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endlessthxxghts · 2 months

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Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

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It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town.

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason.

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you.

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction.

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it.

You are worth it.

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.”

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up.

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you.

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of.

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you.

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts.

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements.

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter.

“I said—”

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm.

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you.

Well, apparently not everyone.

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back.

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips.

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him.

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines.

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him.

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life.

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.”

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you.

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take.

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now.

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom.

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming.

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless.

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself.

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered.

Fuck.

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you.

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?”

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure.

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries.

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here.

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps.

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it.

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him.

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to.

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout.

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him.

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you.

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming.

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze.

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again.

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend.

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces.

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest.

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss.

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks.

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?”

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

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summerlinenss · 5 months

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here’s the thing.

if you’re one of the people celebrating our flag means death’s cancellation for whatever reason right now, i need you to realize that this is just a sign that whatever you love is next.

and i’m not saying that out of spite. having your favourite show cancelled is awful, i wouldn’t wish it on anyone. but if our little-gay-pirate-show-that-could can’t get its third and final season, the future of queer media is extremely grim.

ofmd was the definition of a sleeper hit. hbo max had no faith in it when the first season came out. it gained popularity purely through word-of-mouth. but it became one of max’s biggest shows, and it’s since been marketed as their flagship series.

it was the #1 most in-demand series in the world for 8 weeks (7 of those weeks consecutively). it’s currently in the 99.7th percentile of the comedy genre, meaning it’s in higher demand than 99.7% of all comedy series in the u.s. it has a 94% audience and critics score on rotten tomatoes. it’s the most in-demand hbo original series even above euphoria, succession, and the last of us.

it was nominated for 16 awards for the first season alone, including a GLAAD award and a peabody award. the second season was just nominated for an art directors guild award, which it was previously nominated for and won in the same category for season one.

besides awards, ofmd is critically-acclaimed and praised for its representation (including a cast of majority queer, bipoc, and disabled characters) and themes of anti-colonialism, challenging gender norms/toxic masculinity, and self-discovery/acceptance. it also has a diverse team of directors and writers consisting of several bipoc, women, and queer/trans/non-binary people.

on top of all of this, the plan for the show all along was only ever for three seasons. david jenkins only wanted three seasons for the full romcom structure to tell ed and stede’s story. that’s it. nothing more.

this isn’t an attempt to make you care about the show. but ofmd’s cancellation isn’t just a loss for the fanbase and the cast/crew. it’s a sign that it does not matter how successful or profitable shows highlighting lgbtq+ (or otherwise inclusive) narratives are or how many big names are involved. ofmd would not have been cancelled if it were a straight romcom. they would’ve magically found the budget. but corporate greed doesn’t care about us. they have no respect for queer people or queer media. and in the age of streaming, it’s only a matter of time until we lose all of it.

#also if you’re happy that ‘taika waititi’s pirate show got cancelled’ because of baseless accusations against him #1) it’s not taika’s show. it’s david jenkins’ show.#taika is just an actor/director/EP #2) even if you don’t like him celebrating the cancellation of a show because someone was falsely accused of zionism #especially when that person (like it or not) is a huge voice for minorities and is the reason so many of them get to tell their stories #is gross and makes you a gross person!#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd season 3 #save ofmd #renew as a crew #fuck david zaslav #queer media

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dancingtotuyo · 2 months

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9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

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You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another.

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved.

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway.

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her.

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away.

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven.

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another.

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either.

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning.

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose.

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel.

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing.

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult.

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him.

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?”

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler.

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep.

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes.

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder.

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming.

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-”

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you?

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other.

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now.

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm.

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.”

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him.

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt.

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…”

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster.

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice.

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body.

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain.

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says.

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table.

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever.

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips.

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons.

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you.

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says.

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it.

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it.

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say.

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent.

“I told Tommy today.”

You nod.

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him.

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that.

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read.

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.”

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #hbo tlou #woman (joel miller)#woman (joel’s version)#woman #pedro stories #pedrostories #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal characters

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justagalwhowrites · 7 days

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Halcyon - Ch. 11: What Else Would It Be?

You deal with the fallout from your ex's visit as you ring in the new year with Joel, Sarah and Tommy. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 10, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^Again, we're pretending like this is Joel. Even though he's a little old to be Joel at this point but YOU KNOW WHAT? WE'RE GONNA GO WITH IT HBO I BEG YOU

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie being dumbasses. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.1K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

Joel was kissing you.

He tasted like coffee and you could smell his soap on his skin and his hand was on your lower back, fingers twisting in your shirt as he held you close to him.

He pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss for a moment before moving to press a shorter, more familiar one to your lips. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours before looking to Gale.

“You must be the…” Joel looked him up and down. “Ex-husband. Gus, is it?”

Gale’s jaw quirked, looking between you and Joel.

“Gale,” he corrected. “And I’m still the husband. At least for now.”

“Ahh, right, right,” Joel nodded, tugging you against his side with a sharp little yank. “That paperwork you keep draggin’ your feet on. Can’t say I blame you, I wouldn’t want to let this one go, either, if I were able to lock her down…”

“Wouldn’t call it dragging my feet…”

Joel released you then, stepping closer to Gale. You’d never realized how much taller than him Joel was, the younger man at least three or four inches larger than the older.

“What would you call it, then?” Joel asked. “I might call it tormenting your wife because you can’t stand the fact that she’s got a life outside you after you fucked it up. But that’s me, ain’t it Georgie?”

“Don’t think what happens in my marriage is much of your business,” Gale’s voice was heated, his back a little straighter. “Don’t think I caught your name. Or who you are to my wife.”

“Me?” Joel asked. “Oh, I’m just the one who’s been lookin’ out for her while you take out your problems on her. Don’t worry, though. She’s doing just fine with me.”

Gale looked at you and you snapped your mouth shut, only then realizing that it was hanging open.

“Think I’ll head on out, darling,” he said, ducking around Joel go come and stand close to you, so close you were almost touching. Your heart stuttered and you hated it. “Seems like you might have your hands full.”

He slipped an arm around your waist, making you jump a little, and pulled you close, looking at you like he was going to kiss you the way he used to for a moment. Instead, his lips brushed your cheek, his nose tracing over your temple as he pulled back from you.

“Let me know when you’re back home,” he said. “And think about what I said.”

He released you and Joel took his place beside you, pulling you into him as he watched Gale leave.

“Don’t let that door hit you on the way out,” Joel called after him, holding you tight to his side so you couldn’t follow. His grip on you loosened when the two of you heard the car door slam. “Gonna give it a minute so he has a chance to get outta here but I did come bearing ice cream…”

“Ice cream,” you turned to look at him, incredulous, your heart still racing from when he’d kissed you. “That’s what you’re worried about right now. Ice cream.”

He shrugged.

“I mean, it’s melting…”

“Jesus Christ,” you stalked off to the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gale’s car leaving from the small window as you leaned over the sink.

“What?” He followed behind you. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re all worked up over that…”

Gale’s sleek, black rental car pulled onto the road, throwing dirt up behind it as it went.

“Sorry if I fucked up whatever plans you had with that asshole,” Joel said, his voice a little heated. “But he’s a jackass and if you want to actually cross some of that shit off your list, you can’t just backslide into fucking your ex…”

You just sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes for a moment. Of course that was the part he was worried about.

Not that you weren’t, too. It had just fallen much further down your list of concerns since Joel had kissed you.

You hadn’t expected Joel to show up any more than you’d expected Gale to.

When you hung up with Joel, a smile spread over Gale’s face and he looked happy to see you. Actually happy to see you, like seeing you was making his whole day.

You couldn’t remember the last time he looked at you like that.

“Are you going to invite me in?” He’d asked, brows raised.

It took you a moment to register that he’d spoken.

“Sorry, yes, sure,” you said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He smiled a little and came inside your cabin, looking around with an appreciative nod.

“You always did like your quiet spaces when you were writing,” he said, making his way into your living room. “I remember when you were working on Halcyon, how you’d sometimes sit at the back of the closet, lights out, with just your laptop…”

“It kept you from distracting me,” you smiled a little at the memory, that time seeming so close but so far away. “Speaking of which… what are you doing here?”

“Distracting you,” he threw a small smile over his shoulder to you. You rolled your eyes but smiled a little back in spite of yourself. “I meant it when I said I missed you. My life’s been…” he paused for a moment. “Dim without you.”

“Says volumes about Carla’s sparkling wit,” you said wryly, feeling bad almost the second it was out of your mouth. She was young, naive. She didn’t deserve you mocking her when she couldn’t even defend herself.

But Gale laughed once.

“I can’t say anyone’s ever put me through my paces quite like you, doll,” he said. “I didn’t know how I’d miss being challenged until I wasn’t anymore.”

“You never liked when I challenged you,” you said.

“No,” he nodded. “But, turns out… I like being blindly adored even less.”

You scoffed at that.

