#fic: boston holiday
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boston holiday. / a joel holiday ficlet
pairing: joel miller x f!reader ( the last of us )
word count: 1.5k
summary: You're decorating for the holidays in your Boston Quarantine Zone apartment. A begrudging Joel Miller gets involved.
tags: domestic fluff, pre-tlou, explicit language, holiday decorating in the apocalypse, set 6 months after 'seeing you / seeing me'
credit: dividers by @saradika
welcome to the third day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!
“The hell’re you doing, girl?”
Only two people have the key to your place.
One of them is Tess Servopoulos.
Giving Tess a spare key was necessary — or so she's claimed, since according to her, she can't trust you to stay out of trouble for longer than twenty minutes.
(She isn't wrong.)
However, you’d love to argue that somehow you have become the saint in this duo.
Ever since that week at Miller's place, every deal has gone smoother than running water. For the last couple of months, you've been clean. Unseen. Invisible.
Tess, on the other hand, has always been a bad influence.
The older woman opens her mouth, starts a Boston-wide battle, and boom — sleepover for two at your place.
(After saving your ass, you'll hide her away from wandering eyes without question. Curfew punishments be damned.)
The other person that has the key to your place, well —
The other is the salt-and-pepper man watching you in mild horror as you teeter on the arm of your dilapidated couch.
(You just haven't seen him yet.)
Joel Miller has been known for his subtlety, his silence, but not around you.
Not when he holds the key to your place; a recent development.
He tends to simply show up when he wants.
You don't mind that — usually.
But his bark scares the shit out of you in the middle of stretching high, your bare toes barely touching the arm of your couch.
The hell're you doing, girl?
Hoping to tack this starting string of garland to the ceiling suddenly becomes you fighting for your life.
"Ah—!"
The surprise intrusion causes you to falter, ankle losing its balance.
You wobble once, violently twice, before falling backwards.
Joel wastes no time — he slams the front door shut, not bothering to lock it behind him, and rushes to the couch.
Like some fucked up apocalyptic fairy tale, he catches you well before you hit the ground.
Joel Miller, the reluctant hero.
For a moment you stay suspended here: feet barely touching the ground, the older man’s arms wrapped around your torso.
Joel's weather-worn face twists in a concerned scowl.
All you can do is cheekily smile.
“Hey, Miller.”
“Don’t fucking hey me,” he snaps. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“To be fair, I thought I could reach it.” He stares, so you supply: "The ceiling. I thought I could reach the ceiling."
“You’ve got the tallest goddamn ceilings in the Boston Q-Z,” Joel argues in return, setting you down to properly stand. You hold onto the sleeves of his flannel shirt until you get your footing. “Ain’t no way in hell you were reaching anything.”
He lets go of you to stare at the ceiling like he's ready to pick a fight with it, before dropping his chin.
The man stops moving when he picks up the fallen string of fake green vines strewn across your scratched hardwood floor.
The question is silent: what the hell is this?
You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you had a better excuse.
A funny one that doesn't make you look so childish, especially in front of Joel Miller.
Still, you're a bad liar around him, so you choose to stare at the garland instead of him when you confess.
“I was trying to get the holiday spirit going.”
When you blink up to Joel, your suspicions of confusion are correct: he stares back like you’ve sprouted a second head and become a clicker in the flesh.
A beat passes.
Then another.
“The what now?”
You playfully roll your eyes and walk away towards your radio. Hovering over it, your fingertips reach to toy with the dials until white static takes over the apartment silence.
That radio is the only reliable device in your endless collection of junk, though it's had to go through some repairs this year.
Thanks to Joel it still works, though he won't let you thank him.
(Not verbally, anyway. There are always loopholes in the middle of the night.)
“Every year I do this,” you explain, turning each dial with care until the local radio station comes over the airwaves.
"You... decorate."
Clearly he's unimpressed.
"Yeah," you reply. "Between leaving the Q-Z and scavenging the nearby neighborhoods, I find junk all the time. Snowman trinkets and elf knick-knacks and other stupid shit no one ever touches because it's all useless. I keep all of them in a box until the holidays. My collection's actually grown exponentially over the years.”
Two boxes full, actually.
Forgotten treasures of other families, now kept sacred on your mantle.
“Sounds like a waste of time,” Joel scoffs.
“It is,” you agree once you find the right channel before standing at full height with a tiny smile, "but that time makes me happy, so I’m happy to waste it. What else am I supposed to do between jobs?”
He considers those words, if just for a moment.
Joel scrunches his nose and eyes in a way that says he's debating on being mean.
You don't expect him to get it.
He's been through shit, but so has everyone in this quarantine zone.
(So have you.)
The Eagles croon in the background — not exactly holiday cheer, but any vinyl or CDs of the greats like Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs are probably nonexistent from the decay of time.
Besides, you can’t imagine many others are trying to keep the holidays afloat in the quarantine zone. Some families, sure, but not many.
Too much heartbreak. Too much loss.
But you've had enough sadness, so you try to bring a little light to your humble abode.
"Don't worry about it, Joel," you add after an uncomfortable amount of silence passes. "I know it's stupid. There's a fresh bottle of stored whiskey in the—"
All words die on your tongue when some kind of winter miracle happens:
Rather than tossing the garland string to the side, Joel turns on the heel of his boot and away from you.
"Joel?"
He carefully slips off his shoes, revealing worn-white socks, and steps on your couch cushion.
With care, he reaches for the ceiling.
A strip of his bare lower back reveals itself in his stretch.
“What are you... doing?” you inquire, stepping around your couch to face him.
He doesn't look down, determined to stare at the white canvas of your ceiling.
Searching.
Your line of sight is in direct contact with the dark happy trail poking from his shirt, causing your face to burn.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he retorts.
“You said it was a waste of time.”
“You dying because you wanna try and stick some stupid tree shit up on your ceiling is more of a waste of time. You got tape or something?”
“Seriously?”
He peers down at you.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?" he retorts. "Get the damn tape.”
You have to try not to smile too wide when you step away, rummaging through your box of supplies.
Truthfully nothing in this box is worth keeping — none of it will save your life in the apocalypse — but your mental sanity thanks you for it every year.
After finding a roll that’s still sticky, you return to the couch and hold it up for him.
Joel grunts in gratitude, focusing his efforts solely on the line of green above him.
He manages to press the start of the decoration in place, holding the bottom of it to you.
“You want big loops or little?”
“What’ll stick better, Miller?”
He gives you a warning look. “Joel.”
A smile spreads like wildfire against your lips.
“...what’ll stick better, Joel?”
That seems to satisfy him.
“Hell if I know,” he grumbles, “just tell me what you prefer and I’ll do it.”
Something stirs in your lower belly as he speaks.
Joel didn’t have to do this.
He didn’t have to do any of it.
You were perfectly fine with keeping your need for holiday cheer to yourself, but he’s stepped in without so much as a fuss.
He’s had a hard life. Tess has alluded to the fact that he was once a father before.
You can only imagine how much he hates this, but he’s still trying.
For you.
It’s not a favor you will easily forget.
Your fading candles burn out in the background as the two of you go through every part of your assorted holiday decorations, popping open a bottle of smuggled whiskey to keep yourselves dehydrated.
You direct. Joel places.
After some time you both get too tipsy to put the finishing touches.
(Too busy slow dancing in the middle of your living room to the ballads of Patsy Cline.)
Making jokes.
Enjoying warmth.
Choosing life.
It’s the first night Joel Miller ever sleeps at your place.
You both stay in bed long after the sun rises.
.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#tlou fic#tlou fluff#the last of us fic#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#holiday fanfic#holiday one shot#holiday fluff#twelve days of amymas#amywritesthings#fic: boston holiday
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For the fake fic titles: "Tort Law and Other Aphrodisiacs"
for this ask game! - send me a title and I’ll write a fake fic summary to go with it! 🍓
In the span of six months, Don learns much more than he ever wanted to about what you can reasonably sue someone over in the surprisingly lawless American legal system. In the same six months, he also learns which places have the best breakfast by Sloan’s apartment and the weird trick it takes to get the water in her shower to come out at a normal, habitable temperature. So, it’s not all bad…
[ AKA - Don and Sloan, from Election Night to Patriot’s Day, roughly]
#alternate title: AARON WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT LAWSUIT FROM S2??? WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT???#as someone who tried to write the aftermath of the s2 finale in an AU fic…this would be impossible for me to actually write#thank god for fake fic summaries#had to do my little AKAs because this is my summary style and I like it#for those who don’t know because I’m not sure if this is common knowledge or not#the holiday that coincides with the Boston marathon and allows the whole city to shut down#is called Patriot’s Day#I’ve never lived anywhere else where it was a recognized or observed holiday so it’s possible just a Boston thing???#but like that’s the holiday that the marathon happens on every year in april#which means that’s the day s3 of the newsroom starts!#In case you didn’t know!#wait apparently it’s a recognized holiday in six states???#I don’t know about that bc no one in ct does anything for it#to me it’s a Massachusetts thing exclusively idk#ANYWAY#prompt game#fake fic summary game#ask#firstelevens#the newsroom#don x sloan#sloan sabbith#don keefer#otp: you get me#I did literally nothing with my day but I managed to get this done congratulations to me
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venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader
summary: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF 2
pairing: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader
tags: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss
author’s note: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!
There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count).
It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!”
You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one.
The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.”
The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?”
“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.”
You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention.
“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed.
“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?”
You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.”
“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head.
“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation.
The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”
You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.”
“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.”
You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?”
“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.”
“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.”
“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.”
“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.”
“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?”
You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…”
“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.”
“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?”
The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene.
“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm.
You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up.
You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out.
You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others.
You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy.
Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over.
“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?”
“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.”
“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”
“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.”
“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked.
“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”
“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?”
You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.”
“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too.
“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked.
“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.”
“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?”
“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked.
“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.”
“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.”
You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks.
Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him.
“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?”
Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?”
“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?”
“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.”
