#I can’t see people talking about what happened in Texas
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After undergrad, I was done living with people. People didn’t turn off alarm clocks or clean up their messes or, perhaps, people even blamed you for their mental breakdown. I had had enough of people.
But I couldn’t live alone.
Luckily, I knew the perfect solution. See, other than the semesters of undergrad, I had always lived with cats. There were also dogs and hamsters and reptiles, but cats were the constant. It was a noble line going all the way back to Yoda, whom my mother got to be her cat in college.
It was only the start of summer, and I was already surreptitiously walking past the adoption area of the pet store. It was a good thing I did.
There in the cage, the only animal in the whole adoption area, was a tiny kitten. As soon as he saw me, he started to meow and kneed and reach through the bars. It was probably as close to love at first sight as I will ever get.
After finding out when adoption was and leaving and coming back at what was the wrong time and talking to the kitten through the glass—I finally was able to hold him.
He was perfect.
This little kitten with brown so deep it was black and a white underside and a very pink nose settled right into my arms and purred up a storm. I adopted him then and there.
Depressingly, with this adoption center, the little boy had to go back to get sniped before I could take him home. I often joked that the poor guy never had a lick of testosterone in his body with how early it all happened. (That didn’t stop in from growing into quite a tall, long cat, mind you.)
While he came home without his balls, he also came home with a kitten cold. My poor little perfect boy was sick to the point that he could die. Cats, if you didn’t know, don’t eat if they can’t smell. Stinky food was bought, force feeding was attempted, and in the end it was some Vick’s in hot water that cleared his sinuses up enough to eat.
Now that he was well, it was finally time to find the right name. Name is a process in my family. In rather reverse fae rules, by giving the pets the right name, they are cemented as family. My mother even adds them to the family bible.
This boy took two tries.
His first name was Underwood as you see, once he got is energy back, he was constantly walking across my lap and the laptop that had a pretty permanent place in it. My friends swiftly got used to getting ‘kitten messages’ sent to them. Annoyingly, some of the same friends wouldn’t stop calling him Carrie, even after I asked them not to, and I decided that I wasn’t going to put up with that for the next fourteen plus years.
As he was my ‘squirmy worm’ for his lack of desire to be held and ability to pop right out of a hold due to his silky fur, I combined the two and, finally, he found his right name of Wormwood. (This also, unbeknownst at the time, started the naming convention for my next two cats.)
Wormwood and I went off to graduate school not much later. The old but passable apartment I was in had a (rather shoddily) screened in porch. It became Worm’s favorite spot to sit, even in the middle of Texas heat.
Paper balls were discovered to be his favorite thing, followed by very tiny pompoms. If I was ignoring him, he’d knock my remote off my table to play. Even with that playing, I often joked that Worm was my semi mobile throw pillow. He loved to lounge and nap to the extreme, even for a cat.
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Worm never wanted other cats in his life, though he managed to accept Bugsy—my Siamese mutt—into our home in time, though Worm never ceded the foot of the bed to him. Together, we three moved back in with my parents (to total a too many five cats) until I could afford my own place. Worm had to suffer through another new brother, Beetle, about three years ago. Then not quite two years ago we moved to a new state.
All three boys did wonderful on the very long drive, and I like to think that it was worth it because of the fabulous sunroom in the new house. All of them had their favorite spots to sit out there and soak up the sun.
This winter, Worm took a turn. He dropped some weight while I was gone on a trip. I got him a heated bed that became his very favorite thing in the whole house. He would just melt into it.
Then it got worse.
I took him to the vet, and he had gone from about fifteen pounds down to five and a half. Blood work was clean though, so we increased his food and changed some things around.
Tueaday he was quite ill.
Wednesday was the first time there was a moment where he wasn’t there mentally. It felt like it was going to be time.
Thursday, today, I found him laying in a sunbeam. He didn’t even ask for food. At eleven today I took him to the vet. For about an hour before I held him, resting against my chest, and the two of us sat in the sun, listening to the birds.
I think he was ready to rest. He hardly moved at the vet during the shot and then… then he was gone.
And I had to leave him.
For sixteen years, nearly half my life, he has been my family and one of my best friends. I would have been so lost without him. I’m so sad to have to say goodbye, but I’m glad that he can rest now.
I’m glad that it was a pretty day and that we got to sit in the sun together and listen to the birds.
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Soul Stones: The Easy Life
“Jordan-- I mean, Alfie-- what are you doing here?” It was weird seeing my roommate’s body on the couch, playing videos games. It had only been a few days since my roommate somehow swapped bodies with one of the team’s official tutors, and I was still struggling to get his name right. "Do you think being an athlete is easy? Just because Football season’s over, it doesn’t mean you get to slack off! I thought you were going to the gym today?”
He responded by rolling his eyes at me. “I did, okay? I drank the stupid shake, and I lifted weights for... I dunno, fifteen minutes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of a round?”
“No, you’re not excused!” I grabbed the remote, shut off the TV, and threw the remote back onto the couch. “What happens when Jordan gets his body back, but he loses his spot on First String Defense because you’re too busy playing fuckin’ Fall Guys, of all games?”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started talking to me without making eye contact. Dunno if he was too nervous to make eye contact with me, or what, but since the real Jordan would have been up close and in my face yelling at me, it really hit home that I was dealing with a different person. “Look, Tanner... I’m doing my best, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know how to gain muscle-- how many reps, how much weight, what routine, which foods? I’m an Engineering student. I don’t know the first thing about Health Science, and I can’t even ask for help because no one will take me seriously when I look like this! Also, in case you had forgotten, I’m not the one who absconded with someone else’s body.”
“I... Alfie, I’m sorry.” I had to admit, he had a point. I just assumed he would know enough about fitness to keep Jordan’s body in shape, but... why would he? Alfie was a super skinny dude. “Look, what if... I’m done with classes today, right? What if we both go to the gym? Everyone will think we’re just two bros talkin’ gym talk, and I can teach you what you need to know. Sound good?”
A wave of relief washed over him. “I would really appreciate that,” he said, smiling at me. “It actually seems kinda fitting. With as much tutoring as you’ve gotten from me, it feels a bit like a trade.”
-----------------------------------------------
The proofs from my first professional photoshoot were back, and I was loving the results. In my old life, the only time anyone ever wanted to photograph me, it was for the football team. Massive shoulders, threatening posture, harsh expressions, deep shadows... everything I hated about masculinity. But here? Here I was slender, stylish... and handsome. Cute, even.
All I ever wanted was to make people happy. Growing up in the Texas suburbs as I did, that meant playing football. By the time I figured out the difference between what I wanted and what others wanted for me, I was already 200 pounds of solid muscle. And once I figured out that I was also a gay man? Well, I didn’t see the point in getting disowned by all of my friends and family until after I had a steady career to my name.
So when the weirdo at the antique store told me about the body swapping stones, I couldn’t help but daydream about being someone else. I mean, of course I was skeptical... but they were only $5. Honestly, I had forgotten they were even sitting on my desk until Alfie asked me about them. Tanner’s Chemistry mid-term was the next day, so Alfie was in our room, trying to give him a crash course on the five weeks of material he’d skipped.
I just told him they were paperweights, of course-- who’s dumb enough to believe in magic? But when he picked one up and started tracing the grooved carvings with his thumb, well... maybe I was dumb enough to believe. I hadn’t told anyone else about them, so if they didn’t work, no one would have any reason to laugh at me. But if they did work... if there was even a chance... this was my moment. I took a deep breath, and pressed my index finger onto the polished agate. By the time Alfie realized he was no longer sitting next to Tanner, I had grabbed the other stone off of my desk and ran out of the room.
I don’t even feel guilty about it, to be honest. We had followed each other on Instagram back at the start of the year, so I’ve been able to use that to spy on Alfie as he lives my old life. That is not the face of someone who is unhappy with the way things shook out. He’s even managed to bag a girlfriend so, like... good for him. I wish him the best. It’s the least I can do for stealing his life.
As for me? Well, I really hadn’t thought too far ahead-- honestly, I’d kept the stones in case I needed a safety net-- but it turns out that Alfie’s parents are crazy loaded and crazy supportive. When I told them I was thinking about changing majors to something in the Fine Arts, they didn’t even blink. Hell, they bought me a new apartment downtown, and offered to pay for the transfer to a different college next semester.
I think I might still take some business courses, just in case I need to fall back on something a bit more dependable, but... in the meantime, I’ve been trying to pursue both modeling and photography. Maybe I’ll hit it big, maybe I won’t... but for once in my life I’m setting aside the grindstone and putting my happiness first.
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and my soul has changed, and my heart
Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.
Drabble Summary: Joel and Tommy catch up on patrol after word of Joel's date with you spreads around Jackson.
Word Count: 1245
Drabble Warnings: mentions of past child death (Sarah) and grief, 18+ blog MDNI
Notes: I'm here with another Joel POV drabble! Thank you so much for your patience with this update, I am partway through chapter four so hope to update that shortly. The title for this drabble is from the song Orange Juice by Noah Kahan
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The patrol route is quiet. There’s not a sign of infected or people around. Joel rests the back of his head against the tree he’s leaning against, watching Old Beardy drink from the nearby stream.
Joel can’t quite stop that alertness, the background wariness in case of something changing. It’s not a curse, it’s kept him alive this long.
It’s peaceful though. The area is illuminated by dappled sunlight between the trees hitting the water, the sounds of water babbling over the rocks and nature around are inescapable - you could forget about the world for a moment here.
Joel remembers how Ellie had taken everything in with such childlike wonder when they’d left Boston, how a world he’d known and taken for granted had seemed so new to her. He hadn’t wanted to let her in there, wanted to define her as cargo, as the reason Tess was gone, as a means to an end.
He was different then.
Joel allows himself one more moment of reverie before he focuses again. He feels the familiar pang in his chest as he realises Sarah would have loved it here, would have been scrabbling up the nearby rocks. For just a moment he’s back in Texas, hiking with her on a weekend and nothing’s changed, nothing’s happened. He can almost see her, but he’s afraid to encourage that, too many nightmares start that way and end with her bleeding out in his arms.
Joel shakes his head, makes his way over to Old Beardy, runs his hands on the horse’s neck.
“I reckon we should make our way back now,” he says calmly.
“Yeah.” Tommy doesn’t move though; he stands there looking at Joel with a growing smirk on his lips. “So,” Tommy starts and Joel realises exactly what this is.
He’s unknowingly walked right into his brother’s set up here - patrol, getting out of Jackson.
“Just get it out your system, Tommy, ” Joel deadpans, arms folded. He should have known going to the Tipsy Bison, having a date in Jackson, would spread around town faster than a virus.
“I’m happy for you, Joel. The idea of you and Ellie putting roots down here, building a life, that’s - that’s what it was all about right? What you told me about why you -” Tommy breaks off.
They don’t talk about it.
They don’t talk about the secret Joel told Tommy only days ago on a patrol. He had to tell Tommy, had to tell someone. Tommy understood. He was worried about that, especially with the baby - he wondered if Tommy would ever forgive him for that, for condemning his niece to a world without a cure. Or maybe it’s because of her that Tommy gets it.
“I have one drink with someone and -”
“Small towns, man.”
“Didn’t miss that.”
“Nope. You’ll get used to it. She’s friends with Maria, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know that.” Joel pauses. “She’s … I don’t know, Tommy. I thought after - after Tess, after everything that was all gone for me.” He’d resigned himself to what his life could be - one better than he had expected over the past twenty years, but he hadn’t seen you in his horizon, hadn’t thought there could be a you.
“Fate works in funny ways, I guess.” Tommy pauses and looks at Joel quizzically. “I can see it, y’know.”
“See what?”
Tommy laughs. Sometimes it surprises Joel - how easy his brother seems to live now and how foreign the sound of his laugh had become to him too. Getting to Boston, surviving those years … there wasn’t much humour. There was always laughter in the house before.
He can hear Sarah’s laugh faintly even now. The way she’d almost fold herself up with laughter sometimes, shaking her head furiously.
Since Ellie, since everything over the last year, it’s like he’s bleeding Sarah everywhere.
Every memory he’d boxed up and hidden away is here now, out in the open and sometimes they feel less like a knife, or shiv, in the gut and sometimes the loss is as raw as it was the day his world fell apart. There’s always a dull ache though. That will never fade.
You’re not supposed to have to bury your kid.
He tries to shake the memory away, to bring himself back to now and this moment.
Joel’s here. He has his brother and Ellie and these delicate tendrils of a future again - Jackson, you, a chance. He’ll take that.
“So, I’ve got to ask, brother, how did you even get talking to her?”
“You sayin’ she’s out of my league?” You are, he thinks, you’re different to him, if you knew what he’s done … would you let him sit with you at night? Would you have kissed him on your porch?
Would you get it? You’re a parent, maybe you would. Or maybe you wouldn’t.
“I didn’t say that,” Tommy says, “Just she usually keeps to the library and her home mostly, and you’re not exactly a voracious reader.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
It’s not like Joel has ever hated reading; it’s just it’s not been a priority. Escaping into someone else’s story is a luxury when you’re fighting to make rent, to provide for the people you love. After the outbreak, it seemed fanciful, foolish even.
“Maybe you have,” Tommy says with a weight and stare that says more than his words.
Joel knows what Tommy thinks. He thinks he’s softened in age, with Ellie and Jackson. He isn’t the man of those nightmares anymore, not a hunter, not dangerous. He broke down in Jackson to his brother after all, bared his soul on his age, his deafness, his fears. He’d all but begged Tommy to take Ellie then. maybe it was about more than that - maybe he was just putting up barriers. He did it though.
Tommy’s wrong though. That man hasn’t vanished, that man hasn’t changed. He’s still there under the surface.
You can never fully exorcise those demons.
To live and survive in this world, you probably shouldn’t either.
“So, how did you get talking?” his brother asks, “How’d this start?”
Well, I met her on a bench in the middle of the night in some secret insomnia club we’ve created because hey, I’ve not slept properly in months, years even. No, Joel can’t say that to Tommy.
“We bumped into each other a few times, got to talking.”
“She seems nice, from when I’ve spoken to her and she’s been around with Maria. I can see you two gettin’ on. I mean I really thought you and Esther could have had something though -”
”She had a Victorian doll collection, Tommy. That shit was scary before the end of the world.”
“Yeah, but other than that.”
“I couldn’t get past the dolls, they were in her goddamn bedroom, staring at me …” Joel shudders at the memory. The cracked porcelain heads, faded fabrics and unblinking eyes staring at him when he didn’t want their attention. Esther was a lovely woman but there were over twenty of those dolls in her bedroom alone.
Maybe they helped her. But they sure didn’t help him.
“Okay, I get it, I get it. What if -”
“She won’t have a collection like that.” At least, Joel hopes you don’t.
“Here’s hoping. We should head on back now.”
Joel nods, shifts his backpack, and moves to get on Old Beardy.
He takes in the scene around him just a second longer.
Peace.
Maybe it’s not so far away.
Tag List
YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life @everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @joelsgreys @noisynightmarepoetry @pedrobaby @noisynightmarepoetry
Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal character#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#your hand in mine fic
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Haven't I? - Part 1
They’re here.
Even though he’s been doing patrols for months here and is more than capable of himself, you can’t help but worry when it comes to Tommy.
Call it a sisterly instinct, but whatever it may be, you’re relieved Tommy’s back.
