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ivonhart · 20 days

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love and war | wrecker x fem twi’lek!reader

— chapter one

| next (WIP)

masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @dreamswithghosts

summary: The love you shared was one of wide smiles and flushed cheeks. The love that made your heart grow twofold to the point it ached. The love that made one believe in soulmates. But with this love came war. War to survive in such a harsh world. War to ensure that the light of love would not be snuffed out by the growing darkness throughout the galaxy. War to simply…find peace.

a/n: !! chapter warnings !! brief mention of Twi'lek enslavement and scars from slave whips - really nothing major / Summaries are so hard I'm so sorry. Straight up pulled that outta my butt while I listened to Flawed Mangoes. But anyway, I just love love and I love Wrecker so much so here we are! Also, I took some creative libarties and made our Twi'lek reader's lekkus to be considerable longer than presented in the shows/movies because I said so. If that nasty ass Bib Fortuna can have them so can my girl!! Also also, apparently the head-tails that Twi'leks have are kinda like living parts or something. Like I read that they can pick things up and move to communicate like sign language. So that's pretty cool. As well as a backstory behind Wrecker's blind eye and scars, plus a little headcanon about slight hearing loss on his part.

“Oh, I’m so excited to see what Phee has brought back!” Lyana said with bright eyes as the three of you made your way to the top of the island. You eyed her father with a small smile before responding. “As am I.” A thoughtful hum passed by your lips as you pulled one of your lekkus over your shoulder, messing with the flower vines you decorated your head-tails with. “I wonder if she picked up any new seeds for me? The gardens could use some new friends.”

You were as close of a friend to Phee as she let you be after she freed you from slavers whilst on a mission to “liberate” an ancient Ryloth artifact the slavers wished to part with. As the three of you reached the summit and watched the ship come into view, you noted the four individuals that stood in front of her.

One being a young girl with short, blonde hair. Despite the fact they ranged from shape and size, they all sported the same colored armor. “After all, I am a liberator–” Shep was quick to announce their presence by finishing her sentence. “Liberator of ancient wonders.” Clone Force 99’s attention turned towards the new voice and that was when Wrecker saw you.

A Twi’lek dressed in a long, airy dress that blew in the light ocean breeze, paired with a slightly dirty apron that held gardening tools looked at his brother from underneath her large floppy hat that was decorated with flowers along the top. Even though you wore a hat, he could still take in your lekkus that dropped down your back and swayed with each breath you took.

As you got closer, he saw that your head-tails were wrapped in small lines that sprouted a few tiny flowers along the larger parts of the vines. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. His eyes never left your figure as you bounced over to Phee with a wide smile. “PHEEEEEEEE!” The woman in question opened her arms with a small smile as she braced for impact.

Everything about you drew Wrecker’s attention and he felt his heart speed up as passed him to get to her. Your scent was one of dirt and flora. It was intoxicating. “Easy now.” Phee started with a laugh. “Those tools you got might poke my kidney out if you hug me any tighter.” And your laugh. Wrecker had to force his legs to stay under him as the sound flowed through his ears like the sweetest melody. He was so enamored with you that he didn’t see the way Hunter eyed him. The speed of his heart was like a hammer inside Hunter’s ears from how fast his heart was beating.

“About time you showed your face around here.” Shep said with a laugh after you pulled away, allowing both him and Lyana to embrace him. “What’d you bring this time?” As Phee knelt down to show Layana, you took the time to look at those she brought along. From a closer distance it was clear that they were clones, but they weren’t like the ones you remembered from the war.

They had similar faces, but they had slightly different aspects about each and every one of them. The one next to the little girl sported a skull tattoo that took half his face along with a notable, red bandanna that held his long hair back a tad. The next one seemed to hide behind his data pad, but you could still see that his goggled-eyes were stuck on Phee as she spoke about the artifact. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on your lips.

Then your attention moved to the last clone and he was…breathtaking. He was as large as a house with broad shoulders and strong arms, but his eyes held almost a shyness from under your gaze. His brown and white eye shifted side to side every few seconds as you kept your full attention on him.

You were so focused on memorizing the trail of scars along his eye that you didn’t realize Phee had been speaking to you until she waved her hand in front of her face. “Seems Flower here likes what she sees, huh?” Heat burned your cheeks as you snapped your eyes away from the man with an open mouth. You were about to rebuttal the woman, but she simply turned on her heel and began introducing everyone.

“This is Shep Hazard, Mayor of Pabu, his daughter, Lyana…” She then said your name whilst pointing towards you. “Shep, Lyana, Flower, meet Omega, Hunter, Wrecker and Tech.” Wrecker…that was his name. You thought the name was quite fitting for a man of his size. Even his hand seemed to engulf Shep’s as he gave him a firm handshake with joy.

You shadowed Lyana as she walked closer to Omega while she spoke. “Phee’s never brought any friends here before.” “Never?” You noted the accent the young girl had as she spoke. “Not even Cid?” Phee moved closer to you and hung her elbow on your shoulder while she answered the girl. “Nope.”

“So why bring us?” Hunter’s deep voice was a stark difference from Omega. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” You smiled brightly before you poked her in the side. “She must really like you guys.” Phee stepped away from you with a playful hiss whilst waving her hand at you. “All right, Flower. That’s enough out of you. You want to see what I got you don’t ya?” Wrecker watched as your eyes lit up while you clasped your hands together under your chin.

“A gift? For me?” With quick, small shuffles you closed the gap between you and the woman with a wide smile as she pulled a small pouch from her bag. “Managed to snag you some Bluebell Squish seeds.” You squeal in excitement as you quickly open the pouch to see inside. “The gardens will love them! They have been longing for some new friends.”

“Scientifically speaking, flora of any kind cannot “long” for friends. They do not have the emotional intelligence for such things. In fact, they have no intelligence whatsoever.” You turned to see the voice belong to the one named Tech. His finger was up in the air as he spoke the words as if they were law.

Wrecker nudged his brother in the side to get him to apologize, but your sweet laugh filled the air once more. “Well you may be right, but they still do have emotional intelligence…just not in the same way we do.” You leaned closer to Tech with a smile. “Plants may lack a central nervous system, but they are still able to process information from the world around them and respond to them. And that, to me, is all I need to know to determine that they do, in fact, have feelings.” You stepped back with a joyful sigh before finishing.

“We are all children of the Force, and our energies recognize one another no matter what form we may take and respond to one another.” The Batch watched with wide eyes as Tech lifted his finger once more but was unable to formulate a reply. He simply cleared his throat and moved his hand to adjust his glasses. “I suppose it would be a waste of my time to discuss this further, seeing that you believe in such things, whilst I am a man of fact and logic.” Despite the fact that Tech’s words could be viewed in a negative light, you still smiled at him.

You both were right in your own ways and you had no right to diminish his outlook just because you believed another. And you sensed that he felt the same…but said it in a more clean-cut way.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll join us for dinner.” And with that the group began their way into lower Pabu. Omega and Lyana ran ahead whilst Shep spoke with Hunter and Tech following not far behind.

