#whiskey words & a shovel i | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gracieheartspedro · 7 months

Text

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily.

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm.

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds.

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one.

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.

“Always is, kiddo.”

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some.

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.

But for now, you should get some rest.

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have.

You need to remind the council of all your father does.

You need him to get better.

You need him.

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family.

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?”

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either.

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms.

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far.

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you.

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself.

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now.

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse.

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that?

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you.

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours.

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember.

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.

The second day starts off a bit rough.

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked.

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say.

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you.

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day.

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking.

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him.

“Right, of course.”

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.

levofloxacin

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials.

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room.

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it.

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it.

Click. Click. Click.

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing.

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body.

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully.

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind.

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

Joel can not do this.

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better.

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better.

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision.

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation.

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit.

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth.

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big.

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears.

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm.

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you.

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend.

“We have to get home,” Is all he says.

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky.

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think.

But no, he’s deadly serious.

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together.

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already.

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive.

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal.

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home.

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it.

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially.

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom.

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all.

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray.

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake.

But you’re not easing up.

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question.

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit.

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages.

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought.

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him.

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel last of us smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #post outbreak joel #dbf joel #dbf joel miller #gracieheartspedro #fic: who we are

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theunbearableweightofpedropascal · 3 months

Text

Best Friend's Brother

Will Miller x f!reader

Warnings: (infidelity, possible unlikeable reader/Will, fingering, p in v, creampie, no safe sex, dirty talk, cursing)

A/N: Don't mind most of my smut wear condoms. Also I needed more Will fics out there.

Summary: With enough liquid courage you tell your best friend's brother exactly how you feel about his fiance.

Word Count: 4.3K

“You know if you interacted with anybody here you wouldn’t have to read so many romance books.” Benny’s breath tickles your ear as your eyes are glued to the words on your phone screen. Your favorite author surprise dropped a new chapter and you retreated from conversation to read it.

“After I finish this chapter.” You barely pay any mind to your best friend.

“You said that 10 minutes ago.” For such a large man Benny has a talent for sounding like a whiney child when he wants.

You heave a deep sigh before placing your phone on the table. The moment your irritated eyes land on Benny he sheepishly slides two whiskey shots in front of you. Internally you’re already gagging but you shoot them back and grimace at the burning in your chest. The warm air of the bar did little to help the heat flourishing through your body.

“You couldn’t have grabbed me a soda.” Temporarily a frown is etched on your face until the bitter taste goes away.

“I drank it while you were reading.” His answer makes your head snap to him but before you could respond he abruptly stands. “Will!” His booming voice does little to disturb the patrons around you, but the name he calls makes the hair on your body stand up.

The two golden boys meet in the middle to hug each other and you try to calm your overactive mind. You could say you’ve had a lingering attraction to the older Miller brother, though it would be downplaying the amount of times you’ve thought about him.

When you first met Benny his brother was already away so you only knew him through the stories Benny would tell. From the way he described his brother, you thought he was too good to be true. But when you met him you were proven wrong, and soon you were under his spell.

“Hey, Buttercup.” Your thoughts halt when you feel Will’s hands squeeze your shoulders before taking the seat to your left. His nickname for you never failed to warm your cheeks, even if technically he had a fiance.

“Hi Will,” The cheery tone of your voice causes Benny to roll his eyes at your abrupt change of mood. You never brought up how you felt about his brother but it wasn’t hard for him to put together the pieces.

Benny checks his phone before telling the both of you he’s getting more drinks for when Santi and Frankie arrive.

“How’s the book going?” You playfully roll your eyes at the mention of your pipe dream from when you were 19.

“Still on page 3, inspiration has yet to strike.” His smile makes your heart beat so heavily in your chest you think he can see it.

“Hard to believe that,” His hands grab at the half-cold fries on your plate. “What genre are pushing for anyway?”

“Most likely historical romance,” The whiskey shots settle and you feel your body become lighter. “The old-timey English is hard to get into though.”

“Coming from the walking encyclopedia.” His words are slightly muffled by the fries he’s shoveling into his mouth.

“What’d we miss?” Santiago’s voice cuts through your conversation and you look up to find him and Frankie occupying the seats in front of you.

“Not much Benny’s getting the drinks.” Will rubs his hands on his jeans to rid his hands of grease.

As usual, the men around you dive into sports commentary as if they’re the analysts they watch on TV. In the meantime, you skim over the food menu trying to figure out what else you want. With two more people at the table, the heat from Will’s arm brushing against you makes you lean closer to him. If he felt the difference he didn’t let anything on.

Two pitchers of beer slosh against the plastic as it's being set down before a flight of whiskey is placed directly in front of you. An eager smile graces Benny’s face and you know exactly how this night is gonna go. As the two of you go shot for shot the three veterans look at you both in amusement.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Santiago smiled as he nudged h

“It’s going,” Despite his lack of answer the way he feels is written all over his face, and everyone at the table knows it.

“It can’t be that bad man.” Frankie tries to give the benefit of the doubt but he unknowingly releases the floodgates.

“She told her family to send pictures of what they were gonna wear to the ceremony,” Will gulps the rest of his beer before continuing, “Then she proceeded to veto her grandmother’s peach pantsuit because it was too close to white.”

Everybody has variants of shock written on their face except you, though your reasons may have more to do with animosity. Melody, his fiance, had first been introduced two years ago. From the start, you could tell they weren’t right for each other, but your mouth remained shut until Benny brought it up.

Leave it to your best friend to be the one feeding into your delusions.

“And don’t get me started on the flower girl fight, she had both her sisters send test shots of their daughters.” You adamantly aim to keep your mouth shut, knowing the liquor has loosened your lips. The last thing you wanna do is rattle down the long list of reasons you don’t like his fiance, namely because she’s his fiance.

“You sure know how to pick em’ Ironhead.” Santiago whistles while he thinks of all his previous relationships.

“Maybe it’s just the wedding.” His tone was even but laced with something like doubt.

“Maybe it’s a glimpse into your future.” Benny tries to bring the lighthearted energy back by wiggling his fingers and mimicking a ghost.

A smile cracks Ironhead’s exterior at his little brother’s antics.

“Drinks anyone?” You look around the table watching them nod in agreement before taking off to the bar.

The counter is busy when you approach so you take the time to go over what you want. Two pitchers of beer and two Long Island iced teas. A hand connecting with your lower back causes you to swivel your head to accost the perpetrator, only to find Will. Relief floods through you but not for long.

“You’ve been quiet all night, it’s not like you.” Will leans his other arm over the bar, caging you in.

“Your brother’s been force-feeding my shots all night what’d you expect.” You hope you can stir him away with humor but he knows better and so should you.

“What do you think? Am I setting myself up for failure again?” The sincerity in his voice pulls at your heartstrings. You know how he feels about this being his second engagement and nobody could blame him for wanting to be sure.

“Look if you’re happy what does it matter what those idiots are talking about?” Will’s eyes narrow and you give in to the voices in your head. “Honestly, she’s always lacked valuable character traits.” You avoid eye contact with the man next to you as you flag down a bartender to give the order.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” His blue eyes bore into yours and you find your eyes lowering to his lips.

“And how exactly am I supposed to bring that up in conversation?” Your conversation ceases for now as the bartender places your drinks in front of you.

A silence falls over the both of you even after you return to the table. Thankfully none of the other guys notice you averting your eyes from Will’s direction.

……………

All Will could think about was what you said.

Sure he noticed how self-centered Mel could be but it didn’t bother him because he had his fair share of baggage. Even when the guys were making their jokes about how she acted on a camping trip, he didn’t care. Yet the moment you opened your mouth he couldn’t shake the feeling that this engagement wasn’t right either.

For the past hour, he’s been looking your way, hoping to catch your eye, but you purposefully avoid it. He watches you engage with everyone else until you feel his gaze burning and return to sipping on your drink.

He checks his phone only to find a string of complaints from Mel.

“I should get going.” Will reaches for his wallet and places enough bills down for the tab and tip. Much to the dismay of everyone else at the table.

“We’re supposed to be treating you man.” Frankie scrambles to get his wallet but Will waves him off with a charming smile.

“Next time.” He promises.

“We should probably head out too.” You peer over at Benny with pouty lips

“I can take you.” William wastes no time volunteering to get you alone, he’s never been one to squander an opportunity.

For the first time in an hour you look up at him and he can see the panic swimming in your eyes. You want to object but that would look suspicious so you nod your head and gather your things. Each of the guys hugs you goodbye before Will’s hand finds its way back to your lower back to guide you through the crowd.

You know it’s a friendly touch still, excitement swirls within you.

Outside the bar is just as crowded so Will’s hands remain on you. In fact, he slides his right hand around your waist to bring you closer to him. People walking past would assume the two of you were together the way you were glued to each other.

“When you said she lacked character traits, which specifically do you mean?” Will’s rough voice shocked you with how close it was to your ear.

“This feels like a trap.” You look up at him with suspicion.

“It’s not, I promise.” He laughs at your hesitance, “You’ve just never said anything and if you had…” He drops his sentence but you know what he’s implying.

“You really care about what Benny’s best friend thinks?” You jab his stomach with your elbow.

“You know you mean more than that to me.” He leaves no room for argument and you’re left speechless at his side.

You take a moment to digest his words because it isn’t the first time he’s said them, but it feels like it.

“Sometimes it feels like you care more for her than she does you.” Your voice is quiet. “And it’s not like I would be telling you out of the purest intentions.” The words leave your lips before you think better of it.

“What intention would you have?” You realize too late that he’s slowed the pace and now you’re standing face to face.

“For you to break up with her.” You see no point in lying, and it’s not like you’re the only one who feels that way.

“And that’s it?” Will looks down at you like you're his prey. Clearly, he already knows the answer.

“Mhmm.” You lied. “How away far is your car?”

“It’s right there.” He tips his head in the direction of his truck but his eyes and body don’t move from you.

After a few seconds, you turn to make your way to the car but Will’s hand prevents you from leaving your spot.

“Is that all you’d want me to do? Leave her?” That gruff voice is going straight is going straight down to your core.

“No.” Your eyes are glued to the ground.

For now, your answer seems good enough because he pulls you back into him for the remaining three feet to the car. He opens the passenger door for you and you take a short reprieve to gather yourself.

Of course, Will could read how desperate you were for him. Dread settled in the bottom of your stomach when you think of how awkward this ride is gonna be.

“Look I’m sorry, here I am criticizing Melody for her character-” You spew out your thoughts hoping to do damage control.

“I’m not upset Buttercup, when the guy's rib on Mel’s antics it’s one thing but when you say it…” He plays with the scruff on his chin before continuing, “Santiago has yet to be in a serious relationship, Frankie is working his way back from the doghouse, and Benny is Benny.”

Your giggle rings through the cabin despite the tense atmosphere and Will can’t help but join you.

“Seriously, I’m no better especially since I want to be in her position.” Your eyes are focused on your lap but you almost feel the wind from Will’s head craning towards you.

“You what?!” Based on his tone of voice he didn’t know that tidbit and you were the one to give yourself away.

“Shit.” You clasp your hands over your face as you feel the car pull to a stop.

“What do you mean you want to be in her position?” The fact that he softened his voice made this the stuff of nightmares.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory William.” You deadpan without bothering to look up.

“Indulge me.” You remove your hand from your face but keep your eyes locked in front of you.

You make sure he can see your eyes roll before you continue, “She’s worried about how everything’ll look to other people but if I were the one marrying you the only thing I’d be worried about is how much lingerie I could reasonably pack for the honeymoon.”

“How long?” The thought of your words causes pools of blood to gather below his waist. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Since I met you.” You say matter-of-factly. “I thought it was just a crush but it progressed over the years.”

“Why didn’t you or Benny say anything?” Will’s upper body almost completely faces you.

“Are you saying you would’ve been receptive?” You ask the question but you already have an inkling of what he’ll say.

“I don’t know-” Will feels like the rug was swept out from underneath him. He’d already had doubts but he was willing to settle, at least before you opened your mouth.

“Exactly.” You don’t let him finish in the hopes that he’ll pull back onto the road.

