killing machine?”

Her lips pinched as she tried not to find his words as entertaining as she did. Oh, he was such a lovable rouge. Not many would brush off that kind of information, let alone turn it into a joke. “I suppose I have, yes. I tend to be a little more sedate in my penchant for slaughter at my age, though. With age comes a gentleness not seen in younger of my kind. We ah, find a little of our humanity again, you could say.” He fixed her with a comic look of disbelief, raising his eyebrows aloft. “Except for last night, that is.”

“Decapitation ain’t really sedate or gentle, love.” he hummed, laughing when she finally began to, dropping her gaze for a few moments, beginning to swirl a curl around her finger. “Got ya there, ain’t I?”

This man, oh, this charming, playful man. He made her feel like a girl again, not an ancient creature of the night, not a barbaric shieldmaiden. Just Brynhild. Just Bryn. “Yes, John. Yes, you do.”

On they continued to chatter, until last orders were called, John in no hurry to leave as he bought another round of drinks.

“How much, gaffer, to keep this place open just for the lovely lady and I?”

The landlord looked a little apprehensive, until he saw the size of the roll of banknotes produced, John beginning to peel them off. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, thumbing away a couple more.

“That’ll be sufficient, sir. Got to keep it quiet, though, lights off. I’ll fetch some candles.” When it was just John, Bryn and the man who facilitated their elongated stay within the cosy surroundings of The Brasshouse, he finally broached the question that had been at the back of his mind the entire night.

He kept his tones hushed, moving to her side so that they could share conversation that would not reach earshot of the landlord, sat at the other end of the pub next to the gramophone. “So, why did you do it, then? Take out the Rasmussen fellas, that is.”

She nodded knowingly, lacing her fingers together before her. “I knew that you would bring the conversation back to that eventually. I suppose it is only fair that I reveal my intentions, especially after the lovely evening you have treated me to.” She was not short of a bob or two, but John had not allowed her to put her hand into her purse once.

Drawing herself up a little, Bryn began. “I will start by revealing that I initially sought out your family for the purposes of alliance only, but then I witnessed you and felt my cunt do whatever the cunt version of a backflip is, so I will be completely honest there. I have interest in an alliance, and in addition to that, I now have interest in you.” She paused a moment while John’s mirth displayed itself in a long snort before he laughed hard. When women were unexpectedly crass, it never ceased to entertain him.

“There is an old saying, John. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and gods, the Rasmussen’s are my enemies of the highest order. What they are, they are not merely a criminal enterprise. They are vampire hunters, their lineage spanning longer than mine. From one generation to the next, they have stalked me through the shadows for centuries, after what it is within me that fuels them. You must have noticed by now that they are much stronger than your average person, yes?”

John nodded, allowing her to continue. “This is because they drink of our blood. In doing so, it will give a human some of the attributes of the vampire they have drank of. Sharper senses, speed, strength and stamina. You can imagine, can you not, the attributes they would gain if they managed to seize me. They would become unstoppable.”

He looked thoughtful, absorbing her words. “S’cuse me if this sounds like I’m being a thick headed Brummie twat, but what advantage does an alliance with us give you? You’re ancient and powerful. We might be gangsters but still, we’re fucking feeble compared to you.”

The admission of his lesser strength to her made something unpleasant prickle his insides, but John was no fool even in the face of such inner concession. He could not deny that while he himself sat very high upon the ladder of intimidation, Bryn was perched right upon the top rung.

“Daylight, John. You have the daylight, whereas I do not. My home, all of my homes, in fact, have been well fortified against break in. This does not mean it cannot still happen, though.” She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, her fangs snapping out within her closed mouth as the pain danced in her memories. Making them recede, she continued.

“When residing at my home in London, I am guarded during the daytime by men under the employment of one Alfie Solomons. I believe you are acquainted with him. I offer an exchange basis. I pay most handsomely for such services.”

He still looked a tad confused. “I think I’m missing something here. Why can’t you just go kill ‘em all? Ain’t like you’re not strong enough to do that.”

“It matters not how strong I am. The Rasmussen family is great in number, as I am sure you have deduced by now. Their dwellings are well fortified against vampire attack especially, for they know the marks they have had upon their heads by others of my kind. This has not changed throughout history. They have always bred plentifully to remain in good numbers and thus further their cause. I cannot risk happening again what their ancestors put me through.”

He almost didn’t want to ask, watching the pain swirl in her eyes, the way her nose crinkled slightly, the tightness in her jaw. “What did they do to you, Bryn?”

Reaching for her wine, she gulped the rest back, wishing alcohol still had a soothing effect on her. “Took me prisoner for over a hundred years.”

John might not have known about vampires for a long period of time at all, but what he did, he knew that perhaps it stung her pride greater than he could ever imagine to confess such weakness. As he covered her hand with his, he knew on an instinctual level that this rare and radiant woman was one he wanted to pledge his protection to.

Whether his family would agree was a different matter altogether.

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ecoamerica · 15 days

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whxtedreams · 3 months

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Chapter 8 - Please Don't Leave Me

Summary

You and Joel deal with your past losses.

CW // Depression, Anxiety, Mentions of Suicide (No detail and no attempts - just mentioned/implied), fluff, angust, hurt/comfort. - take care of yourselves

WC // 10,501

Now

Late Spring 2024

As you and Joel separate ways outside the gates of Jackson, you agree to meet at his house once you've cleaned yourself up after patrol. You had laid down by the lake for at least an hour and managed to take in the calmness and quiet peace it provided. The conversation between you and Joel had felt naturally effortless as you talked about small pieces of each other's history, making the time pass by quickly and comfortably.

You had both mentioned multiple times throughout your conversation that you should start heading back over to Jackson, but neither of you wanted to be the first to actually make the move. The two of you felt so calm and at ease while laying in the grass together, as though the rest of the world didn't matter as long as you were next to each other. It wasn't until the setting sun made it difficult to see his face that you even considered making the first move to head back toward Jackson.

You talk about Tommy finding you and Annabel, and how the time you spent as a trio was some of the best and worst moments of your life. You talk about your past life, every variation of yourself throughout the years. It wasn’t flattering but he listens like it matters, a soft frown settling between his eyebrows as you provide him a glimpse of the experiences you've come across. He seems to hang onto each and every one of your words, as if every detail is important to him.

You listen to him as he talks briefly about his own personal experiences, choosing not to pry about the life he had lived before or during the early stages of the outbreak. What he chooses to share with you is his choice, and you respect his choice in that matter. It's obvious that he doesn't feel comfortable divulging details about his life prior to the outbreak, so you leave that topic be for your conversation.

He talks of Ellie instead, how he was tasked with transporting her to the Fireflies and how their relationship blossomed from strangers to basically family as they travelled together across state lines. His deep care and affection for Ellie is obvious from the way he speaks of her, and you've seen for yourself how close they've become. It's clear that they care deeply for one another and that their relationship has grown greatly since their initial meeting.

His story trails off as he talks of his search for the Fireflies. You notice how he seems to struggle to retell the ending of their travels, as he turns his focus to the sky and closes his eyes, resting his arm across his face. You rest your hand on his shoulder and he faces you once more, confusion lingering in his eyes as if he's unsure of what to say next.

"You don't have to tell me anything, it's okay," you reassure him with a gentle smile, and his eyes shift to focus on your hand resting against his shoulder. You can see the struggle in him, the desire to speak yet something is preventing him from doing so. You can only imagine what is going on in his mind and heart right now as he stares at your hand.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people,” His face twists in regret and you nod in understanding.

"I'm not going to hold that against you Joel," you assure him gently, the assurance seeming to lift a bit of the weight he's been carrying. His sigh reveals a certain sense of relief, as if your words have eased the burden a little bit.

“You’re not?”

“No. I don’t care about the lives you’ve taken, Joel. I care about your life.” You whisper in confession.

“Oh.”

"I've hurt a lot of people too, if you've forgotten," you softly laugh, realising that you have in fact done the same. His laugh mixes with yours, easing the tension that had built between you for a moment. You both seem to understand that you've been through similar experiences, and that it's a part of the world you live in.

“Yeah, I guess you have.”

You think back on the conversation you had as you walk home, focusing on the distant look that faded across his eyes as he discussed his acts of violence. You knew that look all too well, and you felt the same as him.

It had taken a few weeks before the whispers began spreading around Jackson when you arrived, and how brutal and cruel some said you were. After the first few attacks of raiders, people began crossing the street when they saw you coming, groups leaving their tables in the mess hall when you sat down to eat.

They were scared of you.

You knew that those accusations were accurate, as the cult had awakened something in you and your fights with raiders had become less about simply killing them to inflicting them with as much suffering as possible.

You just hope Joel doesn’t get the same warm welcome you had.

As you begin to approach your house, you notice a flash of blonde braided hair. Emily kneels in the garden, carefully tending to the flowers while keeping her pale pink skirt from being dirtied in the process. Her blue cardigan is pushed up to her elbows to minimise the amount of dirt that is getting on it, even though her hands are already caked with dirt and dirt smudges cover her clothes.

She turns as she hears you approach and you can't help but smile as you notice the dirt smudges and the bits of grass that cover her face. “Hey Honey, thought I’d come over and pull some weeds before heading to the mess hall for dinner.” She explains herself and she stands from the ground, wiping her hands on her skirt and frowning at her dirty clothes. “Guess I got a bit carried away.” She chuckles and you shake your head as you stop in front of her.

Emily's use of "Honey" pierces your heart in two. It's been so long since you've heard her call you that, a name that used to warm you and bring you great joy whenever she said it. She used to call you "Honey" after you became her most valued customer, even teasing you for your obsession with her honey. That's how you two had met and even though this reminder feels bittersweet, the pain is still sharp.

After Annabel's passing and the end to your relationship, Emily had begun tending to Annabel's garden in her absence. She had claimed that it was her own way of keeping Annabel alive, and you didn't want to take that from her. Emily had been a big part of Annabel's life for years and had lived with the two of you for some time. You had been a little family.

That all fell apart when the Cult caught up to you, ripping your little family away from you. You had lost Annabel first, your world crumbling around you and your heart shattering, and then two months later Emily left. She knew the person that she fell in love with had died alongside Annabel, and that you would never be the same person again. That fact weighed heavily on your heart, and you struggled with the thought that she no longer loved the person you had become.

"Hey Em" you greet her, walking past her and heading upstairs to your home to quickly change out of the clothes you've been wearing all day. You're desperate to wash off the grimy feeling that your body has taken on throughout the day, and the clothes are already stained in dirt and bits of grass, similar to Emily.