You had gradually made your way to the back of the group as many members of the community stopped to speak to you. From a quick “hello” to a brief conversation about a plant they had purchased from you. You bid farewell to a fellow Twi’lek when Wrecker spoke to you. “Do you know everyone here?” Oh how his voice made your stomach flip from the rasp it held.

A smile graced your lips as you fell in step with the man whilst responding. “We all know one another. We are all family to one another.” The two of you fell silent for a beat before both speaking at the same time. “So your group–” “So, how do you know Phee?” Both of you looked at one another before falling into a fit of giggles and laughs. While yours was light, his was hearty. You had to take hold of the tips of your head-tails due to the fact they seemed to keep reaching out for him.

Wrecker cleared his throat. “L-Ladies first.” His stutter brought heat to your cheeks once more as you moved your eyes back ahead of you. “I was just curious about you and your group. From what I know about the war, the clones were soldiers. So, your group having a child intrigued me.” You gazed towards the blonde girl as she jumped around with Lyana. “Is she the daughter of one of you?”

You turned your attention back to the large man and saw him shaking his head. “No, she’s our big sister.” You knew of the clones' accelerated growth so you put the pieces together that she must have been different. Wrecker tilted his head slightly. “Though…she is more like a daughter to Hunter.” A small laugh passed his lips. “It’s a lil’ odd.”

You softly shook your head. “Relationships between one another are complex things. As long as she is loved and cared for.” Wrecker looked down at you with sudden serious eyes. “We would lay down our lives for her.” You gave a stern nod. “Good. She deserves nothing less.”

The man was about to open his mouth once more, but Shep suddenly spoke your name. “This is her home and shop.” You looked towards him to see that the group was now in front of your home. “She nurtures the most beautiful plants in the entire galaxy. None are able to do what she does.”

Wrecker watched as you walked over to him while waving your hands in bashfulness. “Oh Shep, you act as though it was magic.” With a polite smile you slipped past Hunter and moved towards your door. “But, since I am here I suppose it’s time to say goodbye for now.” “Wait, you’re not coming to dinner with us?” Wrecker’s question shot through the air even before you had finished your sentence, earning everyone’s eyes on him.

Hunter could hear the way both hearts were beating so fast he feared he would get a headache. You dropped your gaze with a small laugh while taking a lekku in your hands. “I’m sure you all must have matters to discuss and I do not wish to intrude.” Shep shook his head with a gentle laugh before getting your attention. “You would never intrude. We all assumed you would be joining us; you missed Phee the most and I’m sure you’d love to catch up as well as get to know our guests more.” That’s when heat exploded along your cheeks once more.

You didn’t have to see Shep’s face to know he was smiling about a certain member of their team you quickly grew enamored with. With a small laugh you began walking backwards. “Well, in that case–” A gasp shot from your mouth as your hip hit one of the many plant pots you had scattered around your front porch.

Wrecker felt his hands twitch to reach out and steady you as he watched you regain your balance with an awkward cough. “Um…yeah, I’m–I’ll go freshen up then.” You were quick to shut your front door before letting a heavy sigh out from the embarrassment that spread throughout your body. Unaware of the eyes that lingered on your front door for longer than needed before eventually joining his brothers.

It was near sunset when Wrecker saw you again and when he did, the man launched to his feet as he took you in. The chair he sat on almost tumbled over from his speed in which he stood. There you were, the woman that already seemed to take over his mind, glowing underneath the light of Pabu’s setting sun.

Eyes staring straight at him. You were dressed in a loose fitting dress that draped over your body with your head-tails resting down your chest after you tied them together in the front with a ribbon. The tips of your tails barely sweeping across your belly button with the light breeze.

Because of the lack of vines he was able to see the designs that spread across for lekkus; the faintest of swirls intertwined with your skin in a shade barely lighter than your skin color. His sudden movement didn’t go unnoticed and they all looked to where he was staring…only to see you.

Omega’s eyes widened as she was quick to speak. “YOU LOOK SO PRETTY!” Her excited voice snapped you from his gaze and you quickly looked down to where she was. A smile graced your lips once more as you moved closer. “Thank you very much, Omega.” Your eyes moved to look at everyone at the table. “I apologize for being so late. I still had some chores to finish up and then it took me some time to find a dress that didn’t have that many dirt stains on it.”

Everyone chuckled at your joke. “Uh, I th-I think you look amazingly…uh beautiful.” Wrecker’s words tumbled out faster than his brain could process which caused him to stumble over the words. And once more…your cheeks grew hot. Omega grabbed your hand and led you to a, conveniently, vacant seat right next to Wrecker.

The dinner went well and as everyone began to scatter to their own devices, Wrecker made his way to where you stood. You had seen Omega and Lyana off towards the boat before settling in against the railing of the balcony just moments ago.

Because the dress you wore had an open back, the men were able to see what was marked there as you got comfortable. Jagged burns littered your colored skin and they knew immediately where they came from. A slaver’s whip. The long weapon coursing with electricity was something none could forget after being struck by one.

Although you just met Wrecker that day, you could tell that he was being unusually quiet as he approached and you knew why. “It’s okay. You can ask about them.” You grew to accept the scars that marked your body and felt no reason to cover it up. “You were a slave?” Wrecker couldn’t help but wince at the phrasing he used to ask the question, but you didn’t seem to be angry.

Your eyes still watched the boat with Omega and Lyana on it leave the dock as you let out a simple ‘mhmm’. You lekkus twirling the flowers that grew on the balcony as you did. “It’s quite common for the women of my species to be taken so it was really only a matter of time.” Wrecker’s heart grew heavy from your words. “Phee was actually the one who saved me.” You looked past Wrecker to where Phee was talking with Tech and a small smile formed. “She saved me in every possible way.”

“I’ll have to thank her then.” Your eyes moved to his brown and white one with slight confusion. “If she didn’t save you I may have never met you.” Heat exploded across your cheeks and you dropped your head with a small laugh. Your heart was pounding just as hard as his. “You sure do know how to make a lady blush.” The once heavy atmosphere grew light as Wrecker threw his head back in laughter.

Your giggles were not far behind. “What about your scars?” You asked once your laughter died down. Wrecker turned his large body towards you so you could get a better view at the side of his face that was littered with a web of scars around his ear and head. Being so close, you were even able to see that small parts of the ear were missing.

“It was during one of my early demolition exercises on Kamino. Normally, the bombs they had me working with were duds but one must’ve slipped through the cracks and next thing I know I was in the medical wing with only one good eye and ear.” So he was blind in that eye and the reason he speaks so loud is because he most likely lost hearing on that ear.

Another hum passed your lips as you slowly raised your hand to the side of his face. “May I?” Wrecker nodded and your fingers moved across his skin he gasped. The reaction caused you to jump back. “I’m so sorry!” Your eyes were wide with worry as you intertwined your claps hands with your lekku tips.

The man frantically shook his head. “M’bad.” You watched red flush his cheeks as his eyes shifted around. “It’s just…no one’s touched them before. People find them too scary to look at.” That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor and you watched as his whole self seemed to deflate. “People find me scary to look at.” Anger bubbled within you at confession.