“To be fair I have a decade on you so legally speaking, it’s a little touchy.” Of all the times he graced you with his humor it was not appreciated right now.

“More like a decade and a half but okay.” Despite yourself, you smile while his drops at your statement.

“And yet that didn’t deter you.” Suddenly the cab feels small and you don’t know when but the two of you got closer.

“That’s because I never said it was a bad thing.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Tonight you were full of surprises. Will thought he knew everything there was to know about you but he hadn’t seen this side of you. Your blown-out pupils and plump lips call out to him like a siren’s song. The faint scent of whiskey and strawberry chapstick wafts his way. Intoxicating is the only way to describe how you’re making him feel because the beers he had did nothing.

He doesn’t register his hand reaching out to rub his thumb along your bottom lip. The moment you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck he loses every thought,,,,,,

Will removes his thumb only to replace it with his lips. It doesn’t take long for you to kiss him back with even more vigor, this was your chance and it wouldn’t go to waste. You feel your bottom lip being sucked into his mouth but somehow he isn’t close enough. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck, bringing him closer while you tilt your head.

Your soft hands feel almost ticklish on the back of his neck and a deep groan passes his lips.

Will reaches out to your waist, pulling you closer until he feels your tits pressed against his chest. You make the lust-filled decision to swing your knee onto his other side and sit on his lap. The denim skirt you’re wearing rides up, almost showing him your panties.

A gasp escapes your lips when you feel what you thought was Will’s zipper. One look at his smirking face tells you you’re mistaken.

“Is that-” Your eyes zero in on where the two of you meet.

“Mhmm,” Will confirms your dream and arousal bubbles in your core. Before you can say anything he rolls his hips perfectly hitting your clit in just the right spot.

The sound that leaves your body is a culmination of all the years you’ve spent yearning for him, for a moment like this. You’ve never felt more desperate in your life. Quickly you lay your head in the crook of his neck and rock your hips back and forth. Your hands find themselves squeezing his biceps for purchase.

All of your breathless pants make him throb with need, as good as you feel like this he wants it all. Will inches his hand up your inner thigh, planting himself on your moving hips.

“Buttercup?” Will talks to you like he’s rousing you from sleep.

“Hm?” He watches you focus with your eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip jutted out, there’s no better view.

“Want you to sit on it.” He can tell when you register his words because of the decline of your movement.

In all of five seconds, you’re clawing at his pants and all he can do is look at you. There’s no denying you’re gorgeous, sweet, funny. Now that he thinks about it he did care a little more for you than he should. Hell, sometimes you would go to him before Benny and he always felt great when he could problem-solve for you.

While he had been staring at you and daydreaming you managed to pull him out of his pants. If he thought your hands felt good before they feel even better now that they were stroking him.

“You’re so big Will.” Even your fantasies couldn’t live up to the real thing.

“Yeah?” Will rubs over your wet fold through your panties, “You’re gonna be a good girl and take it for me right?” He slides your panties to the side before teasing your entrance with his middle finger.

“Whatever you want.” And you meant every word.

He barely has his finger in and you’re already clenching around him. With your hands now on his shoulders, you impatiently rock your hips showing him you’re ready. Will groans when he feels your warm walls clenching on his finger. He takes his other hand to your chin to bring you closer before telling you, “You’re perfect.”

Before you fully realize what he said he adds another finger to your aching core. Your eyes meet his almost pitch-black ones, and again you feel like his prey the way they bore into his. When he curls his fingers inside you you involuntary buck your hips for more.

You wonder if you’ll leave bruises the way your fingers dig into Will’s shoulders. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, his teeth slightly rub against yours before he deepens it. Dizziness fills your head from the way his fingers pumped into you to his warm tongue licking into your mouth.

You were ruined for anyone else after him.

The sounds in the truck consist of heavy breathing, moans, and squelching. A pit formed in your lower stomach and you felt like you were falling in it. You feel too much at once and you feel yourself pulling away from the kiss to calm down but Will moves to your neck. As he sucks and licks at your neck his fingers expertly pull you over the edge.

You would’ve fallen against the wheel if he hadn’t held you in his arms. He rubs his hands over your back until you come to. Somehow your orgasm felt like a shot of espresso and you’re right back on Will.

Without pause you sink down on his leaking tip and slowly inch him deeper. You watch his face while you do it and you almost miss his blue eyes, but he looks so much more hypnotizing. You couldn’t look away and neither could he.

Will couldn’t imagine his night would end up like this, not that he was complaining.

With you finally taking all of him you let out the airiest sigh before rocking your hips. Your knees were burning from the seats but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Will’s hands move down your back to grip your ass while you rock and bounce on him.

“Fuck,” He is the first to break eye contact but only to look at where the two of you meet. Your juices leave a ring on his dick and he almost cums at the sight. “I can’t wait to taste you next time.”

“Next time?” You try slowing your hips to comprehend what he just said but he picks up your slack. With his hips rutting into yours from below the pleasure must be clouding your brain to imagine things.

“You thought I was gonna let you go after this baby?” An unforgiving pace brings that familiar pit in your stomach that has you pawing at his covered chest. “You know me better than that Buttercup.”

Will’s hips sputter before you hear a guttural groan and warmth being shot into you. Even as he’s cumming he uses his hand to urge you to rock your hips against him. When everything slows to a halt all that’s left is heavy breathing from the both of you.

“Did you mean it?” You bring yourself to ask as you fiddle with your fingers

Will lifts his head from the headrest to look at you, “Of course I mean it.”

“You know you still have a fiance right?”

“You didn’t have to put off by that a few minutes ago,” His playful grin lets you know he’s only messing with you. “Seriously though it wouldn’t have lasted, I just didn’t think anybody else would want me.”

“I mean you make it easy.” You haven’t looked up at him yet.

“You’re one to talk.” Will tilts his head before giving you a kiss. “Let’s get you home.” Heat fills your face at his charm.

With a hiss, he slowly helps to lift you off his now softening dick. You’re quick to move your panties back in place before any of his cum drips out. He tucks himself into himself back into his pants.

Before he even turns on the car you’re lying across the the front seat and nodding off. He takes the jacket he always keeps in his car behind the seat and drapes it over you.

He takes a look at his phone and sees missed calls from everyone. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Will winces as he looks at the messages asking him where he is. Instead of staying here for another hour, he heads in the direction of your condo.

Your porch light is on when he pulls into the driveway in front of your house. One look over at you and he can see that you’re dead to the world so he searches for your purse. When he finds your keys he runs to open the door before circling back to pick you up.

Once in the house, he kicks the door closed then locks it. He already knows the way to your room since he basically set it up for you. In fact he moved most of your furniture for you, not wanting moving companies to take advantage of you.

Your room has clothes strewn on the floor in what looks like failed outfits you tried on. A laugh escapes Will when he realizes you ended up wearing a short jean skirt with a v-neck. It’s only two steps to the bed and he lays you down gently not wanting to wake you.

He tries replacing the jacket over you but your fingers have gripped it so he settles on laying the comforter over you. When he’s sure you’re settled he rounds your bed to sit on the other side, unlacing his boots. After that are his shoes socks, jeans, and shirt.

A relaxed sigh is let out the moment his back hits your bed. Although it makes no sense to cuddle, he saddles his body close to yours.

Bacon and potatoes infiltrate your nose the more awake you become. Last night quickly flashes through your mind as if your brain urged you to remember. Your room is exactly how you left it and the thought of Will seeing it sends shame through your body. Of the discarded clothes you pick up some lounge shorts to throw on.

Your hunger overpowers your drowsiness so you make your way to the kitchen. Will’s naked back is a welcomed sight anytime.

“Good morning.” He grins when you make an appearance next to him.

“Morning Buttercup.” The spatula he’s using to stir potatoes is cast aside so he can run rub circles on your lower back.

Now that the afterglow faded you wondered what direction this is heading in.

“I ended things with Mel this morning, she’s pissed to say the least.”

“I didn’t plan for this to happen.” Guilt creeps into you now that your chickens have come home to roost

“I know, but I’m glad it happened.” Without waiting for your reply he's back to cooking like our conversation never happened. “You can sit down if you want it’ll only be five more minutes.”

The debrief call with Benny will be one for the books.

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #william miller #will miller smut #william ironhead miller #will ironhead miller

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 6 months

Text

Crawl home to her

A/N: thank you so much for your love on my previous work “ Goodbye, Tommy Shelby”, i appreciate it so much, i will officially be starting the sequel next week. i'm currently very busy with end of term uni assignments. For this fic you are about to read, i would recommend listening to work song by hozier.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO REPOST THIS ON ANY OTHER SITE AND TO TRANSLATE THIS.

Summery: who would of thought a conversation with Polly, after another war riddled nightmare, could cause tommys love to come back to him.

Word count: 1,748

The dark. Tommy's worst enemy since the war. It isn't the dark that scares him, its the noises of the consistent banging of shovels and the pained yells of men coming from his walls that taunt him every time he closes his eyes. Usually, the opium he keeps hidden in his draw stops the noises for a few hours.

But not tonight.

Tommy gasps as he opens his eyes and sits up, the room spinning as he slowly sits on the edge of his bed, putting his hands on his head, trying to calm down, his heart races inhumanly fast, he swears one day his heart would burst through his chest.

Like every other night, Tommy stands up, grabs a cigarette from his pouch on his bedside table and leaves him room. the floorboards creak as he walks past the other bedrooms that hold his two brothers, Arthur and Finn, and the bedroom that holds his aunt Polly. The old wooden floor has been shaped over time by each sole of the Shelby family, from generations of living in the house.

Tommy walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees Polly sat at the table, he raises an eyebrow as he takes the cigarette from between his lips, continuing to walk to the small table that holds the whiskey. He pours himself a glass.

" why are you up poll?" he asks confused, then gulps down the whiskey from the glass.

" much like you Thomas , nightmares" she whispers, holding her mug of tea in both hands, making sure the warm steam hits her face so it could protect her from the coldness of the night.

" i don't know what you're on about pol" he grumbles, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, then he walks over to the table and sits down across from Polly.

Polly raises an eyebrow, watching Tommy as she sips her tea. Polly knew Tommy was lying, since he was child she could sense when he wasn't telling the truth. He knew this, that's why Tommy chuckles quietly.

" and you pol?" he asks knowingly, wanting to change the subject, leaning back in his seat then takes a drag of his cigarette, seconds later blowing out the smoke.

The small kitchen area was filling up with smoke. Polly delicately places her mug down onto the table, grabbing a cigarette from her own pouch.

"i have the sight Thomas, i have nightmare almost every night" Polly explains, then lights the cigarette before taking her first drag "your's is about the war" she determined.

" it's not serious Polly, every man that came back from France. mentally never leaves" tommy whispers.

polly smirks " yes but most of those men have someone at home to help them, you did but you pushed her away" she points out.

Tommy immediately tenses up, he has not spoken to or about her since before the war. By her, he means his childhood best friend, Alice. They had met during school when Alice was left out on the first day of school and Tommy noticed and went over to Alice to talk to her. Since then, if you saw one you knew the other would be close by.

However, a week before the war. Alice and Tommy had an argument after Alice found out Tommy enlisted. They did not talk it out in time before Tommy left. When Tommy came back, he was a changed man, he did not want Alice involved in the life he had become involved with.

" don't pol" Tommy warns.

" she's a seamstress now Tommy, has her own little shop on the other side of town, sometimes i see her at the markets" she shared.

When Tommy and Alice were teens, Alice always talked about making dress's when she left school. However, she was always self-conscious about the dresses she made and use to show them to Tommy. He was her number one fan, he use to encourage her to sell them, Tommy was the only person who believed in herself.

Tommy smiles slightly " she does?" his eyes sparkle slightly, causing Polly to chuckle.

Polly nods " she lives two streets behind her, next door to Mrs. dingle, the baker"Polly explains.

Tommy stands up and grabs his coat, not saying a word to Polly as he leaves.

Alice's flat

A sleepless night, in Alice's mind, was a chance to mediate about the previous day and the day that was coming. Mediation helps Alice to feel the energy of the world sparkling at her finger tips. The energy asks her to let them in and help her dreams become a nighttime reality.