The sound of horse’s hooves rouses Marie from her sleep and she rests her hand on her growing stomach. She’s at least three weeks along and the occasional morning sickness made her tired, but her bull-headed self refused to rest until absolutely necessary.
You hand her her coat and put your mask on.
The snow crunches beneath your boots and you can see Tommy walking back from the stables. His eyes soften as Maria’s footsteps fall faster.
There’s a mixture of bitterness and love when you look at them embracing. It’s painful to think of him. He probably thinks you’re dead. You clench your jaw and force the thought of him to the furthest corner of your brain. Leaving it among the memories that you don’t think about. Sarah’s laughter. Dancing together while making pancakes. Your wedding to her father. How she was only six and the flower girl, throwing petals with the most adorable smile on her face. The smile on your husband’s face when he said ‘i do.’
No, those were memories you never thought of.
You’re shaken from your thoughts as Tommy’s arms fall around you, “Told you I wouldn’t die.”
Scoffing, you reply, “Can’t blame me for worrying. What with your shit aim, I had no choice but to be worried.”
Maria laughs as an indignant snort falls out his mouth as the three of you begin walking back towards the house.
He leans towards and murmurs, “You know you don’t have to always wear your mask.”
“Tommy, I scared a child a few days ago. Don’t talk shit.”
He just sighs in reply.
—-
Sleep doesn’t come easy, but when it does, all you dream of is the growls of the wolf.It had been after a child in your travelling group. And when you had run to save her, it decided to come for you instead.
When you’re not dreaming of that, you’re dreaming of your husband’s broken face when the both of you were separated in the mob.
This was when the QZ in Texas eventually became full of infected and you had to evacuate. The crowd was so huge and you were holding his hand right.
“Honey, hold on! Be fucking careful!” His voice was harsh in the chaos and the grip he had on your hand was bruising.
Suddenly, in the rush your hand slipped. It slipped from his own. And you were screaming his name.
Fire was all around you, the sounds of bells and sirens ringing, the screams of infected and terrified people filled your ears as you jogged in no particular direction to avoid being trampled alive.
You could hear your name as well, in the distance, his voice sounded raw and worn.
You were roused from your sleep by Tommy shaking you awake, calling your name loudly.
You shot up, “What? What the hell happened Tommy?”
“Good morning to you too, sunshine” He pats your shoulder and leaves a bottle of water on your table, “We’re finishing those bannister’s today, and I’d appreciate your help.”
You stiffly nod, “Ok partner.”
He chuckles at the nickname, ever since you had met him, he was your partner in crime against his brother, and it stuck through the decades.
“See you, Trouble.” He says and leaves the room.
The walk to the bathroom to freshen is exhausting and you’re pretty sure you want to choke on the toothbrush rather than do anything else, but Tommy needed you. If no one else did, Maria and him always did.
It’s freezing. The snow still crunches under your boots, like it does everyday. Perhaps it’s the mundaneness of the act that fascinates you but the crunch is always so satisfying.
“You’re here, you old fucker” Tommy grins at your groans of pain as you attempt to climb the steep metal steps to the platform.
You flip him off and he laughs as you take the drill from another helper, “ I see Maria went out on patrol today.”
The grin is wiped off his face as he sands the wood, “Yeah.”
You can see pieces of his brother in him, in the way he does his work.
“Fuck!” You wince.
“You okay?” Tommy asks.
“Yeah, a fucking splinter. I’m going to go get this shit out.”
You’re walking back towards the house, mask down and sucking on your pointer finger, when the gates are being opened earlier than normal.
They’re back. Early.
But if they’re early it can only mean two things:
Someone’s dead, or there’s newcomers.
The horses are walking slowly and there’s no sign of commotion, so yes it is newcomers.
You’re able to see a girl riding on a horse, next to Maria and you can see Danny and Luis and then-
No.
Oh god no.
It’s him. It’s the man of your dreams and the subject of your nightmares. He’s right there and he’s looking around in awe. The snow, the Christmas tree, the children.
And his eyes fall on you.
And then they move on to someone else.
That is when you see the other woman, she seems to be in her late thirties or so, her brown locks are tied back and her face is tired.
But lord, she’s beautiful, and she’s got her arms around him.
Who is she?
You’re happy, you suppose, that he’s moved on. He’s happy, of course you would be. But you’re devastated. And your heart that’s been slowly piecing itself back together shatters completely and you turn to run back to the bannisters where Tommy is.
“Tommy!”
With your call another’s voice mingles, and you want to hurl a rock at something.
Tommy looks at his brother and then at you, who is frantically motioning towards yourself and him.
Don’t tell him I’m here.
“What the fuck?” He manages to say when he’s on the ground.
“ Go, idiot!” You all but push him towards his brother and it takes everything in you to walk away.
And then he’s laughing. And you turn. Because after everything you’re still weak.
His arm is around her shoulders and she’s looking at Tommy with distrust. The girl on the horse stares at the scene and you’re able to recognise her expression. Because you’re feeling it too.
The fear that you’re going to be left alone again.
—-—————-—-———————
You stare at her name on the chalkboard and it seems to glare at you in the silence of the house. The candles flutter almost as if they’re alive.
The candles are more alive than your daughter. And you want to break them, throw them out into the snow and watch as they snuff out. As they die a death that won’t mean anything to anyone else. Just a sad inconvenience.
It’s lunch hour, and they’re all away.
He didn’t even look at you.
You scream into the cushions on the couch. It’s childish, but you welcome the raw searing pain and you let it flow through you. For everything you’ve done and for everyone you’ve lost and for all the pain you’ve gone through. All the memories you locked away, because you didn’t know what to do with them.
Her smile is all you can think of and his laughter is all you can hear. He’s twirling her around the kitchen and you laugh because this family is all yours. Your daughter and your husband and your house. The pancakes are fluffy and the sun is shining.
“Mom, help me!” she giggles and starts laughing out loud when he begins tickling her. “No! Dad!”
Her shouts start to become more painful and it’s suddenly night.
“Mom! Help me!” she wails, “No, Dad it hurts!” her whimpers start to become more pained and her eyes are wide in fear.
You’re pressing down on her wound as Joel tries to shift her and she screams.
Her breathing is slowing and you’re shouting at Joel to let her down because she’s sobbing.
You’re hugging her close to you when both you and him feel her breathing stop and you know your life has stopped as well. All you do is hide your face in the expanse between her face and shoulder and sob. You put your arms around him and her corpse is enveloped between the both of you. It’s ironically just like how you used to hug her when she’d climb in your bed after a nightmare.
Your screams have turned into sobs and you’re kneeling before the fireplace like it’s an altar and you’re begging for forgiveness. You rock back and forth like you did when you were holding her.
When your sobs are finally spent and your head is throbbing, you get up and put your mask on. It’s past lunch and they’ll be back soon.
Part-2
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#sarah miller#tlou#the last of us#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal
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alright friends
i’ve slammed back two margaritas, had some tacos, & feel mentally stable enough to talk about the con so let’s get into it
*long ass rambling under the cut
so this entire con was extremely chaotic. i’ve only been to one con before, and it was a horror con last year, and that one was an absolute shitshow. this one was significantly better, but still a hot mess. emphasis on the hot. it’s texas y’all, and it’s summer, so ya girl was sweating all day (my mood is also directly affected by the heat 🙃)
it was really hard to tell where everything was supposed to be happening, and we had to ask for directions several times
the first op we got was with hayden, and that was a MESS. they were so behind schedule with his pictures (our time was at 2pm and we didn’t even get to him until like 3:45pm) so i didn’t get to go to the daredevil born again panel. i was also super stressed and on the verge of having a panic attack that i was gonna be late for my op with charlie and jon bc that was at 5pm
luckily, we made it. ✨ hayden was so incredibly sweet, and really fucking tall, and has one of the most soothing and mesmerizing voices ever. he made direct eye contact and said hello, thanked us for coming when we left, and was smiling the entire time. he was so so so lovely
now charlie & jon’s op was super on time. their people weren’t playing any games. unfortunately though, we got put in the wrong line which fucked us over when it came time to take the picture, bc we ended up getting super rushed through it
as soon as we stepped into the booth, charlie told me to go to jon, to which i was like 🫡 yes sir. now i had told my partner that i wanted to stand in between charlie and jon (i wanted my main character moment, & he was cool with that) but since things were rushed, charlie directed him to stand next to me and then charlie stood by him. so unfortunately, i didn’t really get to interact with charlie at all, which did break my heart, not gonna lie to y’all
but that honestly was not his fault at all. the con was super packed, and i think they oversold tickets, so he was doing his best to help move things along as quickly as possible while still making sure everyone had a good experience
also i can’t even imagine the pressure they are under meeting so many people in one day, and they were probably overwhemled and exhausted themselves, but you’d never know it bc they were both so happy and excited
but, charlie did smile at me, and his smile is so much more blinding in person. i can’t confirm what he smells like, but i can confirm that he was so incredibly sweet, is way more handsome in person, is so fucking british it’s comical (experiencing that accent in person was 🫠), and i could tell he was genuinely so excited and happy to be there
now onto jonny boy. see i thought when charlie smiled at me, my soul left my body. but nope, there was still more soul to lose. jon called me mama (his exact words were, “c’mon over here mama”) and i’ll never fucking recover. i think he could tell i was overwhelmed, bc he put his arm around me, looked me right in the eye, smiled so sweetly and asked me how i was doing, to which i smiled like an idiot and said this was the best day of my life. i asked him how he was doing and he laughed (he fucking laughed y’all) and said he was doing good. he also smelled SO GOOD (exactly like what I thought he would smell like: earthy with some spice). he was so gentle and sweet. also can confirm he says y’all
the picture happened so fast, it literally felt like a split second. jon gave me a little pat on my back and smiled again and told me to have a good day, and charlie smiled at me again and said thanks for coming
i was incredibly emotionally overwhelmed when we went to pick up our picture. i was already super overstimulated, but there was also this disappointment gnawing at the pit of my stomach bc everything happened so fast, and i didn’t get a chance to say how i wanted my picture. then when i got my picture, i felt even worse bc i feel like i look so uncomfortable and frazzled
i didn’t get to take many pictures during the con at all (i think I only took 3) so i apologize for not really having more to post for y’all. the whole thing was just far more overwhelming than i anticipated
i am so sweaty and overheated, my feet are killing me, and i’m trying not to cry. i know this all sounds dramatic (i am a drama queen) but i’m trying to focus on the positives of today. i know they say don’t meet your heroes, but if your heroes are one of these three guys, definitely meet them. you won’t regret it. they are just as fucking wondeful as we think they are, if not more
i got to meet three of my favorite people in the whole world. i got to hug hayden. i got a blinding, beautiful smile from charlie. and i got an incredibly sweet interaction with jon. i may not like how i look in these pictures, but i’ll get over myself when my emotions settle, and every time i look at them in the future i’ll remember today was one of the best days of my entire life bc i met my boys 🥹
also i feel really special that jon actually smiled in this picture (he’s like straight up cheesing) bc homeboy never smiles (which, same. that’s why mine is so fucking awkward)
if you’re still reading this rant, i appreciate you listening to me ramble. thank you for being an incredible friend <3
and if you’ve been wondering what the tiny evil little demon behind the screen looks like, here ya go :)
psa i am not as tall as these pictures make me look. it’s the angle, & i am wearing boots :) ya girl is a humble 5’4 on a good day
#court rambles#face reveal ???#hi here’s my sweaty overwhelmed face#charlie cox#matt murdock#daredevil#jon bernthal#frank castle#the punisher#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#star wars#fan expo dallas
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starting from zero
for @strangerthingsreversebigbang with art from @anaccidentwaitingtohappen
When Robin suggests that she and Steve skip town, he assumes she’s joking. She’ll say stuff like that all the time, because Hawkins has bumpy roads that exacerbate Steve’s migraines, and because the kids and be annoying and cliquey and exclusive, and because she’s heard from her aunt in Chicago that some women over there dare to have queer little haircuts and girlfriends whose hands they hold in public.
So when they’re watching Dirty Harry in the middle of the night and Robin says “we should move there,” Steve laughs and takes a sip of his beer.
Harry says the line about feeling lucky, and then Robin says “did you know that punk used to be slang for, like, a gay guy, or something?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lots of gay people in San Francisco, by the way.”
Harry finally kills the Scorpio guy. “Yeah, it seems real safe there,” Steve says.
He’s not looking but he can feel Robin shrug next to him. “Can’t be worse than Hawkins.”
The camera does a really gross zoom in on Scorpio’s stupid bloody face, so he looks right at Robin, who looks deadly serious. Her mouth is small, the way it gets when she’s trying to shut herself up. The way she looks when the gears in her brain have been spinning for too long without letting anything out.
That’s when Robin gets dangerous. She’s a planner. Steve can usually see right through her, but there’s always been enough for the both of them in this town – or, well. He always thought there was.
“Are you– what’s going on?” She looks a bit like she’s going to cry, which is so unlike her that it makes Steve’s heart shake.
She takes a deep breath. “What if we just left?”
“Hawkins?”
“Indiana,” Robin says, shrugs again, gets a wild look in her eye. “The country.”
Steve cracks a smile. “The world, even.”
Robin laughs, this great big beautiful sound that fills the room and travels down the hallways. The house doesn’t ever feel dark or empty with her inside, with her pantomiming a rocket launch to outer space, like she can imagine living on Mars with him like he can with her.
“What’s even keeping you here?”
It’s a loaded question. In theory, this is his home. In it, everyone he’s ever known, ever loved, ever heard of. Except for his parents, who might be in the Hamptons and might be in Vegas. Except for Nancy, in Boston. Except for half the town, lost in the rubble of an earthquake they all pretend happened.
He stays, really, because Robin is here.
And Steve, for a long time, hasn’t been able to shake the nagging feeling that she could have had more if it wasn’t for him, that she might go anywhere for him, and he’s the one who’s too cowardly to think of leaving. Robin’s chosen to stay, despite her little jokes about leaving. Despite a girl she fell in love with over a whirlwind summer leaving for college in Texas. Despite the little horrors of this town and the passions she could have easily followed. She has ambition and talent and drive. She has family and she knows what she wants and she knows who she wants it with.
And the worst part is that Steve is the one she wants it with.
There are days where he locks himself in his house, sulking and exhausted and alone, and she climbs in through his bedroom window, just as determined as he used to be before all of this. She plays with his hair and draws on his shoes and brings over movies he’s never seen and he would stop the spinning of the world for her.
He knows anyone would, if they had her like he does.
It’s been eating him alive, a little bit. He’s been frozen in time and space since a chasm opened up in the town and left him completely unable to move.
Steve takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. What’s keeping you here?”
“You,” Robin says, looking at him hard past her eyelashes. “Dingus.”
“You want to go to San Francisco? To live?”
“Yeah, I think we could do it.”
–
There are some things you can’t really say out loud without ruining the magic of them.
Steve and Robin go to work the next day and the day after that and the day after that. Robin had found them another job at a restaurant on basically the other end of Roane County where they get paid like shit but can work for tips. They’ve both been working full-time since Robin graduated high school, saving up for nothing in particular, skirting past a new shitty manager and getting free meals for the kids when they come in.
Steve supposes, once the idea is up in the air, that another reason he’s held back for so long was because of the kids, with all the things they’ve gone through, and all the people that have left them. He doesn’t want to be another person that leaves for better things. Steve’s a person who’s been left, in so many ways. It always feels like a betrayal on the other end of it.