“I mean it,” he said, stepping close to you, close enough that you could smell is cologne. “Turns out, I need someone like you. Someone who can see me, see my flaws, challenge me, push me to be my best. I need someone who is smart and, believe it or not, intelligence isn’t the prerequisite for ivy league admittance you’d think it is. You’re one of the only people I know who is smart enough to keep me on my toes.”

He reached out, brushing some unseen dust from your shoulder and then trailing his fingers over your neck.

“I need you,” he said, so close to you now that you felt the familiar tug at the base of your chest, the way he’d always pulled you into his orbit. How you’d wanted to kiss him so badly in his office when you’d been young and desperately lonely and he seemed to understand you through your words the way no one had before. How you wanted to kiss him now because you hadn’t been kissed in so long.

You swallowed, hard.

“Tea?” You said quickly before you did something you’d regret later. You turned to head to the kitchen before he could respond. “I was just about to make myself a cup…”

You could practically hear him smirk.

“Sure,” he said. “You always did love your tea.”

You made his tea just the way he liked it, Earl Grey with a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, placing it in front of the seat he’d taken at the table. You sat across from him, hoping that some distance would help, trying to focus on the flavor of the tea you’d chosen - ginger peach - and the thick sweetness of honey on your tongue.

“So,” Gale said after a moment, setting his mug in front of him and crossing his arms on the tabletop. “Tell me about this book.”

You considered not talking to him about it for a moment. Writing had always felt so intimate to you, sharing it in any form while it was in process was mortifying. Gale had been the only person you’d ever been able to bear looking at your work before it was done and he’d always made it better. But he was nothing to you now, just a man who said he loved you once.

Who was making it sound like he might love you again. How could you share this story with him? How could you not?

“Well,” you sighed before you felt like you’d really made up your mind. “It’s about a marriage…”

Gale drifted closer to you as you walked him through the story, how it had already changed over the few days you’d been working on the thing, where you wanted it to go. Before too long, he was beside you, his fingers trailing over your bicep to your elbow and back again.

“I really have missed that mind of yours,” he said when you trailed off. His eyes were hungry on you, his body warm next to your own and, for half a moment, you wanted to kiss him and feel him against you and remember what it was to be desired for a while.

But when he leaned toward you, something inside you shifted.

Yes, you were lonely. Not in the same way you’d been lonely when you’d gone away to college and met Gale the first time - you had Joel now, after all - but lonely in a way that you were acutely aware that you were no one’s and no one was yours. You knew that, before too long, Joel would cross “stable relationship” off his list and you couldn’t just show up at his house and climb in his bed so you weren’t crying into your pillowcase in the dark when things went wrong. He would have his hands full with whoever he decided to actually stick with and Sarah. Anna would have her new baby. You’d be on your own. It was inevitable, the sword of Damocles waiting for love to take the people you cared for most on to their own lives that had little to do with you. Gale had been the only person who had ever, truly, been yours. Falling back into him was tempting for that reason alone but… He wasn’t who you wanted.

You’d never tried to love your husband when Joel was near. You should have known that your feelings for Joel would drown out everything else, that you’d never have a hope of wanting someone else when he was there. And, as Gale leaned in to kiss you, all you could think was that he smelled wrong.

He smelled like cologne and leather and something artificial that you couldn’t place. You’d liked that smell once. Now, it fell short. You wanted sawdust and soap with hints of sweat and chlorine. You wanted Joel.

But… Gale was still someone. And someone was better than no one.

“Gale…” you said softly.

And then there was the knock at your door and then Joel was there, kissing you like it was nothing and picking a fight with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“I wasn’t planning on getting back together with him,” you said, turning to face Joel, your back against the sink and your fingers gripping the counter as you tried to think about something - anything - beyond how he’d tasted when he’d kissed you. How his hair would feel between your fingers as you pulled him closer.

“Good,” Joel said, standing opposite you in the galley kitchen, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms as he did. “Because that man is nothing but bad for you, Goldie.”

You rolled your eyes.

“What?” He asked, incredulous. “I mean it…”

“You didn’t know me when we were actually together,” you said. “We were actually a really great couple…”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure you two had a ton in fuckin’ common…”

“We did!” You protested. “I know you hate him on principle and I’m not about to ask you to stop but he’s really not a bad guy. I just… I couldn’t make it work.”

Joel squared his jaw, looking like he wanted to fight you about it, but instead, he just sighed.

“He gone?” He nodded to the window. You nodded once. “Good. I’ll go get the shit from the truck, back in a sec…”

When you heard the front door close, your fingers traced your lips, ghosting over where Joel had kissed you as you tried to shake the longing in your chest before your best friend came back inside.

***

“OK but it’s just one glass,” Sarah rolled her eyes at Joel from across the hot tub.

“And you’re 11,” Joel said.

“But it’s New Year’s Eve!” She protested, treading water lightly even though it was so shallow she could barely go all the way under at all.

“And you’re still 11,” Joel said. “You don’t need to have a glass of champagne.”

“No one needs a glass of champagne,” she rolled her eyes again.

“I might if I have to listen to you two fight anymore,” Tommy said.

“Amen,” you replied, reaching across the hot tub with your beer bottle to toast him. Tommy reached back with his own and the two of you met in the middle, glass clinking together.

“See, Goldie,” Tommy said. “Been saying I need someone else around to survive these two…”

“Please,” Sarah scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I knew how to make breakfast before you did. I think you need us to survive, not the other way around.”

You laughed and Joel watched you do it, trying not think too much about your lips and how they’d felt against him. As if he’d been able to stop thinking about that since he’d kissed you.

“It don’t matter who needs what,” Joel said. “You’re 11, you’re not drinkin’ alcohol. You can have that entire bottle of sparkling cider…”

“But what if I wanted a glass?” You asked, pouting a little.

“Fine,” Joel sighed, knowing you were just making things difficult but too happy to humor you to call you on it. “You can have almost the entire bottle of sparkling cider. You can’t have champagne.”

“You’re no fun,” Sarah slumped back, face scrunched, as the bubbles got the ends of her curls wet.

“That’s what they call me,” Joel said. “No fun Dad.”

“At least he lets you stay up until midnight,” you said, taking another sip of beer. “I didn’t get to do that until I was a teenager.”

“See?” Joel nudged Sarah with his foot. “I could be worse.”

“I guess,” she sighed dramatically before closing her eyes and resting her head back against the hot tub.

You just looked at Joel and smiled a little and Joel tried to keep his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage that sat just below the water. Because he had to stop thinking about you that way. He had to.

He couldn’t have been more grateful for his brother and daughter’s arrival earlier that day. He’d pulled Tommy aside as soon as he showed Sarah her room and gave her a minute to get settled, pulling him onto the back patio where they’d have some privacy.

“What the hell…”

“I kissed Goldie,” Joel hissed, looking furtively back toward the house before looking at Tommy.

“Wait what?” Tommy yelped and Joel was ready to strangle him.

“Shh!”

“Sorry!” Tommy whispered. “You did what? You kissed Goldie?”

“Yeah,” Joel whispered back.

“When?”

“Yesterday, when I first got here…”

“And all the time since, right?”

Joel glared at his brother.

“What?” Tommy said. “Reasonable question…”

“Fuck off,” Joel said. “I can’t do this again, Tommy, I can’t lose her again because I wasn’t able to… Look. This can’t happen again, OK?”

“OK,” Tommy said, voice calm. “So don’t do it again, seems easy enough…”

“It’s not that simple,” Joel said. Tommy just raised his eyebrows at him and Joel sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about it, man. I kissed her. I kissed her…”

“It was just a kiss though, right?” Tommy said. “Not like you two fucked.”

“No…”

“So?” Tommy shrugged again. “It was a kiss. What are you, 12? It’s not the end of the world, man. So you fucked up, you kissed your best friend, shit happens…”

“And it can’t happen again,” Joel said.

“So don’t do it again. I can be a buffer if that’s what you need,” Tommy said. “But it’s just a kiss. Hate to say it but… grow a pair, man.”

“Right,” Joel nodded slowly. He knew you weren’t overthinking this like he was, he knew it wouldn’t have meant anything to you and he needed to keep just playing it cool and pretending like he could think about anything else. “I just… you’re right. It was a mistake, it won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…”

The door to the porch creaked, making Joel jump.

“Hey guys?” You were standing there, looking between the two of them. “You up for a game of Mario Kart? Sarah’s getting the Switch set up…”

“Yeah,” Joel forced a smile. “Be right there.”

Joel sat on the opposite end of the couch from you, Tommy stuck in the middle and Sarah on the floor as the four of you played.

He’d been straining to keep his distance from you since he got here. He shouldn’t have fucking kissed you. That was a mistake, the kind that could wreck his life if he wasn’t careful. What if you just took off again because he couldn’t keep his shit together? What if he had to find a way to excise you from his life again?