It was one of them nights for Alice, she sat on her one person couch by her window, watching as the stars twinkle down onto small health, making natural guide lights for the men going home from a late nigh at work. Alice found the night sky beautiful, she finds that the stars look like snowflakes in the night, yet they are forever still. Alice found it amazing that for centuries and millenia's, everyone had seen the same constellations.

Alice stood up, going to her kitchen to pour herself another cup of tea, the sound of a knock on her door makes her flinch. It is two in the morning, who would be knocking on her door.

Alice picks up her gun from her kitchen draw and walks to the front door, even though she doesn't speak to Tommy anymore, she knew she needed protection encase someone who knows they were friends comes after.

She takes the safety off her gun and begins to open the door, as the door inches open her heart feels like it was about to burst from anxiety.

Alice frowns when she sees a man standing in front of her door with his head tilting down, his peaked cap covering his eyes but she knew who it was immediately.

"Tommy?"she whispers, her voice soft but also shaky. They had seen each other this close since before the war.

Tommy lifts his head, making eye contact with Alice, His eyes are the same. They were the colour of every dancing sky, filled with infinite hues of that are illuminated by newborn light.

He coughs slightly " can i come in?" his voice vibrating through her bones, causing a much welcomed and missed vibration.

Alice nods and moves to the side, allowing Tommy to walk into her small but homely flat. He takes off her cap, Alice closes the door then walks back over to her kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" Alice asks, looking over at Tommy, who was taking his coat off.

"whiskey?" he asks, sitting at her small dinning table.

Alice smiles and nods, she takes the bottle of Irish whiskey from the back of her cupboard, then takes the whiskey cup from the cupboard as well before walking over to Tommy.

"are you in trouble?" she questions, placing the glass in-front of Tommy then pours the whiskey slowly.

Tommy frowns " i'm not, why would you think that?" he asks confused.

" you are Thomas Shelby, you have a lot of enemies and we have not spoken for nearly five years Tommy, so why are you here?" she points out, sitting down across from him.

" i heard you are a seamstress" he states, taking out a cigarette from his pouch, lighting it. All the whilst, not breaking eye contact with Alice.

She chuckles " you came here at nearly three in the morning to talk about my job?" Alice raises an eyebrow.

Tommy smirks slightly " There's only so much a man can take of his four walls" he admits.

Alice hums " having nightmares? I've heard a lot of men that came back from France have them, some so bad they go to the hospital" she whispers, her eyes now full of worry.

" i'm Thomas Shelby, you don't have to worry about me" he jokes.

Alice rolls her eyes and stands up, walking around the table, pulling out the chair beside Tommy and sits down, grabbing his hands gently " you were my best friend Tommy, of course i'm going to worry about you. Don't give me the Shelby bullshit" she affirmed.

Tommy smiles for the first time since he came back from France "glad to see you have changed"

Alice smiles softly " i'd never changed Tommy, i'll forever be me, for you" she admits.

Both of them did not say a word to each-other after that, the tension was thick between them. Tommy gently lifts his hand, stroking his thumb down Alice's cheekbone down to her lips, her pale skin was like the silk of the petals of white roses in the summer. Tommy glances down at her lips, his thumb gliding over her plump bottom lip. Alice inhaled softly at the touch, her lips were as good as her eyes. Painting a picture of her emotions.

"i love you" Alice blurts out.

In the stillness of the moment that follows her confession, there so much both of them can say. Alice doesn't regret what she say, sudden moments are a risk but sometimes they are necessary to get what you want. So instead of tommy replying, he gently puts his hand on her cheek and pulls her in. Kissing her.

Kissing her softly but with passionate purpose. Kissing her, immediately stopped the sound of shovels and the sound of mens screams.

Theres a muffled sound of shock from Alice before she softens into the kiss. Her delicate hand finding her place on the back of tommys neck , her lips move against his, as if she was whispering a question over and over again for him. He pulls back slowly, thinking she would want him too.However, Alice follows him, chasing after his lips. Her glazed eyes opening.

in that kiss, was the sweetness of their passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into one moment.

Alice smiles happily, looking between tommys eyes, her eyes full of love. If any one moment in Alice's life were to ancher her soul , creating a tie to this reality. it would be the moment she fell in love with him. She realised that she had a protector born for pure love and how could she not love that? How could she not love all of Thomas Shelby. He is the rope and the knot to her vessel that is now in safe mooring. For this, she will forever be his.

Alice strokes tommys cheek softly " you've come home to me"

A/N: EEEK! i am so proud of this one. Please leave a like, comment and/or re-blog. It is all appreciated xx

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders masterlist #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Note

hiii!!🤍 idk if you are taking requests at the moment but yesterday i had this idea of fem!reader and rafe fic inspired on the song maniac by conan gray lmaoo

in my head this sounds like a good idea but idk lol

love uuuuu<333

Maniac

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Accusations of Being a Stalker

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe sets eyes on the one person he doesn’t really want to see. The one person he loves, but who is too good for him. So he let her go. By the time he notices her in the crowd, he is on his sixth cup of whiskey and the alcohol is getting to his head. He shouldn’t do it, yet he does. He stumbles through the crowd to get close to her and his finger points at her in accusation. “I wish you were dead. Maybe then you’d stop popping up everywhere I go like a stalker,” he slurs, his finger wavering a little. She chuckles, “You wish I cared enough about you to stalk you. Except I know you need this so can go tell all your friends that I’m a stalker, a watcher or that I drive you mad. I really don’t care.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns to go back to her friends. Their break-up was anything but friendly. Rafe had to resort to cruelty to get it to set into her mind that there was no salvation for them by talking through their problems. She was too good for him and he was just going to bring her down with him. That’s why he had to do it. As she goes to her friends, he catches a whiff of her perfume and he is dying to be able to properly take the scent in before she leaves again.

Later in the night, Y/N hears rustling in the backyard. She gets up from her bed to spot a familiar figure on the grass through her window. She groans; the irony of him calling her a stalker when he is the one at the back of her house late into the night. She goes downstairs and swings the backdoor open to get rid of him before her parents can wake up. She has to laugh at the sight of him stumbling through with a rose and a shovel in his hand. He holds both items up in his hands like he is balancing out the weight between the two. He comes to a decision and throws the shovel to the side. “Take me back,” he pleas. She chuckles, slamming the door in his face. “You are such a maniac.”

———

A few weeks later, her phone rings from her nightstand in the middle of the night. She presses the phone to her ear and rolls her eyes at who is on the other side. She puts some clothes on, heading to her car to make another mistake. She swears up a storm at the sight of the car smashed against the tree. She sets her car in park and runs over to the driver’s side to make sure he is okay. “You came,” he mumbles, looking at her with a dopey look. He reaches out to pet her hair. She jerks out of his touch. “What do you want me to do about this Rafe? You wrecked your car,” she states in frustration. His lips pout, “You always know how to fix my problems. Because you are perfect. That’s why I had to break up with you because you are too perfect.” His eyes start to pool with tears and she wipes the salty water away. “I’m going to call the police and they are going to take care of it,” she informs, pulling out her phone.

“No, please, don’t. I need you. I need you to stay.”

“It’s all I can do, Rafe. Look what we had was magic, but you turned it tragic. So I really don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to say that you are going to take me back.”

She lets out a low laugh, “You are a maniac.” Y/N leaves his side, listening to him whine as she goes to call the police. She couldn’t take any more of his bullshit. It breaks her heart that all he ever wants to do is use her for help and pretend like he really wants her to stay. He doesn’t love her. He made that clear when they broke up.

———

The next time he calls is during the day. He had just snorted a shit ton of coke and he was feeling his regret at a tenfold. “Come on, Y/N. Pick up. Pick up, Beautiful,” he begs into the phone at the continual sound of the call dialling. One ring. Two rings. After the third ring, he is sent to voice mail.

She looks down at the phone, pressing the red button with a shake of her head. “He’s a maniac if he thinks I’m going to come back.”

Rafe throws the phone against the wall, screaming as this is sinking in. He lost her and he was never going to get her back. This thought is enough to turn him into a maniac.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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cyberwhumper · 7 months

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Baxter thought it'd be funny to have his captive dig his own grave exactly where the one he previously escaped from was. Shoveling dirt under the threat of a gun, Whiskey isn't afforded any seconds to recover. The man is riled up and wants this done now. Once he starts having trouble with the shovel due to exhaustion, his captor forces him to dig with his hands instead.

The grave, however, was not empty.

All eyes are laser-focused on the body that occupies it, gruesome details still concealed by the dirt yet clear enough to know exactly who it is. It's as if they all collectively come to the exact same realization, and shock is written all over their faces as their eyes dart between the partially buried remains and the man previously digging at them. The dirt is stained red with dried blood, the unmistakable stench of death giving away what everyone was thinking.

"What the fuck did you do...?" Whiskey is the first to break the silence, eyes uncharacteristically wide staring back at Baxter. A deer in the headlights. Does he not know?

"You didn't... you didn't escape..." The words seem to slip out of his captor's mouth as he is thinking them, trailing off. "You died.". The absurdity of it all is not lost on him, and a nervous laugh soon follows. This is a nightmare. "You fucking died! Unbelievable!"

Whiskey is speechless. There is no escalation, no smartassery, nothing. I died? You're shitting me, right? Had he really died? Well, the body in the grave certainly looked exactly like him. But maybe they're just fucking with my head. Maybe this is some advanced-level gaslighting bullshit they're pulling, they'll work me up and laugh at me when I freak out. That's gotta be it, right?

Baxter's shock slowly gives way back to his searing rage as he seems to connect the dots. What truly karmic levels of irony it must be, that the person you hate the most is the one you can't seem to get rid of. His grip on the gun tightens in fury.

"We changin' plans, boys!" Baxter yells to the present gang members, yet his gaze remains fixed on his captive. "Looks like the prick here will be joining us permanently."

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @kinderlamb //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

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whoahoney · 2 years

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hi ml, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests! but I’ve seen a few people request work from you. if not that’s totally fine and I’m sorry for the inconvenience! but I have this imagine in my head😭

eddie x best friend, they get tickets to some rock/metal concert (you pick:)) & she gets insanely jealous when she finds him making out with some chick in the pit, so then she finds a random guy to flirt with in the pit, and it all goes downhill from there, then he finally confronts her abt it & they both sorta confess mid arguement😭 I feel like that’s such an Eddie thing to do. “I love you you stupid ass fucking bitch”💀

You’re so lovely, thank you for this!! 😭 this helped my writers block 💖 I’m a sucker for friends to lovers!

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie and Y/n face difficulties and repressed feelings in the pit of a Judas Priest concert.

Content Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), fem!reader, drug use (they high asf), toxic friends to lovers, language, angst/comfort, reader pushes Eddie around a lot out of anger but nothing wild, PDA in the pit, groping

Part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie and Y/n had spent the last 3 1/2 hours in the freezing cold, waiting in line for the pit to open at the Judas Priest Concert in Indianapolis. The friends had saved for months to be able to purchase tickets, Priest being apart of the foundation of their friendship.

The two met at the beginning of high school; both outcast for their shared love of a darker aesthetic and louder music, and soon finding solace within one another one rainy day when Jason Carver broke her tape and Eddie happened to notice it was Judas Priest. He quickly offered to give her his own copy, which she happily accepted.

It wasn’t long before the two developed feelings for each other; sneaking glances, hiding the dirtiest thoughts that floated around in their brains when they were alone together in each other’s rooms, not to mention the jealousy they’d feel when seeing the other pay any attention to a member of the opposite sex.

Y/n had gotten used to Eddie’s easy way with words around the girls at the bars in the city they frequented, both of them having their ways to combat the green monster. Eddie had yet to get used to guys offering to buy drinks for his crazy beautiful and dorky best friend and wrap their arms around her front to keep her close to their chests; the way he’d wanted to forever.

Most times they went out resulted in bickering and tension for unknown or unspoken reasons; Eddie getting upset about creepy dudes touching his friend and loudly breaking it up, or Y/n seething in the corner with a whiskey in hand as Eddie leaned closer to some blonde at the bar, only noticing his friends displeasure when she paid her tab and obnoxiously reached into his pants pocket for his keys without a word to him or a glance to the girl he was entertaining.

