Acquired Stardust
i don't do bad sauce passes
No title available
noise dept.
No title available
Keni
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Mike Driver
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Not today Justin
roma★
DEAR READER
Jules of Nature
todays bird
No title available
Show & Tell
No title available
cherry valley forever
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Indonesia
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
@lillaydee
1. Lil's Master List
2. Current Uploads
The New Girl - Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader - Ongoing
3. Recent Additions
I Owe You - Jackson Joel Miller / Reclusive F Reader - Completed
Seeing Double - Franciso 'Catfish' Morales / F Reader (Part of the Frankie and Emma Morales Series)
Portus Salutis - Asshole Celebrity Joel Miller (Dieter Bravo) / F Reader
the biggest lie.
Just friends.
That's what I tell people when they ask why Frankie Morales knows my drink order better than I do. Or why the quiet man with the soulful eyes finally loosens up in my presence.
Just friends.
That's what I tell myself when he calls me on his drive home because he saw a sunset and thought I'd like it. When he leaves little voice messages that say absolutely nothing important but still do.
When he texts me that he made it home. As if I was waiting to know. As if he knows I was.
Just friends.
When he remembers things nobody else does. The anniversary that makes me quiet. The song I always skip. The way thunderstorms make me nervous. The fact that I need the TV on to sleep when my head gets too loud. That I am the only person who knows about the ghosts he carries like luggage.
Just friends.
When I find myself looking for his truck before I even get out of my car at any gathering. When a room feels wrong until he's in it. When something good happens and his name appears in my mind before anyone else's. When no one apart from me knows the shape of his loneliness.
Just friends.
When he says my name in that soft, careful way he does that makes my stomach flip. Like he's holding something fragile. Something far more than words. And when I say his, his eyes crinkle in a laugh bright enough to feel like sunlight.
Just friends.
Until one night we're sharing a bed because life has a funny sense of humor and we're adults who can handle it, right ?
Just friends.
With a pillow between us that feels like a whole ocean. I fall asleep facing the wall and he falls asleep facing the other direction. Until somewhere in the middle of the night, while the world is quiet enough to tell the truth, our bodies betray us.
Just two tired people reaching for comfort.
And when we both wake with only the sun as our witness, neither of us moves. His arm is still around my waist. My hand is still curled against his chest. Neither of us says a word.
Because suddenly just friends feels like the biggest lie we've ever told. And yet neither of us is brave enough to call it anything else.
This is a little different than what I usually write, but my bestie @rhapsodyofdarkness gently nudged(read: bullied) me into publishing this, so there you go.
thanks for reading 💌
main masterlist • ko-fi
tags: (if you don't wanna be tagged anymore, let me know!): @misstokyo7love @sheepdogchick3 @god-is-an-astronaut @sawymredfox @chasingthepoguelife @librosylove @keylimebeag @diabaroxa @beefrobeefcal @greenwitchfromthewoods @katw474 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @whirlwindrider29 @yellowbrickyeti @capuccinodoll @missadangel @cozymochaa @sidelit @simpingforjoel @kirsteng42 @carmillahepburn @peterhollandkait @picketniffler @hotforpedro @thepilatesprincess @perfectpoetrybluebird @theanothersherlockian @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @rav3n-pascal22 @perpetualharpyresonance @perodjarin @daltoncharm @baronessvonglitter @beezusvreeland @lillaydee @underneath-the-sky-again @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @angiewatson @vampiredoggies-blog @vickie5446 @titabel @ashleyfilm @finco99 @mariamorales1998 @severedbloodlines
Awww Frankie... 🥹🥹🥹
The New Girl Part 2
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
MASTER LIST
Part 1
Disclaimer - I don't beta my work, and English is not my first language, so sorry if there are errors.
Joel didn’t think anyone was there after him. He had thought the car next to his truck was a teachers. He felt so embarrassed that she saw him cry, though she was crying herself, it seemed. He had smiled at her, a sad, understanding smile that only a parent in his predicament could give another.
And she gave one equally sad, understanding smile right back at him.
If he had to guess, it was her child’s first day of school too.
See? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, lots of parents felt sad on their children’s first day of school. So he wasn’t exactly alone, nor was he dramatic.
He watched as the lady got in her car, took a deep breath, wiped her face and drove off.
He started his truck up to leave too, a smile suddenly appearing on his lips. The small, sad, reciprocating smile the lady gave him didn’t leave his mind. Still kind and understanding despite her own sadness. He really should find her later, thank her for seemingly understanding his situation.
Maybe beg her to not blab to the other moms about him crying like a little girl in his truck.
Finding out what her name was wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Wait, who said that?
“Hey Daze,” Joel greeted, swiping the newly fallen leaves off his wife’s headstone. He was there just the day before with Sarah, and already the leaves were starting to cover her grave. Fall was definitely coming. His eyes fell to the base of the headstone, noticing the handful of daisies in the vase. He looked around, looking for anyone that might have been there before him, but saw no one.
He was there less than 24 hours ago. It’s not even 10am yet. There was no flowers in the vase when he left yesterday. He had never left her flowers. She hated it when he bought her flowers. He wasn’t exactly flush with money when they started dating, and she chastised him for buying her flowers for their first date, telling him it was a waste of money. Tommy wasn’t in town, Tess just told him that she wasn’t visiting until today, so it couldn’t have been them. They never left her flowers, even if they visited.
So, who left the flowers?
Ignore it, you’re here to tell your late wife about your daughter’s first day of school, he told himself.
He rearranged the flowers, swiping more leaves off her gravestone, running his pointer finger through the petals, admiring them before he could help himself.
“You have an admirer, it seems,” he joked. “Should I be jealous?” he laughed. ‘Anyway…” he sighed.
Images of the crying lady he just saw at the school flashed in his mind.
What the fuck was that? You were at your wife’s headstone, Joel Miller.
He was just emotional, is all. He related to her. She seemed sad to leave her child too, just like he was. It’s nothing to feel guilty over. It was innocent.
“I just dropped our daughter at school. You should have seen how brave she was, Daze. She didn’t cry at all. In fact, she was the one who coaxed me,” he laughed. “You’d be so proud of her honey, shot out the door this morning before I finish cutting her sandwich crust off! She definitely didn’t get that from me, I hated school. So, this is all you, honey, she’s gonna grow up smart like you, thank God.”
He fell silent for a while.
“I can’t even… you have no idea how much I wish you were here today. I’m scared honey. She’s growing up so fast. I don’t know if I can do this…” he said, his fingers picking up stray leaves and the off grass off the ground.
He was quiet for a beat, as if listening to someone. He huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t you start about that now. Tommy already gave me enough grief about that. You know he tried to introduce me to yet another one of his rejects? Sandy something. Or was it Samantha? I don’t know… I just… I can’t… I don’t have the mental capacity for it anymore, honey. You know me. I don’t do these things. You had to do it for me back then, remember? You decided to ask me out, you proposed to me, I just did what you wanted honey, I don’t… I don’t know how to… I just keep thinking – what if they’re mean to Sarah? She’s all I have in my mind right now. I don’t know. I’m not thinking about it.”
It was true. He was too busy – his parents passed when Tommy was 16. He took over, didn’t go to college, not that he was ever clever enough to go, got a job, and focused on getting his brother through life. He wasn’t thinking about himself. Even when he saw Daisy for the first time at the diner where she worked, despite feeling as if he was electrocuted, he didn’t do anything. Flustered so badly he kept dripping coffee all over his front whenever she talked to him. She finally put a stop to his clumsy attempts to show her how much he liked her by pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting directly across from him and promptly declared they were on their first date. And he hadn’t looked at another since.
Five years. Sarah had gone to school, and he still hadn’t been on a proper date. He had a one night stand with someone he met at a bar maybe three years ago, but he lay there in bed after, feeling so empty and guilty he just wanted to leave. And of course, he felt worse when he did. He didn’t even leave her his number. Just disappeared and never went back to that bar.
He didn’t have any connection with her at all. It was just sex, nothing like what he had with Daisy. People kept telling him that he should open his heart for another, Sarah was too young, she needed a mother figure. But even when thinking about his little girl, he couldn’t do it.
He was simply not ready.
Eddie, his late brother in law had asked him over for dinner many times, him and Tess attempting to fix him up with this lady and that, the poor lady always ended up feeling hurt and annoyed by the time dinner was over. “This was what Daze would have wanted for you, for Sarah,” Eddie had said, but he simply hugged his brother in law good night and left.
Tommy, on the other hand, was just interested in getting him laid. Simply because he was too grumpy to be around anymore. “Maybe if you take the edge off, you’d be in a better mood,” he had jested. “At least do it manually. When was the last time you did that?”
Joel wanted to punch his brother. Sarah sleeps next door to him. He wasn’t going to do that with Sarah next door. And he never locks his door at night, in case Sarah had a nightmare. He never locked the bathroom door either when he showered, in case Sarah needed him. What if she walked in? No… it was not worth the risk. And he was never, ever going to let Sarah have a sleepover at Tess’s or Tommy’s dingy bachelor’s pad.
So, no. No more women for him. Not until Sarah leaves for college. That, or until she meets a man and gets married, which, if things go according to his plan, won’t be until she’s 50.
“Anyway… I just wanted to come by and let you know how today went. Tried talking to you in my backyard like Tess suggested, but it’s just weird. Talking to you here feels more… purposeful, you know? At least I know you are here. I’ll come back tomorrow and tell you about the after school news.”
He stood up, picking up his jacket from the ground. “Love you honey. See you tomorrow,” he pressed his fingers to his lips, pressing them to her name on the headstone, his eyes on the daisies. “And tell you secret admirer you have a husband, okay? No hanky-panky!” he joked, before turning around and leaving.
He doesn’t cry for her anymore. He was all cried out the day he put her in the ground, that, and all the nights since that he cried himself to sleep in the year that followed, especially when he got overwhelmed. He found it frustrating, but he simply couldn’t. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it. And knowing her, she wouldn’t want him to waste his tears on her. He had Sarah to worry about now.
After a lot of Googling and arguing with Dina (who did the Googling for him), it turned out all he needed to cut the crusts of a sandwich without squishing the bread was a knife. Not just any knife, a serrated knife, it seemed. He didn’t even know there was such a thing as a bread knife.
Sigh… yet one more thing he was lacking in the parental department.
So there he was, staring at knives at the local chain superstore, wondering how his life had come to this – standing in the kitchen aisle of a store, looking at knives to cut off the crusts off his daughter’s sandwiches.
Why were there so many different bread knives? He didn’t even know these existed, and now suddenly there were so many to choose from? There were simple ones, fancy ones, cheap ones, expensive ones.
Holy shit.
He didn’t know some knives could cost that much. Do the more expensive ones mean better sandwiches? Do the sandwiches make themselves? Would he still have to buy the ingredients or would the knives procure them out of thin air?
He must have been so obviously stumped. Someone with a cart full of boxes approached him and asked if he needed any help.
Hey, it’s you. That lady from the parking lot. The one who was crying, just like he was.
“You okay, sir? You need any help?”
Joel found himself staring at you instead of the knives. Now that you were right in front of him, without the smeared glass that was his window and the tears in his eyes blurring his sight, your features struck him like lightning. Your skin, your eyes, your hair, your lips.
He found his tongue swollen, constricting his vocal cords. His face got all hot, he was pretty sure he had started sweating, all for no reason whatsoever.
The heck?
“Sir?”
“Are you okay?” he dumbly asked.
You were startled by his question. “I’m sorry?”
Joel suddenly realized how dumb his question was. “Sorry, I saw you this morning, in the parking lot, at school. Are you okay?”
Oh.
“You were the man in the truck next to me,” you scratched your forehead, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I was too busy being a big baby,” you awkwardly joked.
He gave a small laugh. “I feel you. Was being one myself.” He was suddenly reminded that he himself was sobbing his heart out in his truck when he saw you. There might have even been a chance that he was crying a lot harder than you were.
Crap, you saw him sob his heart out.
The one time he found a woman attractive in five years, and she had seen him cry.
You must think him a wuss.
Wait, who said that?
He didn’t find you attractive. Pfft. He must be out of his mind still from leaving Sarah at school this morning.
You smiled at him, and his heart almost stopped beating. Damn it, you were gorgeous. Maybe not in the drop-dead, supermodel way, but there was something about you. In your uniform, your hair just above your shoulder, very little make up, but still... striking.
“First day of school?”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his head.
What do you do with your hands when you talk to someone? What did he normally do? Why were his hands hanging by his side like some limp noodles? Could he still feel them?
He finally found the wherewithal to put his hands in his pockets, his shoulders rising to his ears from his own awkwardness.
You nodded, “So, can I help you with something? You’re looking for knives?”
“Uh, yes. A bread knife,” he said, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing them on his chest. Wait, you might find him rude or think he was bored. He uncrossed them and placed them on his hips. Same thing.
Fuck, what do you do with your hands?
“Well, do you have a specific one in mind?”
Oh thank God, he didn’t think he could survive another awkward moment. This was good. Talking is good. Questions are good. He wouldn’t focus on his hands so much.
“Just, anything that could cut the crusts off a sandwich and not end up squishing the bread,” he said, his hands still hanging limply by his sides.
“Oh, any of these will do,” you said. “Do you have a budget?”
“Uh, not really, does it matter?”
“Not really. They should cut bread the same way,” you answered, taking the cheapest one off the shelf. “In fact, the more expensive the knives, the more care they need.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling, his hand taking the knife from you, suddenly functioning normally again. He studied the knife, “So, just cut the bread the way you would with the usual knife?”
“No, you saw the bread. It’s why they’re serrated. Like you would when you’re sawing wood.”
“Well, I know a little something about that,” he huffed a small laugh, immediately cringing when he saw the confused look on your face. “I’m… I’m a contractor. And a carpenter. Part time, but you know, I saw things a lot.”
You gave him a slow nod, looking a bit awkward now.
“I mean wood, I saw wood. Not… people, or anything weird.”
Stop talking.
“Like, actual wood, from a tree?”
Oh my God, stop talking! Just take the damned knife and go pay!
You gave him another nod, an awkward smile on your lips.
Damn, even in the awkward situation you found yourself to be in, your smile made his heart skip a beat. What the heck was going on?
“So you’re okay? You’ve decided?”
“To keep my daughter in school?” he laughed, “I kinda have to, I am not the brightest. I have to let her go to school if she’s ever going to have a chance,” he said.
You looked stumped.
“I mean, with the knife, you’re gonna get that one?”
Oh.
“Uh… yeah, thank you for your help.”
Your smile returned, and you just like that, you turned your cart around and went on your way.
Joel found a pillar in the middle of the store and banged his head on it.
What the fuck was that? What happened?
God, he was being creepy, wasn’t he? Who talks about sawing stuff off to someone they had never met? And why on earth was he correcting himself talking about sawing wood instead of people as if you had such morbid thoughts in the first place?
He wandered around the store for a while, picking up some berries and mini pretzels for Sarah’s lunch the next day, just for the sake of variety. He got stopped by the lady who was promoting some sort of luncheon meat at him, the woman smiling a bit too much, her eyelashes batting unnecessarily at him.
He never got why women did that with him. He didn’t even brush his hair that morning, and all the confused and impatient hair clutching he did while listening to Dina tell him about the different types of knives couldn’t have helped with the situation.
Daisy used to tease him about that. He would have conversations with women all the time, never once thinking they had ulterior motives. Despite his own crush on his late wife, he didn’t realize she was flirting with him up until she instigated that first date, apparently much to the chagrin of the other waitresses.
After a few more rounds of such smiles and eyelash battings from the ladies in the produce section and the check out, Joel walked out of the store with a realisation.
You didn’t do that. There was no eyelash batting or flirty smile from you.
For whatever reason, that realisation made his mood sour a little.
As he was about to start his truck, his eyes wandered around momentarily, glancing at the picnic tables by the play area. Sarah liked playing there, it was basically a weekly ritual – 30 minutes of grocery shopping, 30 minutes of play time for the little queen. Tit for tat. She sat still while he shopped, so he had to sit still while she played.
But that wasn’t what he was thinking about when his eyes fell on the table he usually sits at as Sarah played.
You were sitting there, having a sandwich.
Before he could stop himself, he had turned his engine off and slammed the door behind him, walking towards you.
“Hi,” he greeted, surprising himself that he actually talked to a woman without someone nudging him to, praying to God you wouldn’t flinch from the creepy man who talked about sawing needlessly.
Thankfully, you didn’t. You simply smiled, “Hey, buyers remorse already? Are you returning the knife?”
Joel found himself so thankful that you didn’t flinch or run screaming, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud at your little joke.
“Sad little tomatoes and cheese sandwich?” you offered, pushing your little Tupperware at him.
He raised his hand in a polite decline.
“Uh, I actually just wanted to stop by to thank you, for helping me with the knife,” he said, telling you the real reason he went to see you. “May I sit?”
You nodded, mouth full of sandwich.