That had been hard enough when you were both kids, it would be impossible now. It had only been a few short months but already he wasn’t sure how he’d survived without you. You were a fixture in his world now, the absence of you for all those years more acute now that he knew what he’d been missing that whole time. You could have been there with him if he’d just acted like a fucking adult and had some self control on prom night but he didn’t. Instead, he’d been a dumbass and he’d paid the price for that for years. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

But you were here, so close, close enough that he could touch you and hear you and fucking smell you.

And he was sure that the plan had been for the two of you to share a room at the cabin. Why wouldn’t you? You shared one at home all the time, Joel sleeping so much more soundly when he could feel you settling into him as you drifted off. When you fell asleep, he always nuzzled into the top of your head as you used his chest as a pillow, taking advantage of the fact that you were unconscious to breathe you in and commit you to memory. He usually woke up curled around your back, your arms stretched far in front of you and your legs tangled in the sheets, nestled into your pillow instead of his skin. The nights you weren’t there, he pulled that pillow from your side of the bed close and held it like he wanted to hold onto you and tried to pretend it wasn’t the most fucking pathetic thing he’d ever done.

The night after he’d kissed you, the two of you had slept in separate beds. That alone was almost enough to make him regret it.

But what the fuck else was he supposed to do when he saw you there in the grip of that asshole you’d been married to? That guy who’d been dragging you through divorce proceedings so roughly that you’d come over and just cried into Joel’s shoulder twice since you’d moved back. That guy who didn’t seem like he was content unless you were under his control.

He was the kind of man who wouldn’t respect that you just said no. But he might respect another man’s claim so he’d kissed you. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Or that’s what he told himself it was. That it wasn’t a selfish excuse to do the one thing he’d been wanting to do for fucking weeks.

Tommy and Sarah being here made it easier to stay away from you, at least. While the two of you had long since stopped acting like you didn’t share a room when you slept over, he had done his best to maintain some semblance of boundaries with you in front of Sarah. Fewer casual touches, no just holding you close because you were near him on the couch and he knew you wouldn’t mind. He didn’t want to confuse his daughter and make her think there was more to this than there was. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to find a reason to keep his distance. When Tommy and Sarah were there, he didn’t need to lie to himself and pretend that he wasn’t fighting to keep from kissing you again.

He’d thought, at first, that he’d at least been able to dodge talking about it. That he’d played it cool enough that he’d thought the reasoning was obvious. But, once you were done angrily texting your agent to demand how Gale had gotten this address to begin with and had a few glasses of wine in you after dinner, you sat on the opposite end of the couch from Joel, a bowl of pecan praline ice cream balanced on your knees as you watched him closely.

“What?” He asked, raising his brows at you.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Kiss me.”

You said it so plainly, as though you were asking why he ordered spaghetti at dinner or why he painted his living room sage green.

“I know you think I hate your ex for no reason,” he said. “But I have a reason. I’ve seen how he’s been hurting you. Didn’t want him to think you were just his for the taking so…”

He shrugged.

“And that’s…” you paused for a moment, glancing to the side before looking back at him. “That’s the only reason?”

His heart sped up.

“Course it is,” he said, looking back at the movie you’d put on that he hadn’t been paying any damn attention to before, either. “What else would it be?”

“Right,” you’d said. “You’re right.”

Tommy and Sarah being there was a mercy. It saved him from more of those conversations.

Even if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.

“We should think about heading inside,” you said, glancing at your phone. “It’s only an hour to midnight, figure we’d like to all be nice and dry by the time the countdown starts.”

“Yeah, my first champagne toast should really be done in dry clothes,” Sarah said sagely.

“No champagne,” Joel said. “But yes, dry clothes. Let’s go, kiddo.”

She groaned and you and Tommy laughed and at least Joel could take comfort in the fact that he’d figured out this part of his life. He could do this, if he really focused on it. He could just take care of his daughter and just be friends with you and just keep an eye on his little brother. He didn’t need to be anything more to you. He could live with that.

If that’s what it took to keep you in his life at all? He could really, really live with that.

The four of you made your way inside and got changed into pajamas before gathering around the TV to watch people partying around the country, the adults starting in on the champagne and Sarah sipping her cider with her pinky extended.

“So,” you said. “What’s everyone excited for in 2023?”

“Taylor Swift,” Sarah said automatically.

You laughed.

“Alright, maybe that was too easy,” you said. “What’s everyone thankful for going into 2023?”

“Still Taylor Swift,” Sarah said and you laughed again. “But really… probably getting to play soccer and stuff with my best friends. And Swiftie. She’s the best cat in the world.”

“Those are good,” you nodded, looking to Tommy. “You?”

“I’m thankful there are still women in Austin willing to go on dates with me,” Tommy said. Joel snorted and Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. “What about you, Goldie?”

“I’m thankful that I’m someplace I can put down some roots again,” you said. “And that I won’t need to up and move in 2023.” You turned toward Joel, your head cocked and a soft smile on your face and he could remember how you tasted a little like honey when he kissed you. “Joel?”

“Thankful for Sarah, of course,” he said. Sarah rolled her eyes. “What, baby girl? I am.”

“Something besides me,” she said. “We all know I’m a gift…”

“Christ your teenage years are gonna be rough with that ego,” Joel sighed and Sarah laughed. “But… I dunno… probably just having Goldie back in Texas. Hasn’t been the same without her here.”

“Joel,” you looked at him, a little misty eyed. “Really?”

“Course,” he smiled a little. “I missed you, Goldie Girl.”

You smiled back.

“I missed you, too.”

“The countdown is up!” Sarah jumped to her feet and pointed at the icon in the corner. “Just a minute left!”

The adults all got to their feet and pressed closer to the TV screen, watching as the numbers got lower and lower and the year that you’d come back to Joel grew closer and closer to being in the past.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The four of you cheered and hugged and toasted and drank and Sarah pressed herself against Joel’s side, giving him a squeeze.

“Love you, Dad,” she said quietly.

“Love you, too, Kiddo,” he said, kissing the crown of her head and squeezing her back.

She pulled away from him to go hug Tommy and Joel looked to you, finding you watching the screen with your eyes rimmed in tears, champagne glass half empty in your grip. You didn’t seem to notice that Joel was watching you, downing the rest of your drink in one go before setting the glass down on the coffee table and heading for the back door.

Joel glanced back at Sarah and Tommy, a frown on his brother’s face but his daughter seemingly oblivious to the fact that you’d just left. Joel jerked his head toward the door and Tommy gave him a single nod as Joel followed you into the backyard.

He didn’t see you at first. You weren’t on the patio or the deck and then, in the glow of a firework that someone set off from across the lake behind the cabin, he saw you, staring out from the water’s edge.

He went over to you and you didn’t seem to notice him, frozen as you looked at the lake.

“Goldie?” Joel asked as he got close, not wanting to spook you. You jumped anyway. “Sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.”

“It’s OK,” you said, smiling tightly at him as he took his place at your side. “I’m just jumpy, apparently.”

“You alright?” He asked, standing close enough to you that he could feel the warmth of you. “You kinda blew outta there and it’s cold out here…”

“I’m fine,” you said, looking back out at the water. “Just… needed some air.”

“Air,” Joel said, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. Another firework cracked over the lake, the sparks of it reflected on the water. “You sure that’s it?”

You looked over at him again, your arms crossed tightly in front of you. Another firework and he could see the fog of your breath in front of your lips.

“Partially,” you smiled a little again before looking back to the water and taking a deep breath. “But… it’s also that this is the second year that I’m alone on New Year’s Eve. Second year I’m starting things off on my own. Second year I can’t even find some random guy to kiss me at a party…”

“You’re not alone,” Joel said gently. “You’ve got me n’Sarah…”

“It’s not the same,” you said. “But the thought is sweet, though.”

“It’s not like last year,” he said. “It’s going to be different…”

“Because things are going to magically get better?” You asked, turning to face him, your brows raised. “Because you’re going to just invent someone who’s going to actually want me so you can help me cross off my check list?”

“Goldie…” You winced, closing your eyes tightly for a moment and taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you waved him off. “None of this is your fault, I don’t know why I’m taking it out on you, it’s not fair to you. You’re right, it is different now and I’m so thankful I have you and Sarah and even Tommy. I just… I wish I had someone who wanted to kiss me at midnight, you know?”

Joel’s throat was dry, so dry that he couldn’t seem to form the words he so desperately wanted to say.

“Sorry,” you said again. “We should get back before Sarah notices…”

You turned to go, dropping your arms and heading back up the short hill toward the cabin but Joel caught your wrist, pulling you back toward him. You frowned a little, facing him and looking between where he was holding you and his face.

“I know it’s not what you want it to be,” he said, reaching out slowly to gently cup your cheek. “But… I think friends can kiss for New Year’s, right?”

“Right,” you said, a little breathless, your eyes wide. “Friends.”

“Right,” Joel whispered back, dropping your wrist to wrap his arm around your back and pull you against him, making your back arch as you pressed your body into his. “Friends.”

His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to object or to push him away, but you didn’t. Instead, he got closer and closer to you, until his eyes were closed and his lips were against yours and, for the second time in as many days, he kissed you.