How could anyone think this man was scary? You could tell he was nothing more than a gentle giant. “Well, I don’t find you scary.” With a small step forward you brushed your fingers against his larger ones. “In fact…” Your voice dropped to almost a whisper as if the wind would carry the sound throughout all of Pabu. “I think you are quite handsome.”

His wide eyes snapped towards you and you had to hold back the giggles that threatened to escape. A few seconds passed before a smile split across his face. “Seems like I’m not the only one that can make someone blush.” Your heart grew full as you smiled up towards him. Unfortunately, the moment was lost when the ground started to shake. Wrecker grabbed hold of you with ease as you lost your footing and with wide eyes you looked up at him. Something was coming.

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atinylittlepain · 9 months

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Atlantic City

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 6.2K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | hey y'all, we have reached the penultimate chapter. we're in for a little angst, but i promise i make it better with a whole lot of goodness. as always, i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line, i'd love to chat. also, if i could offer a song specifically for the young joel sequences, it would be Downbound Train by Springsteen (who else?) alright, that's all.

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gif by @santigarcia

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“She had a little oatmeal and a little applesauce, I think more of it got on her bib than it did in her mouth, though.” Tiny hands gripping at his shirt, he winces at the first sign of her impending meltdown, that small whimper of hers that always seems to come out in the mornings like this.

“Alright, Joey, that’s okay, I’ve got her.” Except she doesn’t, not yet, because Sarah is still clinging to him, tears starting to heat and dampen the side of his neck where her face is pressed as Deedee tries to coax her out of his arms. He’d like to cry too.

“I have class until seven, but I gotta run to the store too to get more formula. Shouldn’t be later than eight, ma.” It’s near herculean to finally untangle Sarah from him, a particularly loud cry striking through his ears as Deedee finally manages to scoop her into her arms. He’s learned that he can’t loiter, can’t look at her too much like this, because then that slick curl of guilt will take root and furl up his throat. So it’s a quick goodbye, a kiss to the crown of Sarah’s head and a lowly murmured love you, babygirl before he thanks his mother, who acts offended that he even tried to thank her in the first place.

He can still hear Sarah crying when he gets back in his truck. Deep breath, just one to smooth out the shake in his hands. And then his day can begin. The same day he has been doing for the last five months. They’re building new apartments off the highway toward Austin. Good work, honest work, at least that’s what people say when he tells them what he’s doing these days. He’s not sure where they get the good or honest from. Mostly, it’s sweaty and sore and simple. But it is good money, and lord knows that’s exactly what he needs right now.

She, no name, he’s been practicing no name for her, making the fact of her disappear from his life so it won’t be a problem when Sarah gets older, so just she. She left when Sarah was three months old. Not a word, not a note. Fine by him, because while they were certainly a mistake, Sarah isn’t, at all, not to him. So he’s working, making money, and in the evenings, chasing after a degree that promises something better for the both of them.

Traffic is stupid this early in the morning, crawling lights along the highway in the dusk still burning itself off with the hazy sunrise. He sighs, slumping back. He can sigh and slump now, no one watching, small relief as he rolls toward the job site. Another sigh when he sees that cars are even more jammed up because of an accident on the shoulder of the highway. He’s not one for the radio these days, much more interested in saving up slices of silences in between all the crying and sighing, though he still starts to flicker through radio channels, nothing better to do anyways.

“With us this morning, an up and coming author whose first novel has garnered a great deal of attention this year.” His hand stills, spine straightening out when the radio show host says her name. Her real name. And then it’s her, thanking the host for having her with an easy laugh.

The last time he heard her voice, he was standing in the front office of Thatcher’s with a phone to his ear and a hand held over his mouth to silence the quick sobs shaking his body as she spoke, as she apologized, as she said goodbye. The same and different. So very different. His ears rush with it, mind in a thick fog as the host says something about best selling, and new project, and some award that he hasn’t heard of before. And Cherry takes it all in stride.

She did it. She really did it. He can’t help the broken laugh that flutters up his throat, a quick burst of it that feels good only because it’s been so long since he’s had something like that, felt something like that. But it’s a quick radio segment, and she’s already thanking the host again, and they’re already taking a break for some commercial. Gone again. Sigh, slump.

Good for her, he thinks. Proud of her, he thinks. Did the right thing for her, he thinks.

And finally, traffic starts to crawl again, just another day.

…

“Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll have it ready to be sent by Friday. Look, I told you already that I’m not going to rush this one, okay? The first draft needs a little more time, just to Friday.” Often, when she takes phone calls in her office, she imagines what it would feel like to pick up her computer and smash it through her window. It’s a helpful thought exercise, keeps her from cursing out her agent at times like this.

“Alright, and– no, I saw the concepts you sent me and absolutely not. I don’t know how you can already be sending me cover art when you haven’t even read the fucking thing yet. I don’t care what kind of rush you’re in, I’m not going to accommodate it because, quite frankly, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Well, at the very least, she tries not to curse out her agent.

“Friday, no earlier and no later. And please, do not call me before then, because if I’m talking to you, then I’m not working, and if I’m not working, this fucking thing is going to take even longer. Okay? Great, thanks so much, bye.” Click, sigh. She has also imagined chucking her cell phone through the window, but that is a much less satisfying vision, so she settles for shoving it away in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“Mom?” She’s quick to stretch out of her slump at the sound of Ellie’s voice, swiveling around in her chair as she smooths out her scowl .

“What’s up, babe?”

“Is it cool if I go to the mall with Dina?” Dina, the center outfielder, right.

“Oh, yeah, do you want me to drop you off? I can–”

“No, that’s okay. Dina’s mom is gonna pick me up and take us.” Guilt starts to flicker between her ribs. This happens whenever she’s entrenched in writing. She blinks, and can’t seem to figure out where the time has gone or when the last time was that she and Ellie spent real time together. And though Ellie rails against it with a dejected groan, she can’t help but get up and pull her into a quick hug. Missed you, sorry. Love you, sorry. Ellie squirms a little, but still squeezes her back.

“Well, be safe, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, okay, I will.” Normally, this would be when Ellie bounds away before Cherry can get an I love you in edgewise, but instead, she stays standing in front of her, a small pinch between her brows.

“Are you, um, like– okay?” Cherry sighs. This again. This new thing again. Something that Ellie has started to do at the most unexpected times. Something that started after that day at the ballfields when their car got stuck in the mud and she and Joel shared some choice words.

“Els, what’s this about you asking me if I’m okay, huh?” She tries to say it light, with a small laugh, but really, her stomach is starting to sicken, because this is supposed to be her job, mom job, and clearly, she’s failing at it.

“I don’t know, I just– how come Tommy is the one working on the porch now?”

“Uh, well, I mean– Tommy and Joel are business partners, so they, you know, share jobs with each other.” It comes out stilted and stuttered, and she has to stop herself from wincing at the lameness of the excuse. For her part, Ellie doesn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer, brow still scrunched and mouth screwed up like she tasted something funny.

“But why isn’t Joel working on it, like, at all?” That all holds a lot more meaning than it should, and Cherry can’t help the sigh that slackens through her chest.