Of course he’d always go after her, but not without exchanging words.

‘What is your fuckin problem?’

‘Every time we go out you always gotta—‘

‘So you like weird dudes looking at you like that? You think they wanna take you home to mom, really? Think again!’

‘You and sluts, Eddie, what the fuck is up with that?’

‘You could do so much better!’

Always ending with

‘I’m sorry…’

‘I just wanna protect you’

‘You only deserve the best.’

‘I wouldn’t be with anyone that had a problem with our friendship’

‘You’re my best friend’

So the last couple months consisted mostly of the two staying in at their own places, ordering take out, watching movies, and of course smoking and drinking. The evenings they didn’t get together they typically shared a phone call after work, most of the time during dinner.

Y/n would giggle at Eddie’s garbled speech over the phone as he shoveled Chinese noodles into his mouth, ranting about the disappointing ending of his latest novel and listing the ways he could’ve made it better.

Eddie enjoyed hearing Y/n’s stories of her days spent taking classes at the community college, slowly but surely crawling her way to a degree while only doing part time. He enjoyed hearing her spill endlessly about her major, learning from her the more she spoke and reveling in the passionate way she described it all.

They hadn’t been able to hang out in a couple weeks, phone calls coming by more frequently than their physical beings, but this meant the time spent together the day of the concert would be even more fun and special.

Until the cold front moved in.

The two didn’t mind getting closer, playing thumb war as a poor excuse to hold hands. It wasn’t long after that until the doors opened and the two held onto each other tightly, heading through security just fine until they hit the pit.

They bumped and cursed their way through as rogue fans went in hard with elbows. They got about midway before the wiggle room ended, though they were satisfied with their view of the middle of the stage. Eddie looked down at his best friend and smiled fondly at her.

Her eye makeup tonight reminded him of the way she used to do it when they first became friends, thick and dark on the top and bottom lash line, a little smokey on the edges.

She caught his stare and blushed a deep pink before averting her eyes, “What is it? Is my makeup already fucked? Lipstick on my teeth?” She flashed her front teeth as he chuckled and shook his head.

She quickly ran her tongue over her teeth and crinkled her brow in confusion. “Did you take your edible already?” She giggled as they shuffled forward.

“Pfft, no.” He lied.

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowingly.

“If we’re playing that game, I didn’t either.” She stuck out her blue tinted tongue from the gummies they shared. Eddie chuckled and stuck his own out, the matching blue patch sitting in the middle of his tongue.

Y/n shivered at the thought of his mouth tasting the exact same as hers did at this moment. She saw the couples surrounding them, guys holding their girls to their sides or fronts protectively, the way she wanted to be held by Eddie so badly. There was a couple times the instances occurred though it was always after drinks and under jealous pretenses.

It wasn’t real.

Eddie was just protective. Maybe a little territorial. But Y/n didn’t mind it. If anything she wished he would indulge in it more.

By the time the show started, the lights began flashing brilliant purple, blue, and yellow, the crowd was roaring so loud the space between Eddie and Y/n was quiet enough to speak.

“C’mon, follow me, we’ll get closer.” He nodded, spotting a way through a couple gaps. He stepped quickly without grabbing her hand properly—used to her being hot on his heels, when suddenly a girl cut her off midway, following Eddie through the gaps and disappearing as the crowd closed in.

“Eddie! Eddie Munson!” She called, jumping up to try to spot the usually easy to find mop of curls, but lamented when she realized there were a million of them now. She went the way she last saw him go, calling for him the whole way and searching for him in a sea of people who held no interest in her personal space or search for her friend.

“Eddie Munson, you fucking bastard!” She cursed, ducking through wandering hands and bitchy looks while their favorite songs played. She felt tears prickling at her eyes as her limbs became heavy from swimming against the current and groaned when she reached a dead end without finding him.

She leaned against the railing for a breather, a stray tear escaping before she gathered her bearings and decided to continue in a new direction. With a breath she turned to look at the stage and spotted the Dio backed vest just a few feet ahead.

Her heart soared, a laugh of relief coming from her as she took a step towards him, when suddenly a woman’s leg wrapped around his side. Y/n now noticed the fingers tangled in his hair as he stumbled backwards towards the railing. The blonde from before attached to his mouth like a sucker fish, though he seemed to be enjoying it.

Y/n stood gaping and cemented as Beyond the Realms of Death played, the song she had hoped to hear the most. She saw the way her fingers curled around his arm, how his roamed down her back and pulled her closer by her leg. Her chest ached when she saw him practically melt against the girl, his rings digging into her bare flesh.

Y/n choked out a sob when the girl moved to his neck, probably sucking a hickey at the crook of it where Y/n had rested her head many times. Eddie cracked his eyes open as he sighed blissfully, meeting her broken gaze as her makeup ran and ran and ran.

His eyes widened, dropping the girls leg from his waist and taking a step towards his friend. “Y/n!” He called as her eyes turned from hurt to pain and then anger within a second. She marched forward, the blonde’s confusion going unnoticed by Eddie as he took bounding steps away.

“Y/n—“His words were silenced with a shove to his chest and a mighty grunt from his friend, directing him into the pit where she originally wanted to be.

“Fuck you!” She spat on her way past him. He caught her arm and spun to her to face him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose you! Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, you looked so concerned with your tongue down that bitch’s throat. Save it.” She shrugged away from him.

“Is that what this is about? Oh, come ON. What is your problem? We’re friends, right? Friends help friends get laid, why can’t you just be my friend? Why can’t you let me have anyone?” He cried.

Y/n’s eyes widened as the fucks fled her body, biting back an unhinged smile stretching on her face at his words. To be fair, she probably looked horrifying, but inside of her a switch had flipped and she suddenly felt eerily calm.

“Y’know what, Ed? Don’t worry about me. Have a good fucking show.” She said with a seemingly earnest smile on her face as she wiped the last falling tears and mascara streaks from her cheeks. Before Eddie could manage a response she turned on her heel and made her way deeper into the crowd, tuning into the noise and choosing to deal with her crumbling heart later.

Eddie followed after her, watching the top of her head swerve through the crowd for almost a whole song until he realized the person he’d spotted wasn’t even her to begin with. Worry began to set in as soon as his edible did. “Y/n?” He called, turning in circles as people chastised his tall figure for obstructing the view.

Before he could finish calling her name again, he heard her giggle. He turned, almost sighing in relief at the thought of her just trying to mess with him by playing a short lived game of hide and seek, when he spotted her under the arm of some punk with a head of fiery curls, the two practically touching noses as they sang Love Bites to one another, making daring little touches against one another’s face and hands.

Eddie seethed as the guys arm slipped from her shoulder to her ass, using his other index finger to tilt her chin to meet his lips. Eddie grabbed her hand that was poised to cup the guy’s cheek right before their lips could meet, and jerked her away and into him, barreling towards the back of the pit and ready to leave.

He could hear her shouts of protest though he wasn’t met with any resistance from her as he guided her through the crowd. He led her out of the arena and into the deserted hallway, the roar of the crowd and the muffled wailing of the guitar sounded through the stone walls.

Eddies face was hard with anger, his jaw clenched tightly as he ran a hand down his face. Y/n finally ripped her wrist away and shoved Eddie again, his back hitting the wall—a stifled groan rippled from his chest as he did.

“You’re such a goddamn hypocrite, you know that?” She barked. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Who’s the real hypocrite here? I can’t have the same reaction you did? You just had to try to—“

“You call that the same reaction? I didn’t even kiss the guy and you made us leave the entire concert but you were almost swallowed by a human goldfish and I can’t be a little upset?” She cried, her eyes betraying her anger by glossing over.

Eddie swallowed thickly. “We were just talking, and-and the crowd made us get really close—She grabbed me, I just didn’t—“

“I don’t care to hear about it.” She dead panned, wiping her face and turning to either walk back into the concert or leave the place entirely, she hadn’t decided.

“Oh my god, yes you fucking do!” He cried, hot tears prickling behind his eyes as his throat closed up, the sight of her walking away from him unbearable.

She spotted the exit at the end of the hall and turned to yell to him. “Yeah, I do, Eddie, just not the way you do!” She shoved through the door carelessly marching into the freezing cold.

She ended up in an ally, a couple dumpsters on either side. Y/n groaned and turned in worried circles as she tried to fight the choking sobs that threatened to escape her. Streams of hot tears poured from her eyes as she crouched down by the trash and pressed her fists into her forehead to relieve the pressure of the heartbreak beating into her head as she heaved.

Suddenly the door shoved open and Eddie stomped out, ready to go down swinging if she fought riding home with him, when his face softened at her broken form on the ground in front of him. She peaked up at him, shooting him a glare right before he yanked her up and pushed her against the wall this time.

“Eddie—“

“No. My turn.” He almost spat, the breath of his words hitting her mouth and nose as he spoke. His hands planted on either side of her head as he caged her in. “I have spent so long trying to show you. Trying to get you to decide—that maybe if we did our own things it’d help. I’m—Every time, Y/n. Every time someone shows interest in me, the first thing I do is compare them to you—to my best friend. My… my perfect best friend.” His voice weakened.

“For a while it felt like-like you were just trying to protect me, like you felt I could do better, but now it’s like you just don’t want anyone to have me, and—and I just can’t understand why??” His voice cracked. “Every time I think we’re going somewhere I hit dead ends and I’m okay with being friends, I’d die before giving that up, but if we’re only friends you can’t—“

“What??” Is all she managed. “What do you-what do you mean—Eddie, you’ve practically kept me at an arms length since you started dating people! But lately, it’s like—ugh!” She exclaimed in exasperation. “It’s felt like maybe you might see me differently—but then you just jump on the first chance you get. At our concert?” She hiccuped and looked to the ground when her vision became too blurry.

“Sweetheart…” He cooed.

“Stop it! I do wanna be friends but it hurts every time we—“

“I love you, you stupid fucking bitch!” He took her face in his hands and spoke over her loudly, gently shaking her with urgency.

Y/n’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her at the confession. Her throat closed a as her brain short circuited, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “I—wha—“

He scoffed and crashed his lips against hers, mouthing at her stunned lips until they melted and moved against him. She let out a whine of relief, perhaps all the years of longing pouring out of her when he opened the floodgates.

She leaned back against the wall, his hands cradling her jaw while his fingers wrap around the nape of her neck, gently clenching the roots of her hair.

Her hands started the same, quickly moving down his neck and roaming his chest. His breath caught noticeably when she wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him flush against her, raking her nails down his back gently and pulling a sigh from him.

They finally pulled away, though Y/n pressed her head into the side of his neck, the opposite side of where the blonde had spent her time. The two sat in silence, holding one another and trying to form whole sentences and figure out where to go next.

“I love you too… I always have..” She whispered, not missing the sharp inhale of surprise he drew in. “You stupid fucking asshole.” She giggled before pressing a long open mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. Eddies eyes rolled back in his head when she began sucking softly.

He was ripped from his trance when she shoved him away towards the door, grabbing his hand on her way past in his dazed state and tugging him back inside. “But we’ve waited too long for Judas fucking Priest to miss it just for you to fuck me behind a dumpster.” Eddie cackled madly and ran after her.

Part 2

Taglist 🤍

@loving-and-dreaming

#eddie munson requests #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #answered asks #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst

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homicidal-slvt · 1 year

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Hi, can i make a smut request where Rudy being seductively enthralled by a femme fatale reader, please?

I’m not sure if you like the specifics, but if you do, here we go;

1. They both are in a mission to capture Hassan & find the missing missiles.

2. Rudy was captivated and turned on seeing Reader doing training and fighting/slaughtering the enemies

3. He was jealous seeing reader playfully flirt with others (TF141 & Alejandro) and a bit shy to approach reader but decided to ask her out anyway (she says yes).

P/s: please feel free to ignore if you have your own ideas/make any adjustments ☺️ tysm!! 🫶🏻❤️‍🔥

"She's Trouble"

Rodolfo Parra x F!Reader

Femme Fatale|Y/N

Warnings: Very Brief Drug Mention, Fluff.