So they don’t say anything about it to anyone, not even really out loud to each other, until one shift after weeks and weeks of saving and shuffling and looking at listings from newspaper clippings they get sent from Jonathan in California and Nancy in Boston and Robin’s aunt in Chicago. Jonathan and Nancy and even Robin’s relatives don’t bother asking questions, are secretive enough on their own, so there’s no pressure on that front.
Erica sits at a booth on a Sunday afternoon teaching Robin how to make friendship bracelets on her lunch break while the restaurant is dead.
“Why aren’t you with your friends?” Steve asks, stealing a french fry off Robin’s plate and eyeing their work.
Erica rolls her eyes, ever expressive. “I hate the birthday boy so much that it wouldn’t even be worth it to go and make fun of him. Plus, I’m getting too old for birthday parties.”
“Yeah Steve,” Robin says, holding up her bracelet. “She’s too mature for that.”
“Don’t condescend to me,” Erica fires back. She pulls at Robin’s sleeve to gather a bit of the string and tighten it before it falls apart on her. All things considered, Erica’s always been one of their favorite of the kids, if only because if she didn’t want to stick around, she wouldn’t. And yet she’s always there.
Robin and Erica talk lowly while they graze and gossip, right up until Erica turns around in the booth to level Steve with a look while he busses the next table over. “So when are you guys leaving?”
“Uh,” Steve checks his watch. “We have like three and a half more hours.”
“That’s obviously not what I meant and you know it. When are you leaving? Like, moving away, skipping town, getting out of here?”
Robin turns around too, now, giving Steve a look that says she hasn’t even alluded to that. Erica is startlingly perceptive, though, and cares way more about the people in this town than she’d care to admit. With all the people who have moved away in the past few years, all of the kids who she went to school with who left because of the earthquake, it’s not exactly all that surprising.
“When we can afford it, basically,” Robin says finally. Steve has a weird lump in his throat that keeps him from saying anything before that. Something about having to look Erica in the eyes makes it seem all the more real.
She still raises an eyebrow at him. He shrugs.
“Where are you going to go?”
“Not too far that we won’t visit,” Robin says, reaching up like she’d dare try to pinch Erica’s cheek. “Don’t worry.”
Erica purses her lips and glares harder, and if Steve knows her like he thinks he does, he’d guess her face was hot and embarrassed under all of that sarcasm. “Like I care. I just figured you’d start telling people at some point if it’s so obvious that I’ve figured something’s up.”
“What do you mean we’re being obvious?” Steve asks.
“You know,” Erica gestures a little wildly. “You guys have been acting weird. All quiet and secretive with your little conspiratorial looks. And you offered to help me make friendship bracelets. You’re getting in your weird older sibling fantasies and that either means you’re dying or you’re moving away. You’re not dying, are you?”
Steve smiles. “Nah, we’re fine. And we’ll let you know when we’re actually making real plans.”
“Well. Good.”
There’s a bit of earnestness that peeks through, a little bit of personality that’s only for people she really likes. She helps them make beaded friendship bracelets for each other, pastel pinks and blues, and she keeps the secret just as good as either of them.
–
People who know Robin the way that Steve does know that she has an overcompensation streak that could rival anyone. She’s stubborn and superstitious and anxious and combats all of her fears by learning everything she could possibly need to know about them. By the time Erica figures out that they’re leaving Hawkins, Robin decides she’s going to learn everything there is to know about every major city in the United States. By the time she tells her parents that she’s going to save up and move out, she’s got an entire notebook full of notes and plans and phone numbers and addresses. She is positive that she can do it on her own. She doesn’t need help.
There are no cracks in her plan, in her demeanor, in her routine. Especially facing Steve. She tells him he worries too much for his own good anyway.
There’s one moment, though, before they get too far into their search, before things are finalized, right after they decide on San Francisco after all:
Robin has her nose in three different books from the library in the next town over. She’s got her pen in her hand and she’s taking her notes. She’s got a crease in between her eyebrows and takes a shaky breath that sounds a little too familiar.
Steve, at the other end of the couch, two books of his own that he’s trying way too hard to understand, about the logistics of moving across the country, pokes at Robin with his toe. She looks up at him like she might collapse.
“What if this is a horrible idea? Like, a catastrophic idea. Like we’re going to die before we leave, kind of idea. I know you didn’t read that Stephen King book that just came out, but what if it’s like that? Those kids are haunted and what if we’re haunted?”
“Robin,” Steve starts.
She pushes a book about taxes off of her lap and onto the floor, folding some of the pages in a way that’s going to make her feel bad later. “What if I don’t find any jobs out there? And then I have to do street art for tourists who think I’m an idiot for not going to college?”
Steve reaches over and touches her on the shoulder, rubbing gently. “Robin.”
“What if girls don’t like me?” She really looks like she might cry, now. It’s rare enough that Steve’s heart lurches violently in his chest.
“They will.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Well you’ve got me,” he says. “And we can get married for tax benefits, and girls will see you with a wedding ring and probably flock to you even harder.”
And like a shot, Robin snaps out of it enough to roll her eyes. They put the books down for the night.
–
There’s a long day where Steve’s mother calls their landline just to check on him. She’ll do this sometimes, ask how he’s doing, what he’s eating, make comments on if it’s enough or if it’s too much. She makes comments about Robin, whose name she only barely remembers from the times Steve has shouted it from across the room while on the phone. She tells the same stories about how her and his father will be coming to visit soon, and he laughs and almost believes her when she tries her hardest to seem earnest.
But it’s been a long day, and Steve works for tips and makes shit money, and he and Robin don’t know what they’re doing because they don’t know anyone who’s doing it alone like they are. They’re so close to leaving that every day left feels a little like torture. And he’s alone in his house, empty while Robin’s with some band kids on break from school. And his mother says “we’re thinking of coming to visit soon, your father and I,” and Steve actually laughs. She ignores it. “He misses you, you know. You can call the car phone whenever you’d like, I’m sure he’d pick up.”
And they both know it’s a sick lie, because his father gave up on him years ago, never even bothers to come on the line when his mother makes her pity calls. The line goes silent while they both sit there and wait for some truth to come out of it, and Steve almost feels bad for this woman who clearly forgot how to be a mother back when she prioritized being a wife.
“Well,” she says, eventually. “We’ve actually got to get going, sweetheart. Your father has one of those boring old work events tonight in Santa Fe.”
“Alright,” he manages to say.
She takes a deep breath, like she’s gearing herself up for another lie. “We love you. We’ll visit soon.”
Steve hangs up.
Robin will be dropped off at his front door by morning, he knows, and he also knows that she doesn’t need to be let into the house in any kind of formal way. It’s just as much hers as it is his. And it’s more of their house than it ever was his parents’. And Steve imagines, just for a second, what would happen if he locked all of the doors and windows. If he changed the locks and ate the keys. If he filled the entire house with concrete and smoke before he left the place to die.
He wonders if his parents would ever find out. If they would bust the door down looking for him, the way Robin would. She would climb down his chimney if she was that desperate to get inside. Steve locks the front door for the first time in what feels like years and falls asleep in his parent’s bed, untouched for a year at this point, staring at the popcorn ceiling.
Most of the rest of the house, everything worth saving, is packed into boxes. His entire life. And this whole room was left untouched for his parents to return to.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to Robin plopping cross-legged at the foot of the bed with her hands clasped together. Her hair is messy and she had a bit of eye-makeup on that’s smudged, and she looks entirely awake.
Once Steve’s awake enough, Robin starts talking. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen this room.”
“You like it?”
“It’s extremely ugly in here,” she says, turning her nose up at the tacky hotel room art on the wall, the exact thing that Robin would hate. “But we could probably rent it out in the paper. Pretend to run a bed and breakfast or something.”
“My parents would freak if they saw that.”
Robin, gracefully, doesn’t point out the obvious, which is that his parents would never notice or care. She doesn’t have to. Their wedding photo with the cracked frame says it loud enough. And there’s a ringing in Steve’s ear that hasn’t gone away for hours, taunting him.
When he was younger, he would run to his parents room and his mom would rub his temples with her fingertips, gaudy manicure scratching his hairline.
“Do you think we can sell this place before we leave for extra cash?”
Steve smiles. “I don’t think Hawkins is exactly prime real estate right now.”
“Not to mention this place is, like, really ugly.”
“Well there’s a reason I never come into this room–”
“No, I mean,” Robin squints. “The entire place. Every room, not just this one. When we get a house it’s gonna be way cooler than this one.”
“For sure.��
“With short ceilings. I hate the echo.”
“And these awful, gaudy chandeliers,” Steve says, glaring at the ugly crystal light fixture above the bed. When he was younger, he used to have nightmares about it falling and crushing his parents. He doesn’t dream much anymore, but it’s one of those dreams that stuck with him.
“I kind of want to hit it with a baseball bat.”
That shocks a laugh out of him. “Like a piñata?”
“Yeah,” Robin says, eyes glowing. “Don’t you?”
Steve stares at it for a second. “I used to play baseball.”
And then they’re standing in the center of the room with a full children’s baseball bag. “This is stupid.”
Robin’s eyes are wide and wild. “Maybe,” she says.
“They’re not even going to notice, you realize that, right? They’re in Santa Fe, probably cheating on each other and mingling with other shitty parents who don’t care about their children. They’re probably never going to even bother coming back.”
“Doesn’t that piss you off?” Robin takes Steve by the shoulders, shakes him. “They should care about you, Steve! They’re your parents! They’re supposed to care about you, it’s their job! And they’re bad at it! Doesn’t that make you mad?”
Steve flexes his jaw. “Yeah.”
“Good! Because it makes me livid!” She throws the baseball in her hand at the horrible light fixture, aimed so that it bounces off in a different direction, and an ugly hunk of glass falls and shatters on the ground. The sound reverberates around the entire house, the way Robin’s laugh does. This person that cares about him more than his parents or the town or the people that left without considering what that would do to him. The people who left without asking first. The glass shatters into thick, ugly carpet that crunches under their sneakers, and so he throws the baseball in his hand, too. It leaves a dent in the drywall above the headboard, and it feels like his heart gets cracked wide open, and he bleeds cold throughout his body, and it’s the best he’s felt in months or maybe even years.
Robin yells loud enough to rumble the house and stir the neighbors if they ever cared, and she rips clothes off their hangers while Steve hits the vanity mirror with the baseball bat. They rip the nice, expensive, hardly-used sheets and joke about burning it up. They joke about burning the entire house down and leaving tonight. They shut the door and lock it behind them, and they don’t open it ever again.
–
The town wishes them goodbye. Or, at least, the people left who care about them wish them goodbye. The Byers-Hoppers throw a little party, and Dustin has a shitty little speech, and Max pretends to cry early on, and then actually cries a little bit when they get to their cars to leave. Erica holds it over everyone’s heads that she knew first, and they leave for San Francisco the first thing the very next morning, just the two of them, holding hands, a scorched sign that says “come back soon” in front of a rising sun.
#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things reverse big bang#steve harrington#robin buckley
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Title for you:
From Here Til Never
Ok this was tricky… I’ve been thinking and I’m going with amnesia fic. I’ve never done one of those!
Also adding a bit to the title I’ll remember you from here to never
Eddie is missing presumed dead, I think he’s away from LA when it happens, maybe visiting Texas. Buck gets the news and is obviously distraught, already looking after Chris so he just stays at Eddie’s, regretting lost opportunities etc.
Meanwhile Eddie is somewhere else, random small town type place. Don’t ask me how he actually got there. He can’t remember his own name but some things keep catching his attention it make him feel things.
We can have a lightning storm that upsets him, makes him feel like he’s lost something important
Conveniently for me there’s a church in town called St Christopher’s that he just goes and sits outside
He catches the end of an interview of a red headed reporter on a talk show talking about her book… and loathing her on sight
On a checkup at the hospital a girl with crutches walks past and he starts crying
There’s a picture of Scottish highlands with a stag on the wall in the house he’s staying at he and he can’t stop looking at it.
He picks up a carved stag in a thrift store and has to buy it. Keeps it by his bed. Likewise he sees a st Christopher medal and buys it, puts in on straight away.
Finds out he can draw/paint but his art keeps ending up in shades of blue for some reason.
He gets taken hunting by the people who took him in and stops someone shooting a young stag when asked why he can’t explain it
He’s also strangely competent with the guns but can hardly bear to touch them.
Anyways…l time goes in then one day someone comments on his obsession with stags (which has ended up with several pictures, ornaments of stags. Except they say
“That’s a lot of Buck’s ya got there.”
Buck?
Sure male deer, stag or a buck.
Buck?
The word makes him feel strange. A sense of loss and longing.
That night he dreams of blue eyes and blood on a face he doesn’t recognise
The night after he dreams of a boy who should be wearing glasses but isn’t. He looks for those glasses in his dream until a hand covered with blood gives him a small red pair
Then sitting in front of the church again the name and the boy without glasses become one and he knows his son’s name.
He has a son. And after that another name; Buck. Buckley. Blue eyes and a red mark over one eye. A smile and a feeling. The man from his dreams. His name is Buck. The two names are accompanied by the most desperate urge to get back to them. Chris and Buck. He wants to go home. He has a home, a family. Chris and Buck.
Some investing and discussions… brother? No not a brother, definitely not a brother. Husband? That word makes him ache and he knows that he’s not a husband. They look but nothing.
Then another name comes back his own and after that more and more until he has a destination and he leaves to find it.
Probably finds Bobby first so not to give Buck and Chris a fright! Then reunion and we get Eddie explaining his collection of stags to Buck (brought them with him, putting them on shelf carefully Buck asks why and Eddie explains.
I wanted to be close to something that reminded me of what I’d lost, who I’d loved. I expect you know stags can be called bucks too.
Even when I didn’t know my name I knew yours, knew you, because I love you. I knew that even when I didn’t know anything else.
And what’s Buck going to do after that than hold onto the second chance he’s been given and kiss the man that came back to him
🤷🏻♀️ that’s what I’ve got … hope you like the idea 💡 and thanks for the ask 💜💜💜
#eddie diaz#buddie#Buddie wip wip#title prompts#buddie fic#from here to never#evan buckley#spotty scribbles
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I watched some rodeos today so that means I desperately need to write about 20 year old non pilot Jake being a cowboy and terrifying his New York dads. (Here’s prequel to this fic)
-
Chris, David, Wolfman and Lucas are all up on the fences watching. They all are used to this kind of thing. Oh the joys of growing up in Texas.
Tom, Ron, and Hollywood are in the stands. They all keep flinching when people get tossed. Tom’s nails are digging into Ron’s arm. He gasps every time someone lands wrong. He can’t believe they let their kid do this.
They’re in Vegas. All things considered a fun trip. They all took vacation time for this. Promised that if Jake used his fake ID they won’t call him on it. This is the final day of four for the rodeo.
Jake’s good. Too good. Ron can’t stand to watch him most days. Terrified that their kid is going to slam his head and not get back up.
Lucas promises him that he’ll be over the fence first before anyone else can be. Ron supposes an ER nurse is better then the paramedics they’ve got on ground.
-
Jake is hopping in place. He can feel the energy of the stadium, he watches them put the bull in the corral, Hell Maker is his name. Jake slides his helmet on and climbs the fence. He settles on the bull.