“I know what you’re getting at, and you have to understand that, well– we– Joel and I– there’s a lot of history there, Els. And it’s– well, it’s very complicated.”

“Do you think you guys are gonna work it out though?” It surprises her, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that there’s a hopeful tilt to Ellie’s question and raised brows.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want you worrying about that, okay? Whether we do or not, I’m gonna be just fine, so long as I have you.” Mom brain, she can’t help herself, stealing another hug that Ellie rails against with a mom that sounds like she’s being accosted it’s so despondent.

Saved by the bell, or the car horn more like it, Ellie wrangling herself out of their hug with a quick bye, love you as she bounds through the house toward the front door. Sigh, slump, Cherry shuffles back over to her desk, steading her palm on the edge of it as she brings her other hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

The thing is, she is pretty sure that they’re not going to work this out. And that’s what she wanted, isn’t it? She’s not sure anymore. She’s not sure about a lot of things. For starters, why she really decided it was a good idea to move back here. Yes, New York was becoming no good. But then, forty-odd other states she could have chosen from. And no, too late to back out now, because Ellie has already made friends, somehow already managed to settle before school has even started. And there’s the house, and now this fucking porch.

“Hey, Cher?” Speaking of which, snapping herself back out of her slump.

“Hi, Tom, how’s it going out there?” The first time she saw him again, she was shocked by just how much Tommy Miller grew up and filled out. Joel mentioned something about him serving in the military, and it shows, she thinks. A little more serious, a little presence in the set of his shoulders. A far cry from the brash, bold, bumbling boy she remembers. The passage of time, and all that.

“Just got done with the finish, actually, if you wanna come take a look?”

“Oh really? Like, it’s finished finished?” It is, and it’s frustratingly perfect. Wood polished and still glossy, plenty of space for a table and chairs. She should be happy, or at the very least satisfied, so she isn’t sure why all she feels is a petty curl of anger rising like bile up the back of her throat.

“Wow, yeah, it looks– looks really good, Tommy, thank you. Is it alright if I pay you now? I just need to get my checkbook.” She’s already walking back toward her office, but Tommy doesn’t follow, rubbing at the back of his neck with a weak laugh.

“The thing about that, Cher, is that I’m under very strict, very aggressive orders to not take any money from you.” That anger flares at his words, a scoff in her throat as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh, is that right? And just which hardass are these orders coming from, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think you’re, uh, pretty familiar with said hardass.”

“Uh-huh, right, I suppose I am.” She’s not going to let Joel win this one, turning on her heel to continue her warpath toward her checkbook, Tommy having no choice but to tentatively follow after.

“Cherry, seriously, I can’t. He’s gonna rip that check up the instant he gets his damn hands on it.” She doesn’t listen, dashing off her signature on the six thousand dollar check, though when she tries to hand it to Tommy, he tucks his hands deep into his jeans pockets, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Tommy, I don’t know what kind of stupid game your brother is playing, but I refuse to participate. You did a job for me, and did it perfectly, and now I’m going to pay you. I don’t– I can’t have this hanging over my head, alright? Just take it, please.” She hates the warble that please comes out on, a thick flush of tears starting to thicken in her throat.

“It wouldn’t be hanging over your head, Cher. You know he ain’t like that.”

“Oh, do I? Because, honestly, I’m not sure what I know about him anymore.” Silence falls, a flash of something passing over Tommy’s face that she can’t place. He clears his throat before he speaks again, and when he does, it’s shockingly quiet.

“I still remember the day you left and didn’t come back, you know. And no offense, but it’s not because we were particularly close or anything.”

“Gee, thanks, Tom. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything though.” She regrets the sharpness of her words instantly, Tommy letting out a long sigh as he shuffles his feet in the doorway to her office.

“I remember because Joel came home that night. And back then, you’d be hard pressed to get him home unless it was Sunday and ma was ready to drag him by his ears over for dinner. But it was a Tuesday, and he came home that night, and he cried.” There’s no stopping the tears now, not when Tommy’s voice breaks, covering it up with a clipped laugh and a swipe of his knuckles under his nose.

“I don’t think I had ever seen him cry that hard. Jesus, he couldn’t breathe, and it– it just wouldn’t stop. At the time I was kinda pissed, to be honest, because he wouldn’t shut up, just wailing like a little kid.” All she can do to sit down in her desk chair, taking a shaky breath as Tommy toes his boot into the floor, trying to hide the crumple of his brow on his downturned face.

“And he kept saying the same thing over and over again, like he was trying to convince someone, maybe himself, I don’t know. He kept saying I did the right thing.” Her whole body shudders, sniffling back snot as her vision swims. She doesn’t know what all Joel has told Tommy, whether he knows just exactly what happened that summer. But the way that he’s looking at her now, frown slipping heavy down his face, earnest, honest, she thinks that he knows enough, has seen and heard enough to be giving her nothing but the truth.

“Not that I’d admit this to him, but I love my brother, really, I do. But, Cher, he can be a fucking idiot about stuff like this. And I know that he doesn’t deserve another chance for the shit he’s pulled, but I just– you gotta understand how much love he has for you.” What could she possibly say to that? For a moment, it’s quiet, both of them taking stuttered inhales and exhales, trying to breathe in the fact of what was just said.

“Tom, where is Joel working today?”

…

“You have to read this book. I’m about halfway finished with it and it’s so good.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve heard of that author before.”

“That’s because it’s her first book, I think. But seriously, she’s totally a genius.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to check it out then.”

He keeps his smile hidden behind his palm, elbow propped on his desk as he listens in to the conversation between the two students in the row ahead of him. It’s her book, he caught a glimpse of her name on the spine of it. It both buoys and batters him, a strange feeling settling in his stomach as his evening class begins.

Something his boss recommended to him. A degree at the community college that will supposedly open up all these doors for him. At least that’s what he tells himself when he slogs over to the campus after work every night. Another year to go and then, and then. Something good, he hopes. For him and for Sarah.

The same thing every day. Get up at five, if there’s sleep to be gotten up from in the first place. Get Sarah sorted and driven over to his parents’ house and then get to work by seven. Work and work and work, a good seven or eight hours before he has to book it to class. Then class, something he never enjoyed, and especially doesn’t care for now, working hard at it only for the sake of getting out of it sooner.

Last week, Deedee had tried setting him up on a date with the daughter of one of the women she plays Euchre with every Wednesday. She even offered to take Sarah for the night, a smile so steeped in hope that it had made him feel a little sick. He had sighed and made a half-hearted joke, something about a date getting him here in the first place. A distraction getting him here in the first place.

Night is creeping in by the time he gets out of class, streets going dark save for the syrupy glow of house windows, of families sitting down for dinner. And he’s never late, always at his parents’ house when he says he will be, so just this once, just a little late. He goes to the store a little further away because he knows there’s a bookstore a block down from it, lucky that it’s still open this late.

And everything gets saved that doesn’t have to be spent, so just this once, something for him. They have her book on display in the front of the store. Exactly what he was hoping for, her picture on the back of the dust jacket. The same and different, all grown up.

He buys himself a copy, but he doesn’t open it, not yet, keeping it in his lap the entire drive back.