You had expected Emily to return to the garden and continue tending to the flowers under lamplight as she normally would. Whenever you caught her in your gardens, she would greet you out of respect before turning her back on you and continuing her work. Instead, she breaks her pattern and continues the conversation. "You're back pretty late," she calls up to you from the bottom of the stairs, and you turn to face her with a soft frown. You're not used to being questioned in this way from her anymore and it catches you off-guard.

"Lost track of time," you reply with a dry and nonchalant tone. You shrug it off with an attitude of not wanting to explain yourself, and she shakes her head as if she doesn't believe your answer.

“You never lose track of time," she argues back and you feel your patience being tested. You sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose and feeling your frustration building as you rest your hands on your waist, unsure how to deal with her and this conversation. “You’re always back before dark.”

"Why are you here Em?" you ask, exhausted from the day and your patience already being stretched thin. You're tired from patrol and are not up for arguing or explaining yourself to her. You just want to get away to your room and have a minute of peace to yourself before heading over to Joel’s for dinner.

"People have been talking," she begins and you groan in response, digging your fingers into your waist as if it will soften the blow of what she's about to say. Of course people have been talking, and it's exactly what you've come to expect from this small town. “About Joel,” she continues after your groan and you glare down at her.

She quickly avoids your gaze as if afraid of the reaction you will have to her words, instead beginning to fiddle with the bottom of her cardigan. "He's dangerous. I know he's Tommy's brother and you trust him because of that, but you need to be careful." She says, and your gaze hardens as you glare at her. Her voice is shaky and you can tell that she's struggling to find the words to convey her message. You angrily shake your head at her, as if furious that she even brought the topic up.

"Yeah?" you scoff, and she looks back at you with a look of shock on her face. "They said I was dangerous and you still fucked me," you reply back with the same vulgarity she gave you, hoping to get a reaction out of her by pointing out the hypocrisy of her statement.

"You're fucking him?" She questions you with a look of shock on her face. You dryly laugh, finding the way her accusation even more offensive considering how blatantly false it is. She doesn't let up, however, and her eyes narrow in contempt as she continues. "Is that why you're late getting back, too busy fucking him on patrol?"

"No Em, I'm not, but even if I was, it’s none of your business. You left me, remember?" you reply with a tired sigh, dropping your hands from your waist out of frustration that she's dragging you into this conversation at all. You want to leave and have a moment to just relax and unwind before any more stress gets added to the day, but she continues to push you, which is irritating you to no end.

"I still care" she argues back in reply and you're on the verge of screaming at her, but you decide to take a deep breath and let that anger dissipate into a small sigh that still holds a touch of annoyance in it.

You find that hard to believe, that she could muster up the will to care about you even though she left you at your lowest. You don’t want her to care. You’ve been doing just fine on your own.

"Just…Go home Emily." You let your shoulders drop and attempt to release the tension that had been building up as the conversation continued. You have no patience left and you don't want to deal with this, not after all that's happened. So, you turn around and open the front door, leaving her alone at the bottom of the porch.

With the door shut, you collapse against it, sliding to the floor and pulling your knees to your chest. You let out a shaky breath, a single tear rolling down your face as a sob escapes your mouth and you bury your head in your knees. Your whole body is shaking and the sound of your sobs echo through the otherwise silent hallway.

This house was so full of life, so full of smiles and laughter. Annabel running through with muddy shoes, you yelling at her to take her shoes off. The laughter that echoed through the house. Emily's singing as the two of you danced in the kitchen as you cooked. Those moments of playful arguments during board games and the sweet warmth that permeated the air.

You lost it all. The life you had dreamed of had slipped away like sand in the wind. Everything you held dear to your heart, everything you had planned for, all of it was gone. All that was left were memories and pain, constantly haunting you and weighing heavy on your heart.

At least you hadn’t lost Tommy. If you had lost him too, you know you wouldn’t be here today.

That thought launches your heart into your throat and you struggle to breathe, the overwhelming emotions shaking you as you continue to sob into your knees.

Joel can wait.

Joel is annoyed and concerned as he opens the front door and enters, expecting to hear Ellie's welcoming voice, but instead the only thing that greets him is silence. He stops for a moment and listens for any indication of movement, but he hears nothing but quiet. He sighs in frustration as he shuts the door behind him, irritated by how late she is. Of course she's not back yet, which is odd because she should have been back by now.

He's about to call out to her but catches her as she emerges from the back door. She freezes in her tracks upon noticing Joel, a nervous smile slowly creeping onto her face. They are both silent for a moment, both waiting to see what the other will say or do. It's an awkward moment of uncertainty, the silence heavy.

"Oh, hey Joel" she mutters quietly and sheepishly greets him, her words coming out slow and dragging. Joel crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow at her, a look of suspicion and curiosity crossing his face as he takes in her nervous demeanour.

"You're late." He says dryly and in an unamused manner, taking in the sight of her and the way she's acting with a degree of suspicion. She seems nervous or afraid, like she's trying to hide something, and he's not willing to let that go unnoticed.

"You're late," she mirrors, mirroring not only his words but his stance and tone as well from the other end of the hallway. He can see her mimicking him and it's irritating him more than he'd like to admit.

Joel breaks the tense gaze first after shaking his head, moving down the hallway and ascending the stairs. "We'll talk after I shower" he yells down at her from the top of the stairs, which is met with a groan and he can't help but smile.

He won't let her see that though, he needs her to know he’s not impressed.

The tight band of his watch feels suffocating as he enters his room and heads towards his walk-in closet. He struggles to take off the watch and his fingers feel sluggish and unable to work the latch, the feeling of it clinging onto him like a living thing. He leans against the shelves in the closet, leaning back onto the clothes that are hanging from the rack above him. He closes his eyes and holds his watch in his hands as he thinks about Sarah, his mind wandering back to happier times with her.

Living with Ellie is bringing back so many old memories he tried to bury. He refuses to let Ellie see him like this. If she knew what living with her was doing to him, she’d pack up and move halfway across town. She already wants to move into the garage, that’s far enough.

He doesn’t want Ellie to move into the garage, but it’s what she wants. She needs her own space. He thinks the garage is too far, but again, he won’t tell her that.

He leans forward and shoves off his bag on top of the adjacent shelving unit scattered with shoes that he had begun collecting. He fumbles as he tries to strip off his clothes and throws them into the hamper beside him. Every motion feels like a struggle, as if he's struggling to remain himself and not lose control. He feels like he's suffocating in his own skin.

He stumbles into the shower and lets the water cascade down his face. He closes his eyes as the water hits him, almost as if he's not there anymore. He thinks about how long he can just stay here, how long he can stay in the water before he's forced to face everything again. His mind wanders to you and he knows that he doesn't want you to arrive for the dinner he promised until he gets the chance to compose himself.

He hates feeling like this.

"Thought you drowned up there." Ellie's mocking tone grabs his attention as he enters the kitchen, and he can't help but shake his head and smirk a little at her teasing. She is seated on top of the island countertop, peeling an orange as if this is perfectly normal.

Joel is taken aback and surprised as he notices the black eye forming on Ellie's face. He takes a step towards her with the intention of reaching out to her, but she quickly pulls her face out of his reach and his hand stops in midair. It was as if she didn't want him to touch her or see how bad it was. His heart skips a beat as he's overcome by a sudden rush of concern for her.

"Who did that to you?" Joel demands, the sudden need to protect her overwhelming him and overpowering his previous depressive mood. He waits impatiently to hear her response, his eyes narrowing to focus on her face and try to read more details about what happened.

She shakes her head and avoids making eye contact with him, tilting her head down as her thick hair falls over her face. "Nothing happened." She lies, but her emotionless response tells an entirely different story. He knows that she is keeping something from him, but the question still remains. Who did this?

He's not about to accept an obvious lie.

"Bullshit Ellie, a black eye doesn't form out of nowhere." He snaps as he replies back with an edge in his voice, and Ellie's lack of reaction only makes him more frustrated. He reaches for her face and she allows him to touch her, lifting her head and pushing her hair out of her face so that he can get a better look. His chest tightens at the sight of the bruise forming and his brow furrows in concern. He isn't gonna stand by and let her make up this lie and keep something from him, especially something like this.

He notices that her hands have stopped peeling the orange and he can't help but wince as cuts and bruises litter her knuckles. "Ellie...." he starts to say, but there is a sense of sorrow as well as anger in his voice. He sees the injuries on her hands and they tell a disturbing truth of where that bruise is from.

"I don't like it here." She confesses softly, finally giving an emotionally honest reply but not one that's much better than her previous lie. Joel's heart sinks at her words, her emotions now finally in the open but for all the wrong reasons. He wants to take care of her and it's heartbreaking to see her hurting. He moves back towards the fridge and takes out a tray of ice along with a dish cloth from beside the sink.

"And that explains the black eye because..." He trails off, expecting her to finish his sentence. It could be that some part of her still doesn't feel comfortable enough to share that information with him, and at the moment he doesn't want to push her too hard. So, he accepts her vaguest of replies for the time being, letting his expression soften a little bit. The most important thing right now is making sure she's okay and that she doesn't have any other injuries he can't see. He scoops some ice into the cloth and wraps it up before putting the ice back into the freezer.

"They just kept saying how much of a monster you are." Ellie mentions, a sad frown appearing on her face as Joel applies the makeshift ice pack to her eye. He gently presses it against her eye, trying to reduce the pain and swelling. He knows that she is holding back information from him, and it pains him that she even feels the need to do so.

"People are going to say that stuff about me no matter where we go. Just gotta ignore them, kiddo." Joel replies with a sigh as he lets her take over holding the ice pack against her eye. He knows that it's inevitable that people are going to have their opinions, and the only thing they can really do is ignore them and move on with their lives as best they can.

The reputation he built in the Q.Z. would follow him wherever he went, his past life catching up to him no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind him. Whispers of his former actions and the life he once led haunt him and make it difficult to move forward in life. Losing Sarah had torn a hole in him that would never truly heal, altering his personality for the worse.

"It's not your fault they're weak fucks." Ellie mutters under her breath in anger and Joel manages to hold back a laugh. She is right, but that behaviour can't be encouraged. He has no choice but to keep a stern face and be the adult, even though he's not sure if she'd truly listen if he were to say anything at this moment.