For the second time in as many days, he didn’t want to stop.

A/N: I mean I think we all knew I wasn't going to let them get together so soon, right?

Right??

OK, cool.

But I promise, this is going to have repercussions very, very soon in this fic. I love these two and their push pull and I'm so sorry but I'm going to torment you all with it, too. OK?

Thanks for being here! Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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luxthestrange · 2 months

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RoR Y/n's Thoughts#4

Y/n*Is lying on top of roof looking at the sky*Bro...Why is it called "Taking a dump"....when you are "LEAVING IT"?...

Heracles* Worried as he is looking for a ladder*Y/n When I told you to take a walk I did not mean you should live on Apollo's roof!

Y/n: Kinda funny how "Being down for something" and "Up for something"...mean the same thing...

Apollo*Who called Heracles to take you away* Ugh-...CAN YOU AT LEAST FIX MY SATELITE WHILE YOU'RE UP THERE IM NOT GETTING ANY HBO-AAAH!?*dodge an unfertilized egg you threw his way*

Y/n*Squinting eyes at the sky*...If you're in the "living room"...and you pass away...did you die?...or were you just knocked out?

Apollo*Putting on boxer gloves with an annoyed glare*WELL YOU NOT IN MY LIVING ROOM SO WHAT IS THAT ABOUT TO MAKE YOU-ACK!?*was hit in the head by Leonidas who came to pick you up...but is enjoying the show too much*

Y/n*Stomach rumbles and thinks of pizza*...why is the pizza box square...IF THE PIZZA IS A CIRCLE AND THE SLICE IS A TRIANGLE!?!?

Ares*Who came out...stealing Apollo's pizza, hearing what you said as he was about to eat a slice*....*Looking at the slice...then at the pizza and the box then at you*....

Apollo, Leonidas & Heracles *Actually also froze thinking about that*...

Y/n:...YOOOOooo why is it called a "Building"...if it's already built?...

Apollo*Who is already losing it after the pizza thing, throwing Peebles at you*GET OFF!?

Y/n:...How does a sponge hold water...if its full of holes?...

Ares*Holding a sponge and squeezing the water out and looking at you with an astounded face*

Y/n*Sit up and look at him with a serious face*

Ares:...The prophecy is true...

Hera*Who grabbed a fan is aiming the smell of hot pizza at you who drools and without a second thought throws yourself off the roof to grab it* LEONIDAS!!

Leonidas*Catching you and sighs*Got you...

You,Heracles,Leonidas and...surprisingly Ares happily enjoy Apollo's pizza walking away leaving apollo in the dust

part 4:

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bombsoverbagdhad · 1 year

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The reception to Velma has honestly been insane to see. There are plenty of shows that come out and are pretty widely hated but still have their fair share of defenders, stuff like She-Hulk, Ms. Marvel and Big Mouth. Velma isn’t like that. I’ve seen literally nothing but overwhelming negativity towards Velma. I haven’t even seen anyway say it’s mediocre, it’s all been unanimous thumbs down. This might actually be the biggest flop HBO Max has ever had, and maybe ever will have, because think about it: Scooby-Doo might be Warner Bros’ most beloved animated IP next to Looney Tunes. They give it yet another reboot, but this time it’s an HBO Max exclusive, it’s got a bunch of big celebrities behind it, it’s aimed at adults, and it receives a ton of promotion. Then it comes out and literally everyone hates it. WB and HBO Max swung for the fences only to end up not just missing the ball, but for the ball to smack them in the face at 90 MPH.

The fact that WB and HBO Max cancelled and removed a bunch of animated projects that people actually liked only makes Velma’s flop hit harder and reflects really, really poorly on them.

#velma hbo max #velma 2023 #hbo velma #velma show #scooby doo #scooby-doo #daphne #daphne blake #fred jones #Fred #Velma #velma dinkley #warner bros #warner brothers #hanna barbera #Hanna-Barbera #mindy kaling

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tamapalace · 4 months

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DebonairHeads Tony Soprano ‘Tonygotchi’

Known for making real fake stuff, DebonairHeads has created a Tony Soprano themed Tamagotchi. Tony Soprano is a fictional character from the hit HBO series The Sopranos which aired from 1999-2007.

Tonygotchi is a surprisingly real virtual pet where you can raise Tony Soprano himself. You can feed Tony ‘gabagool’ (capicola, an Italian dried meat), play the therapy game, and care for Tony! It features an LCD screen, three buttons, and is shaped after Tony Soprano himself, but on a keychain that also acts as his necklace.

The Tonygotchi is already sold out, and was listed for $750 USD. No word on if there will be a future restock as there were only five created. Shipping takes 4-6 weeks. This product is in no way affiliated with Bandai.

#tamapalace #tamagotchi #tmgc #tamatag #virtualpet #bandai #thesopranos #the sopranos #tonysoprano #tony soprano #tonygotchi #debonairhead

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 11 months

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omg yes i have a smut req for hbo!joel :)

so u and joel are out and about in jackson one night and joel notices a lot of the guys staring at you at the bar… u havent made your relationship public yet, but you’ve been on his arm all evening. the second you step away from him to get another drink, some guy approaches you & tries to get u to dance with him. joel immediately walks towards him and cusses him out (or something…) & he doesnt tell u he got jealous until youre in the bathroom of the establishment with joel talking dirty in your ear & showing u how youre his <3 (sry if this was alot but thats just an idea, u can change it however u want!)

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 || 𝐡𝐛𝐨!𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

― pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

― summary: even though your relationship with joel was unlabeled, everyone knew that you were his girl, but when a man hits on you at the bar, joel figures he may have to step it up a notch.

― warnings: jealousy, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, possesive!joel, marking, biting, heavy dirty talk (joel's filthy mouth), unprotected sex (don't be like them), cumming inside, lowkey breeding kink but not really, jealous sex, mirror sex, kissing, making out, light breast play, fluff at the end because I can't help myself, some random dude creepin for plot.

― wc: 1933

⇾ a/n: HOLY MOLY IS THIS A HEFTY ONE. i think with every smut i post the word count grows little by little. surprisingly this has a little plot but honestly not really, plus this is my first fanfic of joel so please let me know if he's in character or not because i hate when my favs aren't themselves. anyways i had fun with this big boy, so untiI i post again, see ya and i hope you enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

Joel never had to worry about jealousy while being out on the road, and even when you had resided in the QZ, he hadn’t really had to worry about it there either, because everyone there was mostly just trying to survive, but in Jackson, people had time to live, and to love, and to lust.

It was still all so foreign to Joel despite having been in Jackson for a little over two months now, Joel, you, and Ellie sharing a house with one another across from Tommy & Maria. Tonight was one of those rare nights where Ellie decided that she wanted to spend time with kids her own age, a group of girls in her class having a sleepover at one of their places. Joel was a little apprehensive about it, but the promise of spending time alone with you was too good to pass up, and he knew that Ellie could take care of herself if need be.

So, that’s how you landed here at the Tipsy Bison all dolled up, sitting next to Joel with your fingers intertwined with his, sitting proudly in the view of any onlookers. Joel watched you with stars in his eyes as you laughed at whatever Tommy had said, even as Maria looked at the man with slightly amused embarrassment written all over her face, the table the four of you sat at was bursting with energy. You hid your wide smile behind the rim of your glass cup, taking a sip of your whisky and gazing at the couple across from you.

Joel couldn’t remember the last time you were this laid back, your walls had become practically nonexistent. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable because you knew that you were safe, that you finally could stop worrying about your family; about the man that had no label yet, about the smart mouthed girl that you had slowly begun to consider your daughter, although the titles went unspoken, they were there.

You went to take another sip of your drink when you realized you had in fact drained it empty. With a fuzzy head and a disbelieving giggle, you let go of Joel’s hand and made your way to stand up.

“Where ya goin’?” You heard Joel ask from over the country music that was blaring through the bars’ speakers. “To get more to drink.” He stood up, attempting to take the glass of quickly melting ice out of your hand. “Let me.” You pushed him back down into his seat gently. “I’ll be fine, babe.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Be right back.”

You disappeared into the sea of people, which was surprisingly a lot. You don’t know how many times you had said, ‘excuse me’ or ‘pardon me’ before you had finally reached the bar.

“Hi! Could I get a glass of literally any kind of whiskey you have?” You asked the bartender with a sheepish smile. “Sure thing!” You went to say ‘thank you’ when someone tapped you on your shoulder. You jumped a bit in surprise but nonetheless turned around.

There was a man standing there with a smirk, his eyes eating up your front side as they raked themselves from top of your body down to the tip of your heels. He was younger than Joel, probably around your age, dark hair with a nasty looking 6 o'clock shadow. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but the man perceived it as flustered squirming.

“Howdy.” The man greeted with a wink. You cringed a bit; it was only hot when Joel said it.