…

Maybe a little crazy, driving her minivan through an active jobsite, men stopping in their work to tilt their hard-hatted heads at her when she parks in the midst of gravel and sawdust right in front of the half-built house. But she’s too hell-bent on the task at hand to care much, marching right up to the nearest man and asking him where Joel Miller is.

“Sorry, ma’am, who are you again?”

“Who am I? Who am I? I’m someone important, buddy, that’s who I am. Now if you don’t tell me where he is, I’ll just start wandering all over this place and probably land you with an OSHA violation. So if I were you, I’d make this easier for both of us and just take me to him, thanks.” She can hear a murmur of snickers and yips from the other men working around them, and it seems like enough to get this guy moving with a muttered okay then.

She acquiesces to putting a hard hat on, something about an actual OSHA violation, before following the man into the bare bones of the house. Some walls are put up, and some are still only frames, saws whirring and nails guns firing all around her, a perfect swirl of work and the smell of cedar that she tries to skirt around as the man leads her further into the fray.

When she sees him, she thinks to herself that it’s not fair, the way he looks with a tool belt slung low around his hips, his t-shirt clinging to the shifting planes of muscle in his back as he leans over a workbench to look at a scroll of blueprints. No, not fair at all, her throat going dry with just how not fair at all it is.

“Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” Boss, right, he’s the boss. Fan-fucking-tastic. Joel’s head whips around, immediate confusion scrunching up his face when he sees her.

“Cherry? What– what’re you doing here?”

“What?” It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the incessant sound of work going on around them, though Joel is quick to usher her away from the thick of things and into a half-finished room that she guesses could either turn into a bathroom or a closet judging by its size. It’s a bit ridiculous that Joel closes the door to the room given that one of the walls still hasn’t been put up.

“Why– how did you find me here?” She’s just a little annoyed at how inconvenienced he’s acting, his hand on his hip and his knee jutted out as he raises his brows at her. It’s enough to get her angry all over again.

“Tommy finished the porch today and refused to take my check, so I asked him where I could find you and tuck this fucking money into your hands myself.” She punctuates her words by taking the folded-up check out of her pocket and shoving it into his chest, but Joel doesn’t accept it, the slip of paper falling to the ground when she pulls her hand away. What he does next is far more infuriating though, not breaking eye contact with her as he bends down and swipes up the check between two fingers before promptly ripping the thing up far more times than it needs to be.

“Don’t try to write me another one, Cher, I’ll just do the same thing.” A bitter laugh slips up her throat, and before she knows what she’s doing, the heel of her palm is shoving into his chest. Except he’s bigger now, broader, so what once would have made him stumble now only makes him sway a little. All the more reason to do it again.

“You– fucking– ass– Joel Miller!” He’s still unmoving under her ministrations, each of her words coming with an admittedly weaker shove until finally, Joel says her name, a quiet plea. And she wasn’t supposed to cry, that’s what she told herself on the drive over here. Under no circumstances was she going to cry. Yeah, right, big blubbering streaks running down her face already. Her hands fall limp at her sides as she shakes with it, whatever it is. Easier to call it anger, but she knows that’s not what it is.

“Cherry, please don’t cry.” She wants him to reach for her, wants to feel his palms smoothing that shudder, and for a moment, it looks like he will, but his hands just hang suspended between them, like he has thought better of it. She wishes he hadn’t thought better of it.

“I can’t– I can’t do this. You make this so hard, Joel, do you know that?” His face falls, feet shuffling closer until the toes of his boots are brushing against her sneakers.

“What can’t you do?”

“This– this– I want to be with you so badly, but I just can’t.” She hates what a relief it is when he finally reaches for her, his palm resting along her jaw, the calloused pad of his thumb collecting stray salt.

“Why can’t you? I– I’ve been wanting you for a long time, Cher. We could do it, I know we could.”

“I’ve heard that before, Joel. And it didn’t end well.” She can’t look at him as she says it, her stomach sinking with the words. Because it’s true, after all. He sighs, a long, dejected sound that makes her tear up all over again.

“Will you look at me, please?” She doesn’t want to, and isn’t sure if she can right now, but he shows her how, his knuckles crooking under her chin, a soft please that she folds to, finally meeting his eyes with hers.

“I can’t change what I did in the past, Cherry. And it kills me that I hurt you, but I was trying to do right by you. I don’t know anymore if I did, and I don’t know anymore if it even matters. But what I do know is I never stopped loving you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be yours until the day I die, and probably then some, to be honest.” A laugh at that, thick with snot, feeling good in the midst of all these tears. She curls her fingers around his wrist where his hand is still cupped along her cheek, a tug to come closer so she can rest her forehead against his, though there’s a small shuffle first, both of them pushing their hard-hats off, paying no mind to the clatter of them when her nose brushes along the line of his.

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep.” She says it quiet, almost reluctant, but Joel just smiles.

“Not a promise, just the truth. Reckon I’ve been yours my whole life. And I’ve been hoping you’ll be mine too.” Something blooms inside her, relief in opening up, in allowing even amidst that still-there grip of fear. Because he’s here, and so is she, and there’s plenty of time to prove that fear wrong, to get it right, now, here, in the present.

She doesn’t answer with words, just closes the space still between them, the easiest yes in the way her lips press against his.

…

He knows he needs to go in. Needs to gather up Sarah and get back to their shoebox apartment so the whole routine can start over tomorrow morning. But quick, he can be quick, sitting in his truck with only the faint slant of clarity from the streetlight to brighten the pages. He steals the first chapter just like that, quiet, mouth moving with every word. And it’s a peculiar feeling, like pride, though he knows he has know business letting that swell in his chest with the way things ended between them. It’s good, of course it’s good. Not that he’s some well-seasoned reader, but he knows good when he sees it, and she was always so good, he thinks.

He’s only twenty minutes late when he finally knocks on his parents’ front door, and though Deedee makes nothing of it, he still feels that guilt sickening and skittering up his spine, trying to tamp it down with kisses pressed into Sarah’s curls.

By the time he gets them home, Sarah is indignant, fussy coos humming in her chest, ready for a bottle that he still has to make. Muscle memory, auto-pilot, he heats it up with her in one arm and the book held in his other hand, plowing through half of chapter two before he finally has to set it down to feed his girl. His girl, his perfect girl. He has enjoyed doing this from the very start, one of the things he always felt he could get right, at the very least. Simple and sweet, all the motions of bedtime, a small mercy that she goes down easy tonight because he’s still thinking about the book he left splayed open on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t sit down, just simply leans over the counter to keep reading under the light above the stove.

Sarah begins to cry about an hour and a half later, and by then he has already finished half of the book, careful to mark his place before checking on his girl. His hands still shake sometimes with the reality of holding her, something so small and careful that he has to roll his shoulders back a few times after every diaper change, every close cradle, like his whole body braces for her, trying to be big and enough for her. And he should get some sleep now, he knows that. But he reasons to himself that he’ll be waking up in an hour or two anyways for her, so, might as well.

Just like that, for the rest of the night, back and forth between Sarah and his close huddle over the kitchen counter. By the time morning is starting to blush that pale blue through the curtains, he has read the whole thing.