He nods as he leans against the counter in front of her, gripping onto the edge of the counter. "I know, kid, I know." He replies back and he tries to find the right words to get through to her. "Not everyone has had to deal with what it's like out there. They just don't understand." He says. "And that doesn't mean we punch them."

It's a bit disingenuous of him to say that considering he has punched people for less in the past, but it's still the right thing to say right now. Because while Joel's actions from the past have been a bit rash, he won't encourage Ellie to behave in the same way just because he did. They both may know he's being a little hypocritical, but neither of them mention that.

Ellie goes back to peeling her orange and breaks off a piece to eat, focusing her attention on her fruit. “Whatcha say I go get food from the mess hall and we watch some movies tonight until we pass out?” Joel asks, attempting to lift her mood and her face lights up at the suggestion.

"Fuck yeah, we can!" Ellie cheers and jumps off the counter, her excitement and willingness to go along with his plan is infectious. Joel can't help but smile as he watches her, knowing that it was a good idea to propose even if her excitement is a little extra.

His head snaps back to the thought of you – shit he had plans .

Ellie walks out of the room as he continues, raising his voice so she hears him. “Would it be okay if I invite someone to join us?” He asks and she slowly reenters the doorway.

She asks about who he's thinking of inviting and he mentions your name, along with the original idea of you coming for dinner tonight. “Oh, you mean the girl with the cool burns? Yeah, sure.” She doesn't seem phased by your presence and agrees to the invite but her smirk and the way she's leaning against the doorway catches his attention. "So is that why you look so nice?" She teases him and he gives her a glare in reply, although she doesn't seem to notice or mind too much, it's just another sign of their familiarity and their close relationship.

“Shut up.” He mumbles and she laughs before leaving the kitchen again.

He realises that a considerable amount of time has passed since you separated at the gates of Jackson and he starts to wonder where you are. Did you forget about dinner? Or did you simply decide that you didn't want to join him and Ellie for dinner? He is hesitant to let his mind wander down that path of thinking and the reason as to why you haven't gotten here yet but a small hint of anxiety and worry is steadily growing inside of him as time passes.

Joel wanders into the living room and finds Ellie sorting through movies and he asks her to pick up three meals from the mess hall while he checks up on you since you still haven't arrived yet. He can see her about to complain but he quickly assures her that she can pick out whatever she wants and her mood instantly lightens at that.

The routes to your house are carved into his mind, so he's able to walk there easily and without having to focus too much on the actual path. Instead, his mind is in a flurry of thought and contemplation, his thoughts a mess of conflicting emotions and ideas. But there's one thing that comes to his mind the most and that is you. And if you don't show up soon, he might just lose his mind.

The front garden is messy with small gardening tools scattered on the grass and dirt spilled from the garden bed, and his gaze travels towards that first rather than the door which he knocks on. This is rather unlike you, but he hopes that there's no reason to worry about this odd behaviour. He raps his knuckles on the front door, awaiting your response with some hint of mild anxiety.

Had you been gardening? At this hour?

He listens for footsteps but the house is quiet.

He knocks again and calls out your name.

Quiet.

His hands shake as his anxiety builds to a fever pitch and he quickly turns the doorknob and opens the door despite this, calling out your name. When there's no response, he can't help but worry even more about the situation as his mind races with the myriad of possibilities that could have occurred.

The house is dark and dim, the only light available filtering in through the staircase leading to the second floor and illuminating the dark wood floors. His movements slow to a snail's pace as he enters and surveys the rooms surrounding him. He checks the living room ahead and finds no signs of you but does pause as he steps on the strap of your dropped bag, the contents spilling out at the bottom of the entryway.

He calls your name again, the anxiety in his voice clear as his eyes dart around the room in search of any other potential sign of your presence here. Everything in your house has its place and remains neat and tidy. Something about your bag carelessly being thrown aside in a rush doesn't seem right and his mind is running with all the possibilities of what may have occurred. He doesn't want to believe that he needs to worry, but he can't deny that his heart is starting to skip a beat at the possibilities playing out in his head.

He jogs through the dining room and kitchen, hearing the distance patter of the shower above and immediately hurrying to take the stairs two at a time. The pace does not relent even as he makes his way to the landing with the three doors and he opens the door to his right but quickly closes it upon finding nothing but an empty bed in the corner of the room. Then, he turns towards the two remaining doors and slowly opens the one on the right which he assumes to be yours as the other has Annabel's name painted on it. He calls out your name but is met with an eerie silence that seems to pierce his heart with fear.

He would have loved to have really taken in the interior of your room, but the clothes and weapons that are thrown around the room catches his attention first which distracts him from anything else. He hears a soft sob and his head turns to the door between your desk and record stand. His foot halts its progress and his hand grips the bedroom door handle tightly. It takes everything in him to continue forward and he's not sure what it is that he is about to find when he pushes the door open, pushing your shirt across the floor but the curiosity and concern forces him forward.

He calls your name again and proceeds to step over the gun and then knocks on your bathroom door. His heartbeat quickens as he hears another muffled sob from inside of the bathroom and the sound of the shower only adds to his concern. His body is trembling as he moves his hand to the handle of the door, unsure of how you will react to his intrusion but worried enough to push past that potential reaction. "Hey, I'm coming in, okay?" He asks nervously as he pushes the door open and reveals the inside of the bathroom.

As he pushes the door open, everything is cast in darkness and the sound of the shower grows louder as the door opens. He moves in and looks to the side to see you laying in the tub with your knees cradled to your chest and your back to him. His heart sinks to see you in this state as he walks over and leans over to turn off the cold shower. As soon as the sound of the shower stops, your soft cries grow louder in the silence and it makes it so much more difficult to bear the scene before him.

He kneels beside the bathtub and you don't move when he lays a hand on your shoulder. He expected you to flinch in response to his touch but your sobs only grew louder and more pitiful. "Oh, darlin’" he whispers softly as he stands back up, looking at you with a look of worry and pity. He rushes over to the sink and grabs a towel from the counter and turns back to face you. He kneels back down and leans down next to you in an attempt to comfort you.

He was just with you, you were laughing. You were okay.

What the fuck happened?

He carefully lifts you to sit in the bathtub, wrapping the towel around you and avoiding looking at your naked body. Your wet hair sticks to your face and back and the sight is enough to break his heart. Your state is pitiful and he can't help but feel an urge to shield you and shelter you from everything that's made you like this.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?" he asks you and when you don't reply he wraps an arm around your back and another arm snakes under your knees. He grunts at the added weight to his knees when he lifts you and you wrap your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt as your face nestles into his chest.

He nudges the bathroom door fully open and carefully seats you onto your bed. Your face remains angled towards your lap as you sniffle while he crouches in front of you and pushes the wet strands of hair back behind your ear. His gaze remains steady and concerned while he watches you try and compose yourself for a time while his hand still cups the back of your head and guides your face so that it's looking directly into his own.

"Have you taken anything?" he asks quietly and you sniffle, shaking your head in response. He stares at you for a moment before finally nodding when he's satisfied that you’re telling the truth. "Do you want me to go get Tommy?" he asks but there's no need as you violently shake your head in protest and tears start to flow down your face again. His heart breaks further at the sight of your despair as he watches as more and more tears fall from your eyes and your facial expression remains miserable.

"Okay, okay. No Tommy" he reassures you while he tightens his fingers on the back of your neck, gently wiping away the tears flowing down your face with his free hand. His gentle caress offers only minimal comfort as the tears continue to fall more and more and your expression doesn't change. It's hard to see you in such a distraught state but he can't seem to do anything to ease your sorrow.

Joel hesitantly stands and removes his hands from you, letting you slump sideways into your bed and curl against your knees much like how he found you in the bath. He tries to avert his eyes as the towel doesn't adequately cover you.

He moves to your dresser at the end of your bed and digs through your drawer. He grabs what he assumes is a pair of pyjamas, and then turns back towards you.

He places the pyjamas beside you and turns to leave the room, but just before he can reach the door, he hears your shaky, broken voice. “Please don't leave me.” Your plea cuts straight through him and shatters whatever's remaining of his heart into a million pieces. His hand falls away from the door as his eyes are unable to tear away from you as he turns to face you.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, darl" Joel reassures you warmly and steps back into the middle of the room.

Your movements are slow and become more lethargic as you reach for your clothes and focus on dressing yourself. He turns away from you and focuses on the record cabinet next to your bathroom door. His gaze travels along the wall and settles on the dark green flower wallpaper covering all four walls with the similar green panelling on the bottom half of the walls. The only sound that fills the room besides your shuffling and footsteps as you dress yourself is the muffled silence between you two.

You speak with a broken voice and a hoarse tone that sounds strained and raw from your previous crying. "How do you do it?" you ask, seeming to genuinely want an answer that you have not been able to find for yourself.

Joel asks softly and soothingly, "How do I do what darlin’?" as he crouches in front of your record collection and flicks through your vinyls. He remains silent and patient while he awaits your answer and he nods subtly in appreciation of your extensive collection of vinyls.

Your movements come to a sudden halt and Joel hears you sitting on the bed. He looks over his shoulder with a sense of apprehension and caution and notices you’ve dressed and are settling into place just a few feet away. He straightens his legs to stand up as his knees crack and the sound creates a small echo in the quiet space.

Your eyes are bloodshot from your previous tears as you look up at him and he freezes up as soon as he hears your voice. “How did you deal with losing Sarah?” You ask and he stares down at you for a moment before letting out a sigh.

Joel nods to himself as he blankly stares at the wall above your bed, covered with multiple pieces of artwork with mismatched frames like the rest of your house. His eyes dart around to see what hangs on the walls and lands upon a sketched portrait of a skeleton. Other paintings of crows, black cats, landscapes and insect anatomy sketches fill your wall, seemingly suiting the mood of the situation as your room seems oddly melancholy for a place where you spend so much time.

The thought of the room fitting your personality crosses his mind as he continues to stare at the wall of artwork and at the portrait of the skeleton. He reflects upon the fact that you tend to notice things that others overlook and find beauty in things that others turn their heads away from.

A bottle of pills on the corner of your desk beside the bed catches his eye and he can't help but notice the label that reads Lexapro. His mind is flooded with thoughts from a conversation that he and Tommy had a few weeks ago in which his brother mentioned he had traded for a few bottles of Lexapro for you and for himself.

He picks up the bottle along with the glass of water next to it and turns his head back to you and makes his way to sit on the damp bed beside you. He settles down next to you and remains silent for a while as he thinks of his reply as it’s a loaded question. He offers the bottle to you and you reluctantly take it from his hand. His focus is on you as you remain seated on the bed and he doesn't have the heart to look away or make any sudden moves to interrupt this moment.