Oh, how could he ever resist someone like you? He found himself drawn in the moment you two met. It was so obvious too, with the way his gaze lingered on you every chance he got.

The way his jaw would clench whenever you playfully flirted with Alejandro.... He tried to convince himself he shouldn't be jealous. You weren't his. You're out of his league.

"Y'know..."

Rudy watched as you leaned in closer to a man, he watched the way you so effortlessly enchanted everyone you met, the way you got the guys guard down and slipped drugs into his glass of whiskey and he was none the wiser. He'd be out like a light soon.

He was impressed, horny and jealous. The only one of those feelings he found acceptable was being impressed by you, the other two he certainly tried to fight away.

It seems no matter how hard he tries, you manage to reel him back in.

"Rudy!"

You chimed in excitedly and your hand lightly brushed against his arm, a wide smile on your features which makes his heart pound faster.

"Yes?"

He internally cursed himself for how meek he sounded, he usually was far more calm and collected than this. You really did a number on him.

"I just missed you. You haven't been around much lately. Are you alright?"

He swallowed the bubbling guilt down like a bitter pill, he didn't mean to make you worry. He simply has been dealing with his feelings, trying to figure out how to tell you... But every single time he loses his confidence.

"I'm fine. Just a bit busy lately."

You furrowed your brows... You didn't believe him. You could tell he was crushing on you but you didn't realize just how bad. You decided not to push the issue though and just nodded.

"She's trouble."

Alejandro stated the moment he first saw you, the way you walked with such confidence... The sass dripping from you like molten lava, yet at the same time you were kind and dedicated and knew how to pour on the sugar to fool a man with ease.

However, unlike with other men you didn't act as flirty with Rodolfo. He chalked it up to you not being interested but in reality it was because you genuinely care about him.

His hands were so sweaty and he kept awkwardly wiping his palms on his pants.

"How am I supposed to confess- like this?"

He mumbled as he was considering chickening out for the umpteenth time... However when he spotted you with another man all over you- that green monster inside reared its ugly head. He had to do something about these feelings, he couldn't just keep shoveling dirt on top of them and hoping they'd fade.

Not saying a damn word he walked over, a little hint of murder written in his eyes as he carefully grasped your wrist.

"Rudy- hey wait- where are we going?"

His change in behavior confused you to say the least, him tugging you away from the man. He made eye contact with you, taking a deep breath he finally let it out.

"I like you... A lot. Will you please go out with me?"

Your confused expression turned into that of pure delight, taking both his hands in yours while maintaining the eye contact.

"I thought you'd never ask~"

This made him chuckle slightly, averting his eyes with a goofy little smile.

"Alejandro was right... You're trouble."

{I changed some things. I hope it turned out alright. Thank you for the request, anon!}

{I just realized it was a smut req I'm so sorry}

{More Content}

#cod mw2 x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo cod #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo 'rudy' parra #rudy parra #cod rudy #rodolfo x reader #vee's cod works #rodolfo parra fluff #rodolfo fluff

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filmtv2022 · 9 months

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter: Chapter Four (The Sound of Shovels)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter (Updated Once Posted)

Masterlist

Pairing: Thomas Shelby X Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N begins her healing process, and Tommy is forced to open up about the nature of the letter. Past trauma haunts Y/N, but Thomas isn't ready to give up on her yet. The two begin to find their way back to life with one another's help, but finding a new normal again after all this time proves very difficult.

Warning: memories/nightmares of previous sexual assault + mentions of suicide + violence (in the context a war 'flashback') + some smut/heavy petting + language

A/N: First of all, sorry about the delay. Work has been off the charts, and I don't see it slowing down for a while. With that being said, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Tommy and the reader are finally realizing how much they need each other. Additionally, I think there is another story being published right now that has the same/a similar title. That is totally okay, but I'm trying to think of a way to differentiate my story from those in the title so that readers aren't confused. Oh, and as always, I apologize for all mistakes.

** If you'd like to be tagged in future updates, let me know in the comments.

“This one’s yours.” Turning the knob, Tommy opened the door to a grand bedroom. The walls were covered in ornate carvings and elaborate paintings filled the blank spaces. The room screamed of a woman’s touch, but as of yet, there'd been no hints of other inhabitants, not even the lingering scent of perfume.

“This place is beautiful, Thomas. You and your family must be very happy here. ” Making your way across the room, you ran your fingertips along the smooth edge of the bed frame, the shake of your hand already proving to make simple actions difficult.

With your back turned to him, you missed the way his shoulders tensed. Desperate to avoid any further conversation about him, he found himself staring at you. Your steps were as steady as they could be given the circumstances, but your hands gave away the struggle. Standing in the doorway, Tommy’s focus remained on you, scanning for signs of what was sure to come. The increasingly erratic tremble of your hands caused his body to go rigid once more.

“Y/N, there are some things you need to know.”

Glancing over your shoulder, your brows scrunched up in uncertainty, “Okay, I'm listening.”

Pushing off of the frame on which he was leaning, Thomas made his way over to you, his palm gently resting on your shoulder as he guided you down to sit on the bed, your knee bumping with his as you settled. A heavy silence filled the space as you waited for him to speak, his touch shifting to brush over your fingers. Holding your hand in between both of his, a steadying warmth rolled off of his skin as he cleared his throat but remained mute for a moment longer.

“This is gonna get worse. You might-”

“I know how this works, Thomas. It’s not my first time. I’ve been down this road before.” dragging your face up to meet his, a flash of worry and confusion split across his eyes, “I had a whole life before this… before I ever met William.”

There was devastation in your features. Some form of it had been there the whole time, but something deeper, more broken joined as you spoke about the past. Tommy held fast to you, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand in an arc.

“How long have you been back at it?”

“It was just the whiskey at first, it helped… it dulled the edges. And it was easy enough to get.” Embarrassment bled into frustration at your admission. This man deserved nothing, not an ounce of explanation, and yet, the words flowed of their own volition.

“And the rest?”

“I buried my children, Tom. When do you think?”

“All right.” Standing up, he started toward the door, but your words caught him before he could leave.

“The opium... I started again with Will’s, he had an open prescription left over after he...” Tommy stopped in his tracks, turning back to look at you, a mask of calm painted over his features, “The doctor gave it to him for the headaches and the nightmares. But uhh, it didn’t work, not the way it was supposed to. He still heard ‘em.”

“Heard what?”

“The shovels.”

Stunned, Thomas stood staring blankly back at you, the commanding touch of his voice faltered as he finally spoke, “Someone will be around later with food. I’ve… I’ve got a meeting to get to. This door is to remain unlocked at all times, understood?”

“Of course, and I won’t keep you.”

Watching him go, you remained seated, slipping your pantyhose off and discarding them on the floor. Wasting no time, you changed out of the clothes you’d worn to travel this morning. You were quickly running out of fresh ones, but it had yet to become an emergency. Pulling on a soft blue jumper, you pulled back on the tattered bottoms you’d worn for bed. Laying back on the pillows, you snuggled your nose in the collar of the sweater. The faint musk of tobacco and cologne lingered in the fabric. The scent was weak, barely clinging on, but it was there, the last physical reminder you had of William.

…

Evening settled over the house, and the tremble in your hands intensified as the remnants of your vices left your body. Sweat coated your skin in a sticky sheen, while every muscle in your body tightened in vicious knots. The spasms were strong enough to take your breath away, but not enough to pull you into unconsciousness. You were stuck, the loop of pain and anxiety trapped you inside your mind. The real world was hazy as the memories cut like knives in the night, hacking and slicing away at your sanity. Falling somewhere between the layers of what is and what was, the food and water on the nightstand next went untouched. Darkness sat as a constant companion.

Raised voices crashed in waves from somewhere far off in the house. The words were lost, but their desperation and anger were clear. Most were foreign to your ears, but there was one that caught the fragment of your mind that held firm to the present, Tommy’s. Even with the rage that flowed freely over every syllable, the sound of his presence brought a sense of peace to you.

…

The dead of night brought with it a hollowness to Arrow House. With his family long since departed from the residence, memories of the past flooded in without hesitation. Papers were cast in haphazard piles around the desk in front of him. Running his hands over his face, Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving out the rest of the world. The small amber vial in his pocket weighed heavily on his heart. Slipping it from its hiding place, he held it firmly in his fist, letting the edges bite into his calloused skin.

Releasing a heavy breath, Thomas moved quickly, unstoppering the bottle and bringing it to his lips. Draining it, he fell back into his chair and waited. The whisper of her voice calling to him slowly slipped into focus as the opium took control.

“Grace” Her name was a faint prayer, begging the universe to bring her back to him.

…

Caught in that thin line between wake & sleep, you felt the ghostly presence of another hovering somewhere in the room but lacked the strength to respond. Panic flared white hot at the sound of approaching footsteps. Struggling to regain control of your limbs, you stirred under the covers, your breaths coming in ragged fits. The steps fell away, replaced by the press of another body. It fell hard on your chest, pinning you to the bed. Fingers dug savagely into your neck as warm breath wafted over your exposed skin, their teeth biting harshly along your chest. Terrified screams caught like barbed wire in your throat, the column of your neck strained with fear. Tears began to flow in steady streams down your cheeks, the release of emotion allowing the agonized howls to rip from your lungs.

Tearing you from your sleep, the phantom sensations gave way to reality. Strong hands held firm to your biceps as you writhed against the touch, your eyes still jammed shut to block out the memories. A stern voice called to you, repeating your name over and over.

“Y/N… Y/N… you’re all right. There’s no one else here, you’re safe.”

Your eyes snapped open, but the face in front of you remained out of focus. Shoving yourself away from the figure, you pleaded in wheezing sobs, “Stop, please, get off me…”

“It’s me, it’s Thomas. I’m not-”

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” Yanking yourself away from Tommy, his hands dropped from your body as if he’d been stung.

Backing away, he raised his hands, holding them up by his shoulders showing that he meant no harm. He continued to stare, his attention never leaving you as his eyes raked over your body. Forceful sobs shook you, your face buried in your hands as a small, youthful voice rang clear through the chaos.

“Daddy, is everythin’ okay?”

Turning to look, Thomas found his son standing in the doorway, his hair mussed up and pajamas rumpled from a deep sleep, “Everything’s all right, Charlie. Why don’t you back to your room, and wait for me there, eh?”

“But I heard the lady cryin’.”

“I know son, I know, but she’s all right. Now be a good boy go on, go.”

The light patter of bare feet on wood floors bounced into the room as Charlie took off toward his room, his little legs carrying him away as quickly as he could manage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you mumbled over and over, continuing to shake not from withdrawal, but from fear, “I’m so sorry Thomas.”

Carefully, Tommy returned to your side, finding a place to sit near your feet. Avoiding any physical contact with you, he waited for your breathing to slow before speaking again.

“What happened, Y/N? Who were you seeing just now?”

Pulling your face from your hand, you went rigid at the intrusive question, “That is none of your business.”

“You just scared my child, and disrupted my home with your screamin’. I think I’ve a right to know.”

“But you don’t ‘ave a right. If you want me out just say so. I’m happy to leave. You’ve done enough already, and I’m sure my dead husband won’t care one way or the other.”

“I’m not lookin’ for a way to get rid of you. I just… I want to know you’re okay.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, “I appreciate the sentiment, Thomas, but I don’t need it.”

“Need what?”

“Your pity. I’ve had my fill of that from everyone else. I’m tired of people lookin’ at me like I’m ready to break.”

“I don’t pity you, Y/N.”

“You’re a liar, Tommy Shelby, I can see it in your eyes. That sad, worried look, like you’re afraid to turn your back on me lest I decide to end it all.”

“Can you blame me for that? Given everythin’ I’ve seen it seems an honest concern.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I still don’t fuckin’ understand your concern! You don’t know me!”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I did know William.”

“What the hell does that have to do with me?! Why the fuck did he write that letter anyway? Why am I here Thomas?”

Standing up quickly, Tommy put space between you both as he spoke, “Because he almost died trying to save my life! And I prom-” Thomas’ voice wavered, the confession taking the wind from his lungs, “I promised him that I’d do whatever I could to keep you safe if he didn’t make it out alive.”