He sat down, hands still awkwardly in his pockets. “I’m sorry if I came off as creepy,” he said.
You frowned at him, cocking your head a little, confused.
“Just now, talking about saws and wood and bodies… I just… I don’t know what brought that on. I usually don’t talk to people, I hope I didn’t scare you,” he defended himself.
Ah, you nodded, seemingly understanding.
“In my defence, I have forgotten how to talk to adults since my daughter was born,” he said, looking sheepish.
“Oh,” you said, placing your sandwich on the Tupperware cover, “I hear that,” you took a drink from your water bottle. “Someone was telling me about some actor she found to be hot the other day, and I kept thinking – was he in Bluey or Peppa Pig? That’s all that was playing in my household!”
He laughed, nodding, completely understanding what you were talking about.
“Anyway, don’t worry about it. I didn’t find you creepy. Maybe a little odd, but not creepy. Definitely not creepy,” you assured him, picking up your sandwich again.
Joel couldn’t help but take a gander at your ring finger.
No ring, his heart rejoiced. There’s a ring line, though. New enough to be noticeable. So, unless you took it off to eat, maybe you’re a single mom? His left thumb absentmindedly scratched the pad of his left ring finger a few times without him realizing it.
“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “Well, I’ll leave you then, let you have your lunch,” he got up. “Maybe I’ll see you around at pick up later.”
You nodded, giving him another smile, your mouth still full of sandwiches.
He nodded back, whispering another thank you, and began to walk away.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, turning back. “I would really appreciate it if we could keep what you saw in my truck this morning our little secret?”
Again, you looked confused.
“Me, crying like a little girl,” he whispered, looking embarrassed.
“Ah…” you laughed, miming zipping your mouth shut, locking it, and throwing away the key. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t, remember, I was crying too.”
He shrugged, cringing while he was at it, “Not the same. I think women get a bit more freedom when it comes to crying.”
“Well, I think real men don’t have a problem crying when they need to. It’s healthy. But I get what you mean. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
He nodded, mouthing thank you, complete with his hands clasped together in front of his chest.
You gave him a slight bow in return, that smile still on your lips.
Joel got back in his truck and drove to the store with a smile. He went into his workshop and folded his sleeves up to get back to work, stopping just before he started, facepalming himself.
Damn it, he forgot to ask you your name.
“Sarah!” he called out, waving his arm like a deranged person from outside the gate.
He heaved such a huge sigh of relief when he saw her come running out, glad she wasn’t taking her own sweet time. The past ten minutes waiting in the yard with the other parents – correction – moms, was hell on earth for him.
How was it that he was the only dad picking up their children from school? Do the other dads not give a shit? He knew for a fact that even if Daisy was still alive he would have taken the day off to commemorate this special day rather than have her do the pick up alone.
Didn’t help that the moms were eyeing him in a way that made his skin crawl. How was that okay? If a man looked at a woman like that they’d be branded a pervert.
“Daddy!” Sarah came running out, her bag bouncing off her back, her water bottle swinging off her hand and the paper bag full of food he had given her flapping madly from one handle by its side.
He tried to pick her up to hug her, the girl squealing, not in a good way, and slid away from him. She wouldn’t even let him take her hand to hold while walking across the car park.
Okay then, he thought, maybe she was embarrassed, lots of people there. He tried not to get emotional, but it might have been the hardest thing he had ever done.
“Did you have fun in school?”
Sarah nodded. “I made a friend. Her name is Ellie. She lives at the ceremony.”
“Ceremony? Where is this Ceremony? Is it near here? I haven’t heard of this Ceremony place.”
“No, Daddy, you know the ceremony, we go there all the time,” Sarah sighed, sounding exasperated as she wrestled his hands away, buckling herself into the car seat herself. “The ceremony, where Mommy is.”
“The cemetery?” he asked, rather distracted, looking around the parking lot for your car. He hadn’t seen you so far.
“Yes, the ceremonytery.”
Joel turned around, forgetting about you momentarily. “She lives at the cemetery?”
“Yes. With her Mama.”
Joel’s head went cold. He had read about this, he feared this. Children like Sarah, ones who didn’t socialize with other children too much, often had imaginary friends. He had wondered if Sarah would eventually have one. He lost count of the amount of times he had hidden behind walls whenever he heard Sarah talk to herself when playing, wondering if it had finally happened.
Of course, there was the strong possibility that his precious little girl had actually met someone at school who lived near the cemetery.
“You mean, near the cemetery? Like down the road from the cemetery area?”
“No, Daddy, she lives at the cemetery. With her Mama. Her Papa died too.”
Too? Her Papa died too? As in her Mama died, she died, and her Papa died too?
Oh God. This was worse than he thought.
His precious Baby Girl has a little girl ghost as an imaginary friend.
“Daddy! Ellie! Ellie is here! Hi Ellie!” Sarah excitedly cried, looking to her right, waving her hand rigorously.
All the hair on his body stood on end.
What the actual fuck. There’s a little girl ghost imaginary friend in his truck right now?
Uh… okay, okay. What would a good parent do?
Be supportive of your little girl’s little girl ghost imaginary friend, right? Make little girl ghost imaginary friend feel welcome?
He took his seatbelt off and turned his body around, looking directly at the empty seat next to his daughter.
“Hello, Ellie…” he hesitated, giving the empty space a reluctant smile. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m Sarah’s Daddy, you can call me Uncle Joel,” he said, holding his hand out for the little girl ghost imaginary friend to shake. He shook his hand a little mid-air, his thumb and pointer finger pinched together as if grasping a little girl’s tiny hand. And then, feeling proud of himself at accepting his little girl’s little girl ghost imaginary friend, he looked at Sarah, a smug smile on his face.
Sarah was looking at him as if he had three heads.
“Who are you talking to?” she asked, looking a bit weirded out.
“Your friend, Ellie!”
“Daddy, she’s outside, with her Mama.”
He turned to see, and his heart almost stopped.
Both with relief and excitement.
For one, there was a little girl and her Mama outside, two empty parking spaces over from his truck, the Mama getting the little girl in her own car seat, the little girl waving at Sarah.
So, Ellie was real. A real little girl, not a little girl ghost imaginary friend.
Phew.
Two, the Mama was you.
Before he could stop himself, he had unbuckled and left the cab of his truck, going around to greet you. But when he got to you, he found himself tongue-tied, unable to even make his presence known. He just stood there as you buckled your daughter in.
“Mama,” Ellie said, warning you of his presence.
You turned around and saw him, hands in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears.
“Hey, bread knife guy. Sawing guy,” you greeted.
His ears turned pink, a huge grin on his face. “I’m Joel,” he flustered, holding his hand out.
“Anna,” you said, taking his hand and shaking it.
“Hi Ellie!” Sarah appeared out of nowhere. Wait, when did she get out of the truck?
“Hi,” Ellie greeted, looking shy.
“This is my daughter Sarah, she said she knew Ellie,” Joel told you.
“Oh,” you squatted in front of her, “Nice to see you again Sarah. Ellie told me all about you,” you said. “I’m Ellie’s Mama. You can call me Annie.”
Joel smiled at Ellie, and the little girl smiled back.
“So,” Joel said as Sarah went around you to talk to Ellie, checking out her car seat, “Our daughters are friend, huh?”
“Sat next to each other in class, I met her this morning, you know, before the waterworks started.” You put your hand next to your mouth and added conspiratorially, “I waited for the privacy of the parking lot for that,” you winked cheekily.
He laughed, nodding.
“Uhm, this may be a bit weird, but Sarah told me you live at the cemetery?”
“Oh,” you laughed, “Sort of. It’s a walk, but technically, yeah. I live in the area.”
“Ah,” Joel said, “I just needed to check. Can’t believe a five year old’s claims, you know? Mine gets lost in translation a lot. She doesn’t have many friends,” he explained. “It’s why I wanted to meet Ellie, it’s a long story.”
“Well, Sarah is more than welcome, we’re new here. We just moved here last week. So Ellie doesn’t have many friends.”
“Hello,” a friendly voice interrupted. Tess appeared, Daniel in tow, looking to be in less of a good mood. Joel gave her a peck on the cheek, giving Daniel a fist to bump, which the sulking boy ignored. Joel retracted his hand understandingly, rubbing his head instead, which the boy squirmed away from.
Okay then. Moody boy.
“Anna, this is my sister in law, Tess, and her son, Daniel,” he introduced. “Tess is a teacher here.”
“Annie, please. Nice to meet you, Tess. Hi Daniel,” you greeted, shaking Tess’s hand, waving to Daniel with the other hand.
Tess waved hi to Sarah and Ellie. The little girls gave her a shy smile back.
“Mom, come on… I want to go see Dad,” Daniel whined.
“Okay honey, we’re going,” Tess sighed, rolling her eyes a little, looking at you and Joel for understanding, which she received. “See you guys around. You want me to take Sarah? You going back to work?” she asked Joel.
“No, I want to go with Daddy, Dina promised me ice cream,” Sarah interrupted before Joel could form a thought.
“Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Tess said, holding her hand out for Sarah to high five. She waved to you and Joel and left, Daniel pulling her by her jacket.
“Her husband passed away a month ago, car accident,” Joel told you. “Daniel wanted to go visit, tell his Dad about his first day of school.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” you sympathised. “Well, I wish I could stay and chat, get to know Sarah better, but I need to get going, I’m still on the clock,” you excused yourself.
“Of course, so am I, technically. I’ll see you around,” Joel said, taking Sarah by the hand. She pulled away.
“Bye Ellie!” Sarah waved as you drove away. “I like Ellie. She’s a lot of fun!” she told her Daddy, letting him pick her up to put in her car seat, but still insisted on buckling herself in.
“That’s great, Baby Girl,” Joel sighed in relief as he put the truck into gear, relieved that Ellie was real, happy that he had an excuse to see you again if Sarah was this excited about Ellie.
Good parents become good friends if their children are good friends, right?
He kissed Sarah one more time before covering her little body with her blanket. She was growing far too quickly for his liking. Making decisions on her own now, going by the events of today.
Stall the growing up, Baby Girl, I can’t let you go yet. Please.
He didn’t want to admit it, but Sarah was acting a bit out of character since coming back from school. He was hoping it was excitement, but he couldn’t stop wondering.
She refused to let him fuss over her at all. He had to stop and take deep breaths when she still wouldn’t let him take her hand when walking. She kept her jacket on once she got to the store, even when she went into his office and settled on his desk to colour, even when she started sweating. He tried three times, but she didn’t relent. He had opened his mouth to try the fourth time, but she put her pointer finger up at him, the way he did when he wanted her to behave and be quiet.
Okay then.
When they finally got home, she wouldn’t let him help her shower, wouldn’t even let him choose her pyjama that night. She wanted to choose one herself. She literally shut the door to her room on his face when he tried to go after her to help her undress. No Daddy, no. I can do myself. She picked a long-sleeved set with butterflies all over them, which surprised him. She didn’t really like wearing long sleeves for sleeping. He often had to coax her into wearing one during winter, and now she had gone and worn a pair on her own volition.
He did, however, get the opportunity to tuck Sarah in, thankful that she at least didn’t fight him on that, though it was not from the lack of effort on her part. She was practically passed out from exhaustion.
That’s what the other odd thing.
His daughter came home hungry.
She had gobbled up the ice cream Dina had bought her in no time at all and kept asking for snacks to eat at the store. And at dinner, she had two of her usual serving of mac and cheese. So she was really hungry, which was suspicious. The paper bag full of lunch was empty when she gave it back to him, so she had eaten lunch and the many, many, many snacks he had supplied her, so why was she still so hungry?
Joel didn’t know if he should be concerned or happy. On the one hand, he was happy that she wasn’t stressed on her first day of school and had the appetite to eat. He was often worried about her eating habits, their meals together more like an exhausting attempt from him to get her to eat any food at all. Knowing how hungry she turned out to be, he’s glad that he made sure there was enough food in her lunch pack. He shuddered at the thought of her going hungry if he hadn’t.
On the other hand, he worried that his daughter might be eating a bit too much as well? Tess wasn’t wrong, he knew he went overboard. That was a lot of food for her. He was just worried for her, giving her that much food was a way for him to gauge how much food he should give her. In his mind, seeing what was left would tell him how much to give her tomorrow.
But she finished all her food and was still starving.
Maybe she shared with Ellie, Daniel and her other classmates?
Maybe a different meal would be better. Instead of snacks and sandwiches and Lunchables, maybe he should give her a proper, filling meal? There was still some mac and cheese leftover from dinner, maybe he could give her those for tomorrow?
But cold mac and cheese? Not Sarah’s favourite. Even if he warmed it up before packing it, it would be cold before Sarah had the chance to eat it, wouldn’t it? That girl was picky. No cold meals, but no room temperature fruits and drinks. God, everything would be warm or cold by the time she has them.
Sarah hates warm fruits. He always stored them in the fridge because she wouldn’t eat them if they were room temperature. He had to figure out how he could keep the food cold or warm as needed.
He cleaned the kitchen, getting the fruits for Sarah’s snacks the next day ready. He got the oranges sliced up, taking the peels off so it was easier for her to eat, cut up the grapes into smaller pieces so she wouldn’t choke on them. He washed the berries he got and put them in the Ziploc bags. Crackers and pretzels instead of cereals, peach yoghurt, jerky sticks, Jell-O cups (different flavoured than todays, of course), mixed nuts, juice boxes, all go into separate bags, ready for him to just toss into the bag for tomorrow. He realized by this point that Ziploc bags wouldn’t do in the long run. He’d be buying them out his nose at this point.
Surely, you would have a solution for that, right?
Maybe he should go back to the store to get one of those thermal containers. And if he gets overwhelmed, maybe you would help him. He wouldn’t come off as being forward or anything, right? He would just be a customer needing help. And you would be doing your job. It wasn’t as if he would be going to the store for the sole purpose of looking for you or anything. Of course not. What a crazy idea.
Plus, your daughters are friends. It would make sense for the two of you to be friends too, right? Right?
Anna. Annie. He liked that name on you. He looked forward to calling you by your name tomorrow. If, and only if, he needed your assistance, or if you happened to be around the area, obviously. He would never go looking for you in that huge store. Of course he wouldn’t. That would be crazy. And creepy. He wouldn’t want to be that guy.
But this predicament he was in was the perfect opportunity to see you alone once more. Not that he was thinking about being alone with you or anything.
In the meantime, Ziploc bags and whatever containers he could lay his hands on would have to suffice.
He scoured his kitchen for disposable food containers for the mac and cheese, which would have to do for tomorrow, found one and washed it. Lunchables would have to suffice for tomorrow, that, and maybe a couple toasts with Nutella. He even filled up her water bottle so he wouldn’t have to do them the next morning.
He tried watching a show before bedtime, but found himself unable to focus, thinking about Sarah’s lunch packs. The girl hated repeats. He would have to think of a better system to make sure he got her a variety of foods, especially if she was going to eat up a storm like this every day.
She’s a growing girl. Boys eat a lot growing up, right? Nothing wrong with a girl eating quite a bit too.
He went to check on her one more time before bed, the little girl now splayed across her bed, her blanket half on the floor, her favourite butterfly plushie off the bed completely. He corrected her position, worried she might fall off, covering her with the blanket once more. He picked up the plushie and took her little arms to wrap around it, the sleeves of her pyjama now up to her elbows. He lifted her arm to put it back.
Wait.
Even in the dim nightlight, he could clearly see there was a noticeable bruise on her right forearm.
What?
That wasn’t there that morning.
He ran his finger over it. It was huge. About the width of two of his fingers, maybe two inches long.
Could she have banged her arm on something? What could she have banged it on to produce a bruise that size?
His whole body went cold.
Did someone do this to his little girl? Did someone hit his Baby Girl?
He felt as if his body temperature had shot up to the sky, his heckles raised, his fangs bared.
Did someone hurt his Sarah? Who?
Oh… that person was going to get it from him.
Was it Miss Lydia? If it was, she will be fired beyond recognition. He would make sure of it.
Was it another child? That child would never know a peaceful life without a stern talking to from him. And their parents would know what happens to bad parents who couldn’t control their children. He would make sure of it.
No one should play with Joel Miller when it came to Sarah.
They went camping once with Tommy and Tess and Eddie. A mosquito dared bite Sarah, and he spent minutes chasing that blasted creature, finally smacking it against the wall of the tent. Unsatisfied that the thing was flattened to death, he took it out between his fingers and burnt it in the campfire, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. But that wasn’t enough. He immediately stomped off to the store for bug spray, sprayed his tent to infinity and beyond to make sure no other mosquito dared drink from his little girl, even placing mosquito patches on the poor little girl as double protection.
If he finds out who had hurt his little girl? That person will pay. They will regret ever breathing in the same vicinity as his Sarah.
He would go scorched earth for his Baby Girl. Yes he would. And no one can stop him. He would die before he lets someone lay a hand on his little girl. And whoever this person was, the one responsible for this horrendous bruise on his Sarah’s arm, they will pay.