And no, not his place, and no, he has no right, but he is proud of her. Proud that she got out, proud that she did it. And relief too, that maybe he did the right thing after all, even though it hurt so very much.

…

Maybe a little crazy, the both of them. She’s pretty sure she heard a few wolf whistles when she led Joel out of the house and back to her car, but she doesn’t care, and she doesn’t think he does either judging by the way he keeps rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans in the passenger seat, both of them sweeping their eyes over the half-finished lots of this new neighborhood, searching for the same thing.

“Wait, right there.”

“Right where, Joel? There aren’t any–” She doesn’t finish that thought, a gasp high in her throat cutting it off when Joel reaches across for the wheel and veers her car right off the street and into an empty lot. The only reason she doesn’t press the brake is because she’s too stunned to move, letting the car roll into a thick copse of trees. She’s only snapped out of her stupor when Joel huffs out a right here, stop, stop, Cher, bringing the car to a stuttering halt. It’s all she can do to laugh as she looks around at the perfectly secluded spot.

“You always did have a talent for finding places like this.” He grins crooked at her, still leaning over the console with his hand on the wheel.

“Yeah, well, you– just c’mere.” Not pretty, not at all. A little greedy and a little desperate, her elbow beeping the horn as she scrambles over the console, Joel groaning when her knee lands a little too close to his crotch before she finally settles in his lap. He holds her by the hinge of her jaw, opening her mouth with his and taking everything she has to give. And in turn, she seeks out more however she can get it, one hand in his hair tugging when his teeth nick her bottom lip, her other hand bunched into a fist in his t-shirt. And it should be good, except it’s all so scrunched up in the passenger seat, and her legs are bent at such an angle that when she tries to grind her hips down onto his, she ends up with a mortifying cramp in her hamstring.

“Oh fuck.”

“I know, Cher, me too.”

“No, I mean, my– my leg is– I need to get up, it’s–” Joel finally seems to get the hint when she lets out a hiss of pain, quick to open the passenger side door so she can hobble down off his lap, tenderly trying to stretch out her leg in a graceless hop. Luckily, it seems to sort itself out, though Joel still gets out of the car, making her heart do something strange when he holds onto her hip with one hand as he rubs out the muscle in her leg with his other palm, squinting up at her and murmuring a question, that better?

“Y-yeah, thank you. We could– the backseats go all the way down.” He’s a sight, eyes big and blown out, lips parted in a swollen little pant as he looks at her.

“Right, let’s– let’s do that then.” She makes quick work of cranking open the sliding door of the minivan and folding the backseats down, plenty of room to assure that there won’t be anymore cramping crises. When she turns around to usher him into the back, Joel is quick to stamp a hard kiss to her mouth, a breathless laugh punching out of her lungs when he pulls away.

“Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Cher.”

“Well, if you liked that, just wait until I put the seats back in place.” His smile splits, all boyish in the way his eyes crinkle up. And it’s all graceless fumbling from there, both of them crawling into the back, leaving the door cracked to let in the late summer breeze, though she can already feel sweat sticking her shirt to her back. Not that it matters though, not when they’re both making quick work of each other’s clothes.

Her want wills, and he answers in kind, letting her press him back, bare for her, heart beating for her as she settles between his legs, already taking him into her mouth, salt and sense, all him making her hum low in her chest.

“Jesus, look at you– so fucking pretty like this, Cher.” He’s one to talk, she thinks, chest flushed to blaze all the way up to his cheeks, his eyes heavy and hooded looking down at her as she laps at his leaking tip before taking as much of him as she can into the heat of her mouth. Though he doesn’t let her work him over for long, a petulant hand curling around the nape of her neck and a breathy baby, baby, c’mere coaxing her up, both of them sighing when the swollen ache of her cunt grazes along his length.

“Like this– I want it like this, Joel.” Her lips drag the word up the arc of his throat, sealing them with her lips slanting over his.

“It’s all yours, Cherry. I’m all yours.” They move together like they never stopped in the first place, all quiet communication in the press of their foreheads, eyes turned down to watch as she sinks down onto his throbbing cock, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat as her hips settle against his. For a moment, just this, the tight peaks of her nipples grazing his chest with each broken breath, palms smoothing along skin only to grab greedy handfuls where they can. And then the quiet murmur, good? Yes, so good. Moving with so good simpering up and down her spine, a moan breaking in her chest with the first pass of her hips against his.

He lets her find the rhythm first, his mouth hot and open against the side of her breast, all coaxing, all consuming with the way his hands grip at her ass. Everything turns hazy and humid in their close press in the back of her car, skin slick and sticking, chests fluttering with hard pants.

Not so young anymore, either of them, getting a little ahead of their own pleasure because she can already feel it snaring and snapping in her pelvis, that liquid languor that turns taut so fast. And of course Joel can tell, bringing his hand to curl around her hip so he can drag messy circles against her clit, mouth open and pleading against hers.

“That’s it, Cherry, take it for me. Fuck, I wanna feel it, just like that.” Her breath catches in her throat, that searing snap that slackens everything else, his name on her next exhale as everything melts down around her. Just him, and the close grind of his hips up into hers that’s snarling on the edge of too much, cracked whimpers with each thrust that she bites back, wanting his pleasure just as much as she wants her own.

“Baby, baby, so good like this. Want it so bad, want you so bad.” Her lips slide against the shell of his ear, crooking into a grin when he groans at her words, his grip on her tensing and tightening as he comes, warmth spreading and sating.

All tangled up, their bodies slacken and slump, splayed out in the back of her car as they both catch their breath. Joel’s head tilts up when she huffs out a laugh, breath fanning over his chest where her chin is resting.

“I don’t think that was the smartest way we could’ve started this new relationship thing.”

“I think we’re pretty far past new relationship, Cher.” She hums at that, no real argument, settling instead for a kiss pressed into the bare patch in his scruff.

“You know, Ellie asked about you.” Joel’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Seriously? Thought that kid hated me.”

“Mm, I think you won her over with the diarrhea joke.”

“Well it certainly worked on you.”

“Unfortunately.” He huffs at her dig, laying a mean squeeze to the crease where her ass meets her thigh.

“Unfortunately, none of that, Cherry baby.” Ease, all ease in their shared smile, settling back down around each other with a sigh. They’ll have to untangle soon, leave soon, back to reality soon. But for now, this time with him, all the time to say what she wants to say to him.

“I never stopped, you know. I think that’s why I came back, at least partly. I was hoping that you hadn’t stopped either.” Her cheek rises and falls with his breath, Joel trailing his finger along her jaw to coax her eyes back up to his.

“I didn’t, Cher. Even when I didn’t wanna admit it to myself, I was waiting for you, hoping for you too.”

................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller fic

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khaopybara · 2 months

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❝Hey, Sun. What's wrong? You seem kind of mad.❞

LOVE PATTRANITE as SUN, AJ CHAYAPOL as TON and MILK PANSA as ONGSA NANNAPHAT episode 7 of 23 POINT 5

#23.5 #23.5 degrees #23.5 series #23 point 5 #th: 23 point 5 #ongsasun #milklove #love pattranite #milk pansa #gmmtv gl #thai gl #userlovevivi #tosunset #what is teenage love without a healthy dose of jealousy right? right #.. bibs gifs.