He hands you the glass of water and waits patiently as you take a pill from the bottle and pop it into your mouth. He watches as you swallow it down with the water before he takes the glass and bottle back from you and places it on top of the desk.

You sit beside him and he meets your pleading gaze with his own. Your eyes are filled with all of the sorrow and pain that you have been through and there's a desperate and almost begging look as you try to get him to give you the answers that you so desperately need. He softly rests a hand on your thigh and sighs once more, his eyes not breaking from your own.

He softly confesses after a moment, "I didn't" in response to your begging look and your eyes close once again. He can feel the sadness in you and he doesn't know what to do to take it away.

"I still see her everywhere I go. I hear her everywhere.” He chokes on his words and runs a hand over his face before he continues. “Sometimes... All it takes is someone to come into your life and fill that hole." he speaks more to himself and a gentle sorrow seems to grip him as his eyes fixate on his own legs instead of your face.

"Ellie?" you ask in a soft and gentle voice and he nods, looking back up at you once more. You have such understanding and compassionate eyes as you look back at him, which he is thankful for, but he can still see the disappointment and sadness in them and he's not entirely sure how he's supposed to ease any of the pain that losing a kid has caused you and that hurts him immensely.

He removes his hand from your thigh and wraps his arm around your shoulder, gently pulling you into his side. You let out a deep and heavy sigh as you're pulled into his side, as if all the weight of your worries and sorrow has been lifted from your body. He feels his heart slowing down and his own breathing becoming a bit lighter and easier, and for a moment, he feels a warmth wash over his body, one that's been missing for so long.

"I've got Ellie getting us dinner from the mess hall. I was thinking about having a movie night, you up for that?" he asks and you gently nod into his shoulder. A small amount of relief washes over him as he feels your nodding and your response is reassuring. "Good," he replies, as he pulls you a little bit closer, "Because I ain't leaving you here like this."

Ellie doesn't seem to pay any mind to your current state as he settles you down on the couch in his living room. He drapes blankets over your body and hands you a chicken salad sandwich before you offer your thanks. Ellie lays on the other couch as he sits beside you, your legs resting over his lap and he turns both of your attentions towards the television which plays some sort of comedy movie.

However, Joel’s not really paying any attention to the movie. He’s more focused on you, stealing glances to make sure you’re okay while his hand gently rubs your legs in comfort. It takes until halfway into the movie before you smile and Joel sinks into the couch, relieved.

Ellie jumps from her spot on the couch just as the second movie's credits begin to roll. "I think it's time for a horror movie." She declares as her knees hit the floor with a thud and Joel glances towards her with a small sigh. He's a little too exhausted himself to care which movie she picks and so he simply rolls his head around and turns back towards you while you lie there sleeping. You're snuggled up tightly in the blankets and your hands hold them close to your face, keeping you from the world that is beyond the layers of soft cloth that wraps around you in such comfort.

“Maybe we put a pause on this.” Joel suggests as he watches the peaceful look on your face, a stark contrast from the mess he had found you in earlier in the night.

Ellie turns to face him with a look of horror on her face and frowns. "You said until we pass out." she argues and she groans as her eyes land on you and she notices how calmly you're sleeping. "That's not fair, she doesn't count!" she whines and slumps her shoulders in a pouty way.

Joel slowly rolls his head to face Ellie, raising his eyebrows at her as if daring her to carry on. She groans loudly before dramatically falling back onto her back as if she’s dead. After a dramatic pause, she lets out a long drawn-out " fine " and slowly drags herself to her feet using an almost sluggish or lazy movement.

Joel's lips twitch into a small smile at her dramatic theatrics and his face lightens to find humour in her actions. But the smile quickly fades as if it was never there as she turns to face him again and points at him with a single finger. "You owe me though, old man." she warns and then she proceeds to drag her feet out of the room towards the stairs that lead to the room she is currently using upstairs until the garage is finally ready for her to move into.

The garage would have been ready last week if Joel hadn't been procrastinating in finishing the job. He just can't face the reality of Ellie moving out of the house, even if it's just to the small building outside. It is this thought exactly that makes him delay and put off the job until the very last minute, trying to buy himself just a bit more time. He finds that every time he approaches the garage, something comes up that distracts him and pulls him away from the task at hand, just delaying the inevitable and prolonging his procrastination.

He’ll have to finish it soon though. Ellie deserves whatever she wants. Unfortunately, she wants to live in the garage.

His eyes wander on your sleeping form and he thinks about what to do. He considers the possibility of leaving you asleep on the couch but he knows that your back will start to hurt in the morning if you stay like that. Plus he would much rather have you sleep in his bed where you can rest comfortably and safely while he suffers from a bad back tomorrow morning after sleeping on the couch. He knows that you need a good sleep and he can manage with the pain for one night in order to ensure you get that.

He leans over and gently nudges your leg to wake you but you don't stir. Your peaceful slumber is too calming and you remain at peace despite his attempts to wake you. He sighs as he sees that you're not budging from your sleep and he removes your legs from him as he stands from the couch. His own exhaustion from the day is weighing heavily on him as he leans over again and nudges your shoulder as he tries to rouse you one more time.

You’re dead asleep.

He removes the blankets from your body and you remain perfectly still. He checks your breathing to make sure you're not actually dead but you seem to be slumbering peacefully, your chest slowly rising and falling with each breath that you take.

For a second time tonight, Joel wraps an arm around your back and the other slides under your knees as he lifts you from the couch. With both hands under you, he grunts with the effort of lifting your dead weight. There's a pain in his lower back as he lifts you and he clenches his jaw tight to prevent himself groaning out in pain. He holds you carefully but firmly in his arms and adjusts you as necessary before beginning to head towards his room with you in his arms.

You stir at the movement and a soft frown forms on your face as you barely moan in your sleep. You shift closer to him and lean your head into his chest seeking comfort and warmth. Your face buries into his chest as your body leans against him.

As he walks up the stairs towards his bedroom, he glances down at you clinging to his shirt and he thinks back to the conversation that you had earlier in the day by the lake. While you had laid by the lake together, you had told him that you didn't care about the lives he had taken and the only thing that mattered to you was his life . When you had spoken those words, it took all of his willpower not to pull you into his arms and kiss you like his life depended on it.

He lays you in his bed and pulls the blankets over you with care. He wants to kiss you now as badly as he did earlier by the lake but instead, he just pushes the hair from your face and gently kisses your temple. Your face buries itself into the covers as you subconsciously nestle yourself further into his bed and he watches as you smile softly in your sleep. His hand rests softly on your cheek before he takes a step back and turns to the door.

Joel makes it to the archway of his bedroom and almost to the bedroom door before your voice rings out from the bed as you call out to him. Your half-conscious voice is laced with a desperate tone as you lie on your elbows and look over at him. “Please don’t leave me.”

Joel turns off the lights and hears you sink back into his bed with a sense of relief as he makes it clear that he won't be leaving you. He stops at the side of his bed and picks up a spare pillow from the ground, placing it between you as he slides under the covers. He knows that his body will instinctively seek out your warmth as he sleeps. Last thing he wants is for you to freak out when you wake up to his arms wrapped around you.

He lays there for what feels like hours, staring up into the darkness of his room as he listens to your breathing slow down again as you fall back asleep. All he wants to do is to roll over and bring your body close to his, to comfort you.

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t

Instead, he lays there quietly, allowing the silence and peace to devour him as he listens to your tranquil breathing.

His chest suddenly tightens and his mind wanders to a darker place as he thinks about the moment when he found you laying in the bathtub. If he hadn't heard you crying, he would have thought that you were dead, and for a moment, he thought that he may have indeed lost you. It's a thought that nearly sends chills down his spine and he shakes his head slightly as he attempts to dispel the thought. But the memory lingers long in his mind and he finds difficulty in forgetting that frightening moment.

He had never been more relieved to see your body shake as you sobbed.

He looks over at you in the darkness and can barely make out the outline of your body, but it provides him with a sense of comfort to know you’re close to him. You are still there, your body gradually rising and falling with each breath that you take. You’re alive.

And it’s with that thought in his mind, that he finally falls asleep.

And it’s the sound of Tommy slamming his fists into his front door that wakes him early the next morning.

He finds himself awake with a frown on his face and rubs his tired eyes open as the morning light beams in through the window on the other side of the room. He blinks a few times and groans softly as his eyes adjust to the light. He closes them again and presses his face back into the pillows before burying his head deeper into the covers to seek out the comfort of the darkness and hope to return to sleep.

“Joel!” Ellie yells at him from her room and he groans again as he pushes himself from his bed. He freezes in his tracks and his heart skips a beat as he finds you are right here next to him, hugging that damned pillow. If it wasn't for that goddamn pillow dividing you, you would have been wrapping your warm and affectionate arms around him instead. His stomach churns with a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

He hears Tommy's voice from downstairs as he also hears the front door open and the sound of his brother's loud footsteps. He rips his eyes away from you and stands back up to his feet as his bones begin to ache and his body creaks from sleep. He groans slightly as he moves his body, every fibre in his being wanting nothing more than to just lie back down beside you in that bed, with or without that stupid pillow.

"I'm coming!" He shouts a reply as he moves himself towards the bedroom door and down the stairs. His brother, Tommy, is waiting at the bottom of the staircase as he stumbles towards him, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he struggles to fight off the fatigue that his body is currently engulfed with.

"I can't find her." He exclaims in panic and Joel can't help but yawn again as Tommy trails along behind him and into the kitchen. He stops in the middle of the room and glances around the space, his mind still half-asleep and he tries to remember where he put the damn coffee.

He asks back, "Find who?" as he proceeds to open a few cupboards in search of the coffee.

Tommy mentions your name and before Joel can offer a response, Tommy keeps speaking nervously and feverishly. "I went to her house this morning and it was a mess and she wasn't there," he rambles with a growing panic in his voice. "Her room is always clean Joel, something's not right."

Joel smiles as he locates the coffee and he sets it down on the counter as he listens to his brother's ramblings. When he runs out of words, Joel places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from speaking any more and then he proceeds to make his coffee.

"She's upstairs sleeping," Joel comments as he yawns yet again.

Tommy's head snaps to the direction of the stairs. "Why is she upstairs?" He asks Joel with a frown and an incredulous look, clearly confused by the response given after the worry and panic he had just expressed regarding your wellbeing.