“Probably,” Angus said simply.
You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.”
To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.”
“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic.
“No,” you told him.
“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next.
You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time.
“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.”
All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!”
You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked.
Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.”
“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.”
“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.”
“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.”
“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged.
“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.”
“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.”
You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.”
The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say?
Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes.
You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that.
The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”
The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.
You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?”
“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?”
“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?”
The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said.
You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same.
Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?
“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.”
You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.”
Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said.
“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?”
“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.”
You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked.
“Do I mind what?” Angus asked.
“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”
“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.”
“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.”
You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him.
“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”
“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”
“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly.
You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up.
“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief.
“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”
“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”
“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?”
“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”
“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?”
“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.”
“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”
“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry.
“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?”
“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.”
“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”
“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.”
You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone.
“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?”
“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”
“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.”
“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!”
“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said.
“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”
“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”
“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.”
“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”
“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?”
“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.”
That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”
Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ.
The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class.
You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him.
“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.”
As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.”
You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school.
“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.”
“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged.
“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.”
Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas.
Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office.
“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.”
“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.”
Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.”
“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”
“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.”
“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?”
“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.”
You nodded silently.
“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked.
You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.”
“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.
“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”
“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”
“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.”
Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.”
Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives.
After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone.
Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book.
The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room.
Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.”
“Who?” you asked.
“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.”
“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.”
“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled.
“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.”
“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”
“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?”
Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”
“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?”
“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”
“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?”
“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.”
Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…”
“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!”
“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said.
“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here!”
You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment.
You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open.
Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great.
But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath.
“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?”
“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap.
Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently.
“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked.
“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—”
“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.”
“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked.
“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.”
“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?”
“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.”
The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway.
“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?”
“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.”
“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.”
“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”
“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.”
“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly.
“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.”
“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.”
“Shut up,” you huffed.
“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?”
You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room.
Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline.
By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep.
That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway.
You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily.
“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.”
“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.”
“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.”
You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.”
“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”
“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.”
“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.”
You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.”
“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”
“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night.
It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”
“Would you?” your mother asked.
“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!”
“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked.
“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy— I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”
“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end.
“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!”
“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.”
Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.”
“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”
“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.”
“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked.
“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into—
“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”
“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.”
“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?”
You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled.
Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.”
You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled.
“Guess so,” Angus echoed.
The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it.
You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours.
Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch.
Accurate, you countered.
Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?”
But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!”
“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly.
“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement.
“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop.
“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”
You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.”
You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin.
“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?”
You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.”
Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.”
You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard.
You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone.
You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up.
“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”
You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”
“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?”
Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?”
“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.”
On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.”
You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus.
“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.”
If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”.
The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”
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JOEL MILLER - 2023 FIC RECS
this year has been filled with so many beautiful fics, I wanted to make a rec list to share & support everything I read. please check these out and support these creators, they are all incredible! 💖✨
— A Lover's Pinch by @hier--soir
a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?
— A Matter of Timing by @lavenderursa
Before the world went to shit you and your neighbor, Joel, were involved. It was complicated then and now at the end of the world, it's much the same.
— A Minute From Home by @agentmarcuspike
— A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing by @jupiter-soups
joel miller is not quite as scary as the people of jackson believe him to be. at least, not around you.
— A Very Furby Christmas by @/proxima-writes
it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect. / well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months / turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town.
— Asking Nicely by @grippingbeskar
— Autumn Air by @swiftispunk
it’s been a month since you returned home from costa rica and you and joel have fallen into a blissful routine. when a rude awakening threatens to disrupt that peace, together you must make a decision…or two.
— Barbie Girl by @tightjeansjavi
Joel, Sarah and Tommy go to the Barbie movie opening weekend
— Be Good, Be Quiet by @/undercoverpena
bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.
— Blue Jeans N'Texas Dreams by @/tightjeansjavi
Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.
— Boston Holiday. by @/amywritesthings
You’re decorating for the holidays in your Boston Quarantine Zone apartment. A begrudging Joel Miller gets involved.
— Bunny Tails by @sweetercalypso
When hunter!Joel finds reader picking flowers outside his cabin, he convinces her to come inside
— But He Does Have You by @undercoverpena
because he hasn’t got a lot of anything, but he does have you.
—Butterfly by @stargirlfics
Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost
— Can’t Help Myself by @fettuccin-e
— Catching by @softlyspector
None of your partners had ever been able to make you come before. Joel changed that.
— Comfortably Close by @omgreally
You and Joel share a couch.
— Come Clean by @cupofjoel
joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you’re already in the shower
— Comfort Came Against My Will by @/undercoverpena
it’ll begin with a little beg, a whispered plea—fingers wrapping around his chin, mouth ghosting over his: Let me ride you, Miller.
— Creature Comforts by @galactic-basic
A gift. Joel didn’t call it that. Didn’t say as much. Didn’t say anything—actually. / But it’s yours. Your mattress. Your bed. There are so few things you can call yours these days.
— Crystal by @ezrasbirdie
Joel's live-in girlfriend is a little witchy. It takes some getting used to.
— Dinner & Diatribes by @tightjeansjavi
you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life
— Dinner Date by @juletheghoul
neighbour!Joel au
— Distracted by @/psychedelic-ink
there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.
— Does Your Mother Know? by @/cupofjoel
— Flesh and Metal by @/swiftispunk
you meet joel at a bar. he really likes your nipple piercings. that’s about it.
— From Eden, Love Grows by @moonlight-prose
Days spent in flower fields and cooking in a sunbathed kitchen with him.
— Grays by @/softlyspector
Joel likes to be read to and held and have his hair stroked. He would never dare admit it, though.
— Go Slow by @/frannyzooey
In the quiet of your bedroom, Joel guides you through it.
— Honeyed by @/softlyspector
You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel.
— Honeymoon by @bits-and-babs
— Hurt by @/moonlight-prose
alone and trying to survive, you find your path crossing with a man who’s headed to boston of all places. he claims he’s looking for a new start, not realizing you might be it.
— I Crawl Home To Her by @/agentmarcuspike
after being stabbed, joel floats in and out of consciousness, between then and now, before and after, and his two daughters, both saving him in their own ways.
— I Know My Faults, But I Can't Hide Them… by @tarrenterror25
It’s all about surviving now. Joel knows it and so do you.
— I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus by @/thetriumphantpanda
Your daughter catches you kissing santa… or does she?
— Juniper by @/softlyspector
You're sleepy. Joel knows a good way to put you to sleep.
— Ktober 2023 Day 24- Lingerie by @flightlessangelwings
— Keep It On The Low by @/cupofjoel
just because you and joel broke up doesn’t mean you can’t still (secretly) enjoy each other’s company
— Let Me Take Care Of You by @spaceydragons
Joel had a rough day, you take care of him
— Living in a State of Dreaming by @/cupofjoel
it’s been a year since you, joel, and ellie returned to jackson, and you’re finally starting to feel a sense of security. but when the sun goes down and joel closes his eyes, the horrors beyond the walls still hunt him, out to take back the family he’s worked so hard to protect.
— Made By Hand by @tinycozycomfort
He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.
— Met The Devil Last Night by @pedgito
made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and…well, yeah.
— Middle of the Night by @/frannyzooey
He comes to you for comfort.
— Midnights by @/omgreally
Joel pulls back, and the blown-pupil intensity in his eyes makes you clench. “That a challenge?” he wonders, fingering the waistband of your jeans. / “You got any better ideas on how to ring in the new year, Joel Miller?”
— Mine by @the-scandalorian
He wants it—has wanted it. / He wants the claim. The utter possession.
— Misbehavior by @/stargirlfics
It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face
— Moments by @charnelhouse
Joel and you in a hotel phone booth.
— More and More by @/moonlight-prose
“he wanted to know every part of you, everything you kept hidden for fear of it being rejected. and you let him.”
— Moss & Mushrooms by @/softlyspector
You are alone, always. Then, one day, a beast emerges from the forest you've never dared to go into.
— My Girl Now by @/psychedelic-ink
joel is used to asshole clients, and when one of them calls him an old man and basically demands him to finish his girlfriend’s kitchen in time, he expects you to be the same. But you’re the opposite. when he learns how you’ve been treated, he comes up with a plan to get back at your boyfriend.
— Old Partners, New Plans by @grippingbeskar
— One Bed by @frannyzooey
“there is only one bed” + joel miller
— Only Need Ten by @pascalpvnk
“Joel,” your whine muffled by your pillow. “I have to leave in fifteen minutes, I can’t be late for patrol again. We have to be back in time for Sunday brunch.” / “Only need ten, baby,” he drawled in a hushed tone, hooking his thick fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. “Please?”
— Picture by @/softlyspector
You really want to take Joel's picture. He can't really figure out why.
— Pieces of You by @pedros-mustache
Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s possessive and a tad bit jealous. Maybe after years working alongside Tess, you’ve simply learned to lay your claim on what is yours.
— Press the Gas and Ride by @charnelhouse
comfort in a car
— Roadside Delight by @/inklore
joel should have known you’d be trouble when he found you on the side of the highway. he should have known you’d taste so fucking sweet too.
— See You by @hopeamarsu
— Seeing You, Seeing Me by @amywritesthings
After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.
— Silence by @/frannyzooey
Joel makes a silent promise.
— So, My Darlin' by @/psychedelic-ink
you convince joel to have a bubble bath with you.
— Sober by @/sweetercalypso
When Joel needs a break from reality, he finds the perfect distraction in a QZ dive bar
— Something Bad by @/fettuccin-e
— Something Wild and Unruly by @/ezrasbrdie
At Madame Aurelie's Secret Garden, men pay for beautiful courtesans trained in pleasure to give them whatever they want. And all Joel Miller, infamous outlaw and gunslinger, ever seems to want from you is a warm bath and quiet conversation.
— Standing in the Eye of the Storm by @/stargirlfics
You find each other at the end of the world
— Stay In Bed by @/psychedelic-ink
After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.