He hears the announcer.
“And now. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. He’s one of the best twenty year olds competing he’s got a real chance at winning this Frank.”
“You’re so right Shawn. His father rode in Texas circles, Chris Seresin is in the crowd tonight. We’ll remind y’all listeners that the Seresins have a long history in riding rodeo.”
Jake shakes off the nerves. He knows he’s best. He can make it twelve seconds. Has to.
-
As he’s flying through the air it’s in slow motion. He made it nineteen seconds. He beat the records in place. Jake is going to make his dads buy him so many drinks tonight.
He slams into the ground. He tucks and rolls. He leaps up and takes off for the siding. Makes it over right at the bull slams into the wall.
Suddenly Jake is being held in the air. He shrieks, David and Wolf have him on their shoulders. Chris and Lucas are standing grinning up at him. Chris opens his arms and Jake jumps down and into them.
“Baby you did so good. I’m so proud of you.”
Jake sees his pa and tata make their way over to him. He’s surrounded by everyone suddenly. He’s so overwhelmed. He has to blurt it out now or he’s going to explode.
“I think this is going to be the last pro competition I do. Gonna go to med school.” They all stare at him for a second. “I’m not going to stop riding. Just no more getting thrown off intentionally.”
Ron is the first to react. “Chickie thank god.” He scoops Jake into a hug. Tom hugs him from the side. Chris plucks the hat off Jake’s head and kisses his hair.
He’s then passed to all of his uncles. Lucas looks like he might cry. He holds Jake’s face for a second. “You’ll be incredible.” Jake grins at him. “Wanna be a nurse like you. Help people.” Lucas lets the tears go down his face now. David loops his arm around his neck.
Jake is grabbed by Hollywood and Wolfman, Holly is grinning at him. He passes over two hundred bucks. “What the fuck?” Wolf blushes. “We made a bet on which career you’d follow. Decided you’d get the money no matter what happened.” Jake laughs. He grabs the two of them into a hug.
A photographer comes over and asks to take a photo of Jake with his dad. Chris smiles and agrees. Women still practically faint for him at points. Ron and Tom smile at the two of them. Jake is every bit his dads son.
Jake ends up getting a trophy. He’s proud of it but is even more proud of the money he wins at slots two nights later. All of them insist he cheated. He didn’t he’s just lucky.
-
In his thirty’s he talks Bradley into going to the rodeo, Bradley thinks it’s insane that Jake’s dads let him do this. Jake points out Mav and Goose had Bradley up in planes when he was definitely too young.
Bradley leans over while they watch the kids rodeo, “our kids are never doing this.” Jake stares at him. They’ve barely talking marriage. Fuck, Jake wants kids with Bradley. He flushes, “okay. They’re learning how to ride horses though.” Bradley nods. He presses a kiss to Jake’s head. “Anything you want sweetheart.”
#ron slider kerner#chris seresin#tom iceman kazansky#top gun#jake hangman seresin#slider is jake's dad au#ron x chris x tom#tom x ron x chris#david benton#lucas benton#henry wolfman ruth#rick hollywood neven#hollywood x wolfman#they’re the best uncles#non pilot Jake#er nurse jake#hangster#at the end though#jake hangman seresin x bradley rooster bradshaw#mac writes top gun
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hey idk if I missed what it stands for somewhere or smth but. rlly curious what ESU stands for in the GhostSoap Handler fic.
also,, 100000/10 fuckign,,, LOVING that fic so MUCH I am bouncing off the walls like the roommate's crackhead cat at 2am that keeps one from getting decent sleep
So this is the last chapter! ESU stands for Experimental Soldiers Unit (not the most creative but are most military names?)
Previous Parts
Soap gently helped Ghost into his tac vest while Ghost checked Soap’s gun. He went over every inch, making sure it was working perfectly.
Ghost felt a kiss be placed to the base of his wings.
There was a funny sense of finality that Ghost knew everyone around him must feel. Surely they had to.
Yet no one acted any differently.
It was a simple milk run. The only difference was Valeria was the target. It was fine. Normal.
Fucking… normal.
Ghost felt like he was on a tightrope. Soap was perfect. Soap was always perfect. But Jesus Christ he was tired. It ached. This longing to curl back up in his chair in Glasgow.
Graves’s words were going to him. But now, so were Alex’s.
“Simon, do you ever wish you could retire?”
“No.”
“I do. I think of one day never shifting back. Putting the wings away. Maybe just cutting them off so i can never be asked again.” Alex had seemed far away. Something had changed with him recently. Or maybe it was Ghost seeing it for the first time. “Can’t do it yet. Not while they’re still things to do. People to protect.”
Ghost hadn’t responded.
Alejandro seemed happy. Graves seemed happy. Was it something they were doing? Some secret?
Alejandro and Rodolfo got married. He saw the way they looked at each other. It was the way he looked at Soap when he caught himself in mirrors.
Why was that not enough? Why was loving Soap not enough to fix it? Fix him? Make him less tired?
But he did his job just like always. He sat quietly in his seat on the truck, listening to a Gaz and Price and Soap. They were talking about the mission, planning.
Ghost would go in alone and they’d ambush her. She knew they were coming so they expected a lot of fighting. It’s why it was important they stay and watch his back.
His nails dug into his skin. They were concerned about him. Price asked if he could handle it alone.
“Yes, sir. I can.”
Ghost went into the building, taking special care to be silent. Everyone else could get the enemies' attention. He just needed to find Valeria.
And he did. He found her with a hurt monster. A Damaged thing.
Nunez's wings were beautiful, but he had the same staining on his skin that Ghost did. Same curse.
Valeria looked at him.
He understood.
"I watched the military destroy Alejandro. Take men and return pieces of them. I just... couldn't let that happen to him. I stopped it in Los Almas when no one else did!" Valeria hissed at him, standing in front of Nunez. "It was selfish and horrible what they did. You defend them you..." She stared, slowly relaxing. "You..."
Ghost stared. He swallowed thickly.
"No, you get it."
Ghost hated her.
"If we're found, they'll take him away from me. They'll start experimenting on him again. Can you live with that?"
Ghost thought of an airplane.
"Go." He rasps. "Just go."
Valeria smiled and Nunez dragged her away, going faster than anyone Ghost had ever seen. And Ghost went out a different door.
He heard them realize Valeria was going South and Ghost started going North.
Simon knew he had to go home.
Hopefully Soap wouldn't be so mad at him.
His radio went off. "Simon. Simon, how copy."
Ghost took his radio off and dropped it on the ground.
"Simon. How copy."
Ghost listened to them try to call him back. He took off his vest and left it on the ground. His dog tags were left a few feet away from them.
He hoped Alex would leave soon. He deserved it. Gaz deserved it. To know his sweetheart would be coming home.
Ghost remembered his journey to Texas after Mexico. It felt similar. His feet bled. His chest convulsed. The little thing called his heart beating and fluttering randomly. It begged him to go back or lay down and die.
What are you without the military?
Don't know. I'll figure it out.
What are you without Soap there to hold your hand?
If I never let go of his hand, I'll never have to know.
Ghost found himself crawling into Soap's bed in Glasgow. He showered first, not wanting to dirty his sheets. Soap had been there recently it seemed but left again. His body sank into the pillows. Too large and bulky but it cradled him gently.
When he got up, he ate. He showered again. He stared at the walls before using Soap's computer.
First thing he did was snoop through emails to look at reports. They were about him. All about him. Where was he? Why was his gear left? Is he okay?
In one of Price's reports, there was a message at the bottom.
"I hope it goes well."
It was an odd phrasing. Just odd enough for Ghost to know it was on purpose.
Of course Price would know.
After a week of searching, life returned to normal. For them. Ghost was still in Soap's home. And after a lot of rest, he started to do stuff again. He started to look through more reports, but nothing was that fun. Then, he started to search the internet.
Ghost found his brother's old music. Silly teenage band music. He liked hearing his brother's drumming. The person singing didn't really matter. Just Tommy's drumming.
It led Simon down a rabbit hole. About his murder apparently.
There were videos upon videos about his family.
He watched every single one.
True crime videos. Women doing makeup and men making jokes.
it was nice, seeing his family together again sans his father.
Then, someone showed a picture of him in a bar, clearly drunk and hunched over. His body was already changed but the baggy hoodie kept it semi hidden.
"It's time stamped for 9:17."
"Time of Death was put at 9:19."
"How did he travel all the way home and tear them to shreds in two minutes?"
Ghost didn't do it. That night wasn't his fault.
The realization had him clawing at his skin and wailing until he worried the neighbors may call the cops. His head throbbed and his throat ached.
The black on his skin spread. It burned and ached and for once, Ghost decided it wouldn't be so bad to be half mad and feral. His brain hurt. There was so much heat on his body. Intense and furious.
A fever over took him. It felt almost silly. Like his emotions had gotten so harsh and bad that it gave him a physical reaction.
His body had an intense ache over it and it felt like the light blistered against his skin. Everything was hazy and out of focus, unable to focus on anything.
So Simon showered in the dark and he ignored that his skin felt so uncomfortable and that his feathers had started to fall out.
And then one day, he woke up, body incredibly sore from his fever but no more hysteria or fever. He ran his hands over his face, pausing.
His hands. They looked.
Normal.
No claws.
Just pink flesh.
There was a sound and he perked up. It didn't ring in his ears or go on for ages.
There was a click of a door and Simon went downstairs. His clothes hung off of him, no longer tight.
Soap.
Soap put his keys into the bowl. He looked exhausted. Red rings around his eyes.
Simon was stupid.
"Missed me?"
Johnny went for his gun before freezing. He just kept staring.
"Ghost?"
Simon stretched, for the first time in years not feeling the weight of wings and guilt on his shoulders.
"Just Simon."
"Simon."
"How about I make you a cup of coffee? Or food? I'm sure you're starving." Simon wanted to feel useful suddenly. It was an intense need to help that was interrupted by Soap kissing him hard. Simon only flinched back, worried his fangs would cut his lips. But there were no fangs. Just lips.
Simon yanked him closer and kissed him deeply, pulling him in closer.
Johnny pulled away and shook him. "You fucking disappeared. You fucking... You..." He kissed him again.
"I'm sorry. I waited here for you. I'm never going to let go of your hand."
"Huh?"
"Don't worry about it."
#Experiment au#Monster au#Monster!Ghost#Monster Ghost#Simon Ghost Riley#Johnny Soap MacTavish#Captain John Price#John Price#Cod#Call of Duty Modern Warfare#soap x ghost#ghostsoap
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Everything Leads to You
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x Ellie Williams)
Summary: Who says grief and braiding hair can’t go together? [2.1k]
Author’s note: I’m not a fic writer but this was really fun to write and I thought other people might like to read it!
Warnings: grumpy Joel (what’s new), mentions of Tess, brief canonical type violence, ellie not knowing about restaurants, grief, lmk if I missed anything!!
“How do you do that?” Ellie asks as she sits across from you, still wrapped in her sleeping bag. You furrow your brows as you pull the hair tight to make sure that it won’t fall.
“Nobody ever taught you how to braid hair?”
“I must’ve missed that lesson in FEDRA school. Maybe it was between learning to fucking kill Fireflies and running drills.” She snarks, and you roll your eyes. There’s no heat behind it, and she seems to know.
Ellie has stuck close to your side since you left Boston, asking questions as you trekked to Bill and Frank’s. Joel is on edge. He hasn’t said much to you since you lost Tess, but you hear him mumbling and turning restlessly in his sleep. His shoulders are always square and tense, and he jumps at the slightest noise. You wish he would just fucking say something so you could talk about what happened. You may not have known her for as long as he did, but you still loved her. You lost her, too.
“I can teach you if you want. It’s not hard.” You offer, and her eyes light up.
“Really?” She asks. You nod and shake the braid out to start over. The fallen tree you're sitting on wiggles at the motion but doesn’t move more than that.
“C’mere,” You say. Ellie shuffles over as Joel turns from where he’s packing his things to give you a look. “What? I’m teaching her how to braid hair, not make a fucking shiv.”
“That’d probably be more worthwhile.” He grumbles.
“It’ll take five minutes,” You say. He sighs and stands, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“I’m going for a walk.”
“Aye, aye, Captain No Fun.” Ellie salutes. You can feel Joel’s eye roll before actually seeing it, and you can’t hide the smirk as he walks away, mumbling something under his breath. Ellie turns her full attention to you as you show her how to divide and pull the hair to make a tight braid.
“You don’t want any hair to fall out because an Infected could grab it and use it as leverage,” you tell her as you redo your hair. She nods and watches your movements closely, trying to memorize the sequence. When you're done and your hair is tied off, you let her show you what she learned and watch as she tries (and fails) to braid her hair. She got so frustrated that you thought she was going to tear the hair out of her head.
“You said this wasn’t gonna be hard!”
“It takes practice. C’mere, I’ll do it for you.” You say as you open your legs for her to sit between. Ellie settles in front of you, her knees pulled to her chest, as you brush your fingers through her waves. You secretly wish you had a real hairbrush, but do your best to be gentle as you tease days-old tangles out.
“Has he always been so grumpy?” She asks.
“Probably not, but I can’t be sure. He won’t say it, but he’s going through a lot. We both are. It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.” You say, pulling a burr from her thick hair. How did she not feel that?
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it.”
“Were Joel and Tess, like, a thing?” She asks, and you sigh. You’re asking the question of the century, kid, you think to yourself.
“I know they were like family to each other, but I don’t know anything beyond that. They were already partners when I came to Boston and weren’t too keen on labels.”
“You didn’t know them from before?”
“Nope. Tess was in Detroit, Joel was in Texas, and I was in my hometown. Somehow, we all ended up in the same place and started working together.”
“Why did you come to Boston?” She asks. You take a deep breath as memories shutter through your brain like frames from a movie—the fear and confusion of Outbreak Day. Running north like your lives depended on it because they did. The nights spent smuggling and raiding any medicine cabinet you could find looking for a miracle. That last day full of smoke and blood and screams. You shake your head to relieve the sudden pressure building behind your eyes. Thank God she’s not facing you.
“That… is a long, long story for another time.” Seems to be enough of an answer for now. She doesn’t push the subject further as you section her tangle-free hair into threes.
“What did you do before the Outbreak? Like for work.”
“Guess.”
“Probably something super badass like a fighter pilot or a sharpshooter.” She says, and you laugh— really laugh— for the first time since Tess died. Believing in any sort of afterlife is a slippery slope when death is always at your door, but you hope she can hear your laughter from wherever she is. You hope she knows you're doing your best to keep your promise. You hope she knows how much you miss her.
“Close. I was a waiter.”
“What’s a waiter?” She asks. It’s weird to think she’s probably never been in a restaurant before, let alone know how they work.
“Waiters were people who worked in restaurants which were like big rooms where people would all eat together, and we had to give people their food and drinks and whatever else they wanted. If you did a good job, customers would leave money, and that’s how you got paid.” You explain, and she turns to look at you, her eyebrows knitted together.
“The people who owned the restaurant didn’t pay you?”
“Well, they did, but not very much. I think I was getting paid two dollars an hour at my last job.”
“Two dollars? That’s fucking ridiculous!” She practically yells, and you nod, a smile pulling at your lips. You want to tell her everything about before just to see her reaction.