Joel proceeds to explain how he had found you last night while he continues to make his coffee, making enough for you if you wanted any. Although, he doesn't have any honey… He should get some honey.

He explains everything to Tommy who stands there looking both surprised and worried about the whole situation.

"Why didn't you come get me?" He asks Joel as he pours his coffee into the cup. There's a hint of an accusatory and irritated tone to the question and it's written all over his face. The reason for his annoyed and frustrated mood is clear, though he doesn't speak it out loud.

Joel pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to tell Tommy the exact reason why he didn't come to get him. Tommy's eyes widen in question at the silence that follows his accusation and he knows that he's already on thin ice. Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he prepares himself.

"I asked her, she didn't want you." He sighs as he finally takes a sip of his coffee and he feels his body relax a bit as the caffeine flows into his system.

Tommy scoffs at Joel's response and shakes his head, dismissing the idea outright and seeming rather upset about the information given to him. "What do you mean she didn't want me? You don't know what she wants." Tommy retorts back rather aggressively and defensively, seeming to be completely unwilling to accept the truth at the moment.

“Tommy-”

"No, Joel, you should have come and got me," Tommy protests firmly and Joel sets his coffee down on the counter behind him, preparing himself to calmly and rationally deal with his emotional younger brother's outburst. “You don’t know what she’s like when she’s like that… What she could have done.” He pauses as he runs a hand over his face and sighs. “Joel – I can’t lose her.”

"I had it under control," Joel attempts to explain to Tommy, but his younger brother just shakes his head again, dismissing his words.

Joel is starting to lose his patience with his stubborn and emotional sibling as Tommy shakes his head at him and mutters an insulting response. "You're the last person I expect to have that under any kind of control," Tommy retorts with a mocking tone in his voice as he deliberately looks away from Joel.

Joel crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the counter in a defensive and protective stance. "Yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?" He replies back to Tommy in an irritated and frustrated manner.

Tommy pushes himself from the counter and starts to physically approach Joel who is still leaning against the counter. "It means," Tommy begins in a rather condescending tone as he takes a step towards Joel, clearly not in the mood to be playing polite. "That you're too fucked up in the head to know how to help someone."

Joel shakes his head and looks down at Tommy as he steps up into his personal space. "Oh come on, you're no better than me," Joel snaps at his brother, his temper already running high at the moment and his patience rapidly approaching its limits.

“At least I didn’t try and shoot my brains out.”

That comment stings harder than Joel ever would have expected it to and his heart drops at Tommy's harsh words. A slight throb on the side of his head where his scar is makes his chest feel as if he's being suffocated and he tries to hold in his tears. He forces himself to try and maintain a calm and collected demeanour in front of his brother, even through the overwhelming tide of emotions that are currently threatening to overtake him, along with how much he wants to punch him. He clears his throat and replies, his voice breaking slightly, "Get out.”

He picks up his mug of coffee and focuses on watching the swirl of the liquid as Tommy finally seems to realise that he has struck a nerve with his last comment. Tommy sighs. “Joel – I didn’t mean–”

“Out.” He repeats himself and Tommy nods, turning and leaving the kitchen. He slams the door on his way out.

Once Tommy is out of sight, Joel finally releases a shaky breath as he clutches his shirt and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself and clear his thoughts. The liquid in his coffee mug is shaking due to his unsteady hands and he places it down on the counter as he struggles to control the overwhelming emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him. It takes everything in him just to keep himself from breaking down in tears right there and then.

Even though years have passed since he took that drastic action, the memory of his failed attempt never truly leaves his mind. He still carries the physical scar on the side of his head around with him as a heavy reminder. He's in a better place now, in his mind at least, but Tommy’s words certainly threaten to drag him back to that dark place again.

His thoughts are torn away instantly at the sound of soft footsteps pattering into the kitchen and he raises his head and looks over at you as you enter the room. Joel straightens himself instantly as he doesn't want to let you see the emotional state he was in just now. He's looking after you, not the other way around. As you finish rubbing your eyes, he manages a small, tired and reassuring smile in your direction.

"Was that Tommy?" You ask Joel as you yawn and make your way in his direction. You push yourself up onto the kitchen counter and he finds himself unable to help but let his gaze fall upon you. The soft and peaceful aura you project is almost otherworldly and he finds himself entranced in your presence, forgetting for a moment about the emotional state he had been in before you had walked into the room.

He nods with a small hum and his attention is taken from you for a moment as he places the freshly made coffee in your hands. The smile on your face in reply to this small gesture makes his heart ache for a different reason to before. The sight of you with your eyes half-closed due to your recent yawning, only serves to further endear you to him and he can't help but allow his lips to soften into a small smile.

"How you feelin'?" Joel asks you as he picks up his own mug, now in a slightly better mood and his emotional state from his brief argument with Tommy seems to be completely absent now that he's talking to you.

“A lot better. Thanks for last night, sorry you had to deal with that.” Your attempt to apologise is immediately disregarded and Joel's hand is held out to stop you from feeling the need to express any form of guilt or remorse.

"You have nothin’ to be sorry about," he replies and you nod as you take another sip of the coffee.

He looks back to you a moment later and his gaze trails to your lips as he watches you take another sip. The image of your lips against the edge of the mug is almost hypnotic to him and he can't help but wonder for just a moment what it would feel like to have your lips on him instead.

He looks away as Ellie’s stomping feet trail down the stairs. She appears in the kitchen moments later with a twisted face and mutters her disapproval about being woken so early by Tommy. She opens the fridge and takes out a small jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and she sniffs the air, scrunching her nose before looking over at you. “Ugh. you drink coffee too?” she questions with a groan as she pours herself a glass of juice.

Joel settles into the background as the two of you jokingly argue whether coffee is good or not and he's content to just listen to your banter knowing that he can afford to sit back and relax for the moment. A content smile rests on his lips as he listens to the both of you arguing over coffee and he feels a sense of warmth settle over his chest as he's reminded of how innocent and peaceful the two of you can be.

Although he knows that things can't always be perfect and happy like this, he still can't help but wish it was. The thought of things always being smooth and free of any stress or anxiety is a pleasant one, especially when he knows how rare such peace truly is. This moment reminds him that such a feeling is at least possible, if only briefly.

He wants nothing more than to erase the bruise from Ellie’s face and to remove the hurt that sits deep in your heart from the loss you've experienced.

In that precise moment, he is content to see nothing but happiness and peace in their eyes, and he wishes he could erase any form of pain from their existence and make it so that they never experience such grief again. He wants nothing more than to see them happy and content, and if that involves him sacrificing a piece of himself to make things better, he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

For his girls, even if you aren’t his.

Chapter 9

Notes

This is a heavy chapter so my apologies.

I rewrote the scene where Joel's in the room with her while she changes three times. I couldn't decide what I wanted him to be doing in that moment. I had wrote him dressing her but it felt wrong, as she's capable of dressing herself. I don't know but i hope this version is good!

I also tried to write about their grief but didn't want to spend an enormous amount of time on it but also didn't want it to feel rushed, so hope i found a good balance.

The number of times i wanted to rip my own heart out writing this chapter -- wow

70K into this fic and bed-sharing, wow. The fluff is in full now.

Divider by the beautiful saradika

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel x fem!reader #tlou joel #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel x reader #joel fanfic #tlou #tommy miller #tlou fanfiction #fanfiction

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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BUBBLES!!!! Hello hello I know I said that I’d send something YESTERDAY but again procrastinating seemed like a much better option lol BUT I AM SENDING SOEMTHING NOW!!!! And before that just wanted to say how much I loved the cute pedrito story really <3 we need more fluff and cuteness overload in this cruel, cruel world!!

OKAY NOW I was going to send a fluffy headcanon BUT THEN!!!!! I got a quite angsty idea that I just can’t shake off of my mind so 🫠Alright! You go on patrol with Tommy, Joel and Maria (i mean maybe other people but I don’t really know names lol and it’s just not that important anyway) AND OF COURSE YOU GET ATTACKED it could be infected, it could be raiders, whatever! And of course you get badly hurt (this is inspired by something I saw in a show where, to escape the villain, the mc let herself fall from the first floor and got impaled on some metal thingie BUT SHE SURVIVED DONT WORRY!!) so let’s say you chose to let yourself fall, etc…which leaves you with a severe injury in the abdomen.  Joel doesn’t waste any time rushing to you and that’s where he sees the giant pool of blood staining your clothes, the metal sticking out of you. You’re breathing heavily, sweating, all the symptoms and Joel is panicked, losing his mind, you name it. This is just too familiar, too much of a déjà-vu and Tommy who’s there as well can’t help but feel the “shit it’s happening again, she’s going to die”  But they have to act fast so they manage to lift you, the metal thing still in the wound (so you don’t bleed out and not like mr Joel and his knife ahem) and they take you back to Jackson. Joel is carrying you, trying to keep you awake and just…not have you die in his arms. Thankfully you weren’t that far away so you manage to go back rapidly but when you reach the town, you’re in a pitiful state—white as a sheet, shallow breathing, delirious, etc...— and you're quickly sent to the town hospital Joel absolutely REFUSES to leave your side, probably gets into a fight with the doctor to be allowed in because he can't bear being away from you now. The doctor quickly realize that oh oh they don't have any anesthesia and they're going to have to take off the metal spear + sew you back without putting you asleep and if you don't die from the hemorrhage, you might just end up dying from the pain. They explain the situation to Joel who again, is this close to just fuck these doctors up but he doesn't have a choice: either they operate without anesthesia or they let you bleed to death.  Ellie arrives as well because word in Jackson travels fast and she's aware of what happened, Tommy stays with her outside, explaining to her the situation. That's when Ellie hears your wretched screams piercing through the small building. Inside the "operating room", the doctors are trying to keep you from moving as they get the metal out of you and if Joel's heart hadn't broken already, it sure as hell is breaking now as you're begging him to make the pain stop. He's holding you, keeping your shoulders fixed on the table and trying to soothe you and he does the heartbreaking "I know, I know, baby, I know" but truth is, he's completely powerless and it's killing him. One of the scariest, most tragic moment of his life is happening all over and just like the first time, he can't do anything but try and calm you down and tell you to not leave him. His tears fall on your contorted face and if he could he would just take that pain all for him, take all the pain just to stop your screams.  Finally, the doctors manage to find some sleeping pills or something to soothe you and help you rest. They assure Joel that you're stable and you should be okay and Joel can feel the tiniest bit of the weight lift from his shoulders.  Seeing the doctors left, Ellie understands it's over and she goes inside to find Joel sitting at your side. His clothes are drenched with blood—your blood— but when he sees Ellie, he hugs her. She doesn't care about the blood staining her own clothes, she accepts the embrace and squeezes Joel tight.  There is this sort of...mutual understanding between them. Joel can't just crumble because he needs to be there for Ellie so he tries to show a brave face. And in the same way, Ellie knows what Joel has lost so she tries to be here for him. 