— Sweet Thing by @mandoisapunk
the most unlikely pair in jackson just can’t get enough of each other.
— Sweet Words of Sin by @/moonlight-prose
“there was a certain high that came from this. having a man like joel miller relenting to your every word, all to hear those sweet words fall from your lips. as delicious as a glass of wine and just as sinful.”
— Sweetned Breath and Tongue So Mean by @/moonlight-prose
“joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. he’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. but you were soft. you were the good that remained. the light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.”
— Take Care of You by @theidiotwhowritesthings
You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?
— Take Your Medicine by @/hier--soir
your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen.
— Tarnished But So Grand by @morning-star-joy
tommy and maria lead a jovial existence in the countryside, but the appearance of tommy’s brother causes a stir in society with the dark rumors swirling around his reputation, some due to his standoffish demeanor and some due to the mysterious parentage of his rambunctious young ward miss williams
— The Checklist by @thetriumphantpanda
Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.
— The Dog of War by @/bits-and-babs
When Ellie is taken by David, Joel breaks open the part of him locked away since his hunter days. As the guilt eats him alive, you try to help him subdue the black dogs of mental warfare.
— The Revenant Wife by @pettyprocrastination
Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband.
— The Way We Fight by @/cupofjoel
you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one
— Toyin’ With Them Older Guys by @proxima-writes
Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. / But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. / Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.
— Trust Fall by @/tinycozycomforts
This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nice enough.
— Two by @/the-scandalorian
— Watch Party by @/sweetercalypso
renting a Halloween movie turns into a nightmare when poltergeist!Joel Miller crawls out of your TV
— Way Too Damn Needy by @/cupofjoel
— What I Want by @/proxima-writes
joel comes home from a rough day of patrol and you know just what he needs.
— When You're Reading Me by @/psychedelic-ink
If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps, would not be a part of it.
— Wicked Games by @inklore
relationships are built on trust. favors, kindness, and hands meant to help, not maim. there’s no room for dishonesty, games, or ploys. that’s not the storybook way of things or how life should be. but maybe those rules only mattered when you weren’t living in a world that’s gone to shit | joel miller x smuggler!reader
— Wish You Were Here by @macfrog
you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)
— Woods by @/frannyzooey
— You Know I Don’t Mean It by @joelscruff
you and joel get off together. that’s pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he’s being closed off.
— You Take My Self Control by @/cupofjoel
your first act of brutality leaves you reeling, but you’d do it all over again if it meant saving joel’s life. in the aftermath, you realize you’ve started to crave that violence and it terrifies you. joel steps in to satisfy your craving.
— Your Summer Dream by @/swiftispunk
fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.
if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕
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masterlist
[artwork & moodboards are included purely for aesthetic purposes. any particular body types/skin colors/features are not representative of the mcs in my fics. reader is always a faceless girlie. she is yours to picture however you like!]
joel miller
series
cowboy like me (dbf!joel x reader) | completed series
back home in austin after five years away, you're looking for something to do with your summer.
what you don't expect, is to find that something in the form of joel miller. quietly charming, ruggedly handsome, flannel-donned joel.
you know. your dad's best friend.
sex on fire (ceo!joel x reader) | ongoing series
you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of.
it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers.
there's just one you get along with...a little too well.
sweet child o' mine (neighbor!joel x reader) | completed mini-series
joel miller has lived next door - since forever. you’ve been a pain in his ass - since forever. one drunken night changes everything - forever.
one shots
➵ jet (post-outbreak!joel) - you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?
➵ ghost (post-outbreak!joel) - your loyalty to joel - and your ability in yourself - are tested in st. louis. the reward might just be worth the risk.
➵ call me (joel x phone sex operator!reader) - you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career.
➵ soaked (boston qz!joel) - joel jacks off in the shower. that's p much it.
➵ all three dogs (gen fic) - “dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted.”
➵ wish you were here (jackson!joel) - you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time.
➵ psyche and cupid (jackson!joel) - valentine’s day with joel doesn’t go to plan.
➵ san angelo - it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you.
frankie morales
one shots
➵ rack 'em (bbf!frankie) - when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend.
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Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist
Hello everyone!
So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO
Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates
NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!
Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.
Without further ado, the fics and art!
ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!
The Last of Us
The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.
Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.
Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom
Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.
Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.
Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?
The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.
Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.
Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked. Most of the time. Tonight is not one of those times.
Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel
Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.
Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.
Across the Spiderverse
After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.
Triple Frontier
Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.
My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.
Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.
Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.
The Card Counter
Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…
Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife
Lightening Face
Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it
Mojave
Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.
Moon Kight
Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.
*************
I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!
I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!
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#deaddovedecember2023#dead dove do not eat#dddne#Joel Miller x reader#Tommy miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#Dark!Joel miller#dark!tommy miller#santiago garcia x reader#ben miller x reader#frankie morales x reader#Will miller x reader#jack jackson x reader#mojave movie#william tell x reader#triple frontier#marc spector x reader#moon knight#across the spiderverse#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#basil stitt x reader#lighteningface#the card counter#dark santiago garcia#dark!fic#dark joel miller#dark marc spector#dark francisco morales#francisco morales
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THANKFUL - CHRIS STURNIOLO
summary: you’re bringing chris to your family’s thanksgiving dinner for the first time.
warnings: none! <3
i haven’t written a fic in foreverrrr and this is my first post on this acc, so i’m sorry if this is sloppy 😭
—
“chris have you seen my- you’re shaving?!” you exclaim, well aware that you’ve been begging him to shave for about a week now and he just shrugged it off.
“stop y/n, i need to look good,” he groans, not looking away from himself in your childhood bathroom mirror.
“well i can assure you that there’s no one to impress there besides old ladies,” you joke, winking at him through the mirror, only to receive an eye roll in return.
“you look great chrissy, i promise.”
…
as you two get in the car with your parents, you rest your hand on his knee and start rubbing it gently to let him know he’s gonna be okay, seeing how nervous he is. “i love you,” you whisper in his ear, making his cheeks turn light pink.
chris is well aware of how your family is structured, and knowing that he’s just some youtuber from boston who didn’t go to college makes him really nervous. on the plane ride to your parents house, he couldn’t stop telling you how nervous he was that your family wouldn’t like him, but little did he know you knew they would love him. ever since your mom met him for the first time, she couldn’t stop sharing with everyone about how much she loves him, so of course everyone begged you to bring him to thanksgiving.
“alright we’re here!” your mom exclaims and chris inhales deeply.
“chris i promise you, you’re gonna be okay.”
“i know, i just want to make the best impression i can,” he smiles faintly, taking your hand in his.
“well the only way you can do that is by being yourself,” you smile, squeezing his hand gently.
you two trail up the walkway behind your parents, walking into the house full of laughter and chatter. your moms sister spots you four walking in and gasps, taking everyone in a big hug before stopping at chris.
“you must be the one and only chris! i’ve heard so much about you! i’m susanne,” she smiles, taking chris in a hug as well.
“it’s really nice to meet you!” he smiles, watching as she begins to come over to you.
“oh my! he’s so handsome, you guys will have the cutest kids!” she ‘whispers’ well aware chris can hear her, making you and her both let out a little chuckle. after chris gets past the introductions with everyone, you realize there are a couple of people who he hasn’t met yet. as you walk over to your cousin, you tap her shoulder and ask her, “where’s julie and lily?”
“they’re upstairs, you know where to find them,” she smiles, giving you a head nod. you take chris’ hand and lead him to where your little cousins are, who you always have to babysit when it comes to the holidays.
“hi guys!” you smile, peaking your head around the door frame.
“y/n! hi!” they both exclaim, rushing over to hug you. as they do, that’s when they spot chris. both of their mouths drop, and you can instantly tell they’re shocked.
“who is this?” the youngest one, julie, shyly asks. her cheeks turn a little pink as she does so.
“this is my boyfriend chris! i’ve told you guys about him before,” you smile at chris, gently rubbing over his thumb with yours.
“hi guys, it’s nice to meet you! are these your dolls?” he questions, gesturing to the mess of barbie clothes and dolls on the floor.
“y-yeah they are! do you guys want to play with us?” lily asks.
“aw lils we’d love to but we also want to catch up with all of the adults downstairs. can we maybe play with you after dinner?”
“mhm!” lily smiles quickly going back to her game with julie. you and chris then head back downstairs, and you already notice chris is less nervous than before. after about an hour of just talking with everyone, it’s finally time for dinner. of course you grab a seat next to chris, and make sure that all the young adults are surrounding you guys at the table. your cousins boyfriend, johnny, is sat across from chris, and you already know that they’ll get along great.
“so you’re from boston right? does that make you a celtics fan?” johnny asks.
“i’m not too big on basketball, but i’ve been to plenty of celtics games. where are you from?” chris asks johnny, and you just watch in enjoyment.
“i’m from milwaukee, so of course i’m a bucks fan. but if you’re not into basketball what sports do you like?”
“well i grew up playing hockey, so im a big bruins fan,” chris smiles. the two boys keep talking for the entirety of dinner, and you just can’t let your smile go. watching chris get along with your family makes you so happy.
eventually the night ends, and nearly every old lady had pulled you aside to tell you how cute chris is, and that they love his fun energy. as you and chris get unready from dinner, chris receives a facetime call from matt. he answers it, and you quickly come running into the bathroom to say hi.
chris props his phone against the mirror as matt and nick fill the screen, “hi guys! how was your dinner?” nick asks.
“it was really good! dont you think chris?”
“mhm! y/n’s family is really great,” he smiles down at you, wrapping an arm around you as he does so.
“did you guys have a good dinner too?” he asks, watching as his brothers scavenge through the kitchen for late night snacks.
“yeah, same food as always,” nick chuckles.
“you guys aren’t mad at me for stealing chris this thanksgiving, right?” you ask.
“no not at all! there was actually food leftover for once, since chris wasn’t there to eat it all,” matt laughs, making chris flip him off.
“when do you guys leave for boston?” nick asks.