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haasdaagen · 8 months

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borrowing my own gif of shayne to say, wow, the blue bib and blue wall are doing wonders at making his eyes stand out

#respectfully sir you are gorgeous #shayne topp #smosh #smosh pit #☀️#.img

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

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be still, my foolish heart [4] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 3k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: this gif whewww <3 this series is so FUN omg. i'm so glad people are even still reading it ahaha. enjoy the last chapter before the Euros!

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

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chapter four - imagine being loved by me

Tomorrow, Jamie’s getting on a plane to Italy, where England’s Euros campaign will begin. He’s not scared anymore, because he’s trained hard the last few weeks, he gets on with his teammates, he knows realistically how many minutes he’s going to get. It’s so different to his role at Richmond, where he knows just how important he is to the team and so does everyone around him. Here, though, his importance is less obvious, but he still feels it. Still feels part of this team.

It’s this change in attitude and newfound confidence that’s led him to playing at his best level in the past week of training. When he jogs out onto the pitch for their final session before they leave, he’s lighter than ever, tipping a splash of water from his water bottle down Gondo’s neck as he passes him with a cackle.

Yes, he’s stewing over the fact that he hasn’t spoken to you in four days, but he’s really trying not to dwell on it.

When he was on the pitch, it was one of the only times you wouldn’t pop into his mind randomly. A vision of you in Richmond red, sat on the edge of a pool, beaming down at him like some fucking angel or something. It’s plagued him enough that he hasn’t volunteered for any PR in those four days, so he hasn’t properly seen you. Doesn’t even know if you’re disappointed he’s not showing up anymore. He’s not sure if he wants you to miss him or not.

His gut twinges when he thinks about it though, and he definitely wants you to miss him a little bit.

It feels like it’s the only fear he has left. Either he gives in to this infatuation with you that he’s unwilling to admit to and probably fucks it up within the week, or he stops talking to you until he can think about your face without a smile appearing on his.

The latter feels safer. He hasn’t even thought about anything romantic with anyone since way back in his prick days, and the thought of reverting back to that with you makes him sick.

“Let’s get to it, boys! Full 60 minute match to test our endurance today, second team grab bibs and let’s go!”

One of the coaches claps enthusiastically as the second team grabs a bib, Jamie included, who is excited to get out there and stop fucking thinking. It’s not sure it’s ever been a strength of his.

Once he’s on the pitch, he’s in his element again. Rife is first team and marking him, so it’s hard work, but he gets a goal within twelve minutes that feels like a cracker. He gets the now familiar pats on the back and bites back his wide grin.

“Thanks for the assist, man,” he says to Gondo, slapping the back of his head. Gondo mutters something about payback for the water incident earlier, but he’s smiling. Jamie feels like, just maybe, this group could win the Euros. They’re that good. He could be part of that.

Still high on the adrenaline of his goal, he skips past one of the Arsenal boys in defence and has another clear run on goal. Or so he thinks. He doesn’t even see the other central defender, who comes clattering into him full force a second later and Jamie’s on the ground before he knows what’s happened.

Usually he’d be rolling about by now to get the free kick, but he’s stuck in place as he reaches down for his ankle.

Fuck. Fuck fuck shit fuck.

He might be saying that out loud, he’s not sure. There’s a physio beside him all too quickly as he lets his head fall back onto the turf, not hearing anything but noise from the teammates surrounding him. The physio must prod something, because Jamie lets out a groan that he feels in his chest and then he hears the word stretcher. That brings him out of it.

“I’m not leavin’ on a fuckin’ stretcher,” he grinds out, sitting up and reaching out for the guy who’d brought him down to pull him back up. The teammate in question, Wire, is apoloigisely profusely, shaking his head, “All good, mate. All good.”

Jamie can’t believe he’s comforting someone else right now. His ankle fucking hurts but he leans on the physio for support and hobbles off the pitch. Gareth claps him on the back and whispers in his ear on his way out, but he honestly didn’t pay attention.

His dream’s over. He’s never ever going to play for England and there’s gotta be a reason for this and maybe this is finally his punishment for how-

“Sit down,” the physio insists, pulling a chair practically under him as they reach the physio room. She pulls another chair opposite him, “Elevate it. We got this.”

He nods, grateful for the vote of confidence as she bustles out of the room again to get ice. No words could convince him though: he’s still 100% positive that his dream is over and it’s all his fault and he should have been more careful and this is the universe telling him it isn’t meant to be and and and…

“Fucking fuck, Jamie! What the fuck? Is it your ankle?”

You come barrelling through the physio door, shutting it behind you with your foot as you crouch down next to him. It’s too many shocking things in a row, so he just stares at you, blank faced. He’s really hoping those aren’t tears he feels in his eyes.

You seem to see his distress a minute too late. He hears you swear again under your breath, then you pull up yet another chair to sit beside him, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees as you look back at him.

“Sorry. Not helpful. We’ll just wait and see what she says, yeah?”

He wants to nod, but he doesn’t think he actually does. It’s like his muscles aren’t listening to his brain. The physio returns and immediately gets a wraparound ice pack on his ankle, crouching down to secure it. She tilts her head to give you a look, but you glare at her enough that she relents. Jamie isn’t sure what that interaction means.

Underneath the ice pack, the physio uses gentle, prodding fingers to initially assess the ankle. If Jamie was trying to be brave before, he was in a whole new realm of that now, desperate not to let out another yelp with you present. It only seemed to be one specific place where the pain spiked when she pressed down, but he had never been one to listen closely to physios so he had no idea what that meant.

“We’re going to keep this on for fifteen minutes to start with, alright? Then I’ll bring back the mini-ultrasound and we can assess it properly,” she said, and Jamie was listening intently, still just nodding in lieu of words. The physio in question, and he wished he knew her name at that moment, began to walk out, but stopped at the door, “I’m not supposed to get your hopes up, but it really feels like an impact injury to me rather than a sprain or a tear. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

She fixes both Jamie and you with a glare that tells you she’s serious, and then she’s gone. Jamie is left with eyes blinking back tears and you, sat beside him, leaning back into your chair with a deep sigh. He can’t even turn to look at you properly as he speaks.

“I knew this was too good to be true.”

A pause. He can feel your eyes on the side of his face, studying his profile.

“What?”

“This. Being here. Playing for England, like. I’ve dreamt about it since I was a fuckin’ kid, ya know? Tryin’ to escape the life I had. Finally thought I’d fuckin’ done that and here we are.”

It was strange how quickly he felt his self-deprecation turn into anger. Yes, there was a voice telling him this was the punishment he’d never received from Ted for being such a shit, but now that some of the adrenaline was wearing off, a larger part of him knew that wasn’t true. That he’d put in the work to make sure he did deserve this. To have it taken away felt like some cruel joke, designed to crush his self-esteem. Like fuck he’d let it.