“It was fucking ridiculous. Now, turn back around so I can finish your hair.” You push her with your shins, and she turns around, still mumbling about two dollars. She gets quiet as you keep braiding.
It’s weirdly relaxing, only to have to worry about her hair. Wind rustles the leaves around us as birds chirp above you. The air is cool, and the morning sun shines against her dark hair. It’s almost peaceful. You tie off her hair and smile when she takes the braid between her fingers and traces the crosses. She smiles back as she turns to face you, turning pensive at an alarmingly fast rate.
“Do you think Joel blames me for Tess?” She asks, her eyes dropping to her hands before she can even finish her thought. As if she’s waiting for you to give her the answer she’s been afraid of since you left Boston. She looks so small and fragile. Like the wind could blow too hard, and it would knock her over.
“I think he blames himself. They protected each other for a long time from everything, and even if that didn’t always work out, they found a way to fix it. Her getting infected was the one thing he couldn’t fix, and I think that’s killing him,” You say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tears threatening your lash line. This kid has a talent for making you cry. “What happened to Tess is nobody’s fault except the stupid fucker that bit her. She made a choice because she knew we wouldn’t be able to do what she wanted us to do, and we have to be okay with that. She would want us to be okay with that even if it’s gonna take some time.” She opens her mouth to say something more, but Joel coming back into the clearing cuts her off.
“You two wanna paint each other’s nails while we’re here too, or can we start walking?” He asks as he pulls on his backpack. You and Ellie stand, wiping the dirt from your clothes, and walk over to him.
“Knowing how to keep your hair out of your face could be the difference between life and death, Miller. I’m teaching valuable survival skills here.”
“Mhm,” He hums, unconvinced. He looks at Ellie as she pulls her jacket on. “We’re gonna go check something out real quick. Be ready to go by the time we get back.” He doesn’t even wait for her to respond before he turns and starts up the path he came from. You sigh in annoyance but follow him anyway. You walk down to the river bank far enough out of Ellie’s earshot before he finally looks you in the eyes for the first time in three days.
“You know we have to take her to the Fireflies, right?” He questions, crossing his arms over his chest. You scoff and glance up to where you left Ellie.
“Yes, Joel. I understand why we’re traveling across the country with a teenager.”
“Good. Now, stop getting attached before you get hurt.” He says, and you balk at him.
“Are you really that pissed I taught her how to braid her fucking hair?”
“It ain’t about her hair.”
“Then, what is it about? “
“She’s a job. Something we need to deliver so we can move on with our lives.”
“She’s a kid. A scared kid at that, and you’re not making her feel better.”
“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break.” He groans as he walks away from you to pace, his hands on his hips. You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head back to look at the puffy clouds. You're mostly trying to find the strength to put up his bullshit, but the view is nice, too. It’s silent as you think, the waves lapping at the rocks, the only sound around us.
“I know you miss her-“
“Don’t.” He whips around to face you. His eyes are heavy and unreadable, the irises almost black. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s gotten actual restful sleep. The answer could range anywhere from three days to twenty years. You almost want to ask. You almost want to reach for his broken hand and tell him it’s okay. You almost want to wrap your arms around him and just hold him. Almost. You shake the buzzing ache for his skin out of your hand and focus.
“I miss her, too, but we both know she saw Ellie as way more than a job. She wouldn’t have done what she did if she thought differently,” You wait for him to get angry and lash out, but he just stands there, staring through you. “Taking care of her or, at least, treating her like a fucking human being is what Tess would’ve wanted. So, that’s what I’m doing. You can keep doing your stoic, pissy thing if that’s what you want, but you don’t get to control what I do, especially when it comes to her.” He grinds his teeth together for a couple of seconds while he thinks. A red bird swoops down and lands on a fallen tree branch not far and sings at us before flitting away. You had always heard that red birds like that were our dead loved ones coming to remind us they were not far away. You never really believed that, and you still don’t know if I do, but the memory pierces your brain with newfound importance.
When your eyes meet Joel’s again, something has shifted. It’s slight and minuscule, but you recognize it from his arguments with Tess. He’s yielding without words. He’s trusting you. Your body relaxes, and he nods. The whole exchange lasted no more than five seconds but felt like an hour.
"We can make it to Bill and Frank's today if we start moving now." He says as he walks past you, acting like your conversation didn't happen. You take a deep breath before silently following him. If he heard that stupid bird chirping at you again, he didn't say anything. In the same way, you don't tell him if you saw the stack of rocks on the shoreline.
*TUMBLR STOP DELETING MY LAST PARAGRAPH*
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel tlou#ellie tlou#tlou part 1#the last of us#the last of us x reader#the last of us hbo#ellie williams#tess tlou#i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess#joel miller x female reader#joel miller drabble#tlou fic
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Gravedigger’s Daughter (Hangman x Fem!Reader) -- part two
I play with Hangman’s backstory a LOT here lol fair warning. I’m not sure if he really got one in the movie or not (I don’t think he did), but I read that they asked Glen Powell to add some southern charm since he was raised in Texas, so I’ve been running with that. Anywho! Happy reading
Summary: You’re finally back in Fightertown to visit Penny and Amelia, but there also happens to be a group of aviators back at Top Gun. One of which who seems dead-set on wooing you.
Warnings: more shameless flirting, some angst if you squint really hard, and maaaayyybeee a sexy thought or two
WC: 3,498
You contemplate for hours about going back to The Hard Deck that night. But Amelia ends up spending the night at her friend’s house, so you almost have no choice. You can’t stay at home with her and watch movies, so naturally, Penny asks you to join her at the bar. And you’d look incredibly weird to say no.
No aviators are inside when you arrive, surprisingly, but you know they’ll all be along soon. But even without them, the place is packed.
“Hey,” Penny starts, pausing to breathe, “you know I’d never ask, but this was an unexpected rush--”
“Move over,” you laugh, walking around the bar. “What am I pouring?”
Penny smiles in relief and points you in the direction of some patrons she hasn’t gotten to yet.
It’s been a while since you’ve helped her here, but the role is easy enough to slip back into. People want their beer, and as long as you pour it, they’re happy campers. Bonus points if you flash a grin, engage in some small talk, and entertain some flirting from the men.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Penny says once the rush dies down somewhat.
“It’s no problem. How do you manage?” you ask genuinely, turning to someone who just approached the bar with an empty glass. “What’d you have?”
As you pour their refill, Penny answers you. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Here you go,” you hand off the beer, turning back to Penny. “Well. I’m glad I came in when I did.”
“Me too,” she says. “Any idea where all the pilots are?”
“Oh, who knows,” you shrug. “Why? Looking for Mav?”
“Maybe,” she gives you a look, but then her eyes flick toward the door. “Speak of the devil.”
“And he shall appear,” you finish, turning your head to see Maverick has arrived. Along with Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy. The whole entourage.
Everyone except Hangman walks to Penny’s side of the bar. Hangman, of course, comes straight to you.
“They’ll let anybody in here, huh?” you call out.
“Ouch,” Hangman replies, sidling up to the bar, resting his elbows on the wood. “That hurts, sweetheart.”
You smile. “What do you want?”
“One for me, one for you,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “The usual.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You trying to get your ass kicked again?”
“Maybe,” he muses. “How about you join us for a game of pool?”
“Hmm,” you think it over. “Teams or solo?”
“Whatever you want, darlin’.”
“Bad decision, Hangman,” Maverick comments from the other side of the bar.
“Oh, come on,” you retort. “I haven’t played pool in years, Mav.”
“I doubt that makes any difference,” Maverick replies, sliding onto a stool. “I’ll be keeping my ass up here.”
“Smart man,” Penny comments. “Your usual?”
“Please,” Mav says, smiling sweetly at her. It’s sickening.
“Alright, fine,” you bite, reaching down and grabbing two glasses. “We can play. But I’m supposed to be helping Pen.”
“The rush is done,” she chides. “Go have fun.”
“You heard her,” Hangman quips. “Come have some fun.”
You give him a look before turning around to pour two beers. You wouldn’t be entirely surprised if you turned back around to find he was staring at your ass. You hate that you don’t entirely mind if he is.
You spin back around and hand him his beer, tipping yours back for a drink. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are,” he replies, making you roll your eyes.
You pass the group of aviators and call out a hello, earning greetings in return. When they see where you’re headed and who’s in tow, you hear Fanboy say, “Ohhhh, shit.”
“Lemme guess,” you start, pausing to sit your beer on the windowsill. “You’re the best of the group?”
“How’d you know?” Hangman grins, grabbing a stick.
You take more time than needed picking out your stick and chalk. Maybe it’s hustling, but you’ll call it getting comfortable. “Just figured you’re trying to level the playing field after last night.”
“Maybe,” Hangman shrugs, grabbing chalk. “Want me to rack ‘em?”
“Ha, no,” you reply. “I’ve got it.”
“Please crush him,” Payback says.
“Don’t worry, I will,” you reply, grabbing the triangle rack. “8 ball, I’m assuming?”
You fill in the pool balls, making sure the 10 is in the middle of the third row. You put one on top of the second row, looking up at Hangman. He’s watching you closely, with something in his eyes you can’t quite place.
You jerk the rack and the ball jumps into the final hole, filling the rack and nestling tightly. One of the aviators whistles loudly. That’s a trick you didn’t have to do, but you definitely wanted to.
“Fuck,” Hangman mutters under his breath.
You pull the rack up and hang it back on the wall. “Your break.”
“Thanks, sweetheart, how kind of you,” Hangman smiles, placing the cue ball where he wants it. “Stripes or solids, honey?”
“Your break, Hangman,” you repeat. “Your pick.”
He shoots the ball forward, and immediately a stripe lands in the left corner pocket. “Stripes it is.”
“Stripes are unlucky if you ask me,” you grimace, watching him shoot again.
He lands another ball. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve only ever played solids,” you smirk.
Hangman lands another. “It’s looking pretty good to me.”
“For now.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“Gladly,” you grin. He misses. “Ouch,” you echo him from earlier. “Sucks.”
“It’s alright,” Hangman replies, gesturing to the table. “Let’s see how you do.”
“Loser buys drinks?” you ask.
“Sounds good,” he says. “As long as you’re willing to spend some money.”
“Please,” you deadpan. “We’ll see about that.”
“Keep talkin’, honey,” Hangman smirks.
You take your shot and sink a solid pool ball. “That’s one.” You turn and sink another. “Two.” This time, you have to walk around and adjust, but you take another shot. “Three. Four. Should I go for five?”
“If you so desire,” Hangman replies through a clenched jaw. “My wallet is burning already.”
“That’s five,” you pause, looking up at him. “Six?”
He shrugs, but he’s biting back a smile, his tongue curled against his molars.
You purposefully miss the shot, deciding to back off a little. “Damn. Your turn.”
“I was just getting comfortable here,” he groans, feigning annoyance.
“Oh, so sorry,” you frown. “Miss your shot and you can get comfortable again.”
“Nice try,” he replies sweetly, bending down to shoot. “Damn. You messed up the board, huh?”
“Shut up,” you say through a laugh. You grab your beer and take a sip, watching him adjust to get a better angle. He bends over and his pants stretch against his ass. You look for just a little too long and—
“Like what you see?”
Your eyes snap to his and his cocky smile. “Nope.”
He shakes his head. “Dear Lord, woman.” He takes the shot, almost sinking a stripe, but it bounces.
“You’re not doing too good tonight,” you comment.
“You fluster me, sweetheart,” he replies, holding out his arms. “What can I say?”
Rolling your eyes, you shoot and sink your sixth. “One left.”
“Then the 8,” Hangman adds.
“Yes, I know,” you mock. You sink your seventh solid. “Shall I go for the 8?”
“Go ahead,” Hangman says. “I’ve already accepted that I’ll be buying another round.”
You take your shot and the 8 sinks right into the hole. “Looks like you’re right.”
He hangs his head in defeat. “Alright then.” He rests his pool stick against the wall. “Let’s go.”
You turn and see another wave of people entering the bar. “Actually, I probably need to see if Penny needs any help.”
“I’ll keep you company,” Hangman takes your stick and rests it next to his. “Come on.”
You give him a stern look. “Don’t make me ring the bell on you.”
“I’d never disrespect you, darlin’,” he grins.
You walk off before he can catch your smile.
Penny wasn’t going to ask for your help, but you give her no choice before you begin pouring drinks and handing off glasses to impatient customers.
Hangman stays true to his word (not that you were worried) and keeps his mouth shut at the bar. You don’t even realize that you haven’t given him a refill until many minutes have passed.
“Shit, sorry,” you grab his glass. “Totally forgot we came up here for refills.”
“It’s alright, you’re busy,” he replies. “You look good up there.”
You slide his glass across the bar, fighting back a smile, honing your scolding glare instead. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he winks, raising his glass to toast you.
Once the rush dies down again, you stay to help clean glasses. Penny is at the other end of the bar, talking to Maverick, of course. Hangman has remained on this one stool at your end, sipping his beer quietly. His friends have moved to the pool table, and you thought surely he’d join them, but he hasn’t.
“You grew up here?” he asks, though it’s posed more as a statement.
“Yep,” you reply. You evaded his small talk all night so far. It’s no wonder he’d choose this moment to weasel it in. “Moved here when I was just a year old. That’s when my dad was called to Top Gun.”
“Wow,” Hangman says slowly. “You never thought about joining the Navy?”
“Please,” you give him a look, then shake your head. “Absolutely not. It’s not for me.”
“Understandable,” he shrugs. “It’s not for everyone.”
“Is it for you?”
“It’s in my blood,” he says, not mocking, this time more matter-of-fact. “My father was in the Navy, so was his father. My mother’s father as well.”
“Wow,” you reply. “You weren’t kidding.”
“Why would I be?” he sounds defensive, understandably.
“Most guys who say the Navy is ‘in their blood,’” you use air quotes, rolling your eyes. “They’re full of shit. It’s not in their blood; it’s in their ego. There’s a difference. Those guys are absolute jackasses. My dad worked with quite a few.”
“Oh,” he nods. “You can sniff out the bullshit then.”
“From a mile away,” you add, grabbing another glass to wipe down. “You’re cocky, but you’re serious about what you do. I can tell.”
“A compliment like that from Gravedigger’s daughter?” Hangman whistles lowly. “I’ll drink to that.” He takes a long sip, then says, “Wanna join me for some darts?”
You’re mid-pouring yourself a beer and you shake your head. “You never learn, do you?”
“Nope,” he shakes his head, grinning wildly. “And I hope I never do.”
+++
When Hangman finally returns to the barracks at Top Gun, the entire team is camped out in the hallway, outside their respective doors.
“Hangman came home alone again for the second night in a row? Say it ain’t so!”
“I don’t need a song, Fanboy,” Hangman scowls. “What are you all doing out here?”
“Waiting on you,” Coyote says.
“We figured you’d have someone with you,” Payback chimes.
“Where is she?” Phoenix asks.
“At Penny’s, I guess,” Hangman replies, turning toward his door. “When did you become so concerned about who I sleep with? Usually you’re complaining that it’s too loud.” He plasters his famous shit-eating grin on his face, hoping it’ll make them let this go. But it doesn’t.
“That’s just it,” Rooster speaks up. “It’s been quiet.”
“Too quiet,” Bob adds. “It’s weird.”
“Seriously?” Hangman laughs. “Well, if you have to know, Y/N is not here and will not be here. Is that better?”