“our flight leaves at about 7:30 tomorrow, so we probably should be going to bed soon,” you state, seeing that the clock reads 11:25 pm.
“alright well goodnight guys, we’ll pick you up from the airport tomorrow. just text us updates okay?” nick says, and you and chris nod. the phone call ends, and you both climb into bed.
“did you have fun tonight? you and johnny really hit it off,” you smile at him.
“your family is really welcoming, i mean i should’ve known with how welcoming your parents are, but still,” he chuckles.
“i’m really glad you came chris. i’m really thankful for you.”
“i am too.”
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo imagine#christopher sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine#nick sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic
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hot & heavy
epilogue: our love is going gold
neighbor!joel x f!reader
series masterlist
series rating: E (18+ MDNI)
series summary:
over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?
word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)
warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!
also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari
a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!
as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr
i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!
** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **
first of many
After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.
The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar.
Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.
“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”
“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”
You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”
“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch.
He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.
Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”
Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.
“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”
“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”
Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.
Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.
Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”
Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.
“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.
Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.
“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”
Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.
“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.
“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.
“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.
“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”
“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”
And the two of you really couldn’t wait.
Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.
“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”
To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.
Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”
You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”
The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.
Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.
“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.
“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”
Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”
A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”
“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”
Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”
“Damn right, we did, Miller.”
A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.
On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family.
Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.
Mi amor,
Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.
You make me a better man.
Te amo, mi media naranja.
J
You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.
Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.
Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs.
Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.
Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.
His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.
“Hey, Mari.”
“Hi, J.”
Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.
“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.
“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.
Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.
The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.
“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”
Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”
Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.
“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.
“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run. Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”
Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.
“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.
Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”
Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself.
“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”
The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”
“Absolutely I do. No question.”
Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”
“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.”
Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”
Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”
A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”
“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.
“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”
With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening.
The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.
Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”
“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.”
You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.
Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.
The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.
“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”
Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.
Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.
In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”
At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.
Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”
“Damn right, we did, Miller.”
The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.
More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.
You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.
At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces.
Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.
The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”
Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.
After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”
“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”
“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”
“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.
“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”
He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”
second nature
“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.
“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”
A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.
Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.
“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”
“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.
“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.”
A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.
“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?”
An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.
“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”
Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”
“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.
“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”
The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”
“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”
“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.
“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”
“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.
“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”
“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.
“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”
He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.
“God, you’re such a dork.”
The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.
Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.
A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.
Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.
When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”
And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.
What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away.
He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads.
Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”
It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.
“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”
“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.
The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.
Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”
Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.
“Hi, Posey!”
She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”
After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.
Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.
“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”
“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”
Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.
“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.
“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.
“Dad, you literally always ask ‘What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.
“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.
“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”
Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.
“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.
“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”
That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.
“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.
“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.
“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.
“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”
“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.
Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”
“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.
“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.
She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”
“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”
Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”
Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”
“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”
“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.
“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”
third time lucky
Negative.
A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.
To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.
Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.
“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.
A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.
Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?
Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.
Negative.
His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?
Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.
Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.
You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.
It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.
Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?
Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.
Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.
“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”
He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.
Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.
Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?
“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.
Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.
“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.
Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”
His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.”
Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.
Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”
Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”
“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”
“Okay, yeah. One more go.”
Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.
You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.
Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.
“Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.
“In the bedroom, J!”
Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”
A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.
“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.
“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.
“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”
“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.
“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.
“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.
He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.
“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.”
He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.
“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most.
Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.
“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”
Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.
Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.
“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”
His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.
“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat.
Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.
“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”
A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.
“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”
Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”
“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.
Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.
“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”
Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.
“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”
“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.
Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”
“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both.
Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.
The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.
“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”
His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.
Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.
“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”
“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.
“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.
“A daddy!”
“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.
“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.
“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon.
A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.
“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.”
The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.
Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.
“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.
“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”
The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.
“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”
“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”
He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”
Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.
The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.
Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.
“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.
A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”
His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.
“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.
The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”
His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.
“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”
“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.
Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.
Positive.
Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.
“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”
Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.
“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”
“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”
Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”
“I love you too, J.”
“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.
“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.
“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.
“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”
“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.
“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.
“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.
“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.
“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”
“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.
The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.
Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.
And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.
Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.
So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.
The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.
In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”
You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.
“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.
“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.
You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.
“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.
Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”
“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”
“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”
June 21st, 2009.
The first day of summer.
It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.
“You got this, Mari.”
“So strong, baby. You can do it.”
“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”
The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.
Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.
“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord.
She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.
The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.
A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”
You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”
Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”
“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”
A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.
Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”
Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.
“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”
“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”
You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better.
taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes
#joel#writing#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller au#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller angst#joel miller series#tlou fanfic#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction
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A list of all my favourite JOEL MILLER Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.
PART 14
Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤
⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.
I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere - @louswrld11
Road Rage - @fhatbhabie
Moonshine Series - @pimosworld Featuring Frankie Morales
Slut - @tlou-reid
Resting Eyes - @frenchiereading
Best Kept Secret - @joelscurls DBF!Joel
Shooting Stars - @randofantfic
Last Christmas & Would You Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe? - @stylesispunk
In The Next Room - @atticrissfinch Neighbour's Fuck Buddy Joel
Let Me Take Care Of You - @pascalssbabyy Jackson!Joel
Milk & Cookies - @elvinaa Stepdad!Joel
Lady Like You - @lis-likes-fics SexWorker!Reader
You Scare Me, Professor Series - @joelswritingmistress Professor!Joel
Sunlight - @tightjeansjavi Ghost!Joel
Baubles - @covetyou Santa!Joel
Something In The Orange - @cowgurrrl ArtTeacher!Reader
The Dress - @ghostfanwriter
Make Use Of The Gift You're Given - @tinycozycomfort Contractor!Joel
Birthday Surprise - @aurorawritestoescape Featuring Tommy Miller
Neighbourly Love - @kteague
Use Me - @endlessthxxghts AFAB!Reader NoOutbreak!Joel
Safe & Sound - @joelsgreys
Sleeping Bag - @quin-ns
Our Little Sheep - @planet-marz1
Under The Stars - @undercoverpena
Sex On Fire Series - @katiexpunk Firefighter!Joel
Christmas in Jackson - @bluestar22x
Distracted - @psychedelic-ink Woodshop Teacher!Joel
Boston Holiday - @amywritesthings
I'll Be Home For Christmas Series - @punkshort
Ice Skating Woes - @toxic-seduction No Outbreak!Joel
#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x m!reader#joel miller fanfic#jett's fic recs#fic recs
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Verbatim
Hey y’all! I’m posting another story today as well because I wrote the last story at the same time I wrote this one. I saw a particular image of Swayman with his November mustache, and I must say it suits him well (maybe I just like mustaches). The confidence he exuded at the 11/11 Bruins v. Canadiens game was *chefs kiss* and I loved it. Title inspired by the song "Verbatim" by Mother Mother, mostly the intro guitar part. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and take care of yourself!
Pairing: Jeremy Swayman x F!Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: None
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The chilly, familiar, cold Boston air came rolling in, making the apartment seem much more frigid than it had to be. Although it was her favorite time of the year, when alluring holiday lights were hung on street lamp posts, and the scent of baked goods seemed to linger around, the cold air was rather uninviting compared to the other joys of winter.
It reminded her of sweet childhood, full of color and happiness and innocence in a swirl of hot cocoa, dashes of marshmallows and with whipped cream on the top. As she grew into adulthood, that childhood never seemed to go away since she met Jeremy.
She shared an apartment with Jeremy, her friend since university, and it helped cut some costs off of the heart-issue-inducing price of rent in the area, although to compromise, she wanted to help with groceries and chores as much as she could.
“Hey, Jeremy—” She closed the door behind her with her foot, her hands occupied with the task of carrying paper grocery bags. “Let me know if we need any winter supplies.”
He was always a friend, first. He was someone she cared about much more than just someone she lived with and split rent. They both inspired each other to grow better, never putting one or the other down, but always uplifting each other.
Turning around the corner, he stood in the kitchen with his back turned to her, cooking up a simple lunch for the both of them. “I’ll let you know, but I don’t think Boston winter is going to be too rough this year.”
“They say that every year, until one day in the middle of winter, we suddenly get a foot of snow,” she sighed.
He turned around, placing the sandwiches down on the counter, and helped her with some of the groceries. She looked up at him and became startled, “Jeez, Swayman—” Her arms quickly grabbed the groceries that she had almost dropped. “What did you do?”
“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. A dopey smile was plastered on his face. “Forgot to tell you that I was keeping the ‘stache for ‘Movember’ and I’m surprised that you just noticed it now.”
She felt slight embarrassment in not noticing, but it wasn’t every day that she stared at his face constantly, at least, she thought. “Well,” she paused before speaking again. “You know what, yeah.”
Grabbing the bags of produce and vegetables, she put them in a colander and began to rinse them in the sink as he put the other foods into the refrigerator. The thought of him having a mustache was new to her, especially since he was either clean-shaven or had a slight scruff. Taking a peek at him, she observed it, settling down on the idea that it wasn’t too bad.
“Do I have something on my face?” He laughed. Noticing her flustered expression, he gave her a slight smirk. “Ohh.” Closing the fridge behind him, he walked slightly closer to her. “It’s the mustache isn’t it?”
She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him on the surface, but it was evident that there was a live wire spitting sparks into the air between them.
The late weeknights when it was Jeremy’s rest days, spent on the couch with her, watching their favorite TV show with a bowl of Chipotle. Or the times when she made post-game dinners for him, seeing the genuine smile in his eyes when he looked at her.
It made her do a double-take when thinking about him, and she tried so hard to not let it get to her. For Pete’s sake, he was her friend and roommate for years. And it’d be so, wrong, in many more ways she could explain, yet it was beyond easy to fall for him.
Looking her up and down, he noticed the heat that seemed to drift to her face and neck. “Definitely the ‘stache,” he laughed as he took a step back from her, grabbing his sandwich from the counter and walking to the stools on the island counter.
Oh, damn him. He knew the effect he had on her and she noticed it, but it felt like a jumble of mixed signals. Did he like her? Was he just teasing her? It was a whirlwind of mixed feelings and unsteady ground.