He will make sure of it.
Part 3
TAG LIST:
@bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @harriedandharassed, @vickie5446, @nialler-horan, @laurrrra, @missladym1981, @themoviefangirl-blog, @ashleyfilm, @cloudguide, @joelmillerpascal, @speaktothehandpeasants, @peelieblue, @olafsmiles2020, @strawberrylis, @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast, @mteveanna, @goonersquad101, @jennfromthebayarea, @cuteanimalmama, @inept-the-magnificent, @marty-mccunt, @hotforpedro, @girlbloggerlg, @lovefreylove, @mystickittytaco, @sunnytuliptime, @armandispunk, @pedroncigarettes, @ifall4dilfs, @mandolauren, @millerdina, @isabellaboo2025, @pascalgold, @vanderlindebae
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST, YEAH?
doing that "babe i saw (bf’s best friend’s name) on tinder!" prank on joel (maybe the best friend could be tommy lmao. search it up if you don’t know what the prank is <3)
There were few things that gave you more joy than teasing your incredibly dumb hot competent adoring himbo huspand.
You knew this one was risky, though. But almost every time, over stepping your bounds either resulted in comforting your big teddy bear, who knew you loved him too much to be serious, or getting the ass fucking of the centry.
Both were happy endings.
Taking a deep breath, you look up from your phone. Joel was reading on the couch, his glasses perched up on his big nose. Meaty palm gently stroking your calves, with your feet in his lap, holding the page open for him. God, he looked so cozy and comfortable. so fuckable.
Please let this ending be a rough couch fuck.
"Hey Joel, guess what?" you whisper.
Joel's ear perks up. he presses his finger to the line he left off, eager not to keep you waiting, before glancin up and pearing at you over his spectacles. "Hmm?"
You bite your lip "I foiund Tommy's Tinder."
Joel blinks at you a few times, silent.
"Tommy's tinker?"
you close your eyes. GOD he's so fucking old.
you flip the phone to him. The Tinder app shined brightly on his face, and he could make out the photo of his brother (of which you had made... and set the profile to inactive. Just to not take this joke one step too far for Maria's sake). Joel couldn't tell though. he smudged his fat finger against the screen and scrolled down, one brow raised.
The anticipation was killing you. Joel reading through all the little made up tibbits one by one, not saying anything. swiping on the photos, making some uncertain faces about the choices.
Then, finally, he asks, "I don't get it. What is this?"
"Its a dating app..." you hold your breath at the end.
He doesn't notice.
"Uh. okay."
You had to wait. It was something about men, things not always clicking the first time. Even as brilliant as the man in front of you was, he was no exception to the vegetative loading state--
'OH."
his jaw drops, and maybe, just maybe--!
"The heck he doin' on there? Maria know??"
He doesn't wait for you to interject before he's dialin' his little brother's nunmber. it rings once.
"yello," Tommy replies through the receiver.
"Hey man--you aint tell me you're on some datin app. What's goin' on?"
"I'm not? what're you talking about?"
'Its uh-" Joel picks up your phone again "grinder--"
"--WHAT??--"
"TINDER. Its TINDER," you rush to clarify loudly.
"Oh, 'tinder', she says." Joel shrugs. same thing.
But Tommy hearing you there told him everything he needed to know. Oh, Tommy Miller knew you. Knew the type of shit you'd do to drive Joel up a wall. Knew you were probably waiting on the edge of your seat for the last five minutes for Joel to 'get' it, you little devil.
Tommy sighs, deciding revenge to bite you in the ass would help get him back. "Hey Joel: why don't you ask your wife how she would even know i got a tinder profile? Hmm?"
Joel turns to you, a bright innocence in his eyes. "Hey babe, Tommy said i should ask how you would know he got a--"
And then the words die off. And Joel looks at the scream again. The fact that you were IN an app. that you had your own little set of home buttons...
JOel's eye's widen, the smile fading from his lips. "I'm gonna have to call you back," he says monotone to his brother, his gaze not dropping from you.
Tommy chuckles on the phone before hanging up. Job well done for him.
Not so great that Maria had been eaves dropping behind him, her arms folded, face scowled.
"You have a WHAT now?" she barks.
Tommy feels his face go pale. you fucker.
At home, Joel just stares at you. endlessly. vacantly.
That stare made you feel small . cornered.
like prey.
like a meal about to be devoured with all his mind body and so--
He folds his arms across his lap. There's a slight twinge of frown tugging at his lips with your smooth legs still touching him.
He takes a deep breath in, "Why you trying to set Tommy up with a gal who aint Maria? She do something to upset you, baby?"
"Oh forget it."
Teeheee!! I just finished reading your pinned preggo and now there’s a new one 🥹🥹🥳🥳🥳 Thank youuuuuuu
This is ADORABLE! I love pranking devoted men - wifey is right, there really are only two outcomes and they’re both winners 🤭🤭
Please, if you so choose, a follow up where Joel bolts upright in bed at 2 am and finally gets it 😂😂😂🙏🏻
Also, that reading glasses imagery?!? I ALMOST DIED
Reblogging to make that follow up suggestion by @604to647 come true.
And Joel... 🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️
-`♡´- tags: soft!Frankie, safe love, a lot of feelings, fluffiest fluff summary: While a storm rages outside Frankie recognizes the saftest place is in your arms. word count: ~ 460 a/n: Happy Frankie Friday from the sidelines! I hope this little fluff warms your heart just as much as it did mine writing it. Btw, I am working on something bigger behind the scenes involving our favorite pilot. Hopefully I can tell you more about it soon. 😉
The storm was raging outside, throwing itself against the windows hard enough to make the glass shudder in its frame. There had been a time, not even that long ago, when sounds like that made Frankie tense instinctively. Sweat gathered at the small of his back while ugly memories flickered behind his eyelids like lightning. A life carved open by violence had a way of following a man home, even years later. It never mattered much that the things he had done were in the name of a country. That kind of reasoning didn’t quiet the ghosts. Didn’t help him sleep either.
The only thing that ever truly silenced the noise in his head was you.
Your body tucked against his, his arms wrapped around you tight enough to feel real. Face buried into your hair while he inhaled the familiar scent of vanilla and something warmer underneath it. Something impossible to bottle up into words because it was simply you. Home in a way Frankie had never allowed himself to believe existed for men like him.
In all the years Frankie Morales had spent dragging himself across this godforsaken earth, he had become terrifyingly good at running. Never staying anywhere long enough for roots to catch around his ankles. Movement was easier. Easier than explaining himself. Easier than letting anyone look too closely at the wreckage. “No strings attached” had become less of a preference and more of a survival tactic he wore like armor. Or at least that was what he told himself.
Then somewhere along the way, there was you.
You made him pause long enough to wonder if the life he’d been living was actually freedom or just another kind of prison. Frankie had been buried so deep inside himself for so long that some days he couldn’t even see the sky anymore. Days blurred together. Time passed without him noticing. Survival became muscle memory.
But you came into his life like sunlight through storm clouds, soft and stubborn and impossible to ignore. And for the first time in years, he realized he would move mountains just to keep that warmth close to him.
Now peace looked like this: the two of you tangled together in bed while rain battered the world outside. You complaining sleepily about him taking up too much space while simultaneously stealing the blanket for yourself. Frankie smiling quietly against the curve of your shoulder blades anyway, because somehow this became his favorite thing in the world.
To be loved gently.
To be held without expectation.
To learn, little by little, that not every touch had to hurt.
Wrapped up in your softness, Frankie was finally beginning to understand that staying still wasn’t weakness after all. Sometimes it was the bravest thing a person could do.
thanks for reading 💌
main masterlist • ko-fi
tags: (if you don't wanna be tagged anymore, let me know!): @misstokyo7love @sheepdogchick3 @god-is-an-astronaut @sawymredfox @chasingthepoguelife @librosylove @keylimebeag @diabaroxa @beefrobeefcal @greenwitchfromthewoods @katw474 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @whirlwindrider29 @yellowbrickyeti @capuccinodoll @missadangel @cozymochaa @sidelit @simpingforjoel @kirsteng42 @carmillahepburn @peterhollandkait @picketniffler @hotforpedro @thepilatesprincess @perfectpoetrybluebird @theanothersherlockian @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @rav3n-pascal22 @perpetualharpyresonance @perodjarin @daltoncharm @baronessvonglitter @beezusvreeland @lillaydee @underneath-the-sky-again @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @angiewatson @vampiredoggies-blog @vickie5446 @titabel @ashleyfilm @finco99 @mariamorales1998 @severedbloodlines
Hi, is there a resaon why you didn't tag "Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader" On A03 for your last fic ? I almost missed the first chapter because I'm not using tumblr 😅
Hi Nonnie, thank you for looking for my silly lil mindworm in the first place!
See, during the progression of my last few fics, I received a few anon asks on here and comments on my Ao3 regarding my tagging. They were annoyed my fics kept appearing on their fyp (or whatever it is called on tumblr and Ao3) when my characters have names despite the fact that I use the tags 'x reader' and 'x you'. I have always used these tags, my readers don't seem to mind since I explained my choice to give the characters names when I started doing it.
One commenter on Ao3 kept leaving the comment on every chapter (I have since deleted all these comments and asks) about this. Someone even got riled up I tagged both the game and TV show on Ao3.
During my last fic IOU, that same someone left a particularly nasty comment claiming I was greedy, tricking people into reading my x reader fics when it's clearly an OC.
So I didn't tag this one as such.
In my mind, my characters are readers, I just don't like using Y/N, prefer writing in second person pronoun and feel that the stories can be written in a more personal manner (like the Joels saying their names rather than just 'y/n' or saying Joel whispered your name) if the characters have names.
Thing is, they complained that reader is not a reader aka 'you' if they have a name. But if I tag OC, I can't by definition use 'you', which is my preference.
Sigh...
I'll be honest, I don't know how to deal with this.
But I will go back to Ao3 and tag it with reader now. Tq Nonnie. And Thank you for reading! 🥹🥹❤️❤️
The New Girl
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F OC (second person pronoun)
Wait, is Anna Williams considered an OC?
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
I know I originally and usually use x reader or x you but I have received DMs and asks telling me I shouldn't tag it so, since my characters usually have a name.
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
MASTER LIST
Disclaimer - I don't beta my work, and English is not my first language, so sorry if there are errors. Also, I know I said 14th June. I have zero self control. Sorry.
There was a weird taste in your mouth. Metal? Salted metal? Your head felt the heaviest it had ever felt.
Oh God that hurts. Why was your head throbbing?
You could feel the carpet on your face. You were face down, you think?
What happened? Why was it so quiet in here? Aside from the ringing in your ears, you couldn’t hear anything else.
You opened your eyes, your sight obscured by thick, sticky liquid. And you saw him. Lying face down, head turned towards you, his glassy, unfocused eyes half opened, blood pooling under his belly.
“Eric?” your voice came out weak, putting your arms before you and pulling yourself towards him. “Eric!” you were shaking him, as much as you could with your limited energy. “Honey, wake up!”
Nothing.
You finally placed your bloody fingers on his pulse point.
Nothing. Oh God. Oh God. No, no, no, no, no…
You looked around you, looking for your phone through the mess that was your living room. Your eyes swept through the turned over coffee table, the dining chairs, the holes in the wall, your former front door now half-off its hinges, the broken glass all over the floor, Where was it? Where did you last see it? You needed to call the cops. An ambulance. Someone.
And then you saw it. His gun. Just there… on the floor.
“Mama?”
Ellie.
Just like that, you shot up from your face down position, blood trickling from your temple.
“Ellie! Ellie sweetie? Where are you?” you were screaming, but all that came out were croaks.
By some miracle you managed to pull yourself up, your wrist and shoulder screaming in protest, eyes frantically searching for your daughter.
“Mama?” your sweet little girl’s voice came ringing out once more, followed by the sounds of the kitchen cabinet door opening. Your sweet little girl crawled you’re your phone in her hand. “Mama are you okay? You didn’t wake up! I shake you but you didn’t wake up!”
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Is Papa okay? He won’t wake up too… like you…”
You somehow managed to reach your daughter, taking her into your arms, hugging the life out of her, making sure your body was between her and Eric. She shouldn’t see him like that.
“I’m okay sweetie. I’m okay,” you assured her in what sounded like a harsh whisper, pulling back to take a look at her, and your heart dropped.
There was a cut in her eyebrow, blood trickling down her beautiful, tear-streaked, fearful little face.
You placed your shaky fingers next to the cut, not daring to touch it, as she did the same to your much bigger cut on your temple.
“I hide under the sink Mama. I’m sorry I hide.”
“No, sweetie, I told you to hide, remember? You were supposed to hide. You did what I asked you to do. You did the right thing. I’m not mad at you sweetie.”
Fuck, why was your voice coming out like that?
The sounds of sirens came barrelling down the street, louder and louder, closer and closer. Before long there were armed police at your door, guns drawn out, warning you and your five year old daughter that they were coming in.
Officer Anderson, your husband’s partner, came in after the first two police officers, checking Eric’s pulse. She radioed the paramedics to come in, “Officer down!” she practically screamed, turning his body around and starting CPR on him. Two paramedics came in, taking over from her as she stood and watched, panicked.
The other officers searched the whole apartment, room by room, and once they deemed the place secured, they lowered their weapons, and someone came to you and Ellie, asking if the two of you were okay.
But… how? You hadn’t called them. You were looking for your phone to call.
“Did you call the police sweetie?” you asked your daughter. She shook her head.
“Officer Williams called us himself, ma’am, reporting the home invasion. We are gonna take you to the hospital for your injuries, but we’re gonna need you to answer some questions, okay?”
Your husband’s partner came over, whispering something to one of the officers, her face both sad and angry at the same time. She couldn’t look at you and Ellie. You could see the tears in her eyes. The officers’ faces fell, their heads down.
Oh God. No.
You thought it. Especially given the fact that his eyes were open, that there was no pulse, that the amount of blood underneath him could have very well emptied him, but you found yourself not ready for it to be confirmed.
The officer came and took a knee in front of you and your daughter, a crestfallen look on his face.
“Mrs Williams, technically we have to wait for the doctors to announce this officially, but I’m very sorry to inform you that your husband, Officer Eric Williams…”
You couldn’t focus anymore. You held your baby as tightly as you could, trying to calm your little girl who couldn’t quite comprehend what the officer was saying, your tears falling thick and fast down your cheeks.
“Sarah?” Joel knocked softly on her very pink, slightly opened door, the massive butterfly wings she had insisted he hang on it for her flapping as he did. “Wake up Baby Girl, it’s your first day of school,” he cooed, pushing the door open, his face immediately bathed by the slowly revolving tiny little pink and purple butterfly shapes that was her nightlight.
“Baby Girl?” he whispered, placing his large hand on her tiny shoulder, shaking it a little.
“No…” she moaned, turning over, yawning, stretching, before settling back into a much desired sleep.
Joel huffed a small laugh, sitting at the edge of the bed, “Hey, come on, you were very excited last night! Couldn’t stop talking about it! Wakey-wakey! Are we going to wake up or do we need a tickle?” he threatened.
“No Daddy no tickle! No!!!” she squealed as his fingers began tickling her middle, her little legs kicking the blanket away from trying to get her beloved Daddy from tickling her. She got a bit too excited and her little heel accidentally caught him by his jaw, to which Joel howled in pain, holding his jaw and burying his face in his daughter’s pillow, pretending to cry.
Sarah stopped kicking, immediately sitting up.
“Daddy?” her little voice squeaked, “Daddy I’m sorry. Daddy?” she tried to take his hand from his jaw, eager to coax her crying Daddy. “I kiss it better, okay? Move your hand Daddy, I kiss it better for you,” she tried, using all her might to pull his hand off his jaw. She finally managed to. So she lay down next to him and tried to kiss his jaw better, only to be surprised by a jokey roar and a face full of scratchy kisses.
“No Daddy! It’s scratchy! You’re smelly Daddy!” she squealed, pushing her Daddy’s face away, mildly repulsed by her Daddy’s morning breath, forgetting she had one too.
“Then let’s get up and brush our teeth and get ready for school, okay?” he mumbled, hugging her little body in his arms, taking deep, deep breaths of the top of her head in the process.
Sarah insisted that a big girl like herself can brush her teeth herself, can shower herself too. Go Daddy, go brush your teeth and shower. You stinky Daddy.
Well, thank you very much, young lady.
Joel couldn’t help himself from leaving the bathroom door open a little as he let his ‘big girl’ shower by herself. He laid the clothes she had chosen the night before for her on her now neatly made bed, all in order she would need to put them on. She had stood over him the night before with her hands on her waist and nagged him about that little habit of his. “Leave the clothes Daddy. Don’t put them on my bed. I big girl now,” she had insisted, she didn’t need him to lay her clothes out for her like she’s five.
Okay, Little Lady.
But Joel couldn’t help himself. His daughter, the love of his life was going to Kindergarten today, and there was nothing he could do about it.