“Jamie…”

“Nah, y’ know what? I’ve worked hard. Really fuckin’ hard. Trainin’ with Roy to get better and sorting meself out. When I went home to me mum last, she said she was proud. Proper proud, and she didn’t mean about the football shit. I’ve done the work. This is…it isn’t-”

There are those tears again, stinging behind his eyes. He really doesn’t want to cry, because he can hear his dad shouting the word ‘weak’ in his ear until he turns red in the face, but he wants to be past that. Needs to be. So he lets a tear fall, even if he’s quick to wipe it from his cheek with a rough knuckle.

He hasn’t looked at you through his speech, too consumed by all the thoughts going into it, but when he does risk turning his face to yours, he’s shocked to see similar tears in your own eyes. You must see the look on his face, because you’re quick to duck your head and try to rid yourself of them.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blinking rapidly as you look back up at him, “I always cry when someone else does, it’s stupid. But you are right. You do fucking deserve this Jamie, and if you don’t get it, then the world’s unfair. But you’re on this team already, remember. You’re in that dream you had as a kid right now, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Think you’d be your own hero right now.”

It’s a way he hasn’t looked at things before. He thinks a lot about making his mum proud and he used to think a lot about making his dad angry but he’s never really thought about his younger self, what he’d think if he could see himself now.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Maybe. Thanks, for sayin’ that. And, you know, for comin’ here.”

He’s still not sure why you came. Later, when he’s doing that terrible thinking thing again in the comfort of his own bed, he’ll replay the image of you rushing into the room, out of breath, coming to check he’s okay. It’s stuck with him.

“Oh, I shouldn’t even be here really. I was just- I was pitchside and saw you go down. Panicked a bit for you. Sorry I barged in, actually, I can go if-”

“No no, stay,” he says, too quickly, “If y’ want to, like.”

“I would,” you confirm and somehow despite his situation he feels his heart beating a little faster at the smile that takes over your face as you continue, “Gotta be here when she gives you the all clear. Here we are, crying and shit, but she’s totally about to walk in here and tell you there’s nothing to worry about.”

She did say it might be an impact injury. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he still asks you as stupid question.

“You think so?”

As if you’d know. Still, he’s rewarded for his dumb need for reassurance when you reach over to take his hand in yours, just for a moment. A singular squeeze. When you let go, his hand stays in place.

“Yep. Only thing that makes sense. If you’re not cleared to play in our first match in two days, I’ll have to seriously rethink my whole optimistic worldview. It would be very damaging.”

You’re kidding around. Distracting him. You’ve done it before, even if you didn’t know it at the time, but this time you’re doing it on purpose and he’s so grateful. It’s one of the first times he’s been struck by how much he wants to hug you, hold you close to him, rather than how desperate he is to kiss the air from your lungs (even if he still really wants to do that too).

“Ah yeah. Well, we can’t have me ankle damagin’ your whole cheerful thing you’ve got goin’. Would be very selfish of me.”

“Very. And from what I’ve heard, you’re not the selfish type anymore. Unless I’ve heard wrong, Tartt?”

He places a hand on his chest, wounded.

“Already back to me last name? You’re a cruel woman,” he says, eyes glinting mischief, “I’ll make sure me ankle’s alright to play then, I suppose. If it’s for you.”

Now that was dangerously close to flirting. It had just come out.

“Very kind of you,” you retort, but it’s closer to fondness than the same flirty tone as his voice had accidentally taken on. Message received. He knew he shouldn’t flirt anyway and you not reciprocating was only the confirmation he needed of that fact.

The two of you sit in silence, then, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it could be. There’s a charge in the air, maybe caused by both of your adrenaline still dissipating, but he’s quite happy to sit in silence with you, especially when you’ve just succeeded in both making him feel better and distracting him from the matter at hand.

After what doesn’t feel like very long, the physio comes bundling back into the room, pushing her ultrasound machine on a trolley. She’s clearly been setting it up in the hallway already and Jamie faintly wonders if she’d left the two of alone to talk deliberately.

“Right, it’ll be a little cold, that’s just gel. Try and relax, and keep still.”

He does just that. He rocks his head to the side and sticks his tongue out at you, just to see you giggle. There’s a pit in his stomach that this woman is about to snatch the little bubble you’d created for him away, but then he sees her smile. She stands to take off her gloves and Jamie holds his breath.

“No evidence of any damage, Jamie,” she says and he huffs out all his breath at once in a half-laugh, “I think Wire just managed to catch you right on the bone which is where the pain’s coming from. It’ll bruise and be painful to the touch, but shouldn’t bother you when you’re playing. Ice for twenty minutes every three hours over the next day, though, yeah? Just to be sure.”

It’s the most attentive he’s ever been. He grins at the physio as he thanks her then pushes up to hug her as well, hearing your laugh in the background at his ferocity. He even asks her name, wanting to thank Heather with the respect she deserves. The relief is buzzing through his whole body, so he doesn’t really think about it when he launches himself into your arms next.

He’s so glad he threw caution to the wind. You wind your arms around him tightly, clutching at his shoulder blades, pressing your chin into his collarbone. He buries his face in your neck just for one indulgent moment before he pulls away to arms length, still grinning.

“Knew you weren’t selfish,” you say, happily, squeezing his arms once before you let your hands drop.

“Couldn’t be when you’re so fuckin’ nice to me. Weirdo,” he says, trying not to blush too much at your new proximity, “Thank y’ for staying.”

You roll your eyes and brush it off, but he wishes you’d accept what he was saying because he meant it with his whole heart. Then he remembers he’d been avoiding you for days, and quickly needs to make it right.

“Oh, and anything you’ve got comin’ up the rest of the day, PR wise, I’m in. And the rest of the tournament, actually. Just put me name down on all the forms.”

“There are no forms, you nerd,” you laugh, but he can see a sliver of surprise on your face at his words. Maybe you had noticed his absence, “But I’ll consider you a sure thing when I need you.”

You’d said when I need you. Not when we need you. Just the wording made his grin wider.

“Good.”

“Would the two of you get the fuck out of my physio room now, please?”

Jamie jumped when Heather the physio spoke up. He definitely hadn’t completely forgotten she was there. The two of you apologised lowly and then scurried out of the room, only both laughing once you were out of there.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to trainin’ like I’ve risen from the dead,” Jamie says excitedly, “You comin’?”

“I’d better get back to work, I wasn’t even supposed to be pitchside anyway,” you admit, “I’m sure they’ll be very excited to have you back after a whole half hour without you.”

“Wonder how they’ve coped,” he agrees, shaking his head as he pretends to feel sorry for them.

“Gondo and Kips are coming by my office later for a new Instagram idea, do you want to join them? If you meant what you said, of course.”

“I did. I’ll see ya then,” he said, willing himself to just leave without hugging you again. He walks a few paces backwards.

“Great,” you agree, also walking a few paces backwards. He decides to be the one to turn away first, and he’s already running back to training, ankle feeling good as new now that it’s been iced and nobody’s pressing on it.

He thinks back to the stunning goal he scored earlier and suddenly he realises you would’ve been around to see it. It makes him beam as he jogs out onto the pitch to finish what he’d started.

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