“What are you talkin’ about? He never said anythin’, I never heard anythin'…” Lost and confused, you begged for more.

Seeing the hurt wash over you, Thomas returned to your side, this time sitting close enough that your bodies touched. Your hands sought his the moment he was settled, pulling them onto your lap.

“Tell me what happened.”

“We were down in the tunnels, god I don’t know how many days it’d been, but we could hear the Germans through the dirt. Their shovels were working fast, closing the gap. We knew they were getting close, but when they broke through… all hell let loose. In the chaos, I don’t know what happened exactly, but they had guns. William, he… he pulled me out of the way as they fired. I got hit in the shoulder, but if it hadn’t been for him… that bullet would’ve… it would’ve ripped straight through my chest.”

Thomas paused, his eyes glassy with images of the past. He was relieving that night over in his mind as he spoke, feeling him slip further away from the present, you held his hand tighter.

“What happened after that?”

“They just kept comin’ with their bullets and bayonets. Shooting and stabbing. William put himself in front of me, and they got him before he could fire a shot. The others, we managed to fight them off, but by the time the threat was gone he’d lost so much blood. We tried everything we could, but it just kept pouring. I thought, everyone thought, that he wasn’t going to make it out of that tunnel.”

Thomas exhaled a shaky breath, pausing for a moment, to collect his composure, “I stayed in the tunnel with William while the others left to go get help. He talked about you. You were the only thing on his mind as he lay there. He just kept asking for asking for you. I lied to him, I told him you were comin’, that the boys had gone to fetch you..”

“Thomas…”

“He made me promise that I’d bring him back home. So that you wouldn’t have to wonder where his body was and you could move on with your life. He made me promise that I’d make sure you were all right, that I’d take care of you, no matter what. He didn’t want you to be alone, Y/N. He lost consciousness before the medical team got to us, but he was still holding on. They managed to get him back to a field hospital. He was sent back home after he recovered.”

The trance broke as his blue eyes found yours once again, “He loved you. And I know how broken you feel, but you can’t let the pain win. Not this time, not ever.”

Leaning forward, you cupped his face, your thumb running along his cheekbone, “You can’t let it win either.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath was hot against your skin, the scent of whiskey and opium strong enough to sting, “Y/N.”

“Where’s your wife, Thomas?” Turning your face away, you tried to put space between yourself and him.

Feeling you hesitate, he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb ran over your lips, “She’s dead… because I couldn’t keep her safe. I promised I’d make her safe, and I failed.”

“You have to forgive yourself. You can’t hold onto that guilt, it’ll kill you.”

“How can I do that when it's all my fault? If it wasn’t for me she’d still be here, and Charlie’d still have his mother. I don’t deserve…”

“Stop it, Thomas. You told me that I deserved a life, and to be happy, and the same goes for you. You deserve happiness, you deserve a life.” Your fingers found the simple metal band that adorned his hand, “There are people who need you… I need you.”

Letting go of his hand, you slid your palm along the buttons of his shirt, stopping at the collar, his breath hitched. Dropping his face closer to yours, lips touching in a near caress. Thomas panted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let his touch wander over your body. Gingerly, he fumbled for the hem of your jumper, one hand finding a home on your waist while the other wandered higher, cupping your breast. A gasp fell from your lips as he brushed over your nipple. Needing more, his lips found your neck, laying a line of fire from the shell of your ear to the hollow of your throat.

“We shouldn’t do this, Thomas.” Holding him to you, your words and actions were at odds with one another. A clear depiction of the war going on in heart and mind.

Bringing his face back to yours, Thomas captured your lips with his. It was a hungry kiss, teeth and tongue clashing in a desperate embrace as if the dam had broken, and he was holding back the flood waters with the last of his resolve, “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Hovering over you, he shifted so that he was kneeling, one hand gripped the headboard, while the other remained on you, waiting. Seconds passed and when no answer came, he pushed you back into the pillows and continued to work at your body. Featherlight touches over your stomach and sides sent shivers down your spine. Stunned and overwhelmed by the feeling of him, you found yourself moving without thought as he tried to take off your shirt, the collar catching before he freed it from your body.

The chill of the room sent goosebumps across your exposed skin. Feeling you shudder, he pressed closer, the heat rolling off of him was enough to relax your muscles. Settling his weight between your thighs, he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, relishing the sensation of having you so close. Your head fell back against the pillows as he kissed down your chest, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Soothing over the bites with his tongue, he found his way back to your breasts. Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged roughly at the silken strands making him moan.

Laying open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, his one hand reached for your throat stopping just short, while the other ran down the outside of your thigh. A whimper tumbled from your lips as his free hand toyed with the top of your pants. Sliding the hand on your chest up the rest of the way, his wide palm spanned the width of your neck, his fingers curling around the sides applying pressure.

Your lungs hitched, and anxiety flooded your system as the same images you’d seen in your dreams were now haunting your waking moments too. Your heart thrummed in an erratic pattern as you began to panic. Quickly the room around you started spinning, your breathing coming in rapid gasps as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and pulled hard. Tears spilled down your face as you finally managed to speak, shoving him away, “Stop, Thomas, please.”

Crawling out of the bed, you wobble a few steps before gaining your footing and leaning against the wall. A harsh sob wracked your body as he stood up and made his way to you. Holding onto your waist he dipped down so that he could look into your eyes, “Y/N, hey, look at me… look at me, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

You shook your head no, unable to form the words you so desperately wanted to say. Seeing you continue to collapse further inside of yourself, he wrapped his arms around your body, one coming to rest on your lower back while the other wound into the base of your hair. Whispering words of comfort in your ear, he held you fast and let you cry. There was a conversation to be had, but not now, not until you were ready.

@sadroses98

@weaponizedvirtue

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby fic #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders smut

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evita-shelby · 11 months

Note

Juli congratulations on 1,000 followers!!!!

Can I request something with this prompt? ❛ i don't know how you've bewitched me, but it needs to stop. ❜

I think it’s soooo fitting for Eva x Tommy 🖤

I love it 😊🖤

I hope you like it mar 🖤🖤

Bewitched

Gif by @cillianparadise

“I don’t know how you’ve bewitched me, but it needs to stop.”

He says this after he comes to her doorstep in the middle of the night.

“Bewitched you, I didn’t do anything.” The witch said in confusion. Dark hair moused from sleep and brown eyes showing concern for the man who showed up here demanding something even he hadn’t believed himself.

She had; she must’ve had because he cannot get her out of his fucking head.

Thomas would be damned if he let her get away with this.

He had Grace, while he has never been serious about women after Greta, with Grace he felt that perhaps he could begin again.

She quieted the shovels; her lackluster personality soothed him like a shot of morphine.

But then Eva Smith had met his eyes as she walked past his house one morning and it was all over.

He had stared for so long he had felt like they had fucked.

They had been doing this since he returned from France and she’d passed by his window and he had followed her until the witch had left his line of sight.

It had meant nothing, it hadn’t until these past weeks after a gust of wind blew off her hat and her laughter had reached him as she and Finn went after her hat.

After that fucking morning everything had changed.

Her laugh and smile haunted him even when he tried to drown it out with whiskey, gin and Grace.

He thinks about her even when he is with Grace, dreams of brown hair and tan skin and magic.

There are no more tunnels and guns and screams, there is only him following the young witch he can never catch up with.

This morning he had woken up from a dream where had caught her and she had laughed richly saying, so you found me, now what will you do, Mr. Shelby?

Thomas had woken up with Grace asking why he wanted to take the foreign girl over his desk.

Needless to say, things with the barmaid have been ruined because of the fucking witch before him.

He needs this to be over, to have her end whatever shit curse she put on him so he can have his life back.

“You did. You must’ve. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t even fucking know you.” He says sounding like a madman by the end of it.

“Have you considered this might not be magic, Mr. Shelby?” the witch asked him, still refusing to say what he needed her to hear.

Maybe the cold barrel of his revolver could make her admit it.

He’s not above threats.

Thomas Michael Shelby is not a good man, violence comes to easy to him since the War.

“Oh, I know that, but I give you my word, there has been no witchcraft of that sort because I don’t know how to do that. The most I can do is use toloache to drug someone and that plant doesn’t grow here, nor would I ever stoop so low.” The witch says having read his mind or guessed why he was reaching into his coat for the fucking gun.

“Then what is it then? If its not your bloody witchcraft, what the fuck is it them?” he asks thinking there was no other reason for this madness.

He feels his hands sweat at the thought of approaching her, he wants to know what she likes, what her perfume smells like, if her hair is as silky as it looks and if there are freckles under the ungodly number of layers she wears.

“I think you are infatuated with me.” She answered with a red tinge in her cheek that he rather liked.

“What the fuck am I, a teenager?” he threw back incredulously. “For fuck’s sake I am turning thirty this year.

I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Says the twenty-nine-year-old man who thinks I put a spell on him.” Eva points out and he supposes she could be right. “Anyways, I am very flattered, if you would like to see where this goes, you can pick me up tomorrow morning, wear the blue shirt and if you need any ideas, I heard the museum is nice.”

“I am not taking you out on a date, Miss Smith.” He scoffed.

“Call me Eva, only fair to let you use my given name after starring in your dreams for so long.” She teased and he fought the urge to roll his eyes at her words.

She was bold, he’d give her that.

“Fine, Eva, I’ll pick you up before noon, we can have lunch there and see where this goes, as you said.” He agrees hoping it will end badly and kill this ‘crush’ once and for all.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #eva smith riley #Eva 1000

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needle-noggins · 1 year

Text

Funeral Rites

Vash has buried hundreds of people before. He tells himself this one will be no different. He knows this is a lie.

---

Here it is finally, the fic that has possessed me. Posted to Ao3 as well. Major spoilers for Volume 10 of Trigun Maximum.

Vashwood with a hint of future Vashmeryl, canon-typical gory imagery, and a heavy dose of religious allegory. Sorry for being Catholic, as if it’s my fault.

And a massive THANK YOU to the incredible @frappeflamingo for beta reading. The better half of this would not have happened without her!

Vash has buried hundreds of people before. He tells himself this one will be no different. He knows this is a lie.

—

He sits unnaturally still, listening. Hoping. Praying to a God he doesn’t believe in.

The church bell tolls. The bottle hits the ground. The prayer goes unanswered.

Trembling, Vash moves his hand to his face, first to cover his mouth, then his eyes. All he knows right now is the rage boiling under his skin. Feathers manifest from his hunched shoulders. White wings unfurl, punching into the sky. Reaching outward and upward in desperation.

A burst of white-hot light escapes the desert surface and enters the stratosphere. Somewhere, somehow, a drop of blood escapes a fresh cut on Knives’ skin. Vash knows, he can feel it. And he can hear his brother’s contemptuous laughter.

The explosion of feathers settles. Vash feels utterly spent and his chest is heaving. He looks down and grabs the bottle of whiskey by the neck. He throws it forward in frustration. It lodges itself in the sand with a thunk.

The bottle of Bride doesn't break.

Vash turns to Wolfwood, shakily reaching out to move the hair out of his eyes. His hair is soft, his skin still warm. Vash holds his cheek in his hand. Wolfwood looks as peaceful as one can be when covered in blood and riddled with bullet holes. He closes his eyelids. Had he noticed before the length of Wolfwood’s lashes? Vash takes some fabric from his coat and wipes the blood off his cheeks, over his lips. In another life, those lips would curl into a smile and make a snide comment to ruin the moment. But they won’t.They never will, not again.

Vash shatters.

He reaches out to Wolfwood, taking his head in his hands and cradling it to his chest. His mouth opens to cry, but no sound escapes. He is given no reprieve. He feels like his head is going to explode with the pressure. A weak whine finally leaves his body as he begins to rock back and forth. He grips the back of Wolfwood's jacket, his fingers ripping the bullet holes into shreds. Vash isn’t ready to let Wolfwood go. Crying there, desperately holding onto that tattered black fabric, a hundred years seem to pass. He can think of nothing but the words that died on his lips along with his partner.

They stay like that for some unknown amount of time until his sorrow is interrupted by hiccups.

Vash heads towards the nearest stable. He finds one attached to the back of the town's inn. A few thomas eat out of a trough nearby. Their idle crunches are louder, maybe, than the day’s gunfire left ringing in his ears. Vash hiccups again.