If it were up to him alone, Sarah would be locked in a safe with bubble wraps around her, in a highly secure house with the highest level of security he could afford.
And before you ask, yeah, she would need a chastity belt at some point. Deter them horny boys from harming his precious little girl.
He actually considered homeschooling her. But Tommy had kindly reminded him that it took him 12 years to finally read the analogue clock correctly. The heck was he going to teach Sarah if he couldn’t do it himself? So yeah, she had to go to school so she could grow up and be someone, go to college and have a great job. She was never going to get her back broken, her body aching from hard work, her clothes soiled and her hands dirty to make a living, unlike him. He would do anything to make sure of that.
But it meant that she will be out there with the other children, day in and day out. People will see her.
And the last thing he wanted was for her to be laughed at for feeling like wearing mismatched outfits on her first day of school.
He was worried for her. Not just for her safety but also how the other children would treat her. What if she got bullied? Children can be cruel, and Sarah was a girl without a mother. He was all she had. He had planned on sending Sarah to daycare as soon as she could walk, but his fear for her safety stopped him. So he had kept her as close as he could to him, only dropping her off at the Adler’s next door whenever he had some extra job he had to do. And the only reason he would take any extra job was Sarah.
He would do anything for Sarah. He will always do anything for Sarah.
He promised Daisy he would.
Joel remembered that day as if it was yesterday, easily the best and worst day of his life. He was holding his Baby Girl in his left arm, holding Daisy’s head in his right, both their eyes glistening, both deliriously happy, feeling so complete. They were at the top of the world. Nothing could ever bring them down now.
Three minutes and twelve seconds.
That’s all his darling wife got for a chance to lay her eyes on perfect baby Sarah after carrying her for nine months and three days. Joel was just about to hand Sarah back over to the nurse when Daisy grabbed his arm and looked him straight in the eyes.
She looked so pale, so tired, yet so happy, so content. She smiled that smile he loved so much, caressed Sarah’s cheek as well as his own, and whispered the words Joel would never forget for the rest of his life.
“Love her for the both of us, Joel. Love her for the both of us. Promise me.”
And then all the machines started beeping, the nurses took Sarah off his hands as he lost his head, screaming for someone to do something. But his beautiful wife’s eyes closed slowly as her hand caressed his face one last time, falling limply to her side, that smile still on her face as she flatlined.
The haemorrhaging was too severe. She lost too much blood too quickly.
Just like that, Joel lost the love of his life, leaving him a single father at the age of 25.
He had no idea what he was doing.
The months leading up to the birth, Daisy had left him book after pregnancy and parenting book to read on his nightstand, but the pile kept getting higher. He was a labourer back then, working every job he could find so he could make as much as he could to prepare for Sarah’s arrival. He was usually asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, waking up earlier than usual to travel to his work sites.
Daisy was supposed to be the one staying home with Sarah. She was planning on taking a couple of years off work to stay at home with Sarah until she was old enough to go to daycare and make friends.
But that plan had gone to pot.
Unbeknownst to him, Daisy had a life insurance policy, one her late parents had set up for her. Half to go to Sarah’s college fund, the other half for him to start his own business as he had always wanted to do.
That was exactly what he did. He had wanted to have a construction company of his own, but that plan was now moot. He had Sarah. Who was going to keep an eye on her while he worked? So he made do with the next best thing. Something that would still be within his field of expertise but still gave him enough flexibility so he could take care of Sarah.
He opened a DIY store. Sarah had her own crib in his office. The pantry was filled with formula, bottles and baby food. Tommy came and helped a few days a week, his brother in law Eddie and his wife Tess taking Sarah every now and again to give him a break and to let her bond with her one and only cousin, Daniel.
But that was it. That was his village, them and Mrs Adler next door. He trusted no one else. Even Jesse and Dina, his staff who had been working with him since the beginning were only trusted to keep an eye on her for a few minutes at a time, maybe while he was loading stuff or dealing with customers.
So, no. Joel Miller did not like to have his eyes off his little girl. The only reason he felt a bit at ease about sending her to the kindergarten was because Tess was a teacher there, and Daniel would be in the same class as her.
As for his fear that he did not do a good job being both father and mother to the little girl, well… that was something he didn’t even want to think about right now. That can be saved for later.
But none of his own insecurities matter right now.
It’s his Baby Girl’s first day in school. First full day where he will drop her off to be cared for by complete strangers and hope he had done a good enough job to have prepared her for this day.
He fed his daughter her breakfast, scrambled eggs with tablespoon peanut butter today, her request. The little girl devoured her scrambled eggs, picked up her tablespoon peanut butter and merrily walked out the front door while he was still struggling with cutting the crusts off her sandwich. He doesn’t usually do that. But he wasn’t going to send his daughter off to school with crusts on her sandwich like some caveman.
But why was the bread flattening? Why did the pictures of the sandwiches he saw online look all perfect and pretty? Okay, he’ll Google how to make perfect sandwiches later for tomorrow, he thought, adding the now flattened sandwich to the paper bag full of lunch. He picked the bag up, calculating in his mind if it was enough for her morning break and lunch.
PB&J, check.
One French Toast, check.
Two Jell-O cups, check.
Strawberry yoghurt, check.
Apple and orange slices, check.
A scoop of Fruit Loops, check.
A Cracker Stackers Lunchables pack, check.
Cheese sticks, check.
A handful of cashews and raisins, check.
Mini M&Ms bag, check.
Sour sticks, check.
2 juice boxes, check.
She won’t go hungry, right? She’ll make it until 3.30?
Images of his daughter crawling out of the Kindergarten to get to him, all weak and emaciated from hunger kept flashing in his mind.
Okay, maybe just one more pack of Lunchables. You can never be too safe these days.
“Daddy! School!”
“I’m coming, Baby Girl,” he said, tossing an extra apple and a juice box in the bag, now bursting at its seams, her fancy new purple water bottle hanging from his middle finger.
“Oh my God, Joel, are you trying to feed the whole class?” Tess remarked, shocked at the size of the paper bag full of food Joel had thrust into her hand, bigger than Sarah’s actual school bag.
“Well, she might get hungry!”
“Joel, she’ll be fine!”
Joel rubbed his face, looking at his little girl. She was settled in the seat in front of her cousin, now distracted by something Daniel was showing her from his bag.
“Maybe I should stay, in case she needs me.”
Tess introduced him to Sarah’s teacher Miss Lydia.
Joel nodded and smiled but kept getting distracted. Tess finally pulled him away to the side.
“Joel, I know it’s difficult. It’s difficult for me too, remember?”
Joel sighed. Shit. Of course she does.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his sister in law into a hug. “How are you doing?”
Tess shrugged, taking a deep, stuttered breath. “I’m trying to not think about how much Eddie would have wanted to be here, you know? He was talking about coaching little league one day,” she managed to get out, her voice shaky, her fingers swiping at the droplets forming in her eyes. “Daniel, he was asking if his Daddy would be with him in spirit today. He’s excited to be in school, but he’s already asking if we can go to his grave today after school. Didn’t want to go yesterday, wanted to come to school first. He wanted to tell him about his first day,” she wiped her tears off. “So, that’s where I’ll be after school, and there’s a chance I might ask someone else to sit with my class while I sob in the bathroom,” she joked, furiously wiping her eyes once more.
“This morning, he wanted his omelettes the way Eddie used to make, threw a tantrum when it didn’t taste the same. I tried, I really did, but he was just…” she shook her head, scratching her forehead, trying to have something to do with hands.
Joel listened, not really knowing what to say.
Tess scoffed, “Listen to me, complaining about my dead husband not being here. Are you okay? You must be missing Daze today, huh?”
Joel smiled, as much as he could muster anyway. He gave her the smile he gave everyone since the day Sarah was born. People had told him that his genuine smiles were reserved for Sarah now. The smile he used to have for everyone long gone since his wife passed. He was grumpy now, to everyone, save for Sarah. That little girl got the best version of him, as she should.
“It’s not the same Tess, you know that. Sarah didn’t ask me if her Mommy would be here for her, didn’t ask to go visit. We went yesterday, she told her Mommy all about her new bag, her new water bottle and shoes. Didn’t ask about her before bed. We’ll go again this Sunday, as we usually do. Unlike your son with Eddie, Sarah doesn’t remember her Mommy at all. I tell her about Daze, but it’s different, you know? I can’t even imagine, Tess,” he said, rubbing her arm.
Tess laughed, forced, but a laugh, nonetheless. She gave her brother in law a small push on the shoulder.
“Now, go say goodbye to your daughter. I’ll peek every now and again. She’ll be fine, Joel. I promise.”
Joel gave Tess a quick hug, thanking her. He went to Sarah, told her he was leaving now.
“You have fun in school today, okay? I will pick you up after school. If you need anything, you tell Miss Lydia and Auntie Tess, okay?”
Sarah nodded. She raised her hand for him to pick her up for a hug. “You be okay Daddy? You go to work? I see you later?”
Joel hugged her until she squeaked, nodding into her shoulder. Don’t cry, Joel, don’t cry. He gave her a long kiss on her cheek, telling her he loved her.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Sarah cooed back, patting her Daddy on the back.
Joel sat in his truck in the parking lot for a good 30 minutes before wiping his face and leaving, knowing exactly where he was going to go.
You opened your eyes, the room slightly darkened, the cheap curtains you got at the store you will start working at doing their job well. The living room that you were sleeping in was warm enough under the blanket. You relit the stove once when you got up to use the bathroom. Autumn had just started, but the night chill was no joke.
This was alright, you thought. You did feel a bit reluctant to take the cottage. Not because of its state or anything, but it was simply the thought of starting over that made you nervous.
Things have changed after Eric’s passing. You were supposed to go back to work once Ellie was in school, so that part wasn’t a surprise. But you didn’t expect to be alone when that happened. Throughout the journey here, the dollar signs didn’t leave your mind. Rent, bills, food, school… how were you going to do this?
Maria, the sweet friend that she was, had been hosting you and Ellie for the past few days. She helped you get a job at the store though her friend Frank who was a manager there. He in turn introduced you to his husband Bill, who hooked you up with this place.
It was as if the universe aligned and made a path for you and Ellie. It felt like you finally caught a break, you were lucky considering, but things were not going to be easy.
You start work at the store next week. Your pay there would be your main source of income. Your late husband’s pension wasn’t going to pay for a growing girl’s needs on its own. He hadn’t been with the police department very long, so it wasn’t much. But it should help. Eric’s life insurance helped make sure Ellie had a good start to her college fund. You vowed never to touch that money. Not after everything that went down in order for you to get it. But you needed to budget correctly. You needed to build up a saving again.
Maria had taken you and Ellie to the food bank, introduced you around, just so you could have a head start with groceries. You didn’t have much seed money, so that was helpful. The church had given you and Ellie some winter clothes to prepare ahead of time. You didn’t have a winter where you were from, so that was taken care of. Ellie was starting school in a few days, so Maria took her shopping for new clothes today. She pushed your hand away when you tried to give her cash for it, telling you that your money wasn’t good with her. She had actually insisted you and Ellie stay with her until you got back on your feet, but she was a busy, single lady. You didn’t want to encroach on her private space for too long. Plus, she lived in a single bedroom condo, not ideal for your active toddler.
“Here’s the place,” Bill opened the door to the smallest, quaintest looking cottage you had ever seen in real life, just a few days after you arrived in town. “It’s technically for the groundskeeper, who is me, but I already have a place to stay, so I talked to the priest and he said you could stay here for as long as you need, rent free, and the church will pay for the utilities as well. All you have to do in exchange is take care of the place and help out with the upkeep of the cemetery on your free days.”
The cottage was a lot smaller than the small house you and your daughter shared with your late husband, but it’s bigger than a motel room, and you wouldn’t be invading Maria’s privacy much longer, so that’s something. And Ellie would actually have a bedroom of her own. You could just sleep on the couch. Though that looked… dusty, dirty, unstable. The whole place looked it, to be honest. Your footsteps left footprints an inch deep on the floor. It really looked as if no one had stepped foot in there for years.
It’s okay. Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s a free roof over your daughter’s head. You should just be thankful Ellie wouldn’t be sleeping on the streets. She’ll be warm here. And not to mention the room she had to play around, the cottage stood on quite a bit of land.
“The place has been unoccupied for a while, I’ve been doing this job for at least 15 years, and it was supposed to be for me to live in. Usually the caretakers and groundskeepers are people who travelled here for the job, so this cottage comes with the job. But I am from here and I have an established home life, so it’s just been sitting here since I took over. Frank and I will come over this weekend, help you with the clean-up, Maria will come too, I’m sure,” Bill said, the grumpy looking man surprisingly soft and gentle with you. “We have a spare mattress we can give you for the little one, and I’m sure the church could get you a futon or a sofa bed to replace this couch, it doesn’t look the steadiest,” he said, pushing the cushion in with his hand, and the material just about disintegrated. “We’ll have it ready by the time you move in,” he assured you.
“It’s really okay, Bill, this is far too generous already… I can make do…”
“Annie,” Bill gently said, “Just because it’s free, doesn’t mean it has to be subpar. We’ll clean it up. Okay?”
You nodded, taking mental notes on what you would need to get to make the place more comfortable for you and Ellie.
Cleaning supplies. A lot of it. Curtains for privacy. Sheets, blankets, pillows. Pots and pans. Plates, bowls, cutleries. Groceries. Those will have to do for now. Ellie can do her homework on the dining table. You won’t buy furniture. The probability was, you won’t even stay here for long. It wasn’t your place to stay that long at. You weren’t even the actual groundskeeper. And you were raised to never expect too much from people, never take their generosity for granted.
You were going to work hard and find a place of your own as soon as you could. You might have to move on soon anyway. You never know. It’s why you were so eager to save up. Just in case. Doesn’t hurt to have a back up plan. Rainy days, all that.
So far, your new start was great.
When Saturday was over, with the help of Maria, Frank and Bill, the house had been scrubbed clean top to bottom, a new second hand pull out couch placed in the living room, a new-ish mattress put in on Ellie’s bed. The house was sparse, but enough for the two of you. Your daughter will be warm at night. She had a bed to sleep in. She would have hot water to shower with. Electricity to light up her nights. You could cook her a warm meal.
You helped your daughter put all her new stationeries into her bag, a black one you got from the thrift store. There was a pretty pink one, but she didn’t want that one. She was insistent on the black one. Black water bottle too. Black food container. Even the clothes she chose with Maria were black.
You worried about her. She was never a girly girl, there was never a Barbie doll in your house. But this new attraction to the colour black?
Don’t focus too much on that. Don’t.
It’s a coincidence that this new colour was the same colour as the bag her father was carried out of the house in, right?
Your daughter was not traumatized, right?
She was her usual chatty self, with you, with Maria. She didn’t have any problems getting along with Bill and Frank. But in other ways…
You couldn’t afford therapy yet. That, and… other reasons. So for now, you had to make do and pray your daughter was alright. Even if you did live next to the cemetery.
Saw her father carried out of the house in a body bag. Obsession with the colour black. Living next to the cemetery.
She won’t grow up with some morbid fascination with death, right? Right?
You’ll have to worry about that another day. This was all you could afford right now. This’ll do. This’ll have to do.
You slowly peeled yourself away from your daughter’s clutches, the girl leaving the comfort of her bed and joining you in the living room before you even fell asleep. She didn’t budge, tired out from helping Maria clear the garden the day before. They even planted some flower plants that Bill brought over, just a few varieties that would still bloom in early autumn, something to get the place started. She was excited to have a proper garden, she loved that the flowers were coming from the ground instead of a pot, already peeking outside at every opportunity to see if the flowers had grown some more.
She was far too young to remember the garden at your parents’ place. Eric didn’t have any family, and by the time she was old enough to remember, the three of you were living in an apartment. Not exactly ideal to have a garden. Plus, she didn’t exactly spend that much time outdoors back then.
You made yourself a cup of tea, slowly sipping it by the kitchen window, watching the sun come up. You needed to start with your work at the cemetery today. Just raking the leaves, according to Bill. He would do the heavy lifting but having you help out with the raking on the weekends would help a lot, seeing as weekends are a popular time for visitors to visit their loved ones.
The thought brought shivers to your spine. Autumn time. Raking leaves. It’s a job that will never get done.
But hey, you wouldn’t have to work out, huh? And it’s not like you had anyone to look good for anyway. This job will keep you fit, you can certainly keep up with your daughter, that’s for sure.
“Mama?” you heard your daughter call out, her voice followed by the sounds of frantic scrambling and a small thud on the floor, her little feet running around.
“I’m here sweetie, in the kitchen,” you called out, immediately placing your mug on the small kitchen table and going to get her. You were hardly out of the kitchen before she ran face on into you, her face in your belly, her arms wrapped around your legs as much as they could manage.
“I thought you left…” she started to mumble, her shoulders starting to shake, her voice cracking.
“Hey,” you coaxed, picking her up. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t leave me…” she sobbed, her face buried in your neck.