“Whatever,” Phoenix shrugs, still looking skeptical. “Something’s up with you.”
“Nothing is up with me,” Hangman replies, quickly growing defensive. “I’m getting some sleep. We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”
A chorus of “goodnight’s” follow him into his room until he shuts the door.
It’s true, he’s the Flirt of the group. Even when they were going through Top Gun together, no one said a word about it. Hangman figured this time around would be the same. He’d fly under the radar as he spent so much time with you. No one would think anything of it.
But this change in behavior is suspicious enough for his fellow pilots to catch on. Now they’re certain something is up with him, and well, they’d be right.
The only thing up with Hangman is you. Just, you. He can’t get you out of his head. Ever since you walked into The Hard Deck two days ago, he’s been off his game. Or at least, he’s felt like it.
No one has ever flustered him this way. You spar with him verbally, dodging all his charm and throwing some back at him. You’re quick on your feet, a menace at darts and pool. You understand the life he leads, on a level he didn’t comprehend until tonight. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, everything he’s wanted, and yet.
You’re unavailable. You’ve made it clear that it’ll never happen, that you won’t let it.
You didn’t say you couldn’t be friends, though, so that’s what Hangman has been trying to do, even though he has no idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to be “just friends” — not with someone like you.
But if that’s what he has to do to see you more before you go back to San Diego, and he goes on this mission next week, then he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever you want him to.
+++
You spend the next evening with Amelia, which means you aren’t at The Hard Deck.
Penny texts you and tells you that Hangman is looking for you, but you don’t reply to her. Amelia asked to watch a rom-com, so that’s exactly what you do.
The two of you definitely stay up a little too late considering she has school the next morning, but you don’t care. You know Penny doesn’t mind. But at breakfast the next morning, you pour Amelia a cup of coffee that isn’t decaf.
Naturally, you find yourself at The Hard Deck for the day, helping out Penny with whatever she needs.
The aviators don’t show, but you aren’t surprised. One day of beach football is probably enough, before Maverick gets in trouble even more. You can hear the jets, though, so you know they’re doing maneuvers.
It’s incredibly soothing to hear the engines. You’ve missed it.
The way they rip through the air, rattling your brain. It never terrified you, not even when you were younger.
You can still hear them in San Diego, but it isn’t the same as being here, being this close.
It’s a stupid idea, but part of you wants to see if Maverick might let you visit Top Gun, just for a day. Just to walk around the tarmac, see the planes, feel their wings. Nothing crazy.
“Hey, weird question,” you blurt, getting Penny’s attention. She lifts her head, listening. “Would Mav let me visit Top Gun?”
“Why?” Penny starts to smile.
“Not that,” you chuckle, knowing her mind has gone right to Hangman. “I just miss the planes, I don’t know. I didn’t want to ask him if it’s not allowed. Things have changed since I was a kid.”
Penny smiles sympathetically now, understanding. “He’d love to have you.”
“Maybe once they’re done with whatever they’re here for,” you suggest. “I don’t want to be in the way.”
Penny shrugs. “It’s worth asking. You never know.”
So, you do.
Maverick shows up first, unsurprisingly. He says the rest of the crew are on their way, which you don’t doubt, but you’re glad for a moment alone with him, with no one listening in.
“Quick question,” you start, and Mav raises his eyebrows. “Feel free to say no, by the way,” you add.
“Now you’ve got me worried,” he chuckles. “Spit it out.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing at Top Gun or why, and I know I’m not allowed to know — I’m not asking. I just was wondering if it was possible to visit. Just for an hour, maybe.” He doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “I miss the jets, Mav. I miss them like hell. It’s been so long, and hearing them today,” you pause, shrugging. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I need to hug one.”
Finally, Maverick grins. “Why didn’t you ask sooner?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he replies. “I’ll make a call right now, see if we can’t get you over there tomorrow once we’re done training. I don’t see why it would be an issue.”
“Don’t get yourself in trouble,” you warn.
“Oh yeah,” Maverick laughs. “They’ll love to have you.”
You punch his shoulder and walk off, back to the bar with Penny. True to his word, Maverick steps outside with his phone pressed to his ear.
“Where’s he going?” Penny asks, nodding toward Mav.
“Making some calls,” you explain. “Looks like I might be going to Top Gun tomorrow.”
“Atta girl,” Penny smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Ah, your favorite has arrived.”
“My fav—? Hangman,” you deadpan, looking up to see he’s making a beeline for you.
“Hey honey,” he says, leaning on the bar top with that stupid grin of his. “Where were you yesterday?”
“Watching a rom-com and stuffing my face with ice cream.”
Hangman looks genuinely hurt. “And you didn’t invite me?”
“I was with my niece, idiot,” you laugh. “You miss me or something?”
“Only every minute,” he winks. “You gonna let me buy you a drink tonight?”
“I’ll never say no to free beer.”
“My kind of woman.”
“Your kind of woman is one who breathes.”
“Your point? Are you not breathing?”
You stare at him tiredly, and he starts laughing. The sound is so sweet that you want to shove him, but you don’t. Instead, you pour two beers and walk around the bar, taking the stool next to him.
“How was your day?” you ask, surprising yourself.
“Pretty good, kicked some ass,” he grins. “Maneuvers went well.”
“I could hear you guys,” you reply. “I forgot how soothing it is.”
“To hear the jets?” he questions, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” you nod seriously. “It’s my favorite thing. I would fall asleep quicker with the jets than I would a lullaby when I was a kid.”
“Damn,” Hangman shakes his head, grinning wide before sipping his beer.
“I told you I grew up in this world,” you reply, just a little confused by his reaction.
“It’s hot.”
“Careful,” you warn.
“Alright, alright,” he backs off. “I won’t say it. I’ll just think it.”
You give him another tired stare, but he winks. You wonder if that’s his way of saying you’re hot again, but without words.
Maverick renters the bar with a triumphant smile, coming straight to where you and Hangman are sitting.
“Well,” Mav starts. “An old friend said he’d like to see you tomorrow.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “Who?”
“Rear Admiral Solomon,” Mav says, waiting for it to dawn on you. “Or call sign—”
“Warlock? He’s a Rear Admiral now? I didn’t know he was back here,” your thoughts come out fast. You haven’t spoken to any of your dad’s buddies in years, with Warlock, it’s been even longer. Probably since you were 13.
“Hang on,” Hangman interjects, holding up his hand, his fingers just barely brushing your arm. “Are you coming to Top Gun tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” you say.
“Yes,” Maverick says instead. “She is. But not until after training.” He turns to you. “I’ll text you when to head over.”
“Okay, thanks,” you murmur.
Part of you didn’t expect them to allow it, especially given Maverick’s reputation. Apparently yours as the Gravedigger’s daughter outweighs his trouble-inclined attitude. But now that you have the go ahead, you’re suddenly nervous.
“So,” Hangman says, sounding a little too excited. “Can I give you a personal tour?”
“That’s a great idea,” Maverick says, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Fuck off,” you swat at Mav, who laughs and walks away, heading toward Penny. You look at Hangman skeptically. “You want to give me a tour?”
He puts a hand over his heart. “It would be an honor.”
“I grew up there. I don’t need a tour.”
Hangman sputters for a moment. “Well—”
“I’m teasing,” you nudge his arm. “Sure. If I can handle it, I’d love for you to walk around with me.”
“Music to my ears, sweetheart,” he replies.
“Mhm,” you raise your eyebrows. “Until you realize I know more than you.”
You expect that to start another round of bickering between the two of you, but it doesn’t. Hangman’s reply surprises you. “I already know you do.”
His admittance and blatant honesty makes you smile, and dammit, sit a little closer.
You’re already going back on your own rules, but you can’t help it. Your time is limited here. The end of your time off from work is fastly approaching. You’d rather spend it happily than be miserable, even if that means getting too friendly with a naval aviator who you know is no good for you.
#gravedigger’s daughter#hangman top gun#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x fem!reader#jake hangman seresin x fem!reader#hangman top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#glen powell#hangman x you#jake hangman seresin x you
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The Chains that Bind us (HuskerDust)
Summary: Angel Dusts had another tough day at work, so Husk distracts him with a quick lesson on the art of poker
Authors note: Let me just say, I have only played Texas Holdem consistently so that's what you are getting here. Also, the capitalization on certain words is very intentional. You'll see what I mean while you read
Warnings: Abuse mention, alcohol, gambling/poker, sexual mentions but nothing vulgarly described
There were days few and far between Angel wouldn't come home with a new bruise with makeup caked in it, or a new already closed scab of some sort.
Husk knew. He fucking knew and it killed him seeing that spider still going back, under no control of his own and out of fear for his own life, his own soul.
He knew the feeling though. He was on a leash hunself. Alastor made sure Husk was aware of the thin ice he slid on, always quick to brandish more of his sharp teeth when talking with the little cat. The ghost of the shackle he had around his neck squeezed more when Alastor was around, reminding him puppet strings that encircled the bartender, making him dance around like a fucking show pony.
Husk huffed when Angel came back from another day at work, rubbing his eyelids as the spider all but collapsed onto the bar stool, resting his head on the bar top while his hands held the back of his head.
Husk sighed, tapping the bar top right next to the pornstars’ ear. The spider looked up, bags under his eyes heavier than Adam’s head that had to carry all his ego.
”You good, Angel?” The cat asked. The spider sighed low in response, head back down on the counter.
”Val had me do stripper shots right after a few gang bangs, and I'm sore all over.” Angel Dust responded. Husk sighed, pouring the dude his usual, sliding it over to him. Angel looked at the glass, and took a sip, sitting up in his stool a bit more.
“Thanks, kitty.” Angel said. Husk scoffed at the nickname Angel gave him, forcing the small lift of his lips back down.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s my job.” He replied. The actor smirked, leaning his cheek into his palm with his elbow anchored to the counter.
”Y’know… You never told me how things were when you were an overlord.”
Husk bristled at the sudden comment, looking away and reorganizing the shelves for the upteenth time that day.
”Yeah, what about it?” He asked, tone a bit more snappy. Angel chuckled, eyelids drooping a bit.
”Aww~ c’mon, can’t a few friends share some old stories?” The spider smirked more, leaning forward more. “I wanna know what’s under that wall of steel you have over your heart. It’s only fair.”
Husk rolled his eyes, his wings tensing around him as he glared at the sinner on the other side of the bar top.
”Oh yeah, what’s in it for me?”
”Weeelll~”
”Other than the way you usually… provide for other people.”
Angel huffed, tapping his fingertips to the rim of his glass as he thought. Husk folded his arms over his chest, tail beating against the wall behind him in a soft rhythm in tune with Angels incessant fidgeting. The spider finally smiled, snapping his fingers at the cat.
”I’ll take you up on that offer to teach me poker.”
Husk raised an eyebrow. He vaguely remembered shit talking about Angel poker skill when Charlie brought out exercises with board games. Something about humility and sportsmanship, he wasn’t entirely sure. He does recall how even Sir Pentious bested the poor spider, though it may have had something to do with his egg minions sneaking cards into his deck when he thought no one was looking. He did say he would teach the spider the basics of it, but nothing really happened.
”… fine. Let me get tipsy first though, I’m too sober for this.” the cat relented. The spider whooped, taking his drink and going over to the couch in the lobby as Husk made his own drink, rifling through the tables drawers and pulling out a deck of cards.
Husk trudged over to the couch, drinking the whiskey and sighing in content as the sting went down his throat, the familiar burn now settling on his tongue. God, the things that would be so much better in his life if he only ever felt that feeling…
Angel flicked the cat's wing, making Husk hiss and recoil. The spider smiled, sitting on the other side of the table, tossing the deck to Husk. Husk narrowed his eyes.
”We both know I can’t shuffle for shit. Besides, I like seeing your hands at work~” Angel said. Husk clicked his tongue, setting his drink down and shuffling the cards, trying extra hard not to fall on bad habits and count them.
The cards were mixed up as good as they were gonna get, and he started to deal with them.
”In poker, there are a lot of things at play, most only at the mercy of fate itself and probability.” He started to explain, sliding Angel two cards and taking two cards for himself.
”First is Texas Hold’Em. Cause it’s honestly the easiest game for me to explain the hierarchy of the combinations of the ways you could win for me.” Husk said, snapping his fingers and stacks of different colored chips appeared before him and Angel. The spider jumped, and looked at him with raised eyebrows.
”You can summon that on a whim?? How come this only just came up?” He asked, smirking.
Husk shrugged, separating the stacks and sliding Angels over to him. “Did you ever ask before?”
Angel chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t… he hadn’t asked a lot about the cat, honestly.
Why hadn’t he?
The spider shook his head of those thoughts, and tilted his head as Husk told him the different chips' value.
“White is one buck, blue is two, red is five, and black is ten. Got it?”
Angel hummed in acknowledgement, listening closely as Husk explained how the rules worked, how he would be the big blind and have to start the ante up with only one or a few more chips, depending on how far into the game you are and how many people are playing.
Husk took a sip of his drink, throwing two white chips in, and knocked on the table
”That means a check. Meaning I ain’t got shit and don’t want to raise the ante. Now, if you have something like a high card or a high pair, you would typically raise but I like to see what the deck has to offer before I do anything.” The bartender took a card off the pile and put it to the side.
”You always burn a card before you pull the three cards,” he explained, taking three more cards one at a time and setting them one by one on the table. Angel nodded, taking a quick glance at his cards and leaning forward to get a better look at the cards on the table.
Angel hesitantly threw in a red chip, and Husk lips tilted up, his eyebrows raised a bit.
”Big spender, huh? That shows confidence. Or arrogance. With you, could be one or the other.” He commented, and matched Angels bet with a red chip of his own. Angel huffed.
Was this how he was back when he gambled a lot?
…
The slander spider got his answer after six rounds of the game. Husk was one to get under one’s skin, pull at their faults as they played. He taught Angel Dust as they played, and even folded once and let Angel win a round. But he… To put it bluntly, was a bit of an ass.
Angel snapped a bit after losing for the third time in a row, glaring at the cat.
“Aw… is the little actor mad the only thing he’s good at here is bluffing?” He teased, tail swishing behind him. Angel snarled,
”Oh yeah? Big talk for someone who lost their-“ Angel’s lips sealed themselves, and shook his head. Husk stiffened, his tail stopped swishing. Angel grimaced.
”Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed that-“
Husk held up a hand to silence the rambling, and sighed.
”No, no. I was asking for it. Sorry. Old habits die hard, eh?”
Angel sighed, going over to sit next to Husk, leaving space between them.
“Still, that was shitty of me to say.” he said. Husk hummed, rapping his knuckled under his chin.
”Yeah, no. You see why nobody missed me when good ol’ Al put the collar on me and pulled harshly. I was a dick back then.”
Angel scoffed, and rolled his eyes.
”Yeah, we’re in hell. I’ve seen dicks, of both variety’s, more than I see my own room daily. You’re not the only asshole here.” Angel said. Husk grunted, his wings shuffling a bit.
”That’s not the whole thing… I was a nuisance. The only reason I wasn’t dealt with before Al came is because no one wanted to deal with my cocky ass.”
Angel snorted, and Husk shot him a look, before smiling a bit.
“Alright, poor word choice on my part. Point is, no one wanted to waste their energy on me. I wasn’t feared, or respected. My presence was tolerated and annoying to deal with so they just didn’t bother.”