“Hey…” Your greeting was awkward, your eyes quickly searching for a way out. What was taking the bartender so long? “I just so happened to see you here all alone and figured I’d try to be the lucky guy you took home tonight.” He flirted. You took a step back when he took a step forward, your back hitting a bar stool. “Oh uh- I’m actually-”

“What’s goin’ on here, sugar?” The voice of Joel piped up from behind the man, and the geezer turned around to look at him. “I was just telling him that I was here with you, and I had to come back to the table.” Just then the bartender placed your glass on the bartop.

“Sorry for the wait.” He apologized before taking off to tend to another patron. You gave him a grateful smile before he left and grabbed your drink, but not before Joel was grabbing you by your hand and slowly leading you around the man’s body protectively.

His grip was tight all the way to the… restroom?

“Joel.” You called out his name but he didn’t respond, simply leading you through the unisex bathroom door, shutting and locking the door behind the both of you when you got inside. You set the liquor on the bathroom counter before standing there anxiously, watching his back muscles tense under his shirt as he rested both palms of his hands on the door.

“Joel?” You call even quieter this time.

“Was he hittin’ on ya?” He murmured darkly. You gulped nervously but softly saying, “Yes.” He turned his head to look at you, his body never leaving the door. “And did ya like it?” Your eyes widened, “What?” You asked breathlessly but also in offense. “I said,'' He finally approaches you, his strong chest mere inches from your soft one. “Did ya like it?”

There was something in his voice that forced a shiver down your spine, his eyes burning into your soul, a fiery light shining within his beautiful brown eyes. His big hand wrapped around your neck, gently squeezing your airway as he walked you backwards, your lower eventually back graced the edge of the counter.

“No.” You heaved breathlessly. “I didn’t like it.” He hummed. Lowering his head, lips brushing up against yours, never quite joining them together. “‘Cause yer my girl, aren’t ya?” His right hand that was gripping your neck descended down your side, squeezing at the fat of your waist before resting under the hem of your dress. “Yeah- ‘m always been your girl.” You whimpered. He smirked, “That’s right. Ever since I met ya, ya’ve been mine. ‘Got my name written all over ya sweetheart.” He finally kissed you, his mouth devouring yours with such fervor that it stole your breath right from your lungs.

Your fingers busied themselves in his gray hair, pulling on the strands to deepen the kiss. He slipped a knee between your legs, the material of his dark blue jeans brushing against your damp sex that was only covered by your underwear. You moaned, exposing your neck to him, which he was quick to take advantage of, biting down so hard that it hurt; you knew what he was doing, he was making sure that a mark was going to be left behind, that when you left this bathroom the bruise would scream the words ‘she’s mine.’ The thought of him being almost territorial of you made you needier, digits leaving his hair to frantically try and unbutton his pants.

He stopped your frantic touches, his hands enveloped yours. He stared into your widened eyes, and your irises were blown out with lust.

“Turn around sweet-pea.” He murmured. “Okay.” You did as he said.

You watched him work behind you through the mirror, his upper body slightly jolting as he shoved his pants down to release just his cock and balls. Your nails scratched at the hardness of the counter, body tensing up like a cat when you felt him shove your dress up to sit on your wide hips. He pressed his body against yours, his hard cock rubbing against your ass. A shiver shot down your spine at the weight of him.

“Joel…” You mewled. “What do ya need, baby?” He kissed along the column of your throat all the way up to the shell of your ear, teasing you. Baiting you. “Fuck me, please. Show them that I’m yours Joel, make them see how good you fucked me.” He growled, his timbre voice prickling at your veins, plucking at them like the strings on his guitar.

He snatched your underwear down your thighs, pushing you forward by your lower back to make it easier to line himself up. He teased your wet slit with his tip, swiping it up and down before finally settling and pushing in. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as his dick stretched you out, filling you with a pleasurable pain that made your knees weak.

“Fuck.” Joel groaned from behind you. He held you tightly, the plush of your hips spilling through his fingers, giving him a better grip. He hadn’t given you a moment to get used to him, simply pulling out before slamming back into you, sending your body jolting forwards.

His thrusts were brutal as he fucked in and out of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every punch of his hips. With his left hand still on your body, the other slithered up your body, pulling the front of your dress down so your braless breasts spilled out. It was the end of the world for god sakes, who had the time for bras anymore?

“Such pretty tits, sugar.” He said crudely, groping your right breast roughly. You cried out, throwing caution to the wind and allowing your hand to fall and grip the counter for stability.

“‘Feels so good, Joel. So fucking good.” You moaned. “Now, now honey. We can’t be havin’ other people hearin’ them beautiful sounds now, can we?” He cooed. You shook your head no, and that’s when he wrapped his right arm completely around your front, holding you back and covering your mouth with his left. You were left completely at his mercy, to use you how he pleased.

That’s when something seemed to snap within him at the sight of your helplessness, pistoning into you with the renewed vigor of a mad man. You didn’t even bother to try and keep your noise down, the wet squelching resounding throughout the fairly sized restroom was enough to make your shame pretty much disappear.

“‘Gonna cum.” Your cry was muffled but he understood you nonetheless. I mean, how couldn’t he? He felt the way you clenched around him, your cunt sucking him in greedily like it couldn’t get enough of him.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” He teased. You nodded fastly, pleas spilling out of your mouth and onto deaf ears. “That’s right. ‘Cause that stupid kid wouldn’t have even known how’ta make ya feel good. Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start. That’s okay, ‘cause ya’ve got me to take care of ya.” His dirty words drove you to your end.

“Fuck. Ya gonna let me cum in ya?” He asked, always the southern gentleman. You nodded again.

He worked the both of you to your ends, squeezing you until you finally came, stars shining behind your eyelids as they squeezed shut. Even as he worked you through your orgasm, he crashed into his own, painting your walls white. There was a moment of silence of you two catching your breaths, his arms falling from your body to resettle on your hips where he laid his forehead on your back.

“I’m totally wearing this dress again.” Was all you could say.

“Like hell you are.” He grumbled, pulling a bubbling laugh from your chest.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon

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dovakiinwitcher · 3 months

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Batfamily As Interactions With My Own Siblings

- Call and response with quotes or song lyrics. Dick and/or Steph use this most often since most of their siblings are angsty (Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass), so this forces them to acknowledge them. To not respond is of the HIGHEST offense.

- Sometimes Damian, or Cass, will come flying out of nowhere to surprise attack one of their siblings. Frankly, all of them do this, but those two are most common. Poor Duke is always the most caught off guard, in spite of his powers.

- Tim is almost always the last one down for dinner. Sometimes, he doesn’t even come down until after everyone else has eaten. Alfred is always kind enough to leave a plate for him to reheat. One time, he found that plate on the floor beneath a laundry basket that was propped up by a stick, cartoon-trap style. His siblings were hiding around the corner, watching him intently.

- Jason sometimes gets distracted in the bathroom, picking at scabs or old scars on his face in the mirror. His siblings (particularly Damian) get really pissed if they've heard the toilet flush and still have to wait for ten minutes to use the bathroom. (Jason has pointed out that there are other bathrooms. This doesn't prevent him from getting yelled at.)

- Duke has been known to go on fierce literary rants to Jason. Most recently about a certain shitty book he had to read for school.

- Tim started a DnD campaign with Dick, Barbara, and Duke. The party got sidetracked going undercover as an "exterminator" company, and helping a poor milliner jumpstart her hat business (don't ask how those were related). Tim is scared that they may have completely forgotten their original quest.

- Sometimes Steph forgets who she's told something to, and will repeat information to people who've already heard this from her.

- Jason, on the other hand, will forget what he HAS been told by people, and infuriates people with his questions of things he's already "had this conversation about."

- Bruce has repeatedly told Damian that Batcow is not a house pet. Nonetheless, he's found Damian in his room reading a book to his cow several times.

- Dick and Jason have reenacted many YouTube videos on patrols, from quoting back and forth to one another, to performing dangerous parkour stunts.

- Damian once tried to strangle Jason after he won Unstable Unicorns by almost exclusively trolling Damian and preventing him from gaining a final unicorn five times in a row. In one game. Damian has still not forgiven him.

- Jason once offered Tim a hit of his cigarette. Dick later found out and flipped his shit.

- The kitchen is a hazardous place to be. The kids pretend to stab each other a lot.

- Jason communicates primarily through saying either "I'll kill you," or "I'd rather die." Although sometimes, when someone's talking (typically Steph or Dick), he'll randomly interject to say, "you're a [insert obscure twist of their words]."

- For example, Steph was once vacuuming the rug with a very old vacuum and said, "this vacuum would be terrible at cocaine." Jason replied from the couch, not looking up from his book, "you're a terrible cocaine vacuum."

- The siblings binged the Chernobyl HBO series in one night. Right off the bat, Damian went on a rant about how irresponsible the guy committing suicide was for not finding his cat a new home first and just leaving out food. He also had to leave the room during the dog part in later episodes. When Dick was sent to tell him it was over, he was found with his face buried in Titus and/or Ace's fur.