This was a normal occurrence now. She refused to leave your side. The amount of time you came out of the bathroom to find her right outside was crazy. She followed you around like a little puppy, going so far as to drop whatever she was doing to follow you out of the room to wherever you were going.
God, how were you going to leave her at school tomorrow?
Deep down, you knew this was all to do with Eric’s death. That, and the new place, the new people, it was all a bit much for her. All you could do right now was hope things get better and that she would settle soon. In the meantime, you would be there for her, keep an eye out and look for a therapist for her should she need one again.
After a quick breakfast, you led your daughter out to the cemetery, telling her not to wander off. You didn’t even have to worry about that though, her clinginess followed right out the front door. She was always less than two steps ahead or behind you, using the headstones to practice her reading. She was more than happy to help keep the leaves down once you’ve collected them in one place, sitting on them to prevent the pile from blowing off. She then helped transfer them onto the wheelbarrow, one small handful at a time.
The two of you retired to the cottage for lunch and rest. You helped Ellie repack her bag for school, the little girl surprisingly particular about how her stuff should be arranged in the bag. She made a list of what she wanted for lunch from what little you had in the kitchen, French toast with honey and an omelette, an apple and a yoghurt. You worried that she might be hungry, but she promised you she will eat a big breakfast, TWO whole pieces of toasts with jam and butter. I promise Mama.
Well, okay then, Little Lady.
No Little Lady Mama, Jelly Belly, like Auntie Maria said.
Okay, sweetie, whatever you want.
The two of you went back in the evening, you pulling a cart behind you. Bill had mentioned that people would usually discard dried or wilted flowers from the previous week on the ground after putting fresh ones in, so those would need to be thrown out. He usually does it on Mondays, but you thought you would do it – that’s considered light work, right?
Ellie, as she did that morning, followed you closely, using the time you were picking up flowers to read the names on the headstones, your stops at each one often delayed when she couldn’t read the names fast enough.
“Mama, why do people put flowers here?”
“Well, people want to bring gifts to their loved ones. They loved them when they were alive, and they miss them, so they bring flowers to leave at the grave.”
“But Papa didn’t have a grave. He was creamed.”
“Cremated, sweetie. Papa wanted to be cremated. So, Papa is not at a cemetery. We didn’t bury him.”
“So no flowers for Papa?”
“Well, if you wanted to, we can leave flowers for Papa somewhere. We can put a vase in the house for us to put flowers for him if you want?”
She shook her head before moving on to the next headstone.
Well, that was the longest she had ever talked about Eric since his passing. That’s progress.
You walked on, going to the next headstone in the row to pick up the discarded flowers, and the next and the next. You realized that Ellie had stopped in front of one that didn’t have any flowers.
“What’s wrong sweetie?”
“Daisy M-A-T-T-H-E-W-S.”
“Matthews. Daisy Matthews.”
“There are no flowers.”
“Maybe they didn’t visit today?” you guessed, looking at the headstone. Daisy Matthews. Died five years ago, around your age, based on the date of birth. Beloved Mother, Wife, Sister.
“Daisy is a flower,” your daughter mulled.
“That’s right sweetie, Daisy is a flower. Very good.”
“But there are no flowers here.”
“Maybe there’ll be some next week?”
She took off running.
“Ellie! Careful sweetie!” you shouted, going after her, shocked at her speed.
You found her in your garden, trying to pluck daisies from the freshly plated planter box. You got her the shears, and helped her cut five stems, and followed her when she went running back. When you found her, she had placed the flowers in the vase at the base of the headstone.
“Daisies for Daisy,” she said before standing back up, smiling at you, looking so proud of herself.
“That’s very nice of you sweetie. Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to stay out too late.”
She ran off to the next headstone, merrily spelling out the next name as you stood in front of the now decorated headstone. She was your age, a mother, a wife, a sister. You couldn’t help but wonder if her child, husband and brother were alright. She wasn’t even 25 when she died. Her grave was clean, the grass trimmed, the stone polished. Someone clearly visited often.
“Mama, how do you say this name?”
“Coming sweetie,” you absentmindedly answered, running your fingers on her name, saying goodbye without you even realizing it, before moving on to join your daughter.
“Ellie sweetie, I have to go. I have to go to work. I will come and get you at three, okay? Will you be a good girl and cooperate please?” you cooed at your daughter who was now clinging to you like a koala, refusing to let go.
“Come Ellie, sit next to me. We can be friends,” the little girl sat at the table next to hers chimed in.
You squatted next to the table, Ellie still wrapped around your torso.
“What’s your name sweetie?”
“Sarah,” the little girl shyly answered.
“Hi Sarah, this is Ellie, Ellie, will you say hi to Sarah?”
Ellie lifted her head slightly, giving Sarah a little wave. Sarah waved back, a sweet smile on her lips.
“I have cheese sticks. You like cheese sticks?”
Ellie nodded, “I have an apple and yoghurt. You like those?”
Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “I have apples too. My daddy gave me some. We can share and eat lunch together!”
Ellie smiled, and you could feel her clutch on you loosening.
“Ellie, let’s sit down, okay? We are about to start, you will see your Mama again after school. Until then, I will look after you, okay? Sarah will too, right Sarah?” Miss Lydia, her teacher said.
It took a while, but your little girl finally conceded, hugging you goodbye one more time.
She tried to let go of you, but but despite the bravado you displayed earlier, you found yourself unable to let go, hugging the little girl much too tightly to the point that you could hear her breathing got strangled.
“Mama,” she squeaked, pushing your shoulder slightly.
“Sorry,” you said, trying not to cry. You placed her down and kissed her one more time, hugging her once more. She let you, nodding as you whispered you will wait for her when school ended.
You shook Miss Lydia’s hand and gave Sarah a pat on her tiny shoulder, walking out before you burst into tears.
There was only one car left aside from yours in the parents parking lot when you got there. A truck parked right next to yours. A man was sitting in it, looking forlorn. He looked up as you approached, wiping your eyes as you did. Your eyes met as you unlocked your door. He gave you a sad, understanding smile, which you returned, knowing at that very moment that he was going through the exact same thing you were, just two parents not willing or prepared to say goodbye.
Part 2
TAG LIST:
@bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @harriedandharassed, @vickie5446, @nialler-horan, @laurrrra, @missladym1981, @themoviefangirl-blog, @ashleyfilm, @cloudguide, @joelmillerpascal, @speaktothehandpeasants, @peelieblue, @olafsmiles2020, @strawberrylis, @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast, @mteveanna, @goonersquad101, @jennfromthebayarea, @cuteanimalmama, @inept-the-magnificent, @marty-mccunt, @hotforpedro, @girlbloggerlg, @lovefreylove, @mystickittytaco, @sunnytuliptime, @armandispunk, @pedroncigarettes, @ifall4dilfs, @mandolauren, @millerdina, @isabellaboo2025, @pascalgold, @vanderlindebae
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST, YEAH?
ICYMI
The New Girl
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
MASTER LIST
Disclaimer - I don't beta my work, and English is not my first language, so sorry if there are errors. Also, I know I said 14th June. I have zero self control. Sorry.
There was a weird taste in your mouth. Metal? Salted metal? Your head felt the heaviest it had ever felt.
Oh God that hurts. Why was your head throbbing?
You could feel the carpet on your face. You were face down, you think?
What happened? Why was it so quiet in here? Aside from the ringing in your ears, you couldn’t hear anything else.
You opened your eyes, your sight obscured by thick, sticky liquid. And you saw him. Lying face down, head turned towards you, his glassy, unfocused eyes half opened, blood pooling under his belly.
“Eric?” your voice came out weak, putting your arms before you and pulling yourself towards him. “Eric!” you were shaking him, as much as you could with your limited energy. “Honey, wake up!”
Nothing.
You finally placed your bloody fingers on his pulse point.
Nothing. Oh God. Oh God. No, no, no, no, no…
You looked around you, looking for your phone through the mess that was your living room. Your eyes swept through the turned over coffee table, the dining chairs, the holes in the wall, your former front door now half-off its hinges, the broken glass all over the floor, Where was it? Where did you last see it? You needed to call the cops. An ambulance. Someone.
And then you saw it. His gun. Just there… on the floor.
“Mama?”
Ellie.
Just like that, you shot up from your face down position, blood trickling from your temple.
“Ellie! Ellie sweetie? Where are you?” you were screaming, but all that came out were croaks.
By some miracle you managed to pull yourself up, your wrist and shoulder screaming in protest, eyes frantically searching for your daughter.
“Mama?” your sweet little girl’s voice came ringing out once more, followed by the sounds of the kitchen cabinet door opening. Your sweet little girl crawled out, your phone in her hand. “Mama are you okay? You didn’t wake up! I shake you but you didn’t wake up!”
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Is Papa okay? He won’t wake up too… like you…”
You somehow managed to reach your daughter, taking her into your arms, hugging the life out of her, making sure your body was between her and Eric. She shouldn’t see him like that.
“I’m okay sweetie. I’m okay,” you assured her in what sounded like a harsh whisper, pulling back to take a look at her, and your heart dropped.
There was a cut in her eyebrow, blood trickling down her beautiful, tear-streaked, fearful little face.
You placed your shaky fingers next to the cut, not daring to touch it, as she did the same to your much bigger cut on your temple.
“I hide under the sink Mama. I’m sorry I hide.”
“No, sweetie, I told you to hide, remember? You were supposed to hide. You did what I asked you to do. You did the right thing. I’m not mad at you sweetie.”
Fuck, why was your voice coming out like that?
The sounds of sirens came barrelling down the street, louder and louder, closer and closer. Before long there were armed police at your door, guns drawn out, warning you and your five year old daughter that they were coming in.
Officer Anderson, your husband’s partner, came in after the first two police officers, checking Eric’s pulse. She radioed the paramedics to come in, “Officer down!” she practically screamed, turning his body around and starting CPR on him. Two paramedics came in, taking over from her as she stood and watched, panicked.
The other officers searched the whole apartment, room by room, and once they deemed the place secured, they lowered their weapons, and someone came to you and Ellie, asking if the two of you were okay.
But… how? You hadn’t called them. You were looking for your phone to call.
“Did you call the police sweetie?” you asked your daughter. She shook her head.
“Officer Williams called us himself, ma’am, reporting the home invasion. We are gonna take you to the hospital for your injuries, but we’re gonna need you to answer some questions, okay?”
Your husband’s partner came over, whispering something to one of the officers, her face both sad and angry at the same time. She couldn’t look at you and Ellie. You could see the tears in her eyes. The officers’ faces fell, their heads down.
Oh God. No.
You thought it. Especially given the fact that his eyes were open, that there was no pulse, that the amount of blood underneath him could have very well emptied him, but you found yourself not ready for it to be confirmed.
The officer came and took a knee in front of you and your daughter, a crestfallen look on his face.
“Mrs Williams, technically we have to wait for the doctors to announce this officially, but I’m very sorry to inform you that your husband, Officer Eric Williams…”
You couldn’t focus anymore. You held your baby as tightly as you could, trying to calm your little girl who couldn’t quite comprehend what the officer was saying, your tears falling thick and fast down your cheeks.
“Sarah?” Joel knocked softly on her very pink, slightly opened door, the massive butterfly wings she had insisted he hang on it for her flapping as he did. “Wake up Baby Girl, it’s your first day of school,” he cooed, pushing the door open, his face immediately bathed by the slowly revolving tiny little pink and purple butterfly shapes that was her nightlight.
“Baby Girl?” he whispered, placing his large hand on her tiny shoulder, shaking it a little.
“No…” she moaned, turning over, yawning, stretching, before settling back into a much desired sleep.
Joel huffed a small laugh, sitting at the edge of the bed, “Hey, come on, you were very excited last night! Couldn’t stop talking about it! Wakey-wakey! Are we going to wake up or do we need a tickle?” he threatened.
“No Daddy no tickle! No!!!” she squealed as his fingers began tickling her middle, her little legs kicking the blanket away from trying to get her beloved Daddy from tickling her. She got a bit too excited and her little heel accidentally caught him by his jaw, to which Joel howled in pain, holding his jaw and burying his face in his daughter’s pillow, pretending to cry.
Sarah stopped kicking, immediately sitting up.
“Daddy?” her little voice squeaked, “Daddy I’m sorry. Daddy?” she tried to take his hand from his jaw, eager to coax her crying Daddy. “I kiss it better, okay? Move your hand Daddy, I kiss it better for you,” she tried, using all her might to pull his hand off his jaw. She finally managed to. So she lay down next to him and tried to kiss his jaw better, only to be surprised by a jokey roar and a face full of scratchy kisses.
“No Daddy! It’s scratchy! You’re smelly Daddy!” she squealed, pushing her Daddy’s face away, mildly repulsed by her Daddy’s morning breath, forgetting she had one too.
“Then let’s get up and brush our teeth and get ready for school, okay?” he mumbled, hugging her little body in his arms, taking deep, deep breaths of the top of her head in the process.
Sarah insisted that a big girl like herself can brush her teeth herself, can shower herself too. Go Daddy, go brush your teeth and shower. You stinky Daddy.
Well, thank you very much, young lady.
Joel couldn’t help himself from leaving the bathroom door open a little as he let his ‘big girl’ shower by herself. He laid the clothes she had chosen the night before for her on her now neatly made bed, all in order she would need to put them on. She had stood over him the night before with her hands on her waist and nagged him about that little habit of his. “Leave the clothes Daddy. Don’t put them on my bed. I big girl now,” she had insisted, she didn’t need him to lay her clothes out for her like she’s five.
Okay, Little Lady.
But Joel couldn’t help himself. His daughter, the love of his life was going to Kindergarten today, and there was nothing he could do about it.
If it were up to him alone, Sarah would be locked in a safe with bubble wraps around her, in a highly secure house with the highest level of security he could afford.
And before you ask, yeah, she would need a chastity belt at some point. Deter them horny boys from harming his precious little girl.
He actually considered homeschooling her. But Tommy had kindly reminded him that it took him 12 years to finally read the analogue clock correctly. The heck was he going to teach Sarah if he couldn’t do it himself? So yeah, she had to go to school so she could grow up and be someone, go to college and have a great job. She was never going to get her back broken, her body aching from hard work, her clothes soiled and her hands dirty to make a living, unlike him. He would do anything to make sure of that.
But it meant that she will be out there with the other children, day in and day out. People will see her.
And the last thing he wanted was for her to be laughed at for feeling like wearing mismatched outfits on her first day of school.
He was worried for her. Not just for her safety but also how the other children would treat her. What if she got bullied? Children can be cruel, and Sarah was a girl without a mother. He was all she had. He had planned on sending Sarah to daycare as soon as she could walk, but his fear for her safety stopped him. So he had kept her as close as he could to him, only dropping her off at the Adler’s next door whenever he had some extra job he had to do. And the only reason he would take any extra job was Sarah.
He would do anything for Sarah. He will always do anything for Sarah.
He promised Daisy he would.
Joel remembered that day as if it was yesterday, easily the best and worst day of his life. He was holding his Baby Girl in his left arm, holding Daisy’s head in his right, both their eyes glistening, both deliriously happy, feeling so complete. They were at the top of the world. Nothing could ever bring them down now.
Three minutes and twelve seconds.
That’s all his darling wife got for a chance to lay her eyes on perfect baby Sarah after carrying her for nine months and three days. Joel was just about to hand Sarah back over to the nurse when Daisy grabbed his arm and looked him straight in the eyes.
She looked so pale, so tired, yet so happy, so content. She smiled that smile he loved so much, caressed Sarah’s cheek as well as his own, and whispered the words Joel would never forget for the rest of his life.
“Love her for the both of us, Joel. Love her for the both of us. Promise me.”
And then all the machines started beeping, the nurses took Sarah off his hands as he lost his head, screaming for someone to do something. But his beautiful wife’s eyes closed slowly as her hand caressed his face one last time, falling limply to her side, that smile still on her face as she flatlined.
The haemorrhaging was too severe. She lost too much blood too quickly.
Just like that, Joel lost the love of his life, leaving him a single father at the age of 25.
He had no idea what he was doing.
The months leading up to the birth, Daisy had left him book after pregnancy and parenting book to read on his nightstand, but the pile kept getting higher. He was a labourer back then, working every job he could find so he could make as much as he could to prepare for Sarah’s arrival. He was usually asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, waking up earlier than usual to travel to his work sites.
Daisy was supposed to be the one staying home with Sarah. She was planning on taking a couple of years off work to stay at home with Sarah until she was old enough to go to daycare and make friends.
But that plan had gone to pot.
Unbeknownst to him, Daisy had a life insurance policy, one her late parents had set up for her. Half to go to Sarah’s college fund, the other half for him to start his own business as he had always wanted to do.
That was exactly what he did. He had wanted to have a construction company of his own, but that plan was now moot. He had Sarah. Who was going to keep an eye on her while he worked? So he made do with the next best thing. Something that would still be within his field of expertise but still gave him enough flexibility so he could take care of Sarah.