Angel pulled his lips in a tight line, eyes narrowing as Husk described his experience.
”Oh please, most of the overlords are annoying nowadays. Have you seen the Vs lately?”
Husk barked a laugh, looking at the spider next to him.
”I have… and I have a desire to maul one of them,” he said. Angel chuckled, placing a dainty hand on his shoulder.
”If you do get the chance, make sure it sticks.” Angel responded. Husk smiled lazily, placing a claw over Angel's hand.
”Will do, angel.”
Husk ignored the way he saw Angel's makeup smeared, exposing the fresh bruise on his shoulder. He would talk about it when he needed to.
Being under the thumb of an overlord who treats others like a plaything or a pawn would be demoralizing for anyone. Being the plaything is a whole different story. Husk could feel the ebbs of the phantom metal hanging from his neck. He wouldn’t pretend to know the extent of what that sleazy moth makes Angel go through. He won’t push about how he saw the way his shoulders sagged more today, and knowing the weight had more to it than just tiredness.
Angel had his own struggles, his special hell tailored for him by the one who owned his soul. His own chains made be of the same smoke that fucker breaths, but they held more weight than Hush could comprehend.
The least he could do was to distract him from the weight of his own chains, even if it meant that Husk helped him carry the weight of it. He lessened his load, why not return the favor?
#hazbin hotel#hazbin angel dust#hazbin husk#hazbin huskerdust#hazbin husker#huskerdust#angel dust#angel x husk#tw alchohol mention#tw abuse mention
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Trouble in Paradise
First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU
(This is related to Lose You to Love Me)
Liked by urbanwyatt, privategarden, druski2funny, saweetie, claybornharlow, champagnepapi, shloob_, and 4,593,078 others
jackharlow: Dreams do come true
saweetie: so so proud of you!
2forwoyne: I literally thought you were going to break, but you proved me wrong each time lmao
jackharlow: saweetie thank you and 2forwoyne it was hard as shit for me not to lmao
privategarden: jackharlow all of us couldn’t be more proud of how well you did!
shloob_: SIGMAAAAA!
quiiso: shloob_ I’m literally saying it every few minutes lmao
urbanwyatt: quiiso and getting on my nerves lmaoooo
quiiso: urbanwyatt you would have more fun if you joined in
jackandy/naremyparents: you did amazing! But, I have one question.... did anyone see wifey there?
jackharlowsource: jackandy/naremyparents I haven’t see any pictures and people were telling me that she wasn’t there
jackandy/naremyparents: jackharlowsource I feel like if she was, we would have gotten something, especially with the two of them. this isn’t like them at all. they are always celebrating each other’s accomplishments
urbandjack24: jackandy/naremyparents it seems ever since that anitta shit came out, it’s like something is off about them. of course everyone’s feelings are valid, but why do I have a feeling that Jack was really hard on her about it?
jackandy/naremyparents: urbandjack24 well she needs to be really hard on him about giveon. even though it was never confirmed, there was speculation that he fought him as well. you know ever since that night when they went to the same event in New York and then Jack went to his concert, he’s been quiet as shit and hasn’t bothered her
allthingsy/n: I said what I said, Jack needs to take a long look at what he’s done too and not just her. I’m not excusing her behavior but it’s like he can’t be a hypocrite either. you can’t get mad at your wife for doing the same things that you’re doing
Liked by urbanwyatt, softtcurse, neelamthadhani, privategarden, saweetie, sza, quiiso, 2forwoyne, and 4,293,065 others
y/ninsta: Maybe just maybe NOLA has been my favorite city so far!! #777
saweetie: THE OUTFIT! THE OUTFIT!
y/ninsta: saweetie that was all mortirolo!!!!
saweetie: OKAYYYY NICOLE, I SEE YOU!
mortirolo: saweetie had to get my baby cousin right!
theestallion: y/ninsta did you get the beignets I ordered to your hotel room for you?!?!
y/ninsta: theestallion yes! they were so amazing! thank you for thinking of me!
theestallion: y/ninsta always!!
claybornharlow: missing you! hope you’re having fun!
y/ninsta: claybornharlow love you my baby! missing you too! come visit me when I get to Texas!
claybornharlow: y/ninsta say less!
sza: y/ninsta okayyyyy cutie with a booty! I see you mamas!!
jackandy/naremyparents: the pics and videos look amazing from last night queen!!
allthingsy/n: oh yeah something is definitely up, jackharlow isn’t even liking her pics and she isn’t liking his. something happened
jackandy/naremyparents: allthingsy/n I knew it smh but we’re only on the outside looking in, it could be nothing and we’re making a big deal out of it
allthingsy/n: jackandy/naremyparents nah, the way that they talk and go hard for each other this is definitely out of the ordinary and I don’t like it. jackharlow y/ninsta I thought we told yall to kiss and make up!
Liked by urbanwyatt, saweetie, champagnepapi, softtcurse, claybornharlow, private garden, druski2funny, and 5,283,096 others
jackharlow: Nowhere but up from here
2forwoyne: this entire year has been amazing and privategarden is so proud to just be along for the ride
jackharlow: 2forwoyne wouldn’t have it any other way. My day ones
jackandy/naremyparents: Jackkkkk, where is your wife?! we miss her!
urbandjack24: jackandy/naremyparents I’m surprised you actually asked him since his response last time was outta pocket
jackandy/naremyparents: urbandjack24 I figured that I would at least try
y/ninsta: love this picture of you. definitely stealing that sweater
allthingsy/n: oh shit, she’s here! hiiiii y/ninsta!!! we miss you and Jack going back and forth and being horny under each other’s posts
jackandy/naremyparents: now let’s see if he actually responds to her
jackharlowsource: y/ninsta I wanted to apologize from how I came at you before. it wasn’t my place
mortirolo: jackharlowsource you damn right it wasn’t
danivalentine: NICOLE!
mortirolo: in the words of my baby cousin y/ninsta, these hands are rated E for everybody INCLUDING her husband smh I spare no one
saweetie: and here I was thinking that y/ninsta was always ready to fight, turns out in was Nicole the entire time lmao
jackharlow: thank you and I got you one similar to mine in pink, miss you
urbandjack: uh oh! they’re interacting!!!! we got something! we got something!
Liked by urbanwyatt, shloob_, privategarden, saweetie, champagnepapi, laflare1017, theestallion, claybornharlow, and 2,354,027 others
y/ninsta: my muthafuckin body, my muthafuckin choice! stacey, thank you for joining me on stage and encouraging our young people to vote for change that they want to see in the world 🥰
saweetie: OKAYYYYY OUTFIT! 😍
claybornharlow: I can give you a change in your spouse
danivalentine: CLAYBORN!
claybornharlow: danivalentine 👀
allthingsy/n: now you know something is wrong if jackharlow doesn’t even come under here to fight clay
jackharlowsource: I really hope that they fix whatever is wrong. there was a time where you wouldn’t see one without the other and now they’re acting as if they don’t want to be bothered with each other
urbandjack: jackharlowsource we only speak positivity because I can’t take anything else. my stomach fucking hurts and I’m going to need for everything to be okay again
allthingsy/n: maybe jackharlow just needs his ass kicked by Nicole to whip him back into shape so he can talk to his wife and about his wife without acting outta pocket
mortirolo: allthingsy/n I like you
danivalentine: NICOLE! CUT THE SHIT!
mortirolo: danivalentine I didn’t do anything!’
jackharlow: claybornharlow don’t play with me
allthingsy/n: uh oh! okay! we got some more interaction
allthingsy/n: jackharlow!! how’s your wife?!?
jackharlow: allthingsy/n giveon could probably give you a better answer than me
saweetie: jackharlow delete that before nicole sees it
druski2funny: jackharlow umm......
2forwoyne: jackharlow now you know good and damn well we wouldn’t let him near her
jackharlowsource: mentioning giveon would know better than him? so issa wrap yall. trouble has officially hit paradise
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#jack harlow#jack harlow instagram au#jack harlow x black reader#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow fic#jack harlow fanfic#jack harlow angst#jack harlow concepts
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@buckactuallys @leothil @shitouttabuck @rewritetheending @devirnis and @thewolvesof1998 tagged me for fuck it Friday! Let’s see, hows it going nurse Eddie? Oh, badly? What a surprise…
The steady whine resolves into a pattern. If whatever autopilot system Eddie’s operating under hadn’t made him take a step back when the defibrillator went off, he thinks he might have just kept going, might have lived on that gurney forever pumping dead blood until his arms turned to jelly. He stares at the little green line of mountains on the screen and doesn’t understand them. People are saying words around him and he doesn’t understand those either, but at least he’s sort of shuffled in with the tide of medical personnel and not left standing lost in the ambulance bay. Evan Buckley- Buck, Buck is wheeled off to trauma two, and Eddie should be following along to do his fucking job but, the thing is, his muscles feel like they’ve all locked up, and he can’t get a breath in, and even instinct has now abandoned him and he’s alone, all alone, standing in a hallway he shouldn’t be blocking. Please god, he thinks, feverishly, hysterically, let me move two feet to the left. I can have a breakdown, I just need to do it two feet to the left. Don’t block the hallway.
“Eddie?”
He’s not sure if he moved, he’s not sure who’s asking. A woman’s voice. Maybe he’s home in Texas and only a child and everything’s all just been a nightmare, and his mother is here and going to make him hot chocolate even though it’s late at night and he shouldn’t have sugar before bed except just this once and she’ll wink about it and he’ll giggle at having this secret between just them and he’ll fall asleep on the couch with her and wake up in his own bed and it will seem like magic, but Eddie is full grown and knows the weight of his own sleeping child on the path between the living room and the bedroom, and when he blinks to clear his eyes of rushing static it’s Pat who’s standing in front of him, in a hospital, in California, right in the middle of the goddamn hallway.
“Eddie,” she says, eyes all wide and startled, “Are you okay?”
He can’t even begin to know how to answer that question. It doesn’t feel like the right question to be asked. Okay is a word so absolutely distant from anything happening right now it’s functionally useless to define himself in relation to it. “I know him,” he says, and his voice comes out strange. And then there’s a cracking, bubbling feeling and a sound, too, something like laughter tearing up out of him because no he fucking doesn’t. He has met — and met only by a generous stretch of definition — that man eight times, and only actually talked to him on slightly more than half of those occasions. They’ve talked, maybe, all added up, for about 20 minutes. “Oh fuck,” he says, a stupid little squeak of a sound, and then Pat is putting her hand on his arm and leading him, awfully gently, towards the break room.
Tagging @forthewolves @rogerzsteven @bigfootsmom @burins @wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @jeeyuns @homerforsure
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Conflicted: Part One
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.1k
Summary: It’s hard convincing people what you can see without the physical proof to back it up. You immediately know who the unsub is, but you have to wait for everyone to catch up to you. How can you make them see what you see?
Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated
x
"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it." - Terry Pratchett
"Agent Y/N?" You look up to see another mailman walk over to you with a letter in his hands. "This came for you."
You grab the letter and notice the date on which it was sent.
"This was mailed two weeks ago and you're just now giving it to me?"
"We're really backed up."
He walks away just as Spencer comes back from the break room with coffee in his hands.
"What is that?" You open the letter and see it's an invitation to your other high school reunion that's happening this weekend. "Are you going to go?"
"After what happened last time? Yeah, right," you scoff and put the letter into your purse.
"The probability of that happening again is very slim. You should go see your classmates."
"Spencer, baby, I don't know how to get it in your thick head, but these people mean nothing to me. Why should I give them the time of day when they didn't care about me?"
"I'll go with you again."
You can't resist the look in his eyes. All he wants is for you to heal from that part of your life and move on. He figures if you can confront those people, you'll be at peace with your past.
"Fine. If we have the opportunity to, then we will."
"Okay," he smiles.
"You're going to be the death of me."
"I love you, too."
You two head to the briefing room to join everyone else while JJ gets ready to present the case.
"Daniel Keller, a junior at Benjamin Franklin University, was killed last night while spring breaking in South Padre Island by asphyxiation. He was the second victim to be murdered there in the past three nights. The first was William Browder, also on spring break, by asphyxiation. They were both sexually assaulted prior to death."
"Men being raped and murdered on spring break? Well, that's a twist," Emily comments.
"So far the deaths have been localized to The Hudson Street hotel. Initially, the hotel was filled to capacity but lost twenty percent occupancy overnight."
"We should get a list of everyone who works there. There's a good chance one of them is the unsub, or at the very least, has interacted with him."
"Yeah, Garcia's already on that," JJ says. "Both victims were discovered by hotel staff after an online checkout indicated the room had been vacated."
"So, he wanted the bodies discovered sooner rather than later. Look at the way they're posed—naked and cowering in the fetal position. He's sending a message. Something about this is important to him. We just need to figure out what."
"We need to do it soon," Hotch says. "The police suspect the unsub could be another vacationing student, though I'm not willing to rule out local involvement."
"That makes sense. If the killer is a student, they could be halfway across the country by the time we're onto them. If he's a local, we could lose him as soon as his victim pool dries up. Either way, we're almost out of time. South Padre spring break season ends this weekend."
The conversation continues when everyone is on the plane so you can get to Texas as soon as possible.
"The national media has picked up on the story. We're gonna have to make a statement when we land," JJ says and settles into her chair. "I want to make people aware without obviously causing panic, you know, the whole buddy system. I'm all over it. I just don't think anyone is going to listen to that."
"Why do you say that?"
"Come on, drunk college students don't exactly want to hear that they shouldn't talk to strangers."
It's like Penelope knew she was going to need to give some input because her face immediately pops up on the computer screen.
"Was there any DNA left on the scene?"
"Yeah. Too much DNA. This portion of the Garcia show will be brought to you by the letter "I" for icky. The lab has recovered over a hundred different trace samples as multiple guests create a cesspool of DNA. Also, there is no way to determine the exact time of 'secretion' or to eliminate anyone actually working at the hotel."
"Were you able to find any connection between the first two victims?"
"No. They grew up in different states and went to colleges on opposite coasts. I did the whole cross-reference credit card thing and couldn't make it connect. That hotel is the only denominator. It should be noted that the first victim, William Browder, wasn't exactly a registered guest."
"That's a popular thing to do. Young people do it all the time. When they rent a room, they try to pack in as many people as they can to save money. We could be dealing with hundreds of unregistered guests. We need to check every guest whether they were in the books or not."
"Men raping men. Are we pursuing our unsub or victims could be gay?" JJ asks.
"That's not necessarily true. In male rape, sexual preference typically has less to do with the crime than the power and dominance the attacker feels from the act itself," Spencer explains.
"Still, it's a question we should ask the families when we interview them. It could help us determine how the unsub met the victims. We got a lot of work to do. Emily, JJ, and I will go to the local PD and start victimology. The rest of you, to the hotel."
You, Spencer, Derek, and Rossi head to the Hudson Street Hotel. A young woman greets you with a smile already knowing who you are and why you're here.
"You must be the FBI," she greets.
"I'm David Rossi. These are agents Morgan, Reid, and Y/N."
"I'm Julie Riley. I'm the manager. I was on duty when the latest body was discovered."
"Did you happen to notice anyone out of the ordinary?"
"I'm afraid not. I see so many faces during spring break that they all start to blur."
"We need to set up interviews with the rest of your staff as soon as possible and also talk to the hotel guests. How many cameras do you have on the property?"