- On a lighter note, Jason commentated over many of the really heavy parts of that documentary, making it way funnier than it was supposed to be. Sometimes he genuinely argued with the TV.

- There is a quote book of obscure things they've said out of context. Here are some excerpts:

"Haha, losers, imagine having parents." - Jason

"And that's why child labor is good and justifiable." - Steph

"They really underestimate my stabbing abilities." - Damian

"This jacket is vegan leather. Which means I skinned a vegan and turned them into a jacket." - Cass

"That's how my brain works; it doesn't." - Tim

"But we're stressful together." - Dick

"As Thomas the Tank Engine once said: chuga chuga choo choo, I'm a sexy dinosaur." - Also Dick

"If you wouldn't have been killed by Nazis, are you even an interesting person?" - Duke

"Alright, shit pisser, let's rumble." - Jason

"Keep your rabid animal away from my crab legs." - Barbara

- Barbara has a tendency to play true crime podcasts while she works. People only ever seem to walk in during the weirdest parts. She doesn't feel the need to explain herself; she finds the looks on their faces hilarious.

- The household Alexa will respond to Dick unprompted, and it genuinely freaks him out. It doesn't do that for anyone else, and he thinks it's out to get him. This is why he has a Google at home in Blüdhaven instead.

- Jason isn't the most hygienic person, which concerns the family sometimes. Dick had learned that when he visits wherever Jason is living at the moment and "oops, forgets" his shampoo or body wash or whatever, Jason will end up using it. Jason has caught on, but will never openly admit that he's grateful for it.

- Dick will ruffle Damian's hair out of affection. Tim will do it to piss him off.

- Tim and Damian often kick each other without any other interaction. Bruce finds it troubling. Dick reminds him that he and Jason used to do the same thing (mainly Jason kicking Dick).

- When Tim and Steph play video games, it's not uncommon for Steph to hijack a car just to try to run Tim over while he tries to do side quests.

- Cass is the Super Smash Bros champion. And the Mario Kart champion. And tends to carry everyone when playing multi-player. Mostly because Steph tries to sabotage them at every corner, and only Cass is able to adapt.

I may do more of these, but I didn't want this to be TOO long.

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toomuchracket · 7 months

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candlelight (d word matty x reader smut)

the 24th day of promptober, basically an excuse to write the long-awaited first time fic. it's over five thousand words long - reader, i am EXHAUSTED. i really hope you enjoy it <3

you had your suspicions that this might be true long before you even knew him, but now you can actually confirm it: matty healy is a fucking excellent boyfriend.

boyfriend. as in, your boyfriend. yours. it still hasn't sunk in yet.

regardless, as mentioned, he's very adept in the role. so adept, in fact, that listing the qualities he's displayed and things he did for you today would be akin to reading out the lyrics of a post-disney pop song.

you'll do it anyway. matty drove into central london at rush hour on a friday to pick you up from work and drive you back to your flat, rather than let you get the train home and meet you there later, simply because he wanted to spend more time with you. during said drive home, he stopped at mcdonald's when you offhandedly mentioned you were hungry, then coaxed you into m&s to buy you a bottle of wine and some flowers, as a means of cheering you up after you said your day had been stressful.

said stressful day also led to right now, an act more hbo than disney, but still on the "excellent boyfriend matty" vibe. you're snuggled up on the sofa with your back against matty's chest, the west wing muted and all but forgotten on the tv. his lips are on your temple, his left arm is slung cosily over your waist, and his right hand is down your jeans; more specifically (and importantly), his fingers have slipped under the band of your panties, and are currently working diligently to get you off.

and they're successful - he's successful, cooing rhetorical questions like "that feel good, sweet girl?" and "you needed this, didn't you, darling? needed something to get all the tension out of that beautiful body of yours?". you'd answer if you could, blush at his compliments and pet names if you could, but your brain is so hazy from pleasure that all it can manage to make you do is tilt your head towards matty and smile tiredly in between moans.

he likes that, though; you get a beaming smile in return, and his free hand comes up to tenderly cup your jaw. it's quite incongruous with the way his other is finger-fucking you (there's really no alternative word for it), but you think it's just so matty, simultaneously a sweet little cupcake and the personification of sex itself.

a particularly skillful hooking of his fingers hits an area inside you that you weren't sure existed. eyes still locked on matty's, your jaw drops with a stuttered whimper, and his copies it, accompanied by a moan of his own. "god, you're so fucking responsive. i'm obsessed with it. obsessed with you, gorgeous."

you giggle, half from matty's words, half from the ecstatic delirium his fingers are inducing in you. matty smiles again, leaning down to kiss you; you kiss him back eagerly, mouth opening with a sigh as soon as your lips meet. your boyfriend lightly traces yours with his tongue, slipping it into your mouth as his fingers speed up - impossible, you'd have thought - in your cunt.

the familiar feeling begins to build in the pit of your stomach, pulling every muscle in your body into tension as it grows. every muscle except for those in your throat, you suppose - you whine and moan into matty's mouth, a symphony composed by and performed just for him, one he groans in harmony with as he feels you clench around his fingers. he doesn't stop moving them at all, though, he keeps thrusting and hooking and hitting that one spot and you feel so fucking good you think you might break apart. which is ironic, really, given how your imminent orgasm has tightened your muscles so much that you're shaking uncontrollably.

then again, something that both you and matty know all too well is that there's only so far you can tighten a guitar string before it just… snaps. another thing both you and matty know all too well? you're about to do the same.

he pulls back from the kiss just far enough that he can be understood when he talks. "i know you're close, darling. whenever you're ready, i want you to cum for me. you can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart?"

"mhmm," you somehow manage to moan out.

matty smiles. "good girl."

yeah, that'll do it.

with a garbled cry, you cum, the build up of pleasure in your stomach shattering and careening through your veins. eyes closed, you're vaguely aware of your limbs moving of their own accord, but the only thing you can truly feel are matty's hands on your jaw and slowly circling your clit through orgasm, respectively. somewhere below the heartbeat thumping loudly in your eardrums, you hear him moan soft praises. "that's it, that's my girl. shit, you look so beautiful when you cum, fucking love it. love making you feel good, s'my favourite, you're my favourite."

as the haze of pleasure leaves your brain somewhat, you blink back to reality and find matty looking at you adoringly. your cheeks grow warm under his gaze, and you smile shyly. "hi, baby."

"hi," matty blushes at the pet name - he always does, and you're obsessed with it. "was that good, sweetheart?"

"calling what you just did to me 'good' is such an understatement, it's almost offensive."

he laughs, sliding his hand out from your jeans and into his mouth. your jaw drops as he sucks your wetness from his own fingers, and practically hits the floor when he keeps speaking. "the same could be said for saying you taste 'nice', actually."

"jesus christ," you shake your head, leaning over to kiss your boyfriend. it's a soft kiss, but being able to taste yourself on his lips drives you a tiny bit insane - well, more than you already are when it comes to matty. "right - my turn to make you feel good."

matty sighs, stroking your hair. "baby, you need to stop thinking like that."

your brow furrows in genuine confusion. "like what?"

"like… that pleasure has to be something, i don't know, transactional? i know these stupid boys you've fucked in the past have probably made you think that was the done thing - i mean, god knows i used to think that," matty shudders, genuinely shudders at the memory, and you smile. "but we don't have to even the score, so to speak, every time we get together. you needed to feel good, and i wanted to make you feel good, and i did. you don't have to give me an orgasm just because i gave you one, sweetheart. you know what i mean?"

you do know what he means, and you genuinely appreciate the honesty and sweetness of the statement, but… you also just really, really want to make him cum. stubborn, obstinate little shit that your boyfriend is, though, you know he won't let you get him off right now, just to prove his point.

although, you wonder… does that extend to something that would get you both off at the same time?

matty raises an eyebrow when you ask him as much. "no offence, but do you have the energy to sixty-nine right now, babe?"

"no, i don't," you reply, moving to properly straddle his lap and clasp your hands behind his neck; matty's hands move to your waist almost automatically. "but that's actually not what i was referring to, baby."

his eyes widen. "oh. you want us to…?" matty clears his throat - he tries to keep his face composed, but you don't miss the way the corners of his pretty lips turn upwards in excitement. "sorry, sweetheart, let me start again: are you asking me to have sex with you for the first time in our relationship?"

"yes, matty," you don't even try to keep the grin from your face. "i'm asking you to have sex with me for the first time in our relationship. today. right now, actually, if you want."

"do you want, though?" matty asks, rubbing slow circles into your hips. "you aren't just asking me because you think i want to? i mean, i do, i really, really do, darling, but only if it's what you want."

you weave your hands into his hair. "can i tell you a secret?"

"of course, sweetheart."

smiling, you lean right in to whisper in matty's ear. "i've been getting off to the thought of you fucking me for months. and i respected your decision not to sleep with me until we were an official couple, but i don't think i can go any longer without knowing what you feel like inside me."

"fuck, sweetheart, me too," matty groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. he kisses you, long and slow and deep and passionate, and murmurs against your lips. "alright. let's have sex. but first, i kind of want to see how you got off to the thought of us."