He opened a DIY store. Sarah had her own crib in his office. The pantry was filled with formula, bottles and baby food. Tommy came and helped a few days a week, his brother in law Eddie and his wife Tess taking Sarah every now and again to give him a break and to let her bond with her one and only cousin, Daniel.
But that was it. That was his village, them and Mrs Adler next door. He trusted no one else. Even Jesse and Dina, his staff who had been working with him since the beginning were only trusted to keep an eye on her for a few minutes at a time, maybe while he was loading stuff or dealing with customers.
So, no. Joel Miller did not like to have his eyes off his little girl. The only reason he felt a bit at ease about sending her to the kindergarten was because Tess was a teacher there, and Daniel would be in the same class as her.
As for his fear that he did not do a good job being both father and mother to the little girl, well… that was something he didn’t even want to think about right now. That can be saved for later.
But none of his own insecurities matter right now.
It’s his Baby Girl’s first day in school. First full day where he will drop her off to be cared for by complete strangers and hope he had done a good enough job to have prepared her for this day.
He fed his daughter her breakfast, scrambled eggs with tablespoon peanut butter today, her request. The little girl devoured her scrambled eggs, picked up her tablespoon peanut butter and merrily walked out the front door while he was still struggling with cutting the crusts off her sandwich. He doesn’t usually do that. But he wasn’t going to send his daughter off to school with crusts on her sandwich like some caveman.
But why was the bread flattening? Why did the pictures of the sandwiches he saw online look all perfect and pretty? Okay, he’ll Google how to make perfect sandwiches later for tomorrow, he thought, adding the now flattened sandwich to the paper bag full of lunch. He picked the bag up, calculating in his mind if it was enough for her morning break and lunch.
PB&J, check.
One French Toast, check.
Two Jell-O cups, check.
Strawberry yoghurt, check.
Apple and orange slices, check.
A scoop of Fruit Loops, check.
A Cracker Stackers Lunchables pack, check.
Cheese sticks, check.
A handful of cashews and raisins, check.
Mini M&Ms bag, check.
Sour sticks, check.
2 juice boxes, check.
She won’t go hungry, right? She’ll make it until 3.30?
Images of his daughter crawling out of the Kindergarten to get to him, all weak and emaciated from hunger kept flashing in his mind.
Okay, maybe just one more pack of Lunchables. You can never be too safe these days.
“Daddy! School!”
“I’m coming, Baby Girl,” he said, tossing an extra apple and a juice box in the bag, now bursting at its seams, her fancy new purple water bottle hanging from his middle finger.
“Oh my God, Joel, are you trying to feed the whole class?” Tess remarked, shocked at the size of the paper bag full of food Joel had thrust into her hand, bigger than Sarah’s actual school bag.
“Well, she might get hungry!”
“Joel, she’ll be fine!”
Joel rubbed his face, looking at his little girl. She was settled in the seat in front of her cousin, now distracted by something Daniel was showing her from his bag.
“Maybe I should stay, in case she needs me.”
Tess introduced him to Sarah’s teacher Miss Lydia.
Joel nodded and smiled but kept getting distracted. Tess finally pulled him away to the side.
“Joel, I know it’s difficult. It’s difficult for me too, remember?”
Joel sighed. Shit. Of course she does.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his sister in law into a hug. “How are you doing?”
Tess shrugged, taking a deep, stuttered breath. “I’m trying to not think about how much Eddie would have wanted to be here, you know? He was talking about coaching little league one day,” she managed to get out, her voice shaky, her fingers swiping at the droplets forming in her eyes. “Daniel, he was asking if his Daddy would be with him in spirit today. He’s excited to be in school, but he’s already asking if we can go to his grave today after school. Didn’t want to go yesterday, wanted to come to school first. He wanted to tell him about his first day,” she wiped her tears off. “So, that’s where I’ll be after school, and there’s a chance I might ask someone else to sit with my class while I sob in the bathroom,” she joked, furiously wiping her eyes once more.
“This morning, he wanted his omelettes the way Eddie used to make, threw a tantrum when it didn’t taste the same. I tried, I really did, but he was just…” she shook her head, scratching her forehead, trying to have something to do with hands.
Joel listened, not really knowing what to say.
Tess scoffed, “Listen to me, complaining about my dead husband not being here. Are you okay? You must be missing Daze today, huh?”
Joel smiled, as much as he could muster anyway. He gave her the smile he gave everyone since the day Sarah was born. People had told him that his genuine smiles were reserved for Sarah now. The smile he used to have for everyone long gone since his wife passed. He was grumpy now, to everyone, save for Sarah. That little girl got the best version of him, as she should.
“It’s not the same Tess, you know that. Sarah didn’t ask me if her Mommy would be here for her, didn’t ask to go visit. We went yesterday, she told her Mommy all about her new bag, her new water bottle and shoes. Didn’t ask about her before bed. We’ll go again this Sunday, as we usually do. Unlike your son with Eddie, Sarah doesn’t remember her Mommy at all. I tell her about Daze, but it’s different, you know? I can’t even imagine, Tess,” he said, rubbing her arm.
Tess laughed, forced, but a laugh, nonetheless. She gave her brother in law a small push on the shoulder.
“Now, go say goodbye to your daughter. I’ll peek every now and again. She’ll be fine, Joel. I promise.”
Joel gave Tess a quick hug, thanking her. He went to Sarah, told her he was leaving now.
“You have fun in school today, okay? I will pick you up after school. If you need anything, you tell Miss Lydia and Auntie Tess, okay?”
Sarah nodded. She raised her hand for him to pick her up for a hug. “You be okay Daddy? You go to work? I see you later?”
Joel hugged her until she squeaked, nodding into her shoulder. Don’t cry, Joel, don’t cry. He gave her a long kiss on her cheek, telling her he loved her.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Sarah cooed back, patting her Daddy on the back.
Joel sat in his truck in the parking lot for a good 30 minutes before wiping his face and leaving, knowing exactly where he was going to go.
You opened your eyes, the room slightly darkened, the cheap curtains you got at the store you will start working at doing their job well. The living room that you were sleeping in was warm enough under the blanket. You relit the stove once when you got up to use the bathroom. Autumn had just started, but the night chill was no joke.
This was alright, you thought. You did feel a bit reluctant to take the cottage. Not because of its state or anything, but it was simply the thought of starting over that made you nervous.
Things have changed after Eric’s passing. You were supposed to go back to work once Ellie was in school, so that part wasn’t a surprise. But you didn’t expect to be alone when that happened. Throughout the journey here, the dollar signs didn’t leave your mind. Rent, bills, food, school… how were you going to do this?
Maria, the sweet friend that she was, had been hosting you and Ellie for the past few days. She helped you get a job at the store though her friend Frank who was a manager there. He in turn introduced you to his husband Bill, who hooked you up with this place.
It was as if the universe aligned and made a path for you and Ellie. It felt like you finally caught a break, you were lucky considering, but things were not going to be easy.
You start work at the store next week. Your pay there would be your main source of income. Your late husband’s pension wasn’t going to pay for a growing girl’s needs on its own. He hadn’t been with the police department very long, so it wasn’t much. But it should help. Eric’s life insurance helped make sure Ellie had a good start to her college fund. You vowed never to touch that money. Not after everything that went down in order for you to get it. But you needed to budget correctly. You needed to build up a saving again.
Maria had taken you and Ellie to the food bank, introduced you around, just so you could have a head start with groceries. You didn’t have much seed money, so that was helpful. The church had given you and Ellie some winter clothes to prepare ahead of time. You didn’t have a winter where you were from, so that was taken care of. Ellie was starting school in a few days, so Maria took her shopping for new clothes today. She pushed your hand away when you tried to give her cash for it, telling you that your money wasn’t good with her. She had actually insisted you and Ellie stay with her until you got back on your feet, but she was a busy, single lady. You didn’t want to encroach on her private space for too long. Plus, she lived in a single bedroom condo, not ideal for your active toddler.
“Here’s the place,” Bill opened the door to the smallest, quaintest looking cottage you had ever seen in real life, just a few days after you arrived in town. “It’s technically for the groundskeeper, who is me, but I already have a place to stay, so I talked to the priest and he said you could stay here for as long as you need, rent free, and the church will pay for the utilities as well. All you have to do in exchange is take care of the place and help out with the upkeep of the cemetery on your free days.”
The cottage was a lot smaller than the small house you and your daughter shared with your late husband, but it’s bigger than a motel room, and you wouldn’t be invading Maria’s privacy much longer, so that’s something. And Ellie would actually have a bedroom of her own. You could just sleep on the couch. Though that looked… dusty, dirty, unstable. The whole place looked it, to be honest. Your footsteps left footprints an inch deep on the floor. It really looked as if no one had stepped foot in there for years.
It’s okay. Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s a free roof over your daughter’s head. You should just be thankful Ellie wouldn’t be sleeping on the streets. She’ll be warm here. And not to mention the room she had to play around, the cottage stood on quite a bit of land.
“The place has been unoccupied for a while, I’ve been doing this job for at least 15 years, and it was supposed to be for me to live in. Usually the caretakers and groundskeepers are people who travelled here for the job, so this cottage comes with the job. But I am from here and I have an established home life, so it’s just been sitting here since I took over. Frank and I will come over this weekend, help you with the clean-up, Maria will come too, I’m sure,” Bill said, the grumpy looking man surprisingly soft and gentle with you. “We have a spare mattress we can give you for the little one, and I’m sure the church could get you a futon or a sofa bed to replace this couch, it doesn’t look the steadiest,” he said, pushing the cushion in with his hand, and the material just about disintegrated. “We’ll have it ready by the time you move in,” he assured you.
“It’s really okay, Bill, this is far too generous already… I can make do…”
“Annie,” Bill gently said, “Just because it’s free, doesn’t mean it has to be subpar. We’ll clean it up. Okay?”
You nodded, taking mental notes on what you would need to get to make the place more comfortable for you and Ellie.
Cleaning supplies. A lot of it. Curtains for privacy. Sheets, blankets, pillows. Pots and pans. Plates, bowls, cutleries. Groceries. Those will have to do for now. Ellie can do her homework on the dining table. You won’t buy furniture. The probability was, you won’t even stay here for long. It wasn’t your place to stay that long at. You weren’t even the actual groundskeeper. And you were raised to never expect too much from people, never take their generosity for granted.
You were going to work hard and find a place of your own as soon as you could. You might have to move on soon anyway. You never know. It’s why you were so eager to save up. Just in case. Doesn’t hurt to have a back up plan. Rainy days, all that.
So far, your new start was great.
When Saturday was over, with the help of Maria, Frank and Bill, the house had been scrubbed clean top to bottom, a new second hand pull out couch placed in the living room, a new-ish mattress put in on Ellie’s bed. The house was sparse, but enough for the two of you. Your daughter will be warm at night. She had a bed to sleep in. She would have hot water to shower with. Electricity to light up her nights. You could cook her a warm meal.
You helped your daughter put all her new stationeries into her bag, a black one you got from the thrift store. There was a pretty pink one, but she didn’t want that one. She was insistent on the black one. Black water bottle too. Black food container. Even the clothes she chose with Maria were black.
You worried about her. She was never a girly girl, there was never a Barbie doll in your house. But this new attraction to the colour black?
Don’t focus too much on that. Don’t.
It’s a coincidence that this new colour was the same colour as the bag her father was carried out of the house in, right?
Your daughter was not traumatized, right?
She was her usual chatty self, with you, with Maria. She didn’t have any problems getting along with Bill and Frank. But in other ways…
You couldn’t afford therapy yet. That, and… other reasons. So for now, you had to make do and pray your daughter was alright. Even if you did live next to the cemetery.
Saw her father carried out of the house in a body bag. Obsession with the colour black. Living next to the cemetery.
She won’t grow up with some morbid fascination with death, right? Right?
You’ll have to worry about that another day. This was all you could afford right now. This’ll do. This’ll have to do.
You slowly peeled yourself away from your daughter’s clutches, the girl leaving the comfort of her bed and joining you in the living room before you even fell asleep. She didn’t budge, tired out from helping Maria clear the garden the day before. They even planted some flower plants that Bill brought over, just a few varieties that would still bloom in early autumn, something to get the place started. She was excited to have a proper garden, she loved that the flowers were coming from the ground instead of a pot, already peeking outside at every opportunity to see if the flowers had grown some more.
She was far too young to remember the garden at your parents’ place. Eric didn’t have any family, and by the time she was old enough to remember, the three of you were living in an apartment. Not exactly ideal to have a garden. Plus, she didn’t exactly spend that much time outdoors back then.
You made yourself a cup of tea, slowly sipping it by the kitchen window, watching the sun come up. You needed to start with your work at the cemetery today. Just raking the leaves, according to Bill. He would do the heavy lifting but having you help out with the raking on the weekends would help a lot, seeing as weekends are a popular time for visitors to visit their loved ones.
The thought brought shivers to your spine. Autumn time. Raking leaves. It’s a job that will never get done.
But hey, you wouldn’t have to work out, huh? And it’s not like you had anyone to look good for anyway. This job will keep you fit, you can certainly keep up with your daughter, that’s for sure.
“Mama?” you heard your daughter call out, her voice followed by the sounds of frantic scrambling and a small thud on the floor, her little feet running around.
“I’m here sweetie, in the kitchen,” you called out, immediately placing your mug on the small kitchen table and going to get her. You were hardly out of the kitchen before she ran face on into you, her face in your belly, her arms wrapped around your legs as much as they could manage.
“I thought you left…” she started to mumble, her shoulders starting to shake, her voice cracking.
“Hey,” you coaxed, picking her up. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t leave me…” she sobbed, her face buried in your neck.
This was a normal occurrence now. She refused to leave your side. The amount of time you came out of the bathroom to find her right outside was crazy. She followed you around like a little puppy, going so far as to drop whatever she was doing to follow you out of the room to wherever you were going.
God, how were you going to leave her at school tomorrow?
Deep down, you knew this was all to do with Eric’s death. That, and the new place, the new people, it was all a bit much for her. All you could do right now was hope things get better and that she would settle soon. In the meantime, you would be there for her, keep an eye out and look for a therapist for her should she need one again.
After a quick breakfast, you led your daughter out to the cemetery, telling her not to wander off. You didn’t even have to worry about that though, her clinginess followed right out the front door. She was always less than two steps ahead or behind you, using the headstones to practice her reading. She was more than happy to help keep the leaves down once you’ve collected them in one place, sitting on them to prevent the pile from blowing off. She then helped transfer them onto the wheelbarrow, one small handful at a time.
The two of you retired to the cottage for lunch and rest. You helped Ellie repack her bag for school, the little girl surprisingly particular about how her stuff should be arranged in the bag. She made a list of what she wanted for lunch from what little you had in the kitchen, French toast with honey and an omelette, an apple and a yoghurt. You worried that she might be hungry, but she promised you she will eat a big breakfast, TWO whole pieces of toasts with jam and butter. I promise Mama.
Well, okay then, Little Lady.
No Little Lady Mama, Jelly Belly, like Auntie Maria said.
Okay, sweetie, whatever you want.
The two of you went back in the evening, you pulling a cart behind you. Bill had mentioned that people would usually discard dried or wilted flowers from the previous week on the ground after putting fresh ones in, so those would need to be thrown out. He usually does it on Mondays, but you thought you would do it – that’s considered light work, right?
Ellie, as she did that morning, followed you closely, using the time you were picking up flowers to read the names on the headstones, your stops at each one often delayed when she couldn’t read the names fast enough.
“Mama, why do people put flowers here?”
“Well, people want to bring gifts to their loved ones. They loved them when they were alive, and they miss them, so they bring flowers to leave at the grave.”
“But Papa didn’t have a grave. He was creamed.”
“Cremated, sweetie. Papa wanted to be cremated. So, Papa is not at a cemetery. We didn’t bury him.”
“So no flowers for Papa?”
“Well, if you wanted to, we can leave flowers for Papa somewhere. We can put a vase in the house for us to put flowers for him if you want?”
She shook her head before moving on to the next headstone.
Well, that was the longest she had ever talked about Eric since his passing. That’s progress.
You walked on, going to the next headstone in the row to pick up the discarded flowers, and the next and the next. You realized that Ellie had stopped in front of one that didn’t have any flowers.
“What’s wrong sweetie?”
“Daisy M-A-T-T-H-E-W-S.”
“Matthews. Daisy Matthews.”
“There are no flowers.”
“Maybe they didn’t visit today?” you guessed, looking at the headstone. Daisy Matthews. Died five years ago, around your age, based on the date of birth. Beloved Mother, Wife, Sister.
“Daisy is a flower,” your daughter mulled.
“That’s right sweetie, Daisy is a flower. Very good.”
“But there are no flowers here.”
“Maybe there’ll be some next week?”
She took off running.
“Ellie! Careful sweetie!” you shouted, going after her, shocked at her speed.