She brushed her feelings aside and grabbed one of the two sandwiches that he had made for the both of them and started to eat it, enjoying how pleasant it tasted. “This tastes pretty good,” she hummed.
“Thanks,” he responded, continuing to eat. “Tried out a new recipe.”
They both continued to eat in silence together, across the kitchen island from each other, the distance separating them. Awkward tension hung in the air as her feelings about him were slightly revealed, but not enough so that he knew something was definite. He moved his gaze from his sandwich to her, observing her like a hawk.
“I’ll do dishes, go relax after you finish your food.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Why?” she asked. It confused her as to why he wanted her to relax, especially out of the blue. “What’d you do?”
“You got the groceries and I think that you should just rest.” He smiled.
She hummed in response, content with the idea of relaxing on the couch after running some errands. “Thanks,”
Finishing up their sandwiches, Jeremy grabbed both of their plates and placed them in the dishwasher as she went out to the living room. Laying face-down on the couch, she let out a long exhale, relaxing her muscles and body.
“Long day?”
“Your mustache is unbearable,” she groaned.
He laughed at her, “I think you like it.” Crouching down to be at eye-level with her, he paused before he spoke softly, “Tell me what’s wrong,”
She turned her head to look at him, his face drawn with light concern. “What?”
“I can see it, you have something you want to say. And it’s not about my facial hair,”
Time seemed to slow as they remained in silence looking at each other. He searched her eyes for an answer to her silence. Was it in fear? Discomfort? Annoyance?
She held her pinky up to him, a symbol of keeping a promise. “Promise to continue helping me pay the rent?”
Jeremy let out a small laugh, considering how silly the request seemed, but at the same time, an odd feeling sunk within him when she said that. “Promise.” He wrapped his pinky finger around hers tightly.
Releasing a breath she didn’t know that she was holding, she buried her face into the couch, hiding from his gaze that he kept on her. “I think I like you,” she mumbled. Her face was hot with embarrassment, a mixture of fear and shame bubbling inside of her.
“Well I mean,” he paused briefly, “I hope you do, we split rent and live with each other twenty-four-seven if I’m not on road trips.”
“No—”
“Okay, I know what you mean, I was just messing with you.” He smiled. “Please look at me,”
She picked her head up off of the couch slowly, turning to look at him, he remained smiling, and it looked sweeter than before. He had the softest, precious-happy look in his eyes, the one that she’d see after a game win, but better.
His cheeks were dusted with a gentle pink tint, his face soft. “I like you as well. In the way of me wanting us to be more than friends,”
Smiling at him, she gently cupped his face, her thumb running over his cheek. It was the answer that she had preferred to hear from him, but it seemed better than she had initially thought, and it was relieving. Her own cheeks were a rosy shade, flustered and feeling all sorts of fuzziness.
“Let’s go out and grab dinner later this evening, my treat,”
“I’m sleepy though,” she sighed.
“You need a midday nap?” He asked as he stood up. “Cause if so, I’m grabbing some blankets and joining.” He let out an obnoxiously loud yawn, which she laughed at, as he walked away to grab the blankets from the closet.
This was routine for them from time to time since they were close, but it was slightly different now, knowing that they both felt like they were more than friends. When he came back, he gave her a few blankets and then laid on the couch beside her, head in her lap.
“We’re going on a date tonight, so let’s get some rest.” He let out another yawn, which in turn, caused her to yawn.
“What? A date?”
“The best for the best,”
She smiled softly at him, adoring his genuineness. Her hand drifted to his hair, playing with it gently as he drifted off to sleep, and shortly after, she started to fall asleep as well, peacefully in his presence, together.
#nhl#hockey#nhl hockey#boston bruins#nhl fic#nhl writing#hockey fic#hockey imagine#jeremy swayman#jeremy swayman x reader#jeremy swayman imagine#boston bruins imagine
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Back to the Night We Met
Hello! I'm Arcadia (she/her) and this is my first fic <3 i loved the holdovers so much it actually drove me to writing especially because of the lack of Angus fics rn :) Ill definitely continue it if people are interested, i have a pretty good idea of where to take it, this is just setup.
-You are a female student from a sister school who has to board over at Barton for the holidays, Mary comes to pick you up, and you have a first impression of all the boys- 859 words - slight blood mention.-
Angus reminded me of many men i had known, in various ways, throughout my life. Cold at first, brash, defensive- but equally in need of a love that was not easily accessible.
The first time i had ever met Angus, it was Christmas of 1970. The corresponding sister-school to Barton, Ada’s School for Girls, had just let out all the girls for winter break, except of course myself, who was doomed to two weeks of almost complete solitude. My only recompense being the books in the library, and my carefully hidden ration of cigarettes given to me by a friend as a Christmas gift.
I’d assumed that my stay at Ada would be chaperoned by one of the sisters from the convent, as they lived on campus and were usually the go-to call for holdover students, however when it came time to say goodbye, an unfamiliar face was awaiting me outside the aching, old oak doors.
“Hello young lady, I believe you’re staying with us this time.” Boston accent.
A beautiful woman, with a soft spoken voice, stood up against a powder-blue Impala, cigarette between her fingers. I came to learn that this lady was Mary Lamb. She was a cook from Barton, who’d elected to stay over the holidays due to the untimely and tragic death of her young boy, Curtis, a student. In her words, she felt going home would’ve abandoned his memory during this time that meant so much to both of them. As she drove me to Barton she explained i’d be staying with the other male holdovers due to ‘administrative difficulties’ whatever that meant
Quickly sensing my discomfort with this idea she said “Listen, you let me know if those little shitheads give you a hard time okay? My quarters are just past the dorms, near the garden.” i nodded appreciatively, smiling at her choice of language. It was surprising to hear it from such a demure lady, but Mary’s streak of subtle rebellion ultimately made her one of my favourite people i ever got to know through my school years.
When we arrived to Barton, Mary directed me towards the infirmary, as it was the last room in the entire building that had any heating, as i approached the door there was a clear noise of a scuffle going on inside. I gently pressed the door open, beat-up suitcase in my hand, glasses pushed to my nose. Two of the older boys were hitting each-other wildly, although it really seemed more girlish than i assumed boys fought. The minute they saw me, they got up and hastily tried to straighten out their shirts.
“Who are you!? The fuck-a girl?” A blonde boy, blue eyes, very irritating.
A rally of small, meek, lower-year boys stood around the room, just watching. The other boy who i’d seen flinging punches on the blonde was seething, he had a little blood running down his cheek, and he didn’t really acknowledge me, he seemed too focused on whatever his next chance was to knock the blonde’s lights out.
“Hello…..” i wave shyly, putting my suitcase by a free bed.
”hi, hello,- um-hi” the room grumbles back at me.
The air in the room is thick, and tense. Worried, nervous glances are passed between myself and the rest of the room for what feels like endless minutes before someone breaks the silence. “Do…. do you need help with your bags.” a nervous mutter from the boy who’d previously not acknowledged my arrival. And i actually did. Some of my books i insisted on bringing, assuming i’d have a boring two weeks had been a weight on my luggage. “Yeah… yeah i’d appreciate that. Thank you.” He follows me out, leaving the other boys to debrief among themselves. As we wander down the long, aging halls, and the noise of the infirmary grows quieter, i try to break the tension. “so….I’m (y/n).. i go to Ada,and uh- our nuns, shacked up for the winter apparently so that’s why i’m here. I met Mary, she’s… she’s really sweet” As i speak he nods gently, listening before speaking. “I’m Angus. And that (he points back at the infirmary) was Teddy Koutnze. Resident dickhead. The other kids i don’t know so well, they’re first years but-… they’re not too bad.” It was my turn to listen this time, as we walk i study the features on his face. Strong, angular features and deep, brown eyes, nearly carvaggian. He helps me with my other bags, opting to take the heavier one for me kindly, but as he’s picking it up, i again notice the blood on the side of his face. Without a second thought, i reach out to touch it, as i would’ve for any of the girls back at Ada. “You’re bleeding….”
His hand immediately rushes to his cheek, and i notice as his cheeks flush red, i recognise my mistake and apologize hurriedly “Oh-sorry, i-uh…” i try to brush off the blood on my skirt, and i we struggle to meet eyes “its… its okay” He grumbles, not meeting my eyes, we both walk back awkwardly, i know my face is flushed and i internally curse myself for doing something so careless. We share in the silence and a little smeared blood on our fingertips.
#angus tully x reader#the holdovers#da'vine joy randolph#dominic sessa#the holdovers fic#mary lamb#Angus Tully#paul giamatti#alexander payne#Angus Tully Fic
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hi, i'm Pins! please enjoy this masterlist of TLOU works.
follow @seventeenpins-updates and turn on notifs for new fics/chapters
✨ never pegged you for a quitter ✨
never pegged you for a quitter (pt i) • ✨ knock him down a peg (pt ii) ✨ | Joel x f!reader x Tess | smut | Joel gets pegged. Repeatedly.
a slight miscalculation
Chapter I • Chapter II - Joel x f!reader | 8.3k | ongoing series | Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.
west
Prologue • Chapter I (upcoming) - Joel x nb!reader | ongoing series | Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.
triptych
part i • part ii- tommy x f!reader x joel | 2.5k | after a shitty day, you chat with a man at a bar. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.
stepdad!joel au
bad girl (part i) • practice makes perfect (part ii) • bloom (part iii) • blanch (part iv) - you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months and your stepdad walks in on you watching porn.
forget-me-not
forget-me-not (part i) | qz!joel x f!reader | 3.3k | angst/smut | joel's about to travel west to wyoming in search of his brother, and you're not sure you're ready to say goodbye.
violet (part ii) | older qz!joel x f!reader | 5.8k | set seven years after joel's departure from the boston qz, you've been forced to flee the city. you come across the town of jackson, wyoming.
drive me home
Tess x f!reader | 1.7k | smut | You drive back home with Tess after she brings you to her holiday work party. She makes it hard to concentrate on the drive.
give em a show
Joel x f!reader | 1.5k | smut | Joel watches you as you dance with a stranger in the bar. It goes a little too far, and Joel makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to.
wanna be felled by you, held by you
Joel x nb!reader | 4.7k | smut | Joel has always issues with relinquishing control. Time in the safety and community of Jackson has changed him, though, and he wants to give all his control to you, let you pull him apart.
vampire!joel au - upcoming
*****
most recent fics indicated with ✨
prompts are always welcome, and I will be updating this list periodically~
updated 23 Apr 24
#joel miller smut#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#no use of y/n#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#joel miller x f!reader
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hii could you do a nick x trans!reader where it’s the readers first time meeting his parents and the reader is really nervous that jimmy and mary-lou won’t like him (i don’t think they’re transphobic it’s just a fic idea lol) and nick comforts the reader?