I was about to send out a searching crew for you. Missed ya!!!! 🥺

No stop it this is absolutely mental. Love you need to start writing if you ain't doing that already because dang!!!!!! 😭😫🥲

#come chat with bubbles 🫧#joel miller x reader #little lily 🪷

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woobienation · 2 years

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Why I Fell in Love With Jonathan Byers (and Jancy)

I've just finished watching the first season of Stranger Things, and it's been years since I've felt this fanatical level of appreciation for a character and a ship. I don't quite know what to do with myself. I'm spinning around in circles because I'm torn between wanting to re-watch those first eight episodes (with an obsessive focus on the Jonathan Byers scenes) and being on tenterhooks, wanting to go 'full binge ahead' on seasons two through four.

I'm chill like Barb. They did you dirty, Barb!

I'm going to compromise and indulge my librarian heart (which loves things categorically, precisely, in bulleted lists) by trying to quickly put into words to why Jonathan Byers (and the sweet ship Jancy) have my heart caught in a vice grip. Or maybe a bear trap? Then I'll devour season two like the Upside Down devoured Barb. (I'm sorry, Barb. I felt such a strong awkward-friend-at-the-party kinship with you.)

Jonathan Byers stoically carries the weight of the world on his young, hunched shoulders.

When we first see Jonathan, he isn't plunking down Corn Flakes on the breakfast table like some average guy in high school. He's scrambling eggs, toasting toast, has already set out the orange juice; he's making a full, balanced breakfast. He knows where missing items are likely to turn up in the house (his Mom's keys in the couch, his brother's walkie talkie), and he spent the previous evening covering for a coworker because he "just thought we could use the extra cash." When his Mom scolds him for not being more responsible, his response each time is mild. Jonathan has accepted and is excelling at a parentified role within his own family, and if he ever falls short of being everything to his mother and his younger brother, he quietly accepts responsibility for that as well.

Now I'm on a roll. When his brother goes missing, he makes the "Have You Seen Me?" posters, he makes the photocopies, and he puts them up around town. (Geez, Nancy, forget about your chemistry test! Grab a handful of posters and offer to help the poor guy out!) He's the family photographer, chronicling his brother's childhood. He's the caretaker of his mother's anxiety, even in the midst of a family crisis ("We need to stay calm." "You can't get like this, okay?") He must do some of the holidays solo with Will because Joyce reminds her boss Donald (when asking for an advance): "I've worked Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving." I could go on, but it isn't exactly Jonathan's over-responsible behavior (psuedo-husband to Joyce, pseudo-father AND pseudo-mother to Will) that really hooked me. It's his apparent lack of resentment and the enormous tenderness he has toward these two people who depend upon him for so much (and, later on, toward Nancy). He's happiest when the (few) people he loves are happy, safe, and well-taken care of, and he doesn't seem to want acknowledgement, just genuine human connection.

An invaluable resource for Joyce and Karen's culinary masterpieces: https://70sparty.tumblr.com

On the sillier side, Jonathan also has some Todd-from-Wedding-Crashers energy, and I can't help but love it:

"The painting photo was a gift, Jonathan. I'm taking it with me."

Initially, the effort to raise his head and look Nancy in the eyes seems to be substantial, and not just because of his post-illicit-photoshoot humiliation. He doesn't seem to anticipate kindness from any corner outside of his small family, and, thanks to the Lonnies, Carols, and Tommy Hs of the world, Jonathan has the body language of a family dog that's been repeatedly hit on the nose by a newspaper: wary, watchful, prepared for petty cruelties and put-downs. And grateful and astonished when something better comes his way.

That exposed wrist during the bed-sharing scene, signifying his vulnerability, half-covered by his watchband, signifying his obligations and commitments.

(The 'something better that came his way' was bed-sharing with the girl of his dreams.) I love this show so much. It's given me so many fun tropes in a fresh way.

Last thought, because now I'm eager to get back to watching.

The eternal mystery of how Charlie Heaton/Jonathan Byers makes this haircut transfixingly hot.

"Take my hair, for instance. You shouldn't like it, but you do."

And apparently Jonathan's hair gets even more 'business in the front, party in the back' later on?

What can I say? The heart wants what it wants, and I want this sweet beta male to get the girl next door and carry on being the very best brother and son who has ever breathed.

Though I suspect season two will actually look more like this:

Wish me luck. I'm about to go even further down this rabbit hole. Like Barb. I'm so sorry, Barb.

"Naaaannnncyyy! Please kiss him, Naaannnnncccyyyy!"

#jonathan byers #jancy #nancy wheeler #stranger things #charlie heaton

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pacifymebby · 4 months

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my big three: Leo sun, Capricorn moon, Leo rising drag me sis

✨ two sides of Tumblr I interact with so... If you're from catblr then just know you would fight Van McCann for his microphone and you would win and become the new face of catfish and the bottlemen. If you're from Peaky Blinders Tumblr, you wouldn't hesitate to choke Tommy Shelby and I straight up think you'd get away with it somehow?!

🌼 Leo's have such a bad rep I'm so sorry but 1) you are the main character for real. 2) bad reps not alwaysss deserved and I'm gonna go soft on you because earth moon (although honestly probably makes you worse bestie X)

✨ Leos have this sense of like, the weight of the world on their shoulders but at the same time a sense that they like the weight of the world being on their shoulders because they were born to carry it

🌼 Stevie Nicks core I can't explain much beyond this

Like, just fucking radiant but intimidating as fuck?

✨I'd be so scared of you if we met hahaha

🌼 really devoted to the people they choose to devote themselves too, you're the main character and you maybe create your own pride if that makes sense, you're the central figure of the found family, youre the big personality that can inspire togetherness in the others.

✨ your moon only makes you more devoted to your passions... Capricorns not as fixed as taurus so you'll maybe find that where your fire might have been softened by a different earth placement, Capricorn moon only serves to make you more certain and determined about your passions.

🌼 low-key built for greatness because whilst Leos expect to do great things, Capricorns quietly grafting away to achieve great things... You just might find it takes a little longer for you to decide what the things you devote yourself too really are.

✨ maybe you have the potential to be a little overzealous or dramatic on the outside but then when it comes to your true sensitive feelings you're more reserved... You know how to charm and flirt but when you meet someone who makes your heart race you're more shy or guarded to let them in beyond an easy flirtation? Idk if that makes sense.

🌼 basically maybe you can charm someone and lure them in but can you let them in once you've got them where you want them?

✨ again can't explain it but this is your song

🌼 you definitely crave to be the center of attention sometimes and tbh probably you don't even have to try that much you just overpower a conversation haha

#layla talks shit about astrology

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 1 year

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The last of us - Broken together 18

Master list

You all knew the town would have wanted to make a big deal of a wedding. That wasn't what you wanted. The preacher stood amongst the sheep. Maria and Lorie sat at the front of the few guests both in yellow sundresses. Ellie stepped out of the house, a clean pair of Jeans and red button up shirt, her hair tied nearly at the back. She walked proudly down the small aisle to Joel. She could see how nervous he was and she nudged his arm.

"you're gunna fucking lose your mind, man. She looks beautiful." She whispered to him.

Inside you walked down the stairs, a simple white dress on. Maria had made it for you, it was shorter at the front and hung down at the back to just above your ankles. At the bottom of the stairs Tommy was waiting for you in the neatest shirt you'd ever seen.

"Thought I'd walk you, if you don't mind." He said.

"I'd like that." Mostly because you didn't think the nerves in your stomach would let you get all the way you clung to his arm. The sun was setting over the field as you walked out. You didn't think you could love Joel any more, seeing him in a suit, an actual suit you felt your heart leap.

"brushes up well don't he?" Tommy joked to you. You walked together with everyone you loved watching you until you were in front of Joel and the preacher. The brothers shook hands and Joel whispered a thank you as he took your hands in his.

The preacher wasted no time with the preliminaries of the old world and simply asked you both if you swear to love only each other for the rest of your lives. If you would forsake all others and stand by each other until death.

Joel's voice caught in his throat at the words.

"beyond death." He changed the words, his southern accent washing over you. Every syllable echoed in your mind.

"I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Joel grabbed you around the waist and one hand on your face he kissed you hard. You kissed back. Ellie cheered and the others clapped happily.

The evening went on with drinks in the house and on the porch until Tommy was the only guest left. He slapped his knee and stood.

"Well, I guess it's about that time. Come on now Ellie, you're staying with us tonight."

She giggled and followed him back to town leaving you and Joel sitting on the porch.

"This was perfect, Joel. Thank you." You said softly.

"Thank you?" He looks down at you.

"I know you did this for me. To do it before I-" you dropped your eyes to your lap.

"hey, don't, don't you ever think anything I do is because of that silly illness. I wanted this." He moved himself round to face you properly. "I know I don't tell you enough y/n but I love you. I think I have for longer than I should have. Tess knew it, Tommy knew, Frank knew it he'll even Bill knew before I did." His eyes were serious and his jaw clenched. You nod.

"Well anyway. Maybe we should go upstairs." You say. Joel smiles wide and grabs you up into his arms, one behind your back and the other below your legs cradling you.

"let me take you there my wife, my beautiful wife." He said carrying you into the house and up the stairs. Halfway up he stopped and rested against the wall. His knee, still gave him trouble.

"you okay cowboy?" You giggle.

"I'm good," he hitches you up a little higher and continues up the steps, laying you down on the bed. Joel removed his shirt and trousers, then came to rest above you, the weight of him on your body grounding you. He used the back of his calloused fingers to rub your cheek as he laid gentle kisses to your lips.

Slowly, as if he may break you he kissed down your jaw line. His fingers sliding below your dress, pushing the straps off your shoulder exposing more flesh. You feel the scrap of his beard and moustache rub against your skin as he sucked your nipple between his teeth, biting just a little bit. You jolt at the sensation and he stops suddenly.

"did I hurt you? I'm sorry." He said quickly.

"No, it's good. Don't stop." You reply.

His breath cools your hot flesh and he returns to your nipple. You snake your fingers into his hair.