"oh, that's easy. the first time was like this," you begin grinding your hips down onto his, a flush of arousal passing over you as you feel matty get hard(er) underneath you. "on my pillow, after the first awards ceremony we both went to."

matty actually has to bury his face in his hands. "jesus fucking christ, woman," he inhales sharply as he looks back up, eyes jet black with desire. "i got off to the same thought that night, too. but i'd rather fuck you than my hand in demonstration, right now, sweetheart, if you wouldn't mind."

"i'd rather that too, baby," you kiss him. "show me another time, though, yeah?"

your boyfriend kisses you in return. "whatever my girl wants. and now," he hooks his hands under your bum and stands, smiling when you shriek at the sudden movement. "let me take you to bed."

you've never been so happy to live in a single-storey flat in your life - it takes less than a minute for matty to carry you to your bedroom and lay you down carefully on your bed. you lean up to kiss him, pouting when he merely pecks you and climbs off the mattress. "baby, what are you doing?"

matty pulls his lighter from his pocket and waves it at you. "this."

"arson?"

"no, silly girl," he rolls his eyes. "i'm setting the mood. might as well make use of the excessive amount of candles you've got in here, yeah?"

with that, he dots around the room, lighting the tealights you've placed on almost every suitable surface. he stops when he reaches the bedside table, looking wide-eyed at you. "this is one of your fancy space nk ones, isn't it?"

"yeah. diptyque. same scent as my perfume."

matty tentatively lifts the lid off and sniffs. "my favourite smell in the world," he grins, and you blush. "but this candle is brand new."

"it is."

"so…" matty chews his lip.

you raise a brow. "so?"

he looks at you almost nervously. "am i allowed to light it?"

"hmmm," you roll onto your side to face your boyfriend. "i mean, i was going to save it for a special occasion. but i guess this'll do."

you're teasing. matty knows this, and he raises his eyebrows dramatically. "oh, 'this'll do', will it, miss? you really do know how to make a man feel special."

you shrug. "i know, i'm the sweetest girl in the world," you sit up, laughing. "i'm kidding, baby. about me and the special occasion thing. go ahead. light it up."

matty does as you ask, then gently climbs on top of you and kisses your head. in the glow of the flickering flames around the room, he looks even more gorgeous than usual, those beautiful eyes warmer than you've ever seen them. "nah, you really are the sweetest girl in the world."

"only for you."

"my sweet girl," he kisses all over your face. "my sweet, beautiful girl. can i undress you, darling?"

you nod, shyly. "just to say, i would've worn nicer underwear if i knew this was going to happen. i mean, it's a nice set i've got on, because i thought i should make an effort for you coming over tonight, but you've seen it before, you know? should've bought something new, been all extra pretty for you. m'sor-"

"don't you dare say sorry, sweetheart. don't apologise to me, especially not about underwear, jesus christ," matty cuts off your nervous - because suddenly, you're actually a little bit nervous - babbling, stroking your cheek. "you'd be gorgeous in anything. and the fact i get to see you in your underwear at all is a privilege. and a turn-on. a massive, massive turn-on."

"really?"

"if it wasn't so crass, i would literally put your hand on my dick right now to feel how hard it is at the thought of you in lingerie."

you laugh. "when has being crass ever stopped you from doing anything?"

matty huffs out a laugh, and his eyes crinkle into that smile of his you absolutely love, the one that means he's truly, truly happy. "just don't want to be anything other than perfect for you right now, darling. this means a lot to me."

"same here," you comb through his curls with your fingers. "s'been a while since i've done this. i'm glad it's you i'm doing it with now."

"thank you for letting me, sweetheart," he kisses your nose. "we'll go at whatever pace you like, yeah? you call the shots."

you nod. "thank you. i'm happy for you to take my clothes off, now."

"alright, baby, let me just get my shirt off so you don't feel too exposed."

"can i do it?"

matty smiles. "of course."

he sits back on his knees, and you lean up to catch his lips in a kiss as your hands find the buttons on his flannel. it deepens with every one you undo; by the time you slide it down his shoulders, you're practically devouring each other.

god. why were you ever nervous? the way he kisses you… of course he wants you, and wants you to feel good. matty's desire is undeniable, and so is his affection. you hope that comes across on your behalf too.

judging by matty's reaction - a whine of "fuck, babe" and an impatient tug at the hem of your top - it does. you smile into the kiss, before you pull away and raise your arms and let your boyfriend do what you know he's been secretly longing to do for ages.

the black fabric of your top hits the floor, and so does matty's jaw. his eyes trail up and down your torso, slowly taking in the way the dark blue lace looks against your soft skin; he looks at you for so long that you genuinely can't deal with it, busying yourself with moving to unfasten his jeans.

matty catches your hands in his own before you properly can, though. "hey, sweetheart, look at me for a second, please."

you reluctantly do as asked, biting your lip and praying to any and all deities that it comes across as sexy instead of bashful. your boyfriend's eyes are soft when you meet them with your own, and he smiles that incredible smile again. "you, my girl, are fucking beautiful," he says, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he means every word. "like, i can't actually comprehend it. nor can i comprehend what the utter fuck a gorgeous young thing like you is doing with me, but i'd be an idiot if i didn't just shut up and enjoy it."

"matty healy, that might honestly be the most absurd thing you've ever said," you reply. "look at you, for fuck's sake - i am punching so far above my weight with you."

"good joke, babe."

"i'm serious!"

"you're delusional, sweetheart," matty giggles, ever so lightly kissing down your chest and stomach as he undoes your jeans. you wriggle around so he can slide them off, exposing your (pretty fucking wet) brazilian-style panties. "like fucking hell. you're perfect. but you're also delusional, if you think i'm not the one punching here."

"well, either way," you take matty's hand and cup it over your core so he can feel how wet you are. "you're the one turning me on."

your boyfriend's breath is shaky when he exhales, uttering an "oh fuck" through it. "you know, baby," he says, mouth centimetres from your own. "i've never been harder in my life than i am at this moment."

"oh?" you smirk, pride turning you bolder than you expected. "i think we should do something about that, then," you tap matty's shoulder so he moves back, then you crawl forward and finally properly undo his jeans. your whole back is open to matty, and you press a kiss to his hip tattoo and speak softly. "baby, this is the part where you take my bra off."

matty's hands are on your spine so quickly it's almost funny. "sit up, sweetheart."

you oblige, shuffling back into a sitting position and sliding your bra straps down your arms as matty kicks his jeans off. and that's it. there you are. both as half-naked and turned on as each other.

for a moment, all you do is stare at each other. you have no idea how long for - time is a foreign concept, as is everything else other than the man sitting in front of you, lean and beautiful and clearly aching with want. whether it's a trick of the candlelight, you're unsure, but there's barely any trace of brown left in matty's eyes; he's nothing short of desperate. desperate for you.

you don't think you're faring any better. your legs are so incapable of closing that they might as well be made of magnets, and there's a burning in your cheeks that you know fine well isn't because of the open flames in the room. it's undeniable - you have never wanted someone so much in your life.

surprisingly, it's you who makes the first move, lying down and fanning your hair out on the pillow. once you're comfy, angled right and legs spread, you beckon matty over with a manicured finger. gaze never breaking from yours, he crawls towards you, lithe and hard and hot as fuck, placing his hands on either side of your head and hovering over you.

a moment of nothing, and then you're kissing. unlike your other kisses with matty, this one is almost completely devoid of sweetness; it's almost feral, animalistic, fuelled on nothing more than sheer fucking lust. his hips roll into yours, a topsy-turvy version of the way you grinded on him earlier, and the association with your dirty dreams about your boyfriend pushes you over the edge of desire.

"please, baby, i need you inside me," you whimper into matty. "there are condoms in the table to your left. just please, please fuck me now. need you, please, matty."

it's truly a sign of how turned on matty is that he doesn't take the piss out of you for having condoms on hand. instead, he moves his lips to your neck and flails blindly in your bedside drawer (thankfully, on the opposite side of the bed from your fancy candle) until he finds one.

as he shifts to take his boxers off, matty's lips briefly return to yours, then he speaks. "do you want to put it on me, darling?"

"no, thank you," you shake your head, grinning. "i like watching you touch yourself too much for that."

a breathy laugh, then matty tears the packet open with his teeth - a wave of arousal crashes against your underwear. "eyes on me, then, my girl."

like you'd ever want to look at anything else.

you do as requested, though, teeth sinking into your bottom lip of their own accord as you watch your boyfriend roll the condom onto his dick. once he's satisfied with it, matty leans back over you, smiling, and kisses your nose. "how you feeling, sweetheart?"

"perfect."

"fuck yeah you are," matty kisses you, a short, sweet, affectionate brush of the lips. "would you like to keep going?"

you nod enthusiastically. "please."

"like this? or do you want us to switch position?"

"this works for me," you caress your boyfriend's sharp jaw. "means i get to see that pretty face of yours."