“Never Say Sorry”
-N.S
Synopsis: Its your first time meeting the triplets’ parents; and since you’re trans, you’re worried they won’t accept nor like you.
Pairing: bf!nick X trans!reader (he/him)
warnings: cussing, panic attack, anxiety, transphobia, internalized transphobia, I think thats it!
thank you for the request!! <3
As you took your first few steps off the airplane, the reality of what you were doing finally set in. Nick was your boyfriend of two years, but you had never met his parents.
Its not that you haven’t wanted to, its just every time they tried to meet up, you were busy. Like on holidays, when they came down, you of course had to go spend time with your parents states away.
Now, the triplets had just decided to take you on one of their normal trips to Boston, and you finally get to meet their parents.
The anxiety sets in, and you reach for Nick’s arm. As you took one of the triplets’ arm in your hand, you weren’t even sure which one, you felt your world begin to collapse.
It wasn’t even meeting their parents that was so scary to you. It was the fact that you were trans. Did they know? Would they accept you? Would they kick you out? Would they hate you and get upset at Nick? Anything but Nick, you would hate to see him go down for what you were.
“H-hey, whats the matter?” You hear a voice, the ones’ whose arm you grabbed onto. You could tell by the voice, it was Matt. “Hey, buddy, sit down,” Matt said, guiding you onto the closest empty chair in the airport. “Hold on, let me get Nick.” He nodded, and your grip on his arm loosened.
You faintly saw him walk away, and disappear into a small crowd of people. You realized that Nick must’ve been in the bathroom with Chris. Thinking about Matt finding Nick, worrying him, and bringing him out here to you made you feel like such an inconvenience. You should be able to take care of yourself, you shouldn’t need him.
You tried to stand up, but you couldn’t. Your weak legs wouldn’t allow you to go anywhere even if you could stand. Nick quickly emerged, and rushed over to you.
He got onto his knees, holding your hands in his. Your eyes were filled with tears that had somehow not spilled out yet, and both of your legs were bouncing uncontrollably.
“Hey, baby, whats the matter?” He asked supportingly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. The thought that right when you leave the airport building his parents are going to be there, since they’re the ones driving you guys to their home.
Your eyes quickly scanned the large area crowded with many people, some sitting, some sleeping, and even some running to board their plane. You quickly became overwhelmed, and started to grab Nick’s hands harshly.
The tears began to slowly make their way out of your eyes and down your face, and your boyfriend stood up. He effortlessly lifted you, and carried you off to someplace, after telling Matt and Chris something you couldn’t quite catch.
Nick rushed you into a room and closed the door behind you. You realized you were in a family bathroom, so there would be no other people surrounding you.
“Baby, please talk to me. What’s the matter?” He questioned, wiping the tears from your eyes. You shook your head, but he sighed before speaking again. “Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong.” You decided you had to tell him. There was no way he’d let you leave without telling him.
“Y-Your parents.. T-they’re gonna h-hate me- I-I’m not a boy!” You broke down, letting your head fall on Nick’s shoulder. His eyes widened, and he pulled you away from him gently.
“Y/N. You are a boy. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. The handsomest boy I’ve ever seen. You’re my boy, and thats all that matters. Okay? I promise you, they’ll love you as long as I do. I guarantee that. They won’t care that you’re trans, much like I don’t. We all see you as a boy, Y/N. Me, Chris, Matt, Madi, Nate.. We all do. I know they will too.” Nick smiled softly at you, before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
He got a wet paper towel and wiped your face off, allowing you to be slightly more refreshed.
“Ready?” He asked you, and you nodded.
He quickly picked you up off the counter, and threw you over his shoulder. This action caused you to gasp, but start to giggle.
He walked back to the suitcases, and gently placed you down.
“I love you.” He smiled at you, taking your free hand in his.
“I love you too.” You replied, nodding.
You four made your way to the exit of the airport, and began looking for Marylou and Jimmy- the boys’ parents.
“Hey- Guys! They’re over there!” Chris yells, before bolting off into the distance, Nick, Matt, and you start to laugh, before following behind him closely.
“Mom! Dad!” Chris yells, throwing his bags onto the floor and throwing himself into his parents’ arms. We all laughed at the boy, acting as if he hasn’t seen his parents in years.
Matt and Nick took their turns hugging their parents, before it was your turn.
“Hello! You must be Nick’s boyfriend. You’re so cute! C’mere!” Marylou smiles brightly, and all of your previous anxiety vanishes. She held her arms open for a hug, which you quickly complied to.
“Nick won’t stop talkin’ about you!” Jimmy laughs, before throwing your bags in the trunk and giving you a pat on your back.
“Alright everybody, get in already!” Chris whines impatiently from the inside of the minivan, similar to the one they have back at home. You knew you’d be just fine.
wait i acc really like this one😭
@bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso
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the holiday truce | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc | sneak peek
a gold rush fic
SUMMARY: Bob and Imogen call a truce and spend the holidays together.
WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, smut (not in sneak peek), christmas. strictly 18+/minors dni.
A/N: inspired by a conversation with @joaquinwhorres. bob and imogen celebrate christmas, but i've done my best to limit the references to it. i'm aiming to post sometime in december, but i hope this sneak peek will get you excited for it. let me know what you want to see in this fic. enjoy!
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She stands on the street, looking up at the Boston brownstone. Around her, thick fluffy snowflakes fall to the ground. Not enough to cover the sidewalk in a blanket of white, at least not yet. One falls against her cheek and melts on contact, and she’s sure her hair’s littered with them.
She feels a bit like a pig at the entrance to a slaughterhouse. Certain doom on the other side of that front door in the shape of Dr. Robert Floyd. Known to friends as Bob, apparently. She didn’t know he had friends, and certainly not that they call him anything other than Robert until she overheard Dr. Kazansky talking about him.
Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it into a misty cloud, she squares her shoulders and walks up the steps to the front door. The black paint is peeling off and the knocker could use a good clean, but Imogen knows the professor well enough to know he won’t prioritize it. She’s seen his office, and it’s not a pretty sight.
The door swings open, letting warm yellow light spill into the street. Silhouetted by the glow, Dr. Floyd looks as if he’s wearing a halo, like an angel descended from heaven.
“Miss Van Doren,” he says, and as her eyes adjust to the sudden light, she notices a faint smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.”
He steps aside, hand still on the doorknob, allowing her to walk past him and inside the entrance hall. She catches a whiff of his cologne as he closes the door behind her. Spices and ink. Him.
A coat rack hangs on the wall with three coats evenly spaced out. Underneath it is a small bench and next to it are the professor’s shoes. The classic brown oxfords he wears to work and a pair of sensible winter boots. Both are spotless.
Unlike his office, the house appears perfectly tidy. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the elaborate light fixtures, wood paneling, framed artwork on the opposite wall to the coat rack depicting a nye of pheasants. Not the type of art she expected, but it feels like him somehow.
She can feel his eyes trained on her as he steps up behind her. “Let me take your coat,” he says, voice deep and gravelly. She nods, slipping her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the bench.
His fingertips graze her neck, sending a shiver down her spine when he grasps the collar and slides the wool off her shoulders and down her arms. Stepping around her, he puts the coat on the rack for her.
“Come on,” he says once she’s toed her boots off and placed them haphazardly next to his own. “Dinner’s almost done.”
Imogen frowns, grabbing her purse and following him down the narrow entryway and into the open-plan kitchen. “You cook?”
Throwing a glance over his shoulder, she catches the smile on his handsome features. “I do,” he tells her, rounding the large island and reaching for an empty wine glass. “Red or white?”
She blinks at him, not sure how to feel about him being nice and personable. They may have agreed to bury the hatchet for a few days, but this is beyond unsettling. His light blue shirt has the top buttons undone, giving her a view of his collarbones and a thin silver chain around his neck.
“Red,” she says finally, trying to shake off the weird sensation of being in his home and watching him do normal things like pour a glass of wine.
He hands her the glass, raising his own and clinks them together. “Happy holidays, miss Van Doren.”
“Imogen,” she corrects him and takes a long sip, tasting the tannins on her tongue. “Is there anything I can help with?”
He trains his blue eyes on her. They appear darker than usual, maybe from the wine in his system or the tension cackling between them. His lips turn up at the corner. “Now you want to be helpful?”
Heart pounding in her chest, her cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze. She wants to say something back, a witty remark, a counterpoint, a quip, but she can’t think of anything. Instead, she nods dumbly.
He smirks, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “No,” he says at last, coming up in front of her, leaning down until his lips are a hair’s breadth away from her earlobe. “But you can sit that pretty little ass down and look sexy for me.”
TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @cherrycola27, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @attapullman, @bcarolinablr, @lewmagoo, @floydsmuse, @lyn-js, @briseisgone, @ryebecca, @auroralightsthesky
#bob floyd#bob floyd smut#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x oc#robert bob floyd#robert floyd#robert bob floyd fic#top gun maverick#tgm#tgm fic#lewis pullman#otp: bob x imogen#fic: gold rush#oc: imogen van doren#bob floyd fanfic#bob floyd fanfiction
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Sherlock Fic Recs: Christmas Edition {2023}
❄️ Gather ~ ☃️ ☃️ ☃️ ~ 'round and 🎉 make 🎷merry🍹, all ye fic-loving fandom elves -- 'tis the season to shine a spotlight🕯️on Sherlockian Christmas fics!!! Here are some of my favorites -- I tried to pick ones that I haven't seen mentioned in recent lists that have been in my tumblr stream.