With careful movements he slides down your body, pulling the dress with him and dragging it off your hips. Joel lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and settles between them. Your breath comes out shallow as you wait for him to touch you. He ran soft fingers over your upper thigh, giving small kisses to your hips.

Your hips bucked up when he finally ran his tongue flat along your slit. Stopping at your clit and sucking just a little bit. The soft mewls coming from your mouth coax him onward. His licks grow faster, edging you closer. What little resolve you had left in you went as he slid a finger into you, pumping against the nerves there. It took no time at all for you to feel everything and nothing. Your eyes closed, your back arched and your hips moved by themselves against his tongue and fingers. Your orgasim came with his name tumbling from your lips. He rode you through it until you were panting and pulling at his hand.

"Please."

He pulls up to you and your taste yourself on his lips.

"You are so beautiful." He whispers to you.

Filled with a new hunger in your stomach you pushed his shoulders backward. He took your command and rolled on to his back, pulling a pillow underneath his head. Your hand cups his still clothes member. He was hard and you craved it. Sliding his boxers off you kicked your hand before wrapping it around his shaft and pumping. Joel's head fell back as he savoured your touch.

"shit, darlin' you're too good at that." He said holding your hand to stop you. Biting down on your lip you slide your leg over him, straddling his hips. He held his cock as you lined yourself up and pushed down on to him. Joel clenched his jaw and held your hips trying to keep himself from bucking up into you. Setting your own pace you chase your own pleasure, pushing Joel's hand to your clit. He pressed his thumb to it and you feel your body shake as if electric was pulsing into you.

Happy you were undone Joel flipped you on to your back and started pumping into you. He was fast yet still gentle. He rested down on his forearms his lips against your ear.

"Fuck." He growled, his hips juttering out of rhythm. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he rode out his own orgasim. Your arms wrapped around him.

After a few moments he rolled to his side, tucking you into his side. You lay listening to his heartbeat as his chest rose and fell, finding its peace.

"That was-" he started.

"yeah." You reply.

"I love you Joel Miller."

"I love you y/n Miller." He grinned. You grinned. Life was good.

#ellie williams #joel and reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou series #joel tlou

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lunaflower · 3 years

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Hello Tumblr, I am once again having feelings about c!Tommy's 3rd death. (all /rp)

I just- This kid went into the prison to visit Dream one last time, the person who has such an unhealthy obssesion with him that he used the first opportunity available to isolate Tommy, to try to make him dependent on him, to lie to him and his friends. The person who manipulated him and nearly drove him to a breaking point. The one who was going to kill Tommy’s best friend right in front of him. The one who told him straight to his face that he wasn’t done with him, because the two of them had so much fun together. Tommy’s nothing but a toy to Dream, and he was going into the prison to get closure, to be able to move on and start recovering. And instead he gets trapped there, for seven days, in close quarters with Dream. Seven days.

And when that time is finally up? He gets beaten to death by his abuser. And for what? Just because he annoyed Dream? Because he didn’t believe his words? To prove a point? How sickening is that? Only for him to get stuck in the void with Wilbur and then get brought back? Ending up at Dream’s mercy, again.

Tommy died alone, in a brutal way, surrounded by things that reminded him of his trauma. And then he comes back to see people’s mourning of him. Who only seemed to actually do something, after he was already gone. Most of them apparently didn’t care what had happened to him, until he was actually dead. And suddenly they’re building statues and memorials in his honor? As soon as he’s back, Tommy feels alienated from the rest of the server. “I know I’m here, but I still feel dead.”

As viewers we know Tommy’s train of thought isn’t the most correct when it comes to rest of the server. We saw people mourn, and blame themselves and try to push away the notion of what had happened. But Tommy didn’t. And, like Tommy himself says, even though he’s back now, he feels more like a ghost than he ever did. He may be out of exile but, in his mind, he’s still alone.

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #dsmpblr #tommyinnit #dsmp analysis #dsmp meta #i just....i care about c!tommy so much #he feels so split from the other characters which leads him to try and fix things on his own aka break into the prison #and i'm very afraid of what's going to happen then #you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders tommy #tw abuse #tw death #tw isolation #tommy #s3 #text #luna posts

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ayamturd · 3 years

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hey yams! I have a color fic request and was wondering if you could write one for the color #2A363B? (and like some kind of bonus point if it's angst) (you don't have to do angst)

aegean lead│wilbur soot

warnings: angst (i accept any and all bonus points)

pairing: in-game romantic!wilbur

a/n: this is the first thing i’ve written in days, pls be kind lol

based off of this photo <3

“Wilbur,” you sneered.

“Y/n,” he crooned.

Standing across one another, on the remains of a battlefield incased as a bottle of glass to display, were two lovers torn by death and decay.

Death by the very corruption that swept the valley they stood in, and decay of a precious love that faded in a bitter drag of time.

While you frowned, Wilbur grinned like a madman. The sight of you made his eyes narrow in satisfaction, your clear displeasure of his revival only adding more to his smile. You practically shook from the anger that coursed through you; the shivering rage only rivaling the cold morning breeze.

The spring wind followed with the rising sun, the season and light signifying the beginning after a cold winter night. However, this was a tale you refused to write again, a heartache you refused to blindly cry towards.

Wilbur died. Despite at the hands of an emotionally weak father, he died nonetheless. His song ended, his song with you, specifically, ended.

Fate was known to be cruel, but history taught you to know better. To be better in the face of a crooked smile that only shadowed a proud man you once promised to stand by.

“Oh my darling, how good it is to see you again.”

“Don’t,” you growled. Though your throat felt tight from the emotions you tried to swallow down, you chose to pretend otherwise. “Don’t.”

The moment you had learned of his return, all rational thoughts left you. All pride and recovery was lost in those simple words, those innocent words from a struggling boy that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, only now to burden the return of the brother he loved and faulted.

You had hugged Tommy tightly, whispering small promises in reassurances before running.

Running back to him.

Yet here you were, and nothing could be said beyond the grief that overwhelmed you. It hurt, in simple words, to see him again. The realization that you now breathed the same air as him was even worse, and you had to steady yourself when your grimace weakened your stance.

Wordlessly, you moved to grab something inside your coat. You admittedly moved slowly, your mind cautious by the threat Wilbur imposed on your newfound peace.

You hated the amusement he held from your shaken form, your glare returned with a chuckle.

His laugh died once spotting what you held out. The thick material, while insignificant to any who spotted it, carried more weight than you both would care to admit.

The dark, blue-greyish beanie was old and worn. It lived through revolutions and wars, seen laughs and cries, and even worse of all, was a foolish vow of love.

“That’s…”

“Yes,” you firmly scowled, voice quiet yet rough. “It’s yours, now take it.”

He hummed, before composing himself with a fond glint in his eyes.

“It was, until I gave it to you.”

He crossed his arms proud, his smirk only pushing you further as you took an impulsive step forwards. You opened your mouth to yell, but he spoke before you could try.

“Say what you might, love, but I refuse to take it back.”

You paused, infuriated, before looking down to the useless thing. Your sight was blurred, and you touched your cheek to realize you were crying.

Meeting his eyes, you let your tears fall as your hand dropped the beanie in turn.

“Then let it stay where you killed our love.”

#mcyt x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt imagine #wilbur soot imagine #yams' colors

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naomana · 2 years

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69, hunter/predator, Sam, Tommy, Paulie

Full prompt list here

Adding more to the Yandere Tommy story >:3

TW: Pffff there's a lot. Violence, coercion, manipulation, assault, death threats etc.

It is super long :'D but you know me, I can't get straight to the point

Pair of rushed footsteps resonating through the otherwise silent woods. Night sky above their heads and moon hidden behind thick clouds were making everything a lot harder. As if it wasn't hard enough, both of them too weak to stay on feet for so long, adding multiple injuries and unfamiliarity of the terrain. The only reason why they were able to get so far was thanks to Sam's sharp thinking.

"I can't. Sammy! I can't run any more." Paulie stopped, leaning against a tree with short breath. He could barely keep up on his shaky feet, yet alone run. Sam on the other hand, despite having more injuries than Paulie, wasn't ready to throw the towel down yet. He was running on pure determination not to go back to that. To Tommy, completely detached from the world, sick in head beyond repairable. "C'mon Paulie. You know what he'll do to us if we're caught. We have to run."

Sam grabbed Paulie's shoulder firmly, making Paulie look up with uncertainty in his face. After all, he wasn't treated so badly, when and if he behaved. And for most of the parts, he behaved, because Tommy made him believe he had nothing left in the world, nothing. Not even Sam. Which turned out to be a lie. Everything turned out messy and he felt conflicted.

"Paulie. C'mon, we gotta go." He grabbed his wrist, ready to drag him if necessary, but Paulie snapped his hand out of the grip. He had no fucking clue what was a lie and what wasn't.

His previous happiness from seeing Sam, and the idea of escape, died rather quickly. He was now staring at confused Sam, moved out of the way when he tried to grab him again. "Paulie. We don't have time. He'll wake up soon and look for us. I know you don't want to go back."

"What the fuck would you know about what I want?! Sam. Tommy was right, wasn't he? You came to my place to kill me, didn't you?" Paulie was staring at him, holding his aching side. The sharp pain from the run was slowly fading away, indicating they stopped for longer then they could afford. In their situation, every second was precious time they could use to escape further from their former friend's grasp.

Sam stood there, unable to say a word. He didn't want to talk about it, ever. He just wanted to carry on running, until they were both safe. Together. "We really have to go Paulie."

"I'm not going anywhere until you answer my fucking question, Sam! I need to know!"

The sound of branches snapping under somebody's weight reached both their ears and Sam was down desperation to make that idiot move. By any cost. "I'd never do that. He just filled your head with bullshit that would keep you obedient. Paulie, please." He reached out his hand and Paulie had a quick look over his shoulder, before grabbing it.

The guilt he felt was lingering through his core, as he dragged Paulie right behind him. Ignoring his feet hurting because he was barefoot. Ignoring his lungs burning, because he was so out of form, thanks to constantly sitting on his ass locked up like a damn prisoner, when all he did was.. How the fuck was he supposed to tell Paulie he had no choice? That the night before he was supposed to kill him, he couldn't sleep, just drink. And rarely drank, at least not beyond his limit, but that night he drank until he puked all over the place. Because he had to come to terms with losing Paulie, before actually losing him. He could never tell him, not without actually losing him. They were long gone from Salieri's grasp, if they could get away from Tommy's, they could start over. Just the two of them.