"Not enough. We have all the main entrances and the garage covered, but the hallways and the service tunnels aren't equipped."
"Can you show us the room where the last body was found?"
Julie leads you to the third floor where the crime took place. You don't even have to step foot in the room to know what kind of person did this. When you walk in, you see the unsub standing by the bed and the victim lying on the bed. Energies have a funny way of making such vivid pictures for you. The victim is scared for his life but the unsub is just standing there looking at you. All you can see is long brown hair and striking green eyes.
the unsub and the victim, there is red energy stemming from the unsub. Another energy of the same kind flows out from the side of the main one, signaling that there are two personalities for this one person. There is someone inside the unsub's head, so you're not sure which one of them committed the crime.
The same thing happened with Tobias Hankel since he had two personalities in his head. This unsub definitely has Dissociative Identity Disorder or DID.
"Um, I'll start rounding up the rest of the staff for you to talk to," Julie says.
She leaves and you walk further into the room closer to the unsub who can't take his eyes off you. It's making you feel very unsettled.
"There are no signs of struggle reported. Everything seemed normal when housekeeping arrived."
"Look at this," Spencer says and points to the end of the bed on the wooden post. "There are scratch marks on the footboard. The victims were bound before the struggle began."
"That would make sense. Both victims were in pretty good shape. He probably needed them tied up in order to control them."
As Derek and Spencer are talking, you see the victim struggle on the bed while his hands are tied to the end of the bed frame. He has a lot of fear in his eyes, telling you that this wasn't consensual.
"The question is, was it consensual or was it coerced?" Rossi asks.
"It was forced," you say. "I see them. The victim looks scared out of his mind. The other thing I notice is the unsub. He's standing right next to you." Rossi takes two steps to his right to put some distance between him and the ghost you see. "Remember what I told you about people with Dissociative Identity Disorder? How the personalities inside the person's head have their own energies that stem from the base energy of the actual person?" When all three men nod, you continue. "That's what's happening here. The unsub has one personality in his head because there is only one energy stemming from the original one. He's suffering and my bet is he doesn't know why. He might not know he has another personality."
"Good work," Rossi nods. While it doesn't help you narrow down the list of suspects, it does help with the profile when you give it. "So, if I'm the unsub and it wasn't consensual, how does this work? You'd have to have a weapon. A gun to the face means he doesn't scream out."
"Look at the distance between where each of the arms was tied," Spencer says about the foot of the bed. "There's no way he could have tied that other hand himself. The unsub did it for him, which would be risky because if he knew he was in danger and he saw the opportunity, he would take it."
"Why not drug him then tie him up? He'd eliminate the risk."
"The tox screen came back negative, so it's either consensual or he has a partner."
"I don't know about a partner because I only see one energy, but it's very possible he could have a partner. He's being smart about this, though. He hides the body in the closet which indicates the guest has checked out. When the housekeeper gets here, everything looks normal, and she starts cleaning and wiping everything down, erasing any fingerprints or DNA which could have been left on the scene."
"We need to talk to whoever cleaned this room. Maybe they saw something that can tell us who was in here with the victim."
According to Julie, Adam Jackson was the last person to clean the room. He's usually on the roof when he takes his breaks, so you, Derek, and Spencer head to the roof while Rossi stays and talks to the other staff members. The sun is bright and high in the air, and you raise your hand to block it from your eyes. Adam is on the other end of the roof by himself smoking something.
He turns and you freeze in your steps. Derek and Spencer keep walking toward him, not having seen you stop. There is red energy stemming from Adam as every person has, but there is a different color red coming from his body as if that is another personality stuck inside his head. The same two energies you saw in the hotel room.
Adam killed that man last night but since you have no proof, you keep your mouth shut. Still, those are the same striking green eyes you saw in the hotel room. You jog to catch up to Spencer and Derek who have just reached Adam. He quickly puts out the blunt he's smoking and blows the air away from them in a panic.
"Adam Jackson? Your manager said we could find you up here."
"I get migraines," he stutters.
"You're the one who discovered the body last night?"
"Yeah."
"Had you ever seen him before or noticed anyone he may have been with?"
"I've never seen him before in my life. Since I opened the closet, I can't get him out of my head."
"Adam, what about the first victim, William Browder? Have you ever seen him before?"
"I've never seen either of them."
"Let me ask you this, is there anything you remember about the room before you discovered the body? It might not seem like much but the smallest detail could really help us a lot," Spencer says.
"It looked pretty normal. I mean, until I opened the closet door."
"Did anything stand out about the body? Or anyone at the hotel last night?"
"No," he sighs. "If you've seen one drunk frat guy, you've seen them all."
"I thought you said you didn't recognize him," you say.
"I don't. The university is right across the bridge. I know their type. They walk around like they know the place. They think they can do whatever they want."
"How long have you worked here?"
"Six months."
"I appreciate your time. Thank you."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah," Spencer nods.
"You've seen bad stuff, right?"
"I have, yeah."
"How long before you can close your eyes without it being there?"
"I'm afraid I still don't know."
You three leave Adam's side, and only until you're away from his prying ears, do you tell them what you saw the second you looked into Adam's eyes.
x
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#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fan fic#spencer reid fan fiction#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fan fiction#criminal minds fan fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst#criminal minds series rewrite#series rewrite#cm season 4
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Soft Spot
CH 6
Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader
Rating: 18+
Word Count: 2.2k
Summary: You have just graduated with your Bachelor’s degree and decide to stay at home with your dad to save some money before graduate school. The thing is, he is moving from California to Texas to live next to his best friend/college roommate, Joel, along with his daughter, Sarah. Growing up, you heard so much about him from your dad. It’s almost like you know Joel, but you don’t. You’ve never actually met him. This Summer will be interesting…
Warnings/Tags: Dbf! Joel, slow burn, eventual smut, kinda mean Joel, explicit language, references to death, struggles with depression, reader is younger than Joel (22/43)
Note: Never written smut before but get ready for a lot of it from here on out:)
Past Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
CHAPTER 6
You haven’t seen Joel in what feels like forever. The kiss you two shared was unexpected and, damn, was it good. But you still wished that it hadn’t happened. If you thought Joel hating you was uncomfortable, it’s nothing close to this. You spotting him coming home from work, him seeing you and bolting inside. He’s definitely avoiding you. And not gonna lie, it feels like shit. You know, however, that your dad and Joel planned a 4th of July party over at the Millers. Your dad finally got some time off and Joel has a pool, so they figured it would be a good way to celebrate. The upside is that Joel can’t avoid you in his own home.
“So, what do you think I should do?” You ask your childhood best friend, Larry, while on FaceTime.
“Well, it’s obvious he’s into you, he just got cold feet. I say you try again. What’s the worst that could happen?” Larry says.
“He rejects me again.” You let out a small chuckle.
“Oh, come on. With your body in the right bathing suit, he won’t be able to resist.”
Larry helps you pick out just the right suit. Small, black and showing a lot of skin.
“A bit skimpy for a friends and family party, don’t you think?” You say looking at yourself in the mirror.
“That’s the point.” You both laugh.
After hanging up with Larry, the nerves start to hit you. You don’t think you could handle another rejection from Joel. It wasn’t exactly a rejection, he did kiss you back, but it still left you feeling so small when he practically ran away after.
Upon arriving at the Miller's house with your dad, you noticed there were less people than at the barbeque a few months ago. You don’t mind, though, the people you liked were here and that’s all that matters. You both walk inside the house and you don’t spot Joel anywhere. You hear some commotion and walk outside to see the pool filled with people. Makes sense, considering it was 100 degrees in Austin that day. You scan the pool and notice that Scotty and River are swimming together. ‘Damn it’ you think. You have been ghosting River ever since you had your first date. You weren’t sure how to end it exactly. Guess you’ll have to find out, he’s definitely going to try and talk to you. You continue scanning the pool and see a few of Sarah’s friends and Sarah being hoisted up out of the pool and thrown back in the water. You notice that it’s Joel that threw Sarah, he’s actually in the pool. It never would have crossed your mind that Joel swims. He’s up to his shoulders in the water, so you can’t see much. But his slicked back wet hair is making you feel butterflies. Sarah turns and notices you and your dad walk outside.
“Hey! Hop in!” She yells to you.
Joel quickly turns his head and makes eye contact with you. You take this chance to peel off your swimsuit cover and slowly step into the pool. You notice that Joel is trying not to look at you, but your bathing suit is making it difficult. You see his eyes scan from your chest down to your legs and back up before he tries to put his attention elsewhere.
“Hey, man” your dad says as he bends over the pool to give Joel a handshake.
Joel stands up and reaches to shake your dads hand. The water is now up to right above his waist. You see his stomach peeking out from the water and notice his broad chest.
“Let me get you a beer.” Joel says as he hoists himself up out of the pool.
You’re disappointed that Joel got out of the pool, you figured he would still be avoiding you. But watching him get out of the pool and the water drip down his body was worth it. His blue swim shorts clung to every part of him.
You swim for a bit on the other side of the pool before you notice River swimming up to you. Not really anywhere you could go, so you make eye contact with him and smile.
“So, I haven’t heard from you in a while.” River says.
“Yeah, sorry, there’s just been a lot going on.” You respond with a half smile.
There’s a moment of silence before he says, “Are you just… not interested in me anymore? I thought our date went really well. Until Joel showed up, at least.” Funny how about a month ago River didn’t even know who Joel was and now he’s swimming at his house.
“No, it’s not that. Listen, I shouldn’t have ghosted you. I just don’t think I’m ready for anything serious.” You respond.
“Who said it had to be serious? I’d be down to just fuck if that’s what you want.”
You roll your eyes. River definitely didn’t understand what you were trying to say. “I’m going to go get a drink.” You couldn’t be around River all night without a few drinks in your system.
You walk over to the pool steps and walk out. You turn to see if Joel is looking at you. He’s standing by the barbeque, now having changed out of his bathing suit and back into his usual shirt and jeans. He’s taking a sip of his beer while in conversation with your other neighbor, as he shifts his gaze to you. It was quick though, he doesn’t want to be seen staring. You take it as a good sign, you think. At least he’ll look at you.
You walk over to the cooler and take a beer from the ice chest. You open it and lay stomach down on a towel in the grass to start tanning. You begin tanning because, for one, your ass would be on display for Joel and two, you needed to get away from River and don’t feel like socializing. You lay on the grass for a while, every so often getting up to grab another beer. You then decide that you're done tanning. You stand up and look down at the bottles you’ve collected on the floor, only just realizing how much you’ve actually drunk. There’s 4 beer bottles on the floor and one still in your hand. You feel pretty tipsy, but you’re not complaining. As you're walking to go inside the house, you’re stopped by Mrs. Adler, your much older neighbor. She begins asking you questions about your life and boys and blah, blah. You look around to see Joel sitting at the table outside in conversation as well. He has a glass of whiskey in his hand. As you’re answering Mrs. Adler's myriad of questions, Joel’s eyes meet yours. To your surprise, he doesn’t look away. Not for a while. You think you even start to see a smirk forming on his face.
“Sorry, Mrs. Adler, I’ve just got to use the restroom.” You excuse yourself as you duck inside.
You enter the kitchen and take a deep breath. You hold yourself steady with your arms on the kitchen counter as you face the sink. It might be Joel looking at you, or the drinks you’ve had, but you feel flustered. You close your eyes.
“Are you okay?” You hear a hoarse voice ask from behind you.
You turn to see Joel standing there. You hadn’t heard him come in.
“Yeah, just a little tipsy is all.” You say while flashing a small smile. You lean your back against the counter and cross your arms, making your boobs pop out a bit. You didn’t mean for that to happen, you just felt awkward standing there with your hands to your side. Joel’s eyes flicker down to your chest and back up to your face.
“Have you been avoiding me?” You ask.
“Been tryin’ to. But it’s hard when you keep looking at me like you want something.” He says.
You take a small step closer to him. “I do. Want something.”
“Well what do you want, darlin’” he asks.
‘Darlin’, you’ve never heard him call you that and it almost makes you pass out. You take another step closer, arms still crossed and meet his gaze. “You” you bravely say.
Joel takes a deep breath, like he’s contemplating something. He turns his head to look out the window to the backyard. He turns back to you and grabs your wrists and motions to you to uncross your arms. His hand takes yours and he leads you upstairs.
When you reach the top of the stairs he ushers you into a bathroom and closes the door behind him. You look around to see a pink shower curtain, this must be Sarah’s bathroom. His body pushes against yours, causing your back to hit the counter near the sink. His hand meets the back of your neck and he kisses you deeply. He explores your mouth hungrily and like he’s in a hurry. When you moan into his mouth he wraps his hands around your thighs and lifts you to sit on top of the sink.
“You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?” He whispers in your ear between kissing your neck. His hand grips your thigh as the other comes up to squeeze your chest.
“Please fuck me, Joel.” You say breathily as he is being totally consumed by you.
He pulls away from the kiss. “No, not now. I can’t do that.” You whimper at his release.
“But I can still make you feel good, baby.” He follows.
As you begin to wonder what he means, he quickly pulls down your bathing suit bottoms. He looks down at your bare pussy on display for him and experimentally rubs one finger around your clit. When you groan, he shushes you.
“Try to be quiet.” He says.
He then spreads your legs open wide and kneels down in front of you. You almost orgasm just at the sight of him on his knees for you. He lightly bites the inside of your thighs and gives your clit a few kisses before exploring your slit with his tongue.
“Oh, fuck” you moan. You tried to be quiet, you really did. It’s just impossible.
Joel pulls away and tells you to cover your mouth. You do as he says as he continues going down on you. He begins to focus his tongue on your clit when he pushes one finger inside of you, making you moan through your hand. You put your other hand in his hair and slightly tug at his curls. He inserts another finger and begins hitting that spot that makes you all gooey. He starts going dreadfully fast and tightening his grip on your thighs. You feel the heat in your stomach start to grow strong.
You remove your hand from your mouth quickly, “Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna cum.”
You put your hand back over your mouth, as you know you’re about to scream. You finally hit your release and moan through your hand. Joel feels your pussy clench and releases you. You take a moment to catch your breath as Joel stands up. You reach to undo his belt and he stops you.
“I want to make you feel good, too.” You say.
“It’s okay, baby. We don’t have time.”
You whimper and remove your hands. You think that a few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference, but you don’t want to argue with Joel. He sneaks his hands down the front of his pants to flip up his hard cock so no one can see his erection. He gives you a quick kiss before opening the door and ducking out into the hallway. You sit there, on the counter, still coming down from your high. That was the best orgasm of your life, and you plan to have him bring you to another one in the near future.
You come out to the backyard again, noticing that the sun is now setting and the party is winding down. Your dad, Joel and a few other people their age are sitting by the fire. You notice that Joel is sitting next to a married couple and your dad is sitting next to Tracy, a woman that lives in the cul-de-sac over from you. She is lightly touching his back. This throws you off, but you were too tired and too fucked to care right now. You look around to see Sarah and her friends still in the pool. And mostly everyone else has left, including River and Scotty. You walk up to your dad and lightly tap him on the shoulder before leaning down for a hug.
“I’m heading in, dad. Love you.”
He stays seated and hugs you back. “Okay, hun. Love you too.”
You walk away from the crowd sitting by the fire and peer back quickly to make eye contact with Joel. You both softly smile at each other before you head home.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#dbf! joel#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfic
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