Whether they're new to you, or just a reminder to re-visit faves, enjoy!!! ❄️
[In order of the year they were published.] ...........................................................
1. I'm Not His Date [2014] by objetpetita [ 17,029 words / T ] :: It all starts in a Boston coffee shop, where English professor Sherlock Holmes upends a visiting John Watson in a clever and fun "meet cute" (or "meet irritating-pompous-insufferable") in a whirlwind of Sherlockian proportions, and we're off to the races. There is a snowfight on the Common, Death Driving Miss Daisy: Lacan and Popular Culture, a Harry & Clara Christmas Eve wedding, witches, and a very boozy department party. It's as adorable as my favorite Christmas rom-com film, The Holiday. And it starts off with a corker of a first sentence: "It was morning, it was zero bloody degrees, everything around him was unfamiliar and American and cold, and John Watson was right on that inhuman precipice between still drunk and terribly hung over."
2. 5,687 (Approximately) [2015] by prettysailorsoldier [ 6,771 words / T ] :: Just a few years post-uni, Sherlock is enduring the agonies of a long-distance relationship with his boyfriend, who is on deployment in Afghanistan. During those times when John's on leave, the last people Sherlock wants to see are the idiots at the Met, so they've never caught sight of John and think he is a figment of Sherlock's imagination -- especially since he can't get home that Christmas. The set-up is sketched out with delightful fic flair, and the ending is not only sweet, but satisfyingly punitive [ c/o a very bamf John ]. The text messaging is some of my favorite writing in the Sherlock fandom -- their relationship in all of its multi-dimensionality comes through beautifully.
3. The 12 Truths of Christmas [2016] by @breath4soul [ 3,321 words / T ] :: This is a fic that has at its core the surfacing of unspoken emotional attraction betweenJohn and Sherlock via a very fun concept: “In place of some appalling or imbecilic gift inflicted upon me in the name of tradition on Christmas day, I propose that you provide me with one previously unknown fact about you for each day leading up to Christmas. 12 in total, John.” #9 has all the feels, and is a tour de force -- every time I re-read it it makes me break out in a smile, even though I know what's coming. Sherlock breaks out somewhat more: "Sherlock feels a flood of heat in several places at once. He stands up quickly and walks to his violin. He plays wild, erratic snaps of quick-paced music." The author has a whimsical and entirely understandable note to add: "You may fall in love with John reading this - I did."
4. The Romance Was There [2017] by @apliddell [ 4,011 words / G ] :: The author deserves an award for this being one of the best uses of Harry Watson in a fic, and of HW by Sherlock in a fic :-) 221B has never been cozier, Sherlock has never been more winsome, and John is a species type model of John in all of his clueless Johnness. The narrative dances along and sparkles and shines as seduction evolves, and Sherlock's rogueish charm is on full display. There's a poignant and endearing confessional letter, plus there's a Sherlock/Jeremy Brett reference that is absolute perfection in serving its role in helping the narrative quickstep the night away.
5. The Man in Aisle Ten [2020] by @blogstandbygo [ 1395 words / G ] :: Sherlock has several mysteries to unravel in the midst of Harrod's on Christmas Eve: what is the perfect gift for John? why is he having so much trouble identifying the perfect gift for John? and, incidentally, along the way to solving those, a local one. Luckily, Sherlock has Moira, master department store sleuth, to lead him to the solution. This fic is a small, perfect gift -- rather like the story's denouement --and is as witty as all of SBG's fics are. This is a veritable Peppermint Schnapps Hot Chocolate of a fic, warm, rich, sweet, delicious, tingly, and you'll find you reach the last bit much too fast, immediately requiring a refill. [ And there's a splendid podfic by @podfixx ! ]
..........................
*fic repost recruits, perhaps??? ❤️ @totallysilvergirl, @7-percent, @discordantwords, @helloliriels, @elwinglyre, @mydogwatson
#bbc sherlock#sherlock fic rec#johnlock#sherlock fic#reposting :-) helps the love go 'round xoxoxo#christmas#objetpetita#prettysailorsoldier#breath4soul#apliddell#standbygo
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Caught
Summary: Santiago inviting you and Frankie for his house warming party over the weekend leaves you to spend some nights at his new place. Getting up in the middle of the night to get some water, leaves you finding Santi and his girlfriend in the kitchen. Unable to look away Frankie finds you and decided to have some fun with you too.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader / Santiago Garcia x OFC
Rating: E
Wordcount: 3.5k
Warnings: established relationship, accidental voyeurism, dub con (just cause people are being watched without their consent but the watched people do not mind in the end) smut (oral; fem receiving, unprotected PiV), fluff, dirty talk (the word slut is used twice)
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You usually weren’t a big fan of being stuck in a car for two hours. But Santiago Garcia did not buy a house to settle down with his girlfriend (soon to be fiance) of two years and invite for a housewarming party every day.
And you were always a fan of spending time with Frankie.
You looked at him from the passenger's seat, one of his hands on the steering wheel, the other one on your thigh. He had the aviators on that you gifted him for his last birthday after he broke the pair he had before. The gray shirt he was wearing was tight around his upper arms and you could see a tiny bit of the tattoo he got earlier this year.
God he was gorgeous.
“See something you like?” he hummed, a smirk sneaking to his lips as he caught you staring, his hand squeezing your thigh.
“See something I love,” you clarified and he smiled, his dimple showing and you swore you could see his cheeks blushing.
You and Frankie have known each other since you were four years old. Growing up as neighbors until he left to join the army made you spend endless summers together.
But you hadn’t started dating until a little over six years ago.
With him joining the army and you eventually going abroad to study you very much lost contact. After you got your degree you moved to Boston for work and only came back to the tiny town you grew up in for family celebrations or holidays.
But then your mother died and you decided it was time to go back home to help your father.
It was on your 26th birthday that Frankie showed up on the doorstep of your childhood home with a box of donuts and a bottle of whiskey, looking like he had been through hell and back. You would only learn much later that he had been.
Your friendship really just picked up where you left off, just with you both legally allowed to drink booze and adult problems.
And feelings that hadn’t been there before.
You remembered that you talked on your birthday until the early morning hours, Frankie telling you little about the army, about the divorce he was going through, about his little girl he wanted to be the best father too, about his drug addiction. Much like you told him about the man you had broken up with before you moved back home because he insisted you stay where you belonged. With him in the city. He didn’t care about your family or your feelings for that matter.
Not that you thought you would marry the guy, but it still hurt to be so wrong in someone you loved.
He told you everything about his little daughter Carina. She was his whole world.
She was also the reason he and his ex-wife had tried to make their marriage work but decided in the end that they were better off as friends.
Carina and you became fast friends, even though you still think it was because of the huge amount of cookies you had baked with her and Frankie the first time he had invited you over to meet her.
You started to spend more time together after that.
You went on drives, you cooked together, you even went on a weekend trip into the woods where you met all his army brothers. It was the most fun trip you ever had been on.
But something changed throughout the months after that. Touches lingered longer. Hugs seemed… tighter and more intimate. And then came his 34th birthday.
His divorce was final, his three year old daughter was staying for the whole weekend and he had decided that it was time to teach her how to swim.
The three of you spend the whole day at the local swimming pool. You brought muffins and sang happy birthday for him with his daughter before he blew out the one candle you had put on one of the muffins.
When you asked him if he made a wish he only nodded at you with a small smile.
It was the perfect day.
Carina fell asleep before Frankie’s truck was even off the car park, making both of you chuckle. You stopped to pick up pizza on your way home, you insisted you pay because after all it was his birthday. When you came out of the pizza place, Frankie was leaning against his car, waiting for you.
You put the pizza on your seat, waiting for him to go back to the car but he didn’t so you leaned next to him against the car, bumping your shoulder towards his.
He took a deep breath before he came to stand in front of you and you still could feel the butterflies in your belly when he looked into your eyes, his fingers brushing over your cheek. They never really went away since that day.
“What did you wish for Frankie?” you had asked and he had smiled softly.
“A birthday kiss,” he whispered. You licked your lips.
“Then come and get it,” you whispered back.
You would never forget this first kiss with him in the parking spot in front of a pizza place in your home town.
That was six years ago and you have only grown closer ever since.
By now not only your family but all friends were asking when you would get married and have children on your own.
Both you and Frankie told them to fuck off on a regular basis but they did not seem to get the hint.
If they knew you had been married for the last three years they would lose their minds. You got married on a beach while you were both on vacation in mexico. The only witness the older man who married you early in the morning at sunrise.
But Frankie and you had a bet going how long it would take for anyone to notice.
When he had asked you to marry him you had gotten him a ring too, so seeing the both of you with rings was not something out of the ordinary.
“Can you believe that he’s going to propose?” you asked Frankie when you entered the town Santi had moved into. He had started his own Security firm here and met Tina, his girlfriend, who owned the flower shop across the street from his office.
You had heard the story a million times, but the thought of Santiago Garcia buying all kinds of flowers on an almost daily basis for a month until he had finally asked her out still made you laugh.
“I couldn’t believe Benny getting married too, so anything is really possible,” Frankie joked and you laughed.
You would be staying at Santi’s place for four nights. The house warming party was in two days and Frankie had agreed to help Santi with the finishing touches of the back porch which left you and Tina mostly laying in the garden, watching your men sweat and work shirtless while offering occasional Lemonade.
You were very thankful the guest bedroom was in the basement when Frankie railed you in the shower after, his hand over your mouth to suppress your moans.
Sex with Frankie was ….
You still couldn’t believe he was the first man who ever made you cum on his cock. He was only satisfied when he made you cum at least twice.