They could already hear Tommy's angry voice piercing the bushes. He wasn't far behind them, hunting them down like a damn prey. There was no chance they could make it, not in their states. Not both of them at least. But if one of them managed to get him of their tracks, either tackled him to cause delay, or shift his attention, one of them could make it. One of them could make it and that one had to be Paulie, because Sam was in a lot worse shape then him. He could live with being locked up for rest of his life, if it meant Paulie would walk free.

There wasn't any other choice. Maybe he just felt too guilty to think of anything else, regardless of that he stopped behind massive tree and leaned his back against it, pressing Paulie on his chest. He was huffing, clearly reaching his limit. But he could make it if Sam could buy him enough time. Heck, he already came to the terms there was no hope for their love. Shouldn't hurt him more than the first time. "Paulie, listen to me."

Paulie looked up, clearly disagreeing with his idea before he even managed to speak out through his tighten throat. As if he was thinking the exact same thing. And seeing his face, he knew there and then he was right. Of course Paulie thought of it. But before he could speak up, Sam pressed his lips against his, silencing any possible protest. "You gotta go Paulie."

"And leave you behind?" Paulie frowned, neither of them should go back to Tommy. And why are they even thinking like bunch of idiots? Even injured, they were still two-on-one, they could take Tommy down. Even with a gun and all.

Sam pushed him away, having completely different opinion about it. If there was even smallest chance they wouldn't be able to take him down, there was no chance of escape for neither of them. And hearing Tommy's voice getting closer and closer, he knew he had no other choice but to mess up Paulie's already conflicted mind. He couldn't stay with Sam, and definitely couldn't go back to Tom. "I lied. I fucking lied. Salieri found out about the bank job and sent me to kill you. Both of you. I went over to your place, but you were already gone. Tom got to you first. I don't deserve anything else Paulie."

Only Tommy's never ending angry shouting broke the silence that occured between them. Paulie stopped trying to get closer to Sam again, stopped trying to touch him and just stood there, staring. Was he serious? Was he just making it up to make him move? His head was a complete mess, he had no idea what to believe anymore. "Go. And don't look back." Sam pushed him gently just to make him move, before turning around and running the direction they just ran away from.

Tommy stopped for a second, just to catch his breath, squeezing gun in his hand. He was beyond pissed, pretty sure he would put a bullet or two in both their heads if he'd get his hands on them at that moment. He did everything for them, kept them safe, fed and well looked after and as thanks got tricked with sleeping pill and escaped prisoners. Sam and his sneaky mind, breaking him was almost impossible. No matter the approach, he never fully submitted to Tommy, causing more and more injuries for himself.

"Fuck." Tommy cussed, taking a deep breath in before moving again. They couldn't be far. They were in such a bad shape when it came to running, they couldn't make it so far. But again, he had no fucking idea how long he was knocked out for. They could have been gone for hours, he might never find them. Would they go to police to get him arrested? "Fuuuuck!"

He couldn't stand to lose them like that. It was unbearable. They were together for so many years, he kept them together for even longer after Salieri tried to break them apart.

Movement ahead of him caught his attention and he stopped to have a better look, realising Sam was right there, leaning against a tree, completely unaware of his presence. But where was Paulie? Was it just a trap? Was Paulie hiding somewhere, ready to jump him once he'd get closer to Sam?

Then Sam looked up, right his way and his shoulders dropped, clearly disappointed to see him there. That made him furious again and he rushed to him, grabbing his collar and smacking his face strongly, before he had any chance to speak up. "Where's Paulie?"

"T-Tom. Please, just calm down." Another smack, even stronger than the first one, almost made him lose his balance, if it wasn't for Tommy holding him up. "Where. Is. Paulie?" He asked again, slamming his back against the tree. "I don't know. Please, we can talk about it." Sam tried to touch his hands in order to calm him down, trying to shift his attention from Paulie and his attempt to escape, leaving Sam behind.

Tommy pushed his hands away and slammed him on the tree again, pressing the muzzle of his gun against his cheek. "Where. Is. My. Paulie?" Sam swallowed harshly when he realised he just pulled the safety off, getting ready to actually shoot him in the face. "Tommy, please. Please, can we talk? Tommy? Tommy!" Oh no. No no no. He couldn't just shoot him like that, could he? Not because he was afraid of death, but because that wouldn't give Paulie any time to run. And he had to give him as much time as possible.

"The only thing we can talk about is Paulie's whereabouts." Tommy said coldly and Sam nodded in hopes he'd lower his gun. "O-okay. Yeah. We can talk about Paulie. Just please, please, put the gun down." His pleading came to an end with relieved sigh when Tommy put the safety back on. "Which way-" Sam wouldn't let him finish, pressing his lips on Tommy's in desperate attempt to shift his mind from Paulie. He was pushed away, just to try his second attempt, landing on cold shove against the tree and Tommy's fingers wrapped around his throat.

"I've had enough of your lies and manipulations, Sam. I tried to be patient, I tried to be nice to you but you just won't listen. Have it your way then. If you care about Paulie so much to offer your life, then he will get punished for your fuck ups. You have last chance to tell me which way he went, before I put bullet through his brain once I find him. Because I will do it Sam, you pushed me too far."

"Tommy. Please, it was all my idea. I made him run away, I forced him! Please, please don't punish him." This time his pleading landed on deaf ears, he barely dodged Tommy's attempt to knock him out. He was dead serious. He was about to drag Sam back and kill Paulie. "Wait! That way, he went that way!" Tommy's hand with his gun stopped mere inches from his face, slowly looking the way Sam was pointing to. "You better not be lying Sam. Now be a good boy and put your hands behind your back."

Sam watched as Tommy pulled off the rope from his shoulder and quickly put his hands behind his back when Tommy looked his way. He was pushed against the tree again, hands tied up around it so he couldn't run away. He could try to move his hands up and down in attempt to somehow cut the rope, but considering his shoulders were already aching after bare seconds of being tied up, there was no chance he could move them for long enough.

Tommy's hand gently rubbed against the red spot on his face, before placing firm kiss on his dry lips. "This is actually fun. All the chasing made me pretty worked up Sammy. Maybe I should hunt you like a prey once in a while." He pressed his lower half against Sam's body, true to his words he was pretty hard. "I'd fuck you now and here, but Paulie is lost and I have to find him so we can go home." Tommy kissed him again, before knocking him out so he could go and find Paulie.

He ran the direction Sam gave him, hoping he wasn't stupid enough to lie, and sure enough, couple of minutes later he found Paulie. Just sat on the floor, sobbing. His anger was instantly gone, he rushed to him to make sure he wasn't injured. "Paulie. What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Paulie looked up at him, still scared of him but there was nobody else to comfort him. Nobody, he had nobody but Tom.

"N-no. I'm fine. I just.. Tom. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He wrapped his hands around Tommy's neck, burying his face in his chest and Tommy lovingly caressed his hair with all tenderness he had left in him. "I know Sammy made you do it. I know you wouldn't run away from me from your own will. He's just really good at manipulating people."

"Please don't be angry. I'm really sorry." Paulie sobbed some more and Tommy placed soft kiss into his hair. "I'm disappointed more than anything. I gave you everything Paulie. Things I never gave anybody, not even Sarah."

"I know." Paulie tighten the grip around his shoulders, trying to get to him even closer. Desperately trying to get the soft and caring Tommy back, so he wouldn't be punished because he trusted Sam more then he should have. "Told you things I never told anybody. Fuck, I am really disappointed."

"I'm really sorry." Paulie breathed out, only now realising his knee was pressing against Tommy's crotch. He was hard. That realisation made his heart flutter, he must have not been that disappointed, right?!

"Tommy." There was always one thing he could give Tommy to make him happy. Because happy Tommy meant food, water, warmth and love. That's what he wanted to come back to. "Shh. We're going home Paulie."

"You are hard Tommy. I can help you with that." Paulie looked up at him, seeing Tommy's expression soften and he just went for it. Pressing his lips against Tommy's, kissing him hungrily while his hands ran free against his body, slowly unzipping his pants.

"That's my Paulie." Tommy murmured into his lips, letting Paulie wrap his fingers around his hard dick, giving it couple of strokes before pushing him down on the floor, just how he loved it. There was nobody in the world that could give him what Paulie could. He loved Sarah, dearly, but so did he love Paulie and Sammy, despite his never ending disobedience. And Sarah was a woman and could never give him what other men could, not like Paulie anyways.

His pants were pulled down, knees held up, almost touching his face as Paulie pushed himself inside of him, both moaning loudly. Little branches and sharp stones were digging into his exposed back, but he paid no attention to it. He was more occupied with Paulie's dick, plundering his ass the way he needed it.

Paulie leaned over, kissing him again as he was getting close. He was trying to hold it in, so he wouldn't disappoint Tommy even more, but strong squeeze around his cock informed him it wasn't necessary anymore. Tommy came, fast and hard and so did Paulie, only couple of seconds later.

When Sam finally woke up, he was being carried on Tommy's shoulder, tied up so he wouldn't try to escape again. Paulie was slowly wobbling beside Tommy, squeezing his free hand as if his life depanded on it. "Paulie." Sam whispered and yelped in pain, when Tommy threw him up on his shoulder to shut him up. "Shh. We're almost home. Then we can talk, just like you wanted." He let go of Paulie's hand, just so he could slap Sammy's defenceless buttock and wrapped his hand around Paulie's shoulder, pulling him closer for another loving kiss.

Paulie was always easy to pursue, way too easy. That's what made him so lovable. At the same time he had to keep an eye on him more than anybody else, because anybody couldn't try to snatch him away. The fact he tried to escape with Sam was only proof of it, because once he realised what was Tommy doing for him, he didn't try to escape.

The idea of slowly allowing them to share bit of time together was forever buried under the fear of losing them. He'd never let them see each other again, and based on Paulie's face, he had no desire to see Sammy again.

What kind of expression was Sammy making was a mystery for him, but it didn't matter. He'd keep him forever and ever, even if he didn't want to. After all, Sam had nobody left either, nobody but Tommy. Tommy who was more than happy to keep him, loving him. He just had to behave, just like Paulie was, and everybody would be happy. Nobody would have to get punished ever again. Just let Tommy love them his own twisted way.

#mafia definitive edition #sam trapani #paulie lombardo #mafia 1 #tommy x sam x paulie #Y!Tommy #tw: violence #Tw: coercion #Tw: manipulation #Tw: assault #Tw: Death threats

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