You found her in your garden, trying to pluck daisies from the freshly plated planter box. You got her the shears, and helped her cut five stems, and followed her when she went running back. When you found her, she had placed the flowers in the vase at the base of the headstone.
“Daisies for Daisy,” she said before standing back up, smiling at you, looking so proud of herself.
“That’s very nice of you sweetie. Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to stay out too late.”
She ran off to the next headstone, merrily spelling out the next name as you stood in front of the now decorated headstone. She was your age, a mother, a wife, a sister. You couldn’t help but wonder if her child, husband and brother were alright. She wasn’t even 25 when she died. Her grave was clean, the grass trimmed, the stone polished. Someone clearly visited often.
“Mama, how do you say this name?”
“Coming sweetie,” you absentmindedly answered, running your fingers on her name, saying goodbye without you even realizing it, before moving on to join your daughter.
“Ellie sweetie, I have to go. I have to go to work. I will come and get you at three, okay? Will you be a good girl and cooperate please?” you cooed at your daughter who was now clinging to you like a koala, refusing to let go.
“Come Ellie, sit next to me. We can be friends,” the little girl sat at the table next to hers chimed in.
You squatted next to the table, Ellie still wrapped around your torso.
“What’s your name sweetie?”
“Sarah,” the little girl shyly answered.
“Hi Sarah, this is Ellie, Ellie, will you say hi to Sarah?”
Ellie lifted her head slightly, giving Sarah a little wave. Sarah waved back, a sweet smile on her lips.
“I have cheese sticks. You like cheese sticks?”
Ellie nodded, “I have an apple and yoghurt. You like those?”
Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “I have apples too. My daddy gave me some. We can share and eat lunch together!”
Ellie smiled, and you could feel her clutch on you loosening.
“Ellie, let’s sit down, okay? We are about to start, you will see your Mama again after school. Until then, I will look after you, okay? Sarah will too, right Sarah?” Miss Lydia, her teacher said.
It took a while, but your little girl finally conceded, hugging you goodbye one more time.
She tried to let go of you, but but despite the bravado you displayed earlier, you found yourself unable to let go, hugging the little girl much too tightly to the point that you could hear her breathing got strangled.
“Mama,” she squeaked, pushing your shoulder slightly.
“Sorry,” you said, trying not to cry. You placed her down and kissed her one more time, hugging her once more. She let you, nodding as you whispered you will wait for her when school ended.
You shook Miss Lydia’s hand and gave Sarah a pat on her tiny shoulder, walking out before you burst into tears.
There was only one car left aside from yours in the parents parking lot when you got there. A truck parked right next to yours. A man was sitting in it, looking forlorn. He looked up as you approached, wiping your eyes as you did. Your eyes met as you unlocked your door. He gave you a sad, understanding smile, which you returned, knowing at that very moment that he was going through the exact same thing you were, just two parents not willing or prepared to say goodbye.
Part 2
TAG LIST:
@bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @harriedandharassed, @vickie5446, @nialler-horan, @laurrrra, @missladym1981, @themoviefangirl-blog, @ashleyfilm, @cloudguide, @joelmillerpascal, @speaktothehandpeasants, @peelieblue, @olafsmiles2020, @strawberrylis, @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast, @mteveanna, @goonersquad101, @jennfromthebayarea, @cuteanimalmama, @inept-the-magnificent, @marty-mccunt, @hotforpedro, @girlbloggerlg, @lovefreylove, @mystickittytaco, @sunnytuliptime, @armandispunk, @pedroncigarettes, @ifall4dilfs, @mandolauren, @millerdina, @isabellaboo2025, @pascalgold, @vanderlindebae
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST, YEAH?
Sneaky Peaky Sundae!
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
It’s his Baby Girl’s first day in school. First full day where he will drop her off to be cared for by complete strangers and hope he had done a good enough job to have prepared her for this day.
He fed his daughter her breakfast, scrambled eggs with tablespoon peanut butter today, her request. The little girl devoured her scrambled eggs, picked up her tablespoon peanut butter and merrily walked out the front door while he was still struggling with cutting the crusts off her sandwich. He doesn’t usually do that. But he wasn’t going to send his daughter off to school with crusts on her sandwich like some caveman.
But why was the bread flattening? Why did the pictures of the sandwiches he saw online look all perfect and pretty? Okay, he’ll Google how to make perfect sandwiches later for tomorrow, he thought, adding the now flattened sandwich to the paper bag full of lunch. He picked the bag up, calculating in his mind if it was enough for her morning break and lunch.
PB&J, check.
One French Toast, check.
Two Jell-O cups, check.
Strawberry yoghurt, check.
Apple and orange slices, check.
A scoop of Fruit Loops, check.
A Cracker Stackers Lunchables pack, check.
Cheese sticks, check.
A handful of cashews and raisins, check.
Mini M&Ms bag, check.
Sour sticks, check.
2 juice boxes, check.
She won’t go hungry, right? She’ll make it until 3.30?
Images of his daughter crawling out of the Kindergarten to get to him, all weak and emaciated from hunger kept flashing in his mind.
Okay, maybe just one more pack of Lunchables. You can never be too safe these days.
“Daddy! School!”
“I’m coming, Baby Girl,” he said, tossing an extra apple and juice box in the bag, now bursting at its seams, her fancy new purple water bottle hanging from his middle finger.
Testing the Tag List:
@bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @harriedandharassed, @vickie5446, @nialler-horan, @laurrrra, @missladym1981, @themoviefangirl-blog, @ashleyfilm, @cloudguide, @joelmillerpascal, @speaktothehandpeasants, @peelieblue, @olafsmiles2020, @strawberrylis, @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast, @mteveanna, @goonersquad101, @jenfromthebayarea, @cuteanimalmama, @inept-the-magnificent, @marty-mccunt, @hotforpedro, @girlbloggerlg, @lovefreylove, @mystickittytaco, @sunnytuliptime, @armandispunk, @pedroncigarettes, @ifall4dilfs, @mandolauren, @millerdina, @isabellaboo2025, @pascalgold
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST, YEAH?
PART 1 COMING 14th JUNE 2026
#ICYMI
Sneaky Peaky Sundae!
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
It’s his Baby Girl’s first day in school. First full day where he will drop her off to be cared for by complete strangers and hope he had done a good enough job to have prepared her for this day.
He fed his daughter her breakfast, scrambled eggs with tablespoon peanut butter today, her request. The little girl devoured her scrambled eggs, picked up her tablespoon peanut butter and merrily walked out the front door while he was still struggling with cutting the crusts off her sandwich. He doesn’t usually do that. But he wasn’t going to send his daughter off to school with crusts on her sandwich like some caveman.
But why was the bread flattening? Why did the pictures of the sandwiches he saw online look all perfect and pretty? Okay, he’ll Google how to make perfect sandwiches later for tomorrow, he thought, adding the now flattened sandwich to the paper bag full of lunch. He picked the bag up, calculating in his mind if it was enough for her morning break and lunch.
PB&J, check.
One French Toast, check.
Two Jell-O cups, check.
Strawberry yoghurt, check.
Apple and orange slices, check.
A scoop of Fruit Loops, check.
A Cracker Stackers Lunchables pack, check.
Cheese sticks, check.
A handful of cashews and raisins, check.
Mini M&Ms bag, check.
Sour sticks, check.
2 juice boxes, check.
She won’t go hungry, right? She’ll make it until 3.30?
Images of his daughter crawling out of the Kindergarten to get to him, all weak and emaciated from hunger kept flashing in his mind.
Okay, maybe just one more pack of Lunchables. You can never be too safe these days.
“Daddy! School!”
“I’m coming, Baby Girl,” he said, tossing an extra apple and juice box in the bag, now bursting at its seams, her fancy new purple water bottle hanging from his middle finger.
Testing the Tag List:
@bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @harriedandharassed, @vickie5446, @nialler-horan, @laurrrra, @missladym1981, @themoviefangirl-blog, @ashleyfilm, @cloudguide, @joelmillerpascal, @speaktothehandpeasants, @peelieblue, @olafsmiles2020, @strawberrylis, @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast, @mteveanna, @goonersquad101, @jenfromthebayarea, @cuteanimalmama, @inept-the-magnificent, @marty-mccunt, @hotforpedro, @girlbloggerlg, @lovefreylove, @mystickittytaco, @sunnytuliptime, @armandispunk, @pedroncigarettes, @ifall4dilfs, @mandolauren, @millerdina, @isabellaboo2025, @pascalgold
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST, YEAH?
Really want to go watch Grogu the Movie. But that means I have to put a bra on and leave the comfort of my couch on my free day and be among people.
Decisions, decisions.
The New Girl Master List
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
(Could also be F Character - I just don't like using Y/N)
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
Part 1 (14th June 2026)
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
The New Girl Master List
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
(Could also be F Character - I just don't like using Y/N)
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
COMING SOON
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
*After a quick break*
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, More to add as story moves on.
ICYMI
COMING SOON
Single Dad Joel Miller / Single Mom F Reader
*After a quick break*
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAG LIST!
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, More to add as story moves on.
Hi! I just wanted to say I LOVE all of your stories!!! I’ve been staying up late and reading them at work lol Keep it up ❤️
Awwwww THANK YOU Fatima Hon!!!!! No words! No words! 🥹🥹❤️❤️
I Owe You Epilogue
Jackson Joel Miller / Reclusive F Reader
15 years ago, you begged Joel Miller for a favour, receiving only silence in response. You left Boston thinking he wasn't interested in your lame bargain. You found out, too late, that Joel Miller actually did do you that favour, fulfilling his end of the bargain, leaving you indebted to him. Now, all these years later, he arrived in Jackson, and you found yourself living your life wondering - will he collect?
WARNINGS:
Non-Canon Compliant, Ellie and Joel are Good, The Hospital Thing Happened but with a Twist, Ellie is a Menace, Ex-Raider Joel Miller, Ex-Smuggler Joel Miller, Joel Miller is a Man of Not So Many Words, Joel Miller is a New Dad All Over Again, Reader has Low Self-Esteem, Reader has a Facial Scar, Reader is a Recluse, Reader is in her mid-40s, Slow Burn, Longing, Yearning, Loneliness, Miscommunication, Jealousy, Joel Needs to Learn to Speak, Bullies, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Period Blood, Attempted Sexual Assault.
TAG LIST:
@mystickittytaco, @joelsprettygirl, @chewie-bars, @joeldjarin, @someonehereisstupid, @lovefreylove, @speaktothehandpeasants, @armandispunk, @cuteanimalmama, @slytherdina, @justafangirl-123, @taniamiller, @kukookuroo, @missladym1981, @peelieblue, @joelmillerpascal, @orcasoul, @anoverwhelmingdin, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @kirsteng42, @vickie5446, @harriedandharassed, @laurrrra, @brittmb115, @keylimebeag, @xmochiloverx, @ifall4dilfs, @naturaltwo-cha, @johnssherlock221, @aria1108
Let me know if you want to be tagged or taken off the tag list!
MASTER LIST
Part 16
Dean was jolted awake, the wagon had stopped. He was on his back, but he felt like he was about to pass out – yet again. Was he asleep before this, or was he passed out? He couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember because when the wagon arrived at Jimmy’s farm, Tovar, that blonde man he travelled with, Jimmy and his sons banded together and made sure he couldn’t escape. He was already gagged and tied so tightly behind him he lost sensation in his fingers, but that wasn’t enough for them all. They took one of the rolls of cloth you had given them, supposedly as barter for Tovar’s services in Jackson, and wrapped him tightly with it, effectively turning him into a mummy. They stuffed his mouth with a handkerchief and wrapped his head too, leaving just enough space on his nostrils for him to breathe.
He couldn’t escape if he tried.
The heat of Jackson’s summer rendered him unconscious after that, and he had been drifting from sleep to a drowsy state of consciousness and back to unconsciousness after that, unable to differentiate one from the other anymore. They left him wrapped up like that in the wagon after, tied up to the hooks on the wagon floor – as if he could even escape, effectively being Imhotep at that point. Even after his years travelling and sleeping outdoors in Jackson, he had no idea the summer nights could get that cold, even when wrapped like that.
The next morning he woke up to the wagon moving again, hearing Tovar talk to a woman in a language he didn’t know. Spanish, he thought, hearing the clippity cloppity of hooves, more than one, outside, men calling to each other. He lost consciousness once more, waking up when the wagon stopped. This time, he had to stay awake. He was being moved. Someone was manhandling him, maybe kicking him? Tossing him to the ground? But he was on the ground. He could feel the sharp sticks and stones digging into his flesh.
When he was unwrapped, he didn’t even have time to get his bearings. They left his head wrapping off for last. By the time he could see daylight again Dean couldn’t even get his bearings right to tell where he was. He had never been here before, he didn’t think. He didn’t recognize any of his surroundings. Him being unconscious most of the journey meant that he didn’t even know how long they’d been travelling, and the summer sun confused him, he couldn’t even tell the time. So he couldn’t even guess.
They took the handkerchief out of his mouth. They didn’t care if he screamed. No one was around to hear him scream.
Tovar and the blonde one dragged him through the woods, the Asian lady staying at the wagon with one of Jimmy’s sons. The other two followed, carrying tubs of something with them. The path was so grown over, so back to nature that his pants were ripped up to shreds just from being dragged through them, his shins and legs scratched to all hell.
But Dean couldn’t feel the pain at all. He couldn’t feel anything at all anymore. He had no idea what was going to happen to him, but he knew it was nothing good. He just wished that someone would just tell him what it was, just so he could prepare for whatever’s coming.
“Where are you taking me?” he mumbled, “You have to tell me. I have a right to know.”
“The way you warned Elena about what you were going to do to her?” Kyle, one of Jimmy’s sons asked.
“They lied. They all lied. No one was there. Miller almost killed me. That bitch seduced me.”
“Yeah… I don’t know about that, asshole. I saw what you did to her too. All the way from the farm,” Kyle smirked.
“Yep, me too. All the way from here,” the blonde one supplied.
“And I’m guessing the many passing ladies who talked of a charming man who lived in a cabin near Jackson who invited them for a warm meal before raping them were lying too, huh? And Beth, the roommate you had who ran off because you couldn’t stop touching her? She was lying too?” Kyle asked.
Dean went quiet. He didn’t know they knew about those ladies.
He just thought it was fair. What else was he going to do? He was lonely. Tom and Liz got together, the other girl who lived with them, Beth, wasn’t interested in men.
There used to be more of them in that cabin. Over the years their numbers dwindled, and his lady, Cat, decided she was better off with one of the other guys. He went hunting with them one day and accidentally shot the guy. He had one last dalliance with Cat before he accidentally shot her too. That was a sad day, two of their friends gone in a hunting accident. Just like that.
When there were only the four of them left in the cabin, so he tried his luck with Beth. But she wasn’t interested, not even when it was the end of the world and he was the only available person she had immediate access to. No one could say he didn’t try with her. He tried so hard they woke up one day to her just… gone.
He got desperate. He had to lie in bed night after night and hear Tom and Liz going at it. He never dared try with Liz, Tom was a lot bigger than him, he would lose for sure. He thought he could try his luck in Jackson. Melissa was practically offering herself on a platter to him, but he didn’t like that. He needed the fight to get off. He craved it. He had had his eyes on you for a long time. He wanted to get you, because you were supposedly the ungettable one. No one had ever gotten you before. That, and the fact that the man with a reputation like Joel Miller wanted you so badly he was willing to look like an idiot following you around like a puppy, and even then he still failed to get you. It thrilled him, the fact that you were so hard to get. The fact that he might get you before Joel Miller could.
What he didn’t expect was how loved you were. He realized the moment the other men started kicking him when they found out you were there. Even in his altered state from Joel Miller’s beatings, he knew that he had fucked up way beyond his comprehension. He had thought that the whole town was against you. He heard the gossips. Melissa was very chatty, very helpful, he thought. It didn’t occur to him that she was the outcast, not you. He had only known you during his few visits to Jackson as the loner, reclusive lady who didn’t seem to socialize much.
He found out during the trial just how wrong he was. The length the town would go to in order to make sure he got what was due to him was absurd. Even the level headed Maria didn’t bat an eyelash on how bizarre everyone’s confessions were. He sat in that cell near the guards, listening to everything horrible they wished would be done to him. He had accepted his fate, but the not knowing what it was exactly was driving his crazy.
After being dragged for what felt like hours, they finally stopped. They sat him down, legs out, and leaned him on a tree. They didn’t untie him but used some of the thickest ropes he had ever seen to tie him to the tree, wrapping the thick cord carefully, tightly, making sure that there was no space between each turn. He knew they used every unescapable knot in existence to make sure he couldn’t escape.
Okay, so they were going to leave him here? Maybe beat him to death? Okay, he could deal with that, he’ll be unconscious within seconds. Maybe he won’t feel it. When Joel Miller beat him, he stopped feeling the pain after the first few blows. It should be like that too, right? He’d die and not feel it.