"oh, she's cute," matty giggles. "alright, baby. can i fuck you now, finally, as we've both so badly wanted for so long?"

"yes," comes your breathy reply. you lift your hips, and then your legs, so matty can slide your last remaining clothing off, and that's it. the two of you, bare.

matty shuffles forward, properly leaning over you. despite the position and predicament you're in, his eyes are soft and so is his voice. "remember, sweetheart, you're in charge - anything you say goes. gonna slip inside you now, if that's alright?"

"please."

your boyfriend slides his dick up and down your folds to gather your (plentiful) wetness, smiling at the moan you let out when he brushes your clit. "whatever my sweet girl wants."

with that… he slowly, so slowly that you're amazed by his restraint, pushes into you. holy fuck. your eyes lock onto matty's, both your mouths widening in pleasure the deeper he gets; when he bottoms out completely, yours widens in the opposite direction, into an excited smile.

matty smiles too, blinking slowly to compose himself. "shit, baby," he breathes, face so close to yours that your noses brush against each other. "you're so fucking tight."

"i think you're just big," you reply, just as breathily. "feel so fucking good inside me, matty. better than i dreamed."

"yeah? same here," matty kisses you, far more sweetly than you would necessarily have expected from a man quite literally balls deep inside your cunt. you moan when his lips touch yours, clenching involuntarily; your boyfriend all but whimpers at the sensation. "christ. can i move yet, sweetheart? might explode if you keep squeezing me like that. but i'll endure it as long as you need me to. fuck, i'd do anything for you."

his babbling makes your ego skyrocket - all you've done is let matty put his dick inside you and clench around it once, and this is his reaction? damn. you almost worry how he'll respond to actually fucking you.

but you can't fucking wait to find out.

"yeah, baby," you run your thumb over matty's lips, rosy-red and kiss-bitten. ""you can fuck me now."

he sucks your thumb into his mouth and winks, making you giggle. "thank you, sweet girl. hold on to me, yeah? wanna be close to you."

biting back the urge to be sarcastic and point out to matty that he's literally inside you, you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. matty smiles. "good girl."

your eyelids flutter, partially from the praise, but mostly from the way matty slowly slides almost completely out of you and then thrusts - still gently, but with a little bit of force behind it - back in. "oh. do that again, please."

"was planning on it, sweet girl," matty grins; his smile drops into an almost disbelieving expression as he thrusts into you again. "christ, you feel so fucking good around me. could stay in you forever."

you moan, throwing your head back - matty takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck and trail kisses down to your chest. when he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, you whine. "you can go a little bit faster, baby. please, please go faster, fuck me properly."

"fuck," matty moves his head so he can look you in the eye. "you're sure? i can stay at this pace for a bit, i don't mind."

he's so sweet your heart aches. but you really don't want him to be sweet, not right now.

you shake your head. "faster, harder, please. i can take it. can take you. don't you want to see me take you like a good girl?"

"shit, sweetheart," matty groans, burying his head in your neck. "alright. hold tight."

his hips all but slam into yours, over and over and over and over; the sound, a mixture of your overwhelming arousal and skin meeting skin, is obscene. it's the best thing you've ever heard.

well, that's not strictly true - the way your boyfriend whimpers your name into your lips, your neck, your chest is pretty fucking sexy too. matty can't seem to pick a place on your body to settle his mouth on, as if the pleasure shocks him into moving it every time he slips back inside your cunt. you know how he feels; another jolt of something electric fires through your nervous system every time he does, clenching your muscles, triggering your moans, wiping all thoughts out of your mind other than him.

something else sparks in you, too: realisation. for the first time in your life, you finally truly understand what everyone's on about.

this is sex.

deliriously, you giggle. matty looks at you, tenderness obvious in his eyes despite the low light. "you good, my darling?"

"m'really happy," you lean up to kiss him, and he eagerly reciprocates. a particularly good thrust has you crying into him. "fuck, don't stop doing that."

"yeah?" matty breathes. "you like it when i fuck you like that, sweetheart?"

"fucking love it," you whine, hand sliding into matty's hair to keep him close. "don't stop, please. wanna cum."

"mmm, i want that too," your boyfriend hums. "can i touch you, baby? get you off again?"

an enthusiastic nod. "you can do whatever you want."

matty laughs, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek. "god, you're so fucking cute. and so fucking pretty for me when i fuck you."

you preen at the praise, angling your head to the side to take matty's thumb in your mouth. his breath catches when you release it with a pop, and he doesn't quite regain it until after you speak. "just to help you get me off, yeah?"

a beat passes, and something changes in matty's eyes. he smirks, and thrusts impossibly deeper inside you; while you gasp at that, he leans back slightly to reach down and rub little circles into your clit with his thumb. "like this?"

you can't even speak, the extra layer of stimulation shutting down your brain even more than it already was; all you can do is moan, whine, whimper out your boyfriend's name as he fucks you better than anyone else ever has before. every movement of his hips and hand sends shockwaves through your body, shockwaves beginning to gather in the pit of your stomach in a very familiar way.

and you don't even need to tell him - not that you could if you wanted to, but as soon as you open your mouth to try he cuts you off. "you're close, aren't you, darling?"

matty smiles when you nod, kissing your forehead tenderly. "i want you to cum for me whenever you feel like it, sweet girl. don't hold back. s'all about you."

"but…" you regain your voice just enough to protest.

"trust me, babe, i'll go whenever you do."

"you sure?" you choke out through the pleasure haze.

he buries his head in your neck. "been forcing myself not to cum since i first got inside you, honestly. feel fucking perfect, my perfect girl."

oh.

"matty, baby," you whimper. "keep talking."

you feel him smile against your skin before he kisses up your neck, over your jaw, onto your lips. "oh, you like it when i talk to you? dirty girl. but so good for me, my good girl, all - fucking - mine."

the final three words are punctuated by the hardest thrusts yet; matty's hips slam into yours so strongly that you wouldn't be surprised if you can't walk later. but it feels fucking delicious - he feels fucking delicious - and you feel the tension in your stomach tighten up a notch every time he slides back into you. your limbs and lips quiver against your boyfriend, and your eyes roll back into your head.

your orgasm is so close you can practically taste it. it's hard to keep your eyes open, but you force yourself to lock them on matty's. he looks absolutely fucked, jaw hanging slack and eyes heavy, but you think he's never looked better; you're not sure if the same can be said for you, but you know you must look equally as fucked as him, if not more, all panting breaths and shaky jaw.

matty thinks you're beautiful, though. he tells you as much, accompanies it with a "need you to cum for me, my girl", and that's it. that's all you need.

for the second time in… well, you have no fucking idea how long, but it's irrelevant - the build-up of pleasure in your taut, shaking body shatters, skittering through your skin and veins and nerves and lungs and voice. nails digging into matty's hair and back, you cum with a guttural wail of his name, clinging to him with your head buried in his neck like he's the only thing tethering you to reality; he might as well be, given that you've only managed to think about him for the duration of your sex session.

"fuck, sweetheart, i'm cumming," matty groans. he leans back, detaching the two of you, holding onto your waist for leverage as he thrusts sloppily into you; as he cums, he groans your name, those beautiful eyes clamping shut in the throes of ecstasy.

they blink open slowly once matty pulls out of you, gaze trailing up your heaving body to meet your own. once again, he leans down to kiss you, resting his forearms either side of your head. it's a sweet kiss, tender, at total odds with what the two of you just did. but it's perfect. he's perfect. you're perfect together.

"thank you," you smile sleepily, stroking your boyfriend's sweaty face. "that was… wow."

"understatement of the fucking century," he smiles in return. "sweetheart, that was without question the best sex i have ever had."

you snort. "shut up. i mean, same, but… come on, matty."

"i'm not kidding, darling. really," matty kisses your nose. "feels like you were made for me. in general, to be honest."

well, if you're being honest… "i like being yours, baby."

"not as much as i like being yours, i bet."

you sigh. "matty, i really can't debate with you right now. you tired me out too much."

"yeah?" he's smug. of course he is. but then he softens, the more vulnerable side of him you really like coming out a bit. "was it good enough for you, darling? it wasn't too much, or lacking anything?"

a kiss shuts him up, and a soft smile reassures him. "it was perfect. really. can't wait to do it again."

another kiss. "well, let me clean you up a bit first, sweetheart. actually, d'you want a cig, too? i'll run through and get them."

"ooh, yeah," you shuffle onto your elbows, watching with interest as your boyfriend climbs off the bed and removes the condom. "actually, can you bring my phone too? need to put a reminder in it to book a gp appointment."

matty looks up at you in a state of total confusion; given that he's currently tying the condom off, it's pretty fucking funny. "yeah. you ok, sweetheart?"

"mhmm. just seeing the condom made me think," you reply, stretching. "i want to go on the pill."

"jesus fucking- whatever you want, darling."

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #d word matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut

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zzoguri · 13 days

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae

kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, taerae promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?

but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

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