The day before the housewarming party you spend with Tina in the kitchen. Helping her prepare some salads and dips and things for the party on the next day while Frankie and Santi finished the work on the porch and started putting tables and chairs together.
“I’m gonna make dessert when we come back from dinner,” Tina said. You wanted to argue but she waved you off.
“Santi is gonna help me. He has a hand for all things sweet,” she winked and you grinned.
You were very tired after dinner. And maybe a little tipsy.
Frankie and you invited them both to a Chinese restaurant where you ate way too much sushi.
Seeing Santi so in love with Tina was not something you ever thought you’d see. He had been living with Frankie for a while when you got back in contact with Frankie and he had a new girl every week. It went on until he decided to go back to Columbia for work.
You were happy to see him so content and happy with the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with.
Once back at their home you didn’t fight to help with desert anymore, letting Frankie tuck you into bed where you fell asleep almost immediately, not even waking once Frankie got into bed with you after he had taken a shower.
You woke up hours later in his arms. One of his hand holding one of your breasts like every night. He argued he did it unintentionally but you knew how much he loved your tits.
Checking your phone you saw that it was just after 2 am. Sighing you carefully untangled from Frankie, feeling thirsty. Sadly you hadn’t gotten a new bottle of water before going to bed. You put one of Frankie’s shirts on (apparently Frankie had undressed you to your panties after you pretty much passed out) and opened the door to make your way to the kitchen.
You were climbing up the stairs when you thought you heard a moan. Stopping where you were standing you listened for more noise, taking the rest of the stairs. When you could look through the room, your head just on the ground level you heard another moan and you turned your head towards the noise, eyes widening when you saw what was going on.
Santiago’s house had an open floor plan on the ground floor. When you entered the house you were facing the stairs that lead to the first floor and the basement. The spacious living room lay on the left side, the kitchen on the right side.
The kitchen was huge, having two islands, one you were facing now where Tina was laying on top, her side facing you. Santi on his knees in front of her.
You knew you should turn around and look away but you seemed rooted to the spot.
His arms were wrapped around her thighs, keeping them apart as he went down on her. One of her hands was in his hair, her back arched, her eyes closed, her other hand made into a fist which she pressed against her mouth to keep herself, quite unsuccessfully, quiet.
“Fuck baby keep doing that,” she whispered and you heard Santi hum against her.
You felt yourself getting turned on, your panties dampening with your arousal.
“Fingers… need… fuck give me two fingers,” Tina moaned lowly and you saw Santi bring one of his hands between her legs before she whimpered as two of his finger pushed inside of her.
You closed your eyes, deciding that this is not something you should be watching, before taking a deep breath and turning around to go back down to wake up Frankie so he could fuck you, when you collided with someone. Just so stopping yourself from yelping you looked up, already knowing it was Frankie. You parted your lips to tell him to turn around when he put one of his fingers in front of his lips, his head turning towards the kitchen.
He was completely naked, his cock already half hard.
You gulped, following his line of sight.
He turned his head back towards you and you caught Frankie’s eyes, before he leaned down, his lips against your ear.
“I saw you watching them,” he whispered and you shivered. His hands came to rest on your hips, taking a step down so you couldn’t see into the kitchen anymore he towered over you.
His eyes were now on your friends in the kitchen and you sucked your bottom lip in as you heard Tina moan.
“I think he’s gonna make her cum baby….” Frankie whispered, his eyes now finding yours again. He took a step closer, two fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties to push them all the way down, you stepping out of them, before his hand cupped your pussy.
“Fuck you’re so wet,” his fingers parted your folds, slipping through your wet slit.
You let your head fall back against the wall.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you heard Tina moan and you released a shuddering breath.
“Frankie…” you whispered. He shook his head slowly.
“Shh listen….” he hummed, nodding upstairs and you did. Hearing Santi’s girlfriend fall apart as she tried to keep quiet, her moans echoing through the room.
“Fuck baby you’re so sexy. My little cock slut,” you heard Santi say and Frankie’s eyes found yours.
“Gonna fuck this pussy so good we gonna wake up the whole neighbor hood,” he continued and you felt one of Frankie’s fingers enter you.
You heard a slap and you were dying to see what was happening in the kitchen.
“That turn’ you on? Making Frankie and his girl wake up to find me fucking you in the kitchen?” Santi asked.
“Fuck baby….” she moaned and your lips parted when Frankie pushed another finger inside of you, pumping them slowly, his other hand pushing your shirt up. You helped him, pulling it over your head, throwing it down. He cupped your breast, playing with your nipple.
“You want them to hear what a slut you are for my cock?” you heard Santi ask and Frankie bend down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hands flew up into his hair.
His lips wandered up your neck, his lips against your ear as he moved his fingers inside of you.
“When I woke up you were gone and I got up to find you and maybe fuck you in the kitchen,” Frankie said and you whimpered, very quietly.
“But then I found you watching my best friend fuck his girlfriend…” he sucked on your earlobe and you let one of your arms fall down, your hand wrapping around his cock. You let your thumb brush over the wet tip of his cock.
“Who would have known my little wife is getting turned on from watching our friends fuck?” he looked at you then, his lips finding yours, swallowing your moan as he added another finger, stretching you out for his cock.
“Fuck me already baby,” you head from upstairs and you pushed Frankie away. He looked at you confused until you knelt down on the stairs, getting on all fours for him. Looking over your shoulder you caught a glance of Santi pumping his cock with his hand and lining himself up to sink into his girlfriend with a satisfied groan. You caught Frankie’s eyes, smirking when you found his hand pumping his cock too.
“Fuck me,” you mouthed and he shook his head in mock disbelief, his chest rising in a silent chuckle.
You heard a long moan from the kitchen and cursing from Santi.
Frankie’s hands were on your ass, parting your cheeks. He spit on his cock, taking a step closer and you felt him notch the head of his cock against your slit.
You could hear Santi and Tina fucking, moaning from both filling the room, skin slapping on skin.
They were doing a shit job at keeping quiet but then again it was their house.
“Can you keep quiet?” Frankie whispered, pushing the tip of his cock inside.
“Can you?” you challenged, looking at him over your shoulder, biting your lip when he thrust his cock into you fully.
“Fuck baby you’re so wet,” Santi moaned and you let your head fall down between your shoulders, squeezing Frankie’s cock.
“If I knew getting caught turned you on so much, I would have fucked you in your shop,” a moan was heard from Tina and finally Frankie began to move.
“Oh shit,” you whispered, feeling his hand groping your hips as he pumped into you with deep thrusts.
He fucked into you, his thick cock stretching you and it felt so fucking good it took all your brainpower to keep yourself quiet. Frankie groaned quietly, giving you a hard thrust that made you moan.
The sounds of Santi fucking his girl were almost porn worthy. And they continued doing a terrible job of keeping quiet and it made you wonder if they might want to get caught.
Frankie fucked you harder and you moaned again, definitely too loud to not be caught. He stopped, his cock deep inside of you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders as you waited if you had gotten caught.
You didn’t.
You looked at Frankie and he winked at you, before both of his hands wrapped over your mouth. He gave you a quick thrust and your eyes rolled back.
He used his grip as leverage, beginning to pump into you with short hard thrusts. You heard him groan quietly.
“Oh fuck, right there. Baby…. fuck you gonna make me cum,” Tina whimpered and you clenched around Frankie, making him choke on a moan.
You risked a glance towards the kitchen, now being able to see what was going on and fuck these two looked so fucking hot. Frankie kept fucking into you while you saw Santi pump his thick cock into his girlfriend who was still laying on the kitchen island. His hands were on her breasts, groping them and you sighed into Frankie’s hands, closing your eyes.
Frankie took a step up, his feet now next to yours on the stairs. He let go of his grip over your mouth and pushed your upper body down as his cock dove into you. The new angle made him hit your G Spot perfectly and you pressed your lips together, trying to keep quiet.
“Shit I’m gonna cum,” Santi groaned.
“Rub my clit,” Tina moaned and you heard her cry out a long fuck as she came. Santi following her only seconds later.
Frankie pumped harder into you and it was only seconds later that you fell apart, moaning as quiet as possible as he fucked you through your orgasm.
“Shit baby,” Frankie groaned in a whisper. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you clenched around him, squeezing his cock and he groaned, loud, as he spilled inside of you.
You leaned your head down, your arms laying on the stairs, breathing deeply as you still felt Frankie spill inside of you. He leaned down, his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder.
You turned your head, smiling softly and he kissed you.
“There better not be any cum on the stairs, Fish,” you both heard Santi say and you jumped. Frankie’s arm came up to cover your tits as he pulled you up, both of you finding Santi and Tina looking at you with him still inside of her.
There was an amused grin on his lips and Tina seemed amused.
“No worries. Definitely no cum on your stairs,” you finally said and you all burst out in quiet laughter. Frankie kissed your cheek. You both took some stairs down and he pulled out of you. You felt his cum drip down your thighs and you reached for your panties to clean yourself while Frankie helped you back into your shirt.
Turning around you wrapped your arms around Frankie’s neck and kissed him softly. You heard footsteps behind you and turned your head, finding Santi standing on top of the stairs, wearing his sweatpants.
You sucked your bottom lip in, feeling guilty.
“I’m sorry. I woke up and wanted to get some water and when I walked up I heard you and I just…” Santi waved his hands. You saw Tina come up behind him, hugging him from behind.
“Next time just ask if you could join if you end up fucking,” Santi winked and you made big eyes, looking at Frankie who was still looking at him. You turned your head again, finding them both looking down at you.
Frankie’s hand ran down your back, groping your ass.
“Maybe we will,” he said and you looked at him, finding his eyes. It was like a silent conversation happened in the span of seconds before you turned your head to look at Santi and his girl again.
“Yeah. Maybe we will.”
#my fic#Frankie Morales x fem. reader#Frankie morales#Pedro pascal#Oscar isaac#Santiago Garcia x ofc#santiago garcia#fanficiton#fanfic#fan fiction
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