Grief does funny things to you. Vash knows this well. He knows the way the chiming of church bells and the lingering smell of gunpowder will forever trigger these memories. He knows how this day will bleed out over his vision of Wolfwood, staining his face and his laugh and the way he said Vash's name. Remembering Wolfwood will be synonymous with remembering sitting on that damn couch. He'll probably prefer sitting in chairs now.

He finds a shovel tucked away with a few other farming supplies and reaches for the worn wooden handle.

"You goin' somewhere with that, son?"

Vash jumps. He turns to find a stocky older woman, face wrinkled with decades of sun, with hands on her hips and stains on her apron. The innkeeper.

"I uh... - hic - need to bury, uh… a friend." The word “friend” is empty and wrong. There would be no right words. It's second nature for Vash to lie to strangers, but this feels different. It feels like betrayal.

Sometimes Vash feels like his emotions are as big as the desert, as deep as space. He's trapped in the middle and completely, utterly alone. This stranger would never understand, Vash thinks, and he feels more alien than ever. He's sure that normal people don't feel this way. He is alone and singular in his deepest grief and there is no one on this planet who could possibly understand him. At least, not anymore. He’s alone now.

"Yer part of that shoot-out, huh?"

Vash only nods. The shovel handle is smooth and cool as he fiddles with it in his palms.

"Well, sorry to hear 'bout your friend. There's food inside if ya want some, and ya can wash up when yer done," she says as he turns to walk away.

"I'm not really-" He stops himself. "Thanks." Vash smiles back at her, but a hiccup ruins it. He has done nothing to deserve this kindness. He quickly turns and walks out of the stable.

You still deserve to eat, Tongari. Wolfwood’s voice crashes into his mind like a pebble through a window. He can practically hear it. He can feel the annoyance and the care hidden beneath it in his voice.

He thinks of Rem. Rem’s love for humanity became his; he loved the world fiercely, without question. She wanted Vash to take care of others. Wolfwood just wanted Vash to take care of himself.

And Vash’s monument of self-loathing begins to crumble.

Grains of sand part as Vash drags the shovel. Was the inn really that far from the orphanage? Or is it the leaden weight of Vash's boots, leading him to a task he bitterly wishes he didn't have to do? It's too hot. Sweat beads on his forehead and drips down his back. Why does he insist on wearing all these layers? He arrives at his destination, careful not to look directly at Wolfwood. He puts his back to the couch and removes his coat, casting it behind him. The desert breeze cools his shoulders.

Nothing else to do now. The shovel breaks ground.

Vash has buried hundreds of people. He cried for every one of them. People around him die so easily and violently while his own life is so endlessly, unbearably long. He’s a walking natural disaster, after all. The humanoid typhoon. Someone called him the god of death once. People around Vash die, and, like a dutiful grim reaper, he mourns for them and lays them to rest. Grief has been a constant in Vash’s life ever since he lost Rem. Was it worth letting someone in?

Vash wants to collapse inwards, crawl into the familiar safety of loneliness… but there’s also an unfamiliar urge to reach out for someone, to share his grief with them. And yet. Reaching out is how he ended up here, digging another grave, feeling the depths of a pain he had avoided for over a century. It wasn’t worth it, he thinks bitterly.

No, that’s not true.

It was worth it. He had to believe it was, or Wolfwood’s memory meant nothing. The pair had spent countless days together, riding across the desert, drinking in shitty diners, bickering over nothing. They had stood, back to back, fighting in perfect sync without saying a word. Wolfwood had brought him so much companionship, so much joy. Just two motherless boys who grew up too fast. They understood each other in ways Vash couldn’t describe. Perhaps that’s why Wolfwood slipped under his radar.

Was it so bad, to allow himself to have a moment of companionship, of happiness?

He thinks of Meryl.

The sound of church bells ring out, interrupting Vash's thoughts. He lodges the shovel in the pile of sand he's built up. Has he dug enough? He sits and realizes for the first time how winded he is. Laying down next to the grave as a measuring guide, he inspects it. It's the right size, he thinks. In fact, it might be a little wider than it needs to be. Two bodies could fit.

Vash closes his eyes and considers staying there. A dirt nap wouldn't be so bad. Let them decay together. Together and inseparable. The worms would have a feast until nothing remained but their bones, pressed together in eternity.

He's sure he's got one bullet left. After placing Wolfwood in the dirt, if he then angled his own body just right, he could fall right in... And Vash the Stampede, the outlaw, would be no more. He would vanish without a trace. Maybe some poor unsuspecting soul will exhume their bodies one day and find his gun, metallic arm, and a bullet in his skull. Make up myths about the man who walked right into death to follow love. The god of death turned into the god of grief.

Or maybe, something monstrous will happen to Vash, as things always seem to do. His remains could sprout a tree, making this place a biological anomaly and a wonder. Vash's roots would feed on the grave’s organic material, turning it into fruit for the masses to eat.

This is my body, which will be given up for you.

Vash pulls his gun out of the holster strapped to his leg. He considers the way it shades his face from the twin suns burning overhead. He considers the way it could shade him from the empty pit in his chest. But Vash knows better than to hide behind his gun. He sits up and tosses it. It lands harmlessly in the sand next to the bottle of Bride.

Vash stands and moves to the couch. He lifts Wolfwood as delicately as he can, one arm behind his broad back and the other under the crook of his knees. It doesn’t escape him that Wolfwood’s hand is, somehow, still gripping the shot glass. Rigor mortis doesn’t usually set in so quickly. It’ll just have to go with him. He looks down. The bottom of the grave is so far away. Wolfwood’s body is so heavy. He steps carefully, carrying Wolfwood over the line left by his shovel in the sand. It would be bad luck, he thinks, to step on the threshold, but he's not sure why.

This part is usually a bit awkward if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Don't dump me in, Tongari, or I'll haunt your ass. Have some god-damn respect. Vash can practically see the way Wolfwood's eyes would glint mischievously, knowing Vash has never done anything to anyone without the utmost care.

Vash gently sets Wolfwood down on the sand before stepping into the grave himself. He picks the body up from the edge, setting him to rest at his feet. This is it.

Vash steps to the head of the grave and sits in the dirt. Tears well up, blurring his vision. He desperately fumbles for Wolfwood, extending his legs and wrapping his bare arms around his body. He presses Wolfwood’s back close to his chest like a prized possession. This time, the sobs are loud and immediate. Viscous tears bloom across Wolfwood’s lapels, staining them a deep maroon.

“You idiot,” he says breathlessly, “You fucking idiot.” Vash thumbs the holes in the jacket, considering them while he sobs.

Baptized by bullets, cleansed in blood. Idiot. Idiot. Wolfwood did not have to die to be redeemed.

This is my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins.

Vash curses his monstrous body. He wishes he could stop crying, stop making Wolfwood look even worse, even more dead. He sobs once more and tightens his grip. He wishes he could absorb him into his skin, carry him in his heart.

Wings extend again from Vash’s back. They reach forward, wrapping around and concealing the two of them from the world above. Here, in this cradle of feathers, he wishes he could fly away with Wolfwood’s soul. He wishes he could escort him to the next life. But, even if he could, he wouldn’t know how.

So instead, he kisses the crown of Wolfwood’s head and closes his eyes, breathing him in. He tries to ignore the acrid smell of blood, focusing instead on the smell of smoke and whiskey. The wind blows a few stray confetti pieces into the grave.

Vash sits there, cradling him until the tears have dried up and his mouth has dried out. His arms feel weak, his chest heaving, his eyelids heavy. He has no idea how long he’s held vigil like this. He shifts slightly and feels something in Wolfwood’s jacket pocket. Inside Vash finds a small booklet, barely touched and now tacky with blood. A missal. It opens to a page on funeral rites, bookmarked with a ribbon. Vash wonders if this was probably one of the few things Wolfwood actually did as a priest. He called himself an undertaker, after all. Vash holds onto it.

He weakly kicks the dirt and stands, taking care to rest Wolfwood’s head as gently as possible.

“See?” He says, “Respectful.” He reaches down to run his fingers through Wolfwood’s hair and wipes away a tear before it can fall. It smudges red across Vash’s palm. He laughs weakly. “But I wouldn’t mind a haunting every once in a while.”

Vash climbs back to the surface, setting the missal down, and takes the shovel. The only thought crossing his mind now is how tired he is, how hungry. He really should eat something.

Filling the grave takes half the amount of time it took to dig. It almost feels like it was over too quickly.

The grave needs something. A headstone. Vash looks around. There’s not much more than sand and rubble here, but there’s a rocky outcropping down the hill. If he gathered enough of the same size and shape he could make a cross over the grave.

Vash goes on a rock hunt. He digs around carefully at the bottom of the hill, paying close attention to each one he finds, the smoothness of its surface, its weight, and compares its size to the others. This collection of rocks has to be perfect. He finds a smooth, round stone to serve as the center. Two stones left and right, two stones above, and four to make the long end. He also finds a pebble that looks like a dick, and he pockets it. He knew someone who would’ve loved it. Vash suddenly realizes how long the shadows around him have grown.

In his search, he finds the Punisher. The massive weapon sits in the sand surrounded by confetti. Wolfwood must have cast it aside at some point.

Vash sets the rocks down. He can’t just leave this here. He takes a moment to conceal the gun in its old cloth. There was a certain way Wolfwood folded the canvas so there were no open spots, but Vash can’t remember it now. It takes him several attempts, each one more frustrating than the last, until he gets it right. He can’t find all of the buckles and belts that hold the fabric down, so he rips a few straps off his own boots. He’s got enough to spare anyway.

Vash stacks his rock collection in the crook of his prosthetic and loops the fingers of his right hand under one of the straps, lifting the weapon. He hoists it onto his back. It is so heavy. It feels like it could crush him. Vash climbs back up the hill, careful not to drop anything. The couch now feels so far away.

Vash trips. His fingers slip. The Punisher rolls off his shoulder and Vash barely catches himself with his right arm. The rocks he’s cradling are safe, though. He didn’t drop any of them. There’s a sharp pain in his right palm, and he lifts it to see a fresh wound across his skin. How many times? How many times must he bleed for Wolfwood?

He wipes his palm on his thigh and continues his journey.

Vash leaves the Punisher staked in the ground at the head of the grave. He begins the task of arranging the stones as carefully as he can across the sand. He rearranges them, trying every combination he can think of. He tries to group them by their shape, lining them up perfectly. He looks at them from every angle. He pushes them into the sand a little - no, that’s worse. He picks them up, smooths the sand underneath, and tries again until he’s satisfied with their configuration.

He takes the missal again, pulling the ribbon up to reveal the page Wolfwood had bookmarked. Among others, Vash finds a prayer for departed priests.

Wolfwood never really told him exactly what his relationship to religion was. It just wasn’t something they discussed. He had told Vash he was a priest, but, if anything, he seemed to flaunt every rule. Still, the pages of the book are worn. It had meant something for him to provide this service to people. Vash isn’t religious, but it's the least he can do to respect whatever sense of sacrament Wolfwood had. He reads it aloud.

"May thy clemency, which we implore, O Lord, benefit the soul of thy servant..." Here the prayer calls for a name, which gives Vash pause, "...Nicholas…”

This isn’t right. This isn’t him.

“...Thy priest, that he may attain everlasting fellowship with Him in Whom he hoped and believed…”

He shuts the missal. This isn’t right. This can’t be it. It’s not genuine. It’s not enough for what Wolfwood was and – oh God, one of the stones is out of place and another is placed upside down. It’s all wrong. Wolfwood deserves something that shows he was here. That he is here. He was important, he mattered. Vash collapses to his knees before the grave, hands gripping into the sand. The grains sting the cuts on his palm. He sobs again. There are no tears left. He shuts his eyes and screams. This isn’t fair. He takes a fistful of sand and throws it as hard as he can.

A blast of energy throws Vash flat onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Vash lays there for a moment to catch his breath.

He does a quick body scan. All there, all normal. No angel arm, but a small flurry of downy feathers drift back down through the air, landing around him.

What did he just do? He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Vash wonders how black his hair has become.