Jimmy’s sons came forward with the two tubs he had seen them carry. They opened the lids, revealing the contents. Sticky, thick, liquid gold.
Honey.
The drizzled the entirety of the tubs all over him, making sure he was covered in them. He was so hungry and thirsty he couldn’t help but lick his lips, getting the nectar into his mouth.
The men let him. They stepped back and watched him have his fill.
Wait a minute, this didn’t feel right. Why were they ‘tame’ all of a sudden?
Tovar stepped up.
“The honey was from Hank,” he said, his voice calm.
“The rope was from the ladies in Jackson.”
Tovar took a blade from his belt, cutting his cheeks, three deep slashes on each cheek, Dean crying out from the pain.
“These are from Maria, Tommy and Baby Benjy.”
Tovar picked up something Dean hadn’t seen up until now.
An axe.
Tovar took a stance and held the axe in both hands.
“This one is from me,” he said, and raised his arms, the axe backwards. He swung, bringing the axe’s poll at full strength to his left shin, swung back up and down again on his knee.
Dean’s screams filled the air.
“And this one, is from Joel Miller,” Tovar continued, voice still as calm as ever, swinging one more time, this time to his right shin and knee, the poll hitting the ground through the limb this time.
Dean could hear his kneecap and tibias shatter, even above his screams.
“The rest of it, what you’ve got coming for you, that’s from Elena,” Tovar finished, picking up the rest of the rope, and the four men walked off, leaving him there, still screaming and bleeding, tied up with no hope of escaping.
Dean didn’t know how long he screamed, cried. He lost count of how many times he passed out, woke back up and passed out again. He didn’t fight it.
Until he woke up to grunts and licks and puffs of air on his face.
A grizzly was licking the honey off his exposed skin. Licking his blood along with it, the sting unbearable, even if it was tame compared to what was going on with his legs, which he could no longer feel at that moment.
He started screaming in reflex, struggling to get free, startling the beast. The bear reared on its hinds, and the last thing Dean saw was its massive paw coming down on him.
Melissa was nervous. She had never been on a horse much before today, only when learning how to ride in the days leading up to today. But she had no choice but to do this. It’s this, or sanitation duties.
It wasn’t even a punishment. She kept waiting for Maria to find her, tell her the news. But Maria never came. After a week being released from the clinic, she couldn’t stand it anymore, so she went to Maria to find out what her punishment was. She walked into Maria’s living room with you there, playing with Benjy. Maria turned to you and let you decide what her punishment would be, and you said one word.
Nothing.
No punishment for her. Nada. It’s all good. You didn’t even look at her when you said that. Maria didn’t blink. Simply said no punishment and turned her attention back to you and her son.
She was happy at first, walking out of the house feeling relieved. You were so nice, she thought. Even after everything, you held no grudges. She should take a page out of your book.
But then the next day happened, and then the day after that. And the day after that. Reminder upon reminder of the repercussions of what she did to you, to herself. She didn’t even know if it was your plan all along, but that one word you said turned out to be the worst punishment she would ever receive.
Even she had to admit she had gone too far. Sometimes, she woke up in the middle of the night wondering what the heck she was thinking when she did what she did, said what she said to you.
All because she couldn’t stand the fact that despite your scar, your reclusive nature, your lack of desire to stand out, you were still more beautiful, more loved, more popular than she. That you managed to snag the attention of the men she wanted despite never showing much skin, never wearing make-up, never flirting with anyone.
All she wanted was a man of her own.
After that revelation in the hall, Alice divorced Tony. He didn’t even come to her, instead staying at Jesse’s in Dean’s old room, begging for Alice to take him back. He went over every day to walk the kids to school, had lunch with them and walk them back home. So far, Alice had shown no signs of wanting him back, but he hadn’t given up. It didn’t look like he was going to give up either. Ever.
All that, after promising her over and again he would leave Alice for her, that he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her. But now, he wanted nothing to do with her.
The girls wouldn’t open the saloon door for her. Tina, the mouse of the five had found some back bone it seemed. She slammed the door in her face that first day she tried to go back, told her to her face that she was no longer welcomed in their group, that she should be ashamed of herself for what she did to Alice, to you.
No one in town wanted to be seen with her, no one wanted to be within five feet of her. No one even looked at her. It was as if she didn’t exist at all. She could walk around naked and no one would bat an eye.
The children scream and cry when they see her, despite the hoodie she always had on these days. The teens laughed out loud at her, calling her Double D to her face now. She knew they called her that behind her back, all because they caught her pleasuring herself with two dildos once.
She was a laughingstock. A pariah. No one cared about her. No one gave a damn.
She locked herself in her house for two whole weeks once, no one came to check on her. She distinctly remembered when you missed a lunch from being too busy, and Joel Miller brought your lunch to you. Hank would send someone to you with a container if you didn’t come for your meal on time. People noticed when you were not there. No one batted an eyelash when she was missing for two whole weeks. Not even her girls, not even Tony. That, or they simply didn’t give a shit.
So here she was, going on her first patrol, scared out of her mind, clutching her rifle as if her life depended on it, her head turning left and right at every sound. At that moment, she couldn’t remember what she was thinking when she volunteered for patrol.
She had done it out of frustration. Out of boredom. She couldn’t breathe in Jackson, not when everyone was acting as if she was invisible. Maybe, she could have new friends now, someone to talk to. Patrol go out in groups. Maybe she wouldn’t be lonely anymore.
But nothing changed. She was still alone. The people at the stable who taught her to ride or shoot did so without so many words. With the exception of giving orders and instructions, no one talked to her. They made her ride in the back, alone. No one had her back.
Thing was, she couldn’t blame them. If someone had done what she had done to her, she couldn’t say she would have acted differently. She would, in fact, have acted in worse ways.
The people of Jackson had gotten tired of her antiques. She had underestimated how loved you were. She had assumed that just because a few older ladies had grudges against you, everyone had one too. That just because she had issues with you, everyone must have one too.
Oh, how wrong she was.
The truth she refused to admit but now couldn’t avoid was that she had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it.
On their way home from her first patrol, five clickers appeared out of nowhere. The group acted, Seth, the leader coming back to make sure she wasn’t alone, giving her instructions on what to do. In her panic, she fell off her horse. Seth told her to get back on the horse, but she was frozen. The clickers got closer, and Seth started shooting, telling her to shoot as well.
Melissa raised her rifle and took a shot, her hand shaking. She missed. Reload. One more shot. Missed. Reload. One clicker left unfought, the others were focused on the rest of the group.
She suddenly stopped.
Seth came back for her. But she knew if he wasn’t responsible for her, he wouldn’t be talking to her at all. She knew that once they get back to Jackson, all communication would cease. She would be alone again. A pariah again.
She had no idea for how long. Maybe forever.
She tried to take her own life, and no one but you tried to save her.
No one cared about her.
So she let the rifle fall to the ground and let the clicker come.
Your eyes fluttered open, your head turning slightly to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was still dark outside, but that was to be expected.
Winter has come. You could see the shadows of the first snow falling through the curtain.
Oh, how glad you were that you were no longer in your drafty loft. You didn’t miss those mornings when you were far too cold to even move, let alone get out of that tent you called your bedroom to light the stove again.
Instead, you found yourself in a warm bed, under a warm, extra thick quilt, feeling so comfortable you didn’t want to get out, despite needing to open the laundromat in under two hours. And there were at least four households who had made appointments with you for new winter clothing. So you begrudgingly inched your way towards the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for the chill that was coming, albeit not as severe as the one at the loft.
You had managed to get maybe two inches closer to the edge when the pair of warm arms - one snuck under your neck, spread out across your pillow, the other loosely hung over your hip - wrapped themselves around your body and pulled you closer to an ever warmer chest. The sound of a long drawn breath accompanied the action, a long exhale warming your neck right after.
“No.”
“I have to get up.”
“No.”
The hug got tighter, as if he was trying to pull you into his chest rather than just have you pressed up to it.
“Joel…”
“No. It’s a snow day. School is closed.”
“Well thank God I’m not in school then.”
“Yes you are.”
You laughed as he pulled you in even closer.
“Joel you’re gonna break my ribs.”
“Then stop trying to get away from me.”
“I need to get to work. There are people who need winter jackets.”
“They can stay cold a little while longer. Stay. Please,” he pleaded, and you could just see his puppy dog eyes, even though you knew they were still closed. He nuzzled his nose on your neck, peppering small kisses everyone he could, his hands starting to release his hold on you, starting to roam about.
His right hand found your left breast, palming it under your shirt, his left sliding downward to your crotch, sliding a finger between your legs, making you squirm.
“Joel… I thought you said you didn’t want me to move. This is not helping.”
“I said not to fight me, I didn’t say anything about squirming,” he said, sucking your earlobe. His finger found your slit and began sliding it back and forth.
You tried to pull away, but the crack of your butts found something hard suddenly nestled in between.
“Huh,” you said.
“What?” he asked, distracted by your perking nipple between his fingers.
“I didn’t know old people still get morning glories.”
He pinched your nipple, making you squeal.
“I didn’t know that either, not until you came knocking on my door and basically attacked me.”
You were about to be indignant, but he found your clit and began rubbing, your own arousal making things slippery and easier. He began grinding his hips so his cock slid up and down your crack, hissing a little at the sensation.
“What happened to the fighting, Baby? Not interested?”
You wanted to answer, but all that came out of your mouth was a whisper of his name.
“What’s that, Baby? You want to say something?” he asked, pushing his sweatpants down, releasing his rock hard cock, resuming his movement.
“Joel… please…” you begged. For what exactly, you had no idea, your back arching, your leg rising, hooking behind his legs, trying to get him closer.
“Fuck Baby, can I? I need you so badly. Please?” he groaned in your hair, his breath ragged.
You found yourself nodding so rigorously, your hand pushing your own pants down so he could have access.
He wasted no time at all, notching his cock at your entrance, pushing in, making you hold your breath from the stretch of it all.
“Joel…” you moaned.
“I know Baby, I know, I’ll make you feel good Baby, I promise. Fuck. You feel so good,” he hissed. He pulled your leg up a little, angling himself better, and began moving.
You reached back and pulled his head closer to you, turning around to kiss him. His fingers worked faster on your clit, rubbing furiously, encouraging you to come, his own need starting to override his mind.
“Joel… don’t stop,” you pleaded, grabbing his arms, holding on for dear life as he moved faster, feeling your orgasm coming, your back arching further. He licked your neck, your name a prayer on his lips, groaning into your neck as your body stiffened, your teeth on his bicep, trying not to wake Ellie down the hall. It didn’t take him long to join you, pulling out and spilling himself on your back.
It took about 30 minutes of cuddling and pleading before he finally let you get up, stripping the bed himself to add to the laundry basket, joining you in the shower to ‘save water’.
The three of you walked to the laundromat, dropping off your own laundry before going to breakfast, his hand never leaving yours, even if the other was busy with a full laundry basket. The two of you walked Ellie to school before turning back, Joel walking you back to the laundromat, kissing you goodbye for a good five minutes before reluctantly leaving to go to work.
Your day went on as usual, doing laundry, drying them, folding them with Joel’s special contraption, giving out jackets and mending clothes for the town, breaking up an argument or two, the usual. Who deserved that wool coat and who should have that puffy jacket, which duvet should go to whom, the silliest arguments that seemed so futile and needless, but in the end, everyone walked home happy, and you were left exhausted as usual.
Joel knocked on your door with lunch and Benjy. The two of you always have lunch together, babysitting Benjy every once in a while to give Maria and Tommy a break. The boy had his own playpen at the laundromat just for that purpose, his Uncle Joel had built one for him. He also found a wooden toy drum while out on patrol and decided it was a good idea to give it to the boy to play with. Tommy was adamant that Joel did that on purpose to get back at him for all the headaches he had given his older brother with Sarah. That drum mysteriously disappeared from Tommy and Marias, magically appearing at the laundromat instead, which caused some issues between the four of you. It had since disappeared completely, and there may or may not have been remnants of the wooden toy in your stove.
You walked Joel to the stable just after four, a Tupperware full of Hank’s cooking in his pack. The rest of his team stood patiently as he said goodbye to you, not daring to look or complain. He kissed you long and true, apologizing for not being able to walk you and Ellie home that day. You begged him to stay safe and come home to you. You watched him leave, praying to the Gods that he return.
You and Ellie had dinner together, the teen floating the idea of her moving into the garage, asking if you could talk Joel into renovating it for her. You tried to argue, saying that Joel wouldn’t be happy to have his daughter live outside, but she countered with an eerily calm defence of not wanting to ‘wake up earlier than necessary due to unwanted noise’, she said with a smirk, making your head go cold.
You avoided eye contact with her for the rest of the day.
You waited for him to come home, making yourself busy with chores so you wouldn’t fidget, as you always did when you were worried. He usually got back around 11, stayed at the stable to untack his horse and then come straight home. When the clock struck midnight and he still wasn’t home, you put your jacket on and ran to the stable, trying not to think of the unthinkable. Just as you were approaching the stable, he came out.
He was held up by 2 men.
“Oh my God, Joel! What happened?” you rushed to him. You could see his face turn, like he was disappointed you saw him like that.
“I’m okay, I fell off the horse. He got spooked. I’m fine. Just some scratches, that’s all,” he tried to coax, wincing as he desperately tried to get the two men off him.
“He sprained his foot, he could barely walk,” one of the men ratted him out. He immediately ducked when Joel turned to look at him, almost as if Joel had a rifle pointed at him. To be fair, the man’s stare was just as sharp as a dagger, if not sharper.
The men helped him home, and you helped your man up to the room the two of you shared. You filled the tub with hot water, helped him undress and get in, the man groaning with relief as he did.
You washed him, tears falling thickly from your eyes as you found bruise upon bruise on his person, choked a sob whenever he hissed or winced, staying where he couldn’t see you as you ran the washcloth all over his body. Finally, a particularly thick drop of tear fell on his shoulder, and he turned, taking your hand in his, pulling you so he could see your eyes.
Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked more in pain to see you worry for him than he did when he was in pain.
“Hey, I’m okay, see? It’s just a few bruises. They’re nothing. I’m fine. Hey, hey, come here,” he coaxed, pulling you into the tub with him, holding you in his lap. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m okay Baby,” he whispered, kissing your temple over and over as you sobbed into his neck.
You recovered rather quickly from your sob-fest when he hissed from pain. You had accidentally hugged him too hard, pressing on a particularly huge bruise on his shoulder blade. You got out of the tub, dripping water everywhere, muttering something about making him a cold press for his bruises. You took your clothes off to avoid dripping all over the house but found yourself being pulled back into the tub before you could take a step towards the door.
“Joel, I need to get a cold press for you!” you squealed, smacking him a little when he laughed.
“But I’m naked in a tub, and there’s a wet naked lady within an arm’s reach. Come on, Baby, I’m all sore and tired and hurt, make me feel better…” he cooed, finding your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you melt.
“Hey you guys? I’m glad you two found each other and are deliriously in love and all, but there’s an underage person across the hall who has school tomorrow!” Ellie’s desperate and frustrated voice came screaming from the hall.
Joel froze, eyes wide, his lips clamped to avoid from laughing.
“She was talking about moving into the garage so she couldn’t hear us,” you whispered, covering your mouth so you wouldn’t laugh.
“Sorry!” Joel shouted back, his shoulders shaking. “I’ll start work on that garage as soon as I can!”
“Wonderful!” her voice called out, slamming the door closed. A muffled retching noise came after.
You and Joel burst out laughing.
After a full body massage coupled with a cold press made from fresh snow, you somehow managed to coax Joel into going to bed rather than have naughty time. You suspected that he was secretly relieved even behind the pout he gave you, but he did concede, pulling your body close to his, kissing the top of your head.
“We really shouldn’t, you should lay straight, I don’t want to injure you further,” you said, pulling away.
“No,” he said, pulling you back. “Never sleeping without you in my arms again. Ever.”
You had to admit, you couldn’t sleep unless you were in his arms. Not anymore.
“It’s so late,” you said, glancing at the clock. “I don’t know if I can wake up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll open a bit late?” you mumbled through a yawn.
“Don’t go in tomorrow. I’m not going in. I’m gonna stay home and heal. It’d be nice if my Baby stays home with me,” he whispered against your hair.
“Hmm… that does sound nice… we’ll see, okay?”
“M’kay.”
“Okay.”
“Elena Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for saving my life all those years ago. I get to live what’s left of it with you because of that night. I owe you one, for the rest of my life.”
“Thank you for saving mine. And for making me so happy. I owe you more.”
He squeezed your sides for saying that. You squeezed his back, telling him if he gets to say that, you get to say it too, lifting your sleepy head to give him a kiss.
“I love you, you know that right?” he asked, kissing you back.
“I love you too.”
“But I still owe you one. A big one.”
“Joel?”
“Hmm?”
“No charge.”
And they lived happily ever after, because in this one, that blasted Season Two Episode Two didn’t happen!
Thank you for reading everyone! Much love and kisses!
Timezone Reblog