He sits up on his elbows and looks past his feet. The rocks are gone. In their place, a large, singular slab. A perfect cross etched across the surface. A proper headstone.

He stands, picking up the missal once again. He moves toward the Punisher, wrapping one arm around it. Its presence steadies him. He lets out a shaky sigh.

“Through our Lord… Amen."

Vash drops his head back and stares at the sky for a moment. Two birds fly above him, their shadows briefly passing overhead.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun fanfiction #vashwood #vashwood fanfic #there goes my baby (this fic) off to kill people #im so proud of this stupid thing

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thedroneranger · 1 year

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Just Can't Take It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Part 2 of I Can Make It. Night 1 was a family friendly affair, but Night 2, alone in a cabin...

Note: This is a follow-up shot for a fic written for @notroosterbradshaw’s #hello december playlist challenge. Song is One More Sleep by Leona Lewis—fic title pulled from lyrics. Can be read as a standalone or as a companion to I Can Make It.

Special shout out to @cherrycola27 for encouraging me to follow up the sweet I Can Make It with some spice. 😉

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 2.5k

Jake did his best to keep you in bed Christmas morning, but you lured him downstairs for breakfast with your family with the promise of breakfast (you) in bed every morning at the cabin.

You arrived during the late morning, and then spent the afternoon shoveling so you could reach the front door. You and Jake were the first visitors of the season and this had been the biggest snowfall thus far.

Once inside, Jake focused on building a fire while you stocked supplies. Then you made lunch while Jake prepared warm drinks spiked with top-shelf whiskey your father gifted him.

The fire was doing its best to warm the cabin, but a chill still hung in the air. You huddled together on the overstuffed sofa with a pile of blankets and sipped hot toddies. Still unable to shake the chill, you shedded your clothing so your shared body heat had a better chance to warm you.

Drinks abandoned on the nearest end table, you and Jake lay on the couch. You tucked between his legs with your back against his chest and a faded quilt wrapped around you both. Underneath, Jake’s knuckles lazily skimmed along your thighs and hips. Your temple rested against his cheek, and every so often he would turn to press a kiss to it.

His steady breathing was almost enough to lull you to sleep. However, you kept fighting, not wanting to miss a moment with him. Finally, you succumbed to the combination of fire warmth, Jake’s body heat and his loving caresses.

Hours later, you woke up alone on the couch still swathed in the faded quilt you had shared with Jake earlier. It was dark outside, but the fire bathed the cabin in a warm glow. Sitting up and wiping the sleep from your eyes, you could see Jake’s silhouette highlighted by the flames of the fire as he stoked it.

Soaking in all his angles and edges, you watched him in silence. Finally, he turned and noticed you were awake. “Hey, sleeping beauty.” He paired the greeting with his radiant smile. Sans shirt, he had pulled on sweatpants that hung low on his waist, highlighting his Adonis belt.

The fire had finally chased the chill from the cabin and the heat made the air thick. Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let the quilt pool around you on the floor. Wearing just your bra and panties, you headed for your suitcase and pulled out your favorite oversized chunky knit sweater.

Pulling it over your head, you padded toward the kitchen where Jake was refreshing your drinks. You wrapped an arm around his waist and ducked under his arm. He made room for you as he garnished the mugs with lemon slices. His free hand crept under the hem of your sweater, resting on your hip.

You pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, snagged a mug off the counter and slipped out of his grasp. Looking over your shoulder, you found Jake trailing you to the couch. Sipping your toddy, you sank into the sofa. He mirrored your actions.

Your drink was almost gone, when you reached across Jake to rest it on the table beside the couch. Then, you climbed into his lap, facing him and placing his cup beside yours. His hands came to rest on the tops of your thighs, while your fingers laced behind his neck. One of your thumbs traced his jaw, which you felt clench under your touch. “I still can’t believe you’re here.” Your eyes searched his face.

The corners of his mouth pulled into a closed-lip smile and he let his hands rest on your backside. “I’m here, and I’m all yours,” he replied. A small gasp fell from your lips when he palmed your ass to pull you closer. Then, one hand shifted to the small of your back, while the other crept up under your sweater to expertly unfasten your bra, and then hugged your ribcage to pull you as close as possible.

You unraveled yourself from him, pulling your arms into your sweater to shed your bra. Poking your arms back through your sleeves, you dropped the undergarment to the floor. You shifted to the side of his lap and hooked your arm over his shoulder, letting your elbow rest against his back. Your other hand found a home on his neck—your nails skimming across the delicate skin, and then your palm coming to rest on the side, so your thumb could graze the column of his throat. Jake hummed so you felt the vibrations.

The flat of your tongue stamped his bottom lip, and then you pulled back. Jake chased you, looking for a full kiss. Finally, you gave in, pressing your lips to his while applying light pressure to his neck. He groaned and parted his lips to allow your tongue into his mouth. “You’re such a tease,” Jake stated as you pulled away again.

He patted your butt and, begrudgingly, you slipped off his lap onto the couch. He stood and began to gather the blankets and pillows you’d been using. Curiously, you watched as he threw them all on the floor in front of the fireplace. Once you realized what he was doing, you walked over to help.

Before you knew what was happening, he wrapped his arm around your thigh and hauled you down. You tumbled gently into the nest of bedding with his hand cradling your head. You stared at him as he knelt on all fours over you.

Your gaze dropped—his sweatpants did nothing to hide his hard-on. You moved so your knee grazed him. He grunted, which caused you to smile and do it again. “Honey…” his southern drawl was thick.

Leaning up, you peppered kisses on his chest. Your teeth sank into the fleshy top of his peck. Then, you moved further south to capture one of his nipples. Lazily, your tongue swirled around it, and then you gently tugged with your teeth.

Jake growled and tangled a hand in your hair, pulling your head back so he could return the favor on your neck. You moaned as he pressed hot wet kisses to it. He only untangled his hand from your hair to get you out of your sweater. You giggled and helped him to ensure your garment kept its shape.

Being with you for the first time in almost a year had Jake taking his time. His gaze raked over every inch of your body and his hands explored all your curves. You leaned into his touches and gave soft whimpers. Jake trailed kisses along your chest and stomach. His thumbs hooked in the sides of your panties and pulled them down as he continued his kiss parade along your legs. Once your panties were off, he quickly ridded himself of his sweats and boxer briefs.

Jake dropped to his elbows and captured your lips with his. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, your nails sinking into his flesh. In response, his teeth sank into your lower lip and his hips dropped so his weight pinned you to the floor. You rested your heels on the small of his back, enjoying his heaviness.

His mouth moved to your neck, and you felt his teeth sink into your flesh. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders and he groaned. You arched into him and combed a hand through his hair, letting your nails massage his scalp. He pulled back so you could look at each other. Your hand slid down the back of his head and rested on his neck—you let your nails sink in a little.

Jake lifted himself off you, which made you groan in disappointment. He snagged a couple pillows and tapped your hips, which you rose for him to situate them underneath. Then, he lowered himself between your legs, keeping eye contact with you as he kissed the insides of your thighs. You groaned again, this time slightly frustrated his mouth was everywhere except where you were dripping.

You knew what he wanted, so you gave him a nod of permission. Putting his mouth to your cleft, he let saliva drip down your clit, and then he blew on it to heighten the sensation. You fisted the blankets and tried to keep from bucking your hips. He smirked at your reaction and went back to kissing your thighs.

Looking for revenge, you closed your legs around his head. He smiled and ran his hands from the hinge of your hips to your kneecaps. Gently, he splayed your legs open. “My favorite earmuffs.” You gasped when you felt his teeth nip your thigh. Enjoying your response, he did it again and again. You would definitely be purple tomorrow.

Finally, his mouth was on your soaking core, and the sounds that left your mouth egged him to keep going. To put you over the edge, he laved his tongue back and forth from your clit to your entrance. Then his tongue delved into you before repeating the same motions in the opposite direction. Jake kept his mouth on your bundle of swollen nerves, sucking as your orgasm crashed through you. You sat up slightly and used his hair as reins while you rode your pleasure wave.

Once it was over, you laid back and he climbed up to press his lips to yours so you could taste yourself. While you made out, you licking your arousal off his face, you could feel how hard he was each time his length bumped you.

Distracted by your tongue, Jake barely noticed he was now underneath you. You scooted so his cock was between his stomach and your slick folds. His hands lazily rested on your thighs as you rocked back and forth along his length. He closed his eyes and sighed. A small smile graced your lips as you watched him. After a few minutes, you used a hand to seamlessly guide him into you.

Thanks to the fire warmth, a sheen of sweat covered you both and made it easier for your bodies to glide against one another. You ground your hips into him as you leaned forward and steadied yourself with your hands on his chest. He watched you through hooded eyes, occasionally peering down to where your bodies connected. “Like fucking velvet,” he gushed. One hand on your hip, the other laid against your soft stomach. You watched him as his thumb swirled circles around your belly button.

“What are you thinking?” You had an idea but wanted to hear it from him.

Jake moved his head so he was looking directly at you. “Let’s make a mini-you,” he suggested.

You smiled at the way he phrased it. “What if I want a mini-you?” You kept eye contact but slowed your movements.

He shrugged. “We can make two.”

“Would a mini increase the odds that you always come home?” you asked cheekily.

His signature smile appeared as the hand on your stomach sank lower so his thumb could swirl circles on your clit. You shuddered and leaned into his hand, closing your eyes and enjoying yourself.

“You’re reason enough, honey.” He swapped the pad of his thumb for the knuckle, and you whimpered at the sensation change. “But, a mini would be a cherry on top,” he replied with some twang. He knew his accent drove you wild—you nearly came just from his voice.

You were ready to fall apart on his cock, but held yourself together. Your forearms met his chest as you leaned so you were face-to-face. Jake’s hands toured the curve of your back, and then one came to rest on your ass while the other settled at the nape of your neck.

“Well…” Jake’s eyes widened and his grip on your neck involuntarily tightened. “I had my IUD removed right after you left.” Relief washed over Jake’s face. “I wanted to be ready because I was hoping we would get started on making minis when you got back.”

Jake managed to flip you over so you were back underneath him, nestled into the blanket pile. You swiped a couple loose hairs off his forehead and brought your hand to rest on the back of his neck. “Next time you come home, let’s make it to me and our child.” You leaned up and kissed his forehead.

He responded by capturing your lips as you pulled back. You draped your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to roll his hips into you. Then, you pressed your lips to your favorite spot below his ear. He growled, which made you clench around him. His head dropped, and his teeth sank into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. You snarled and dragged your nails down his back.

You lovingly battered and bruised each other. You might have to stay a couple extra days at the cabin so your bruises and bites could heal. Jake’s ego wouldn’t allow him to finish before making you come at least one more time. Jake was one of few men in your lifetime that made you come with simultaneous penetration and clitoral stimulation. His no-fail method was angling his hips back to hit your g-spot with each thrust and laving attention on your swollen clit with a free hand—his calloused fingers felt electric.

Jake took advantage of you shuddering around him and found a rhythm for his own release. You dug your heels into the dimples of Jake’s ass as he came. He laid his body weight on you, tucking his face in the crook of your neck as he finished. Basking in the warmth of the fire, he soaked while you trailed your fingers around his scalp.

A smile pulled your lips as Jake pressed kisses behind your jaw. You grumbled as he pushed himself off you—you hated the emptiness. “C’mon.” He held your hands to pull you to your feet. Together, you shuffled to the bathroom to clean up.

Jake hand bathed you with a warm washcloth. He thoroughly inspected his handiwork, including fingering his cum back into you when the first drop dribbled down your thigh. Once you were both clean, he carried you bridalstyle to the bed. He tossed your sweater at you while he put on sweatpants. Then he positioned a pillow about where your hips would lay on the bed.

You settled into the bed, and Jake snuggled you into his side so you were under his arm. Turning into him as much as he allowed—he was adamant your hips stay up on the pillow—you kissed his bare chest, and then rested your cheek on it. He kissed the top of your head, and his fingers ghosted the nape of your neck.

“Round 2 of mini making tomorrow?” he asked.

You smiled. “Right after breakfast in bed.” You playfully sank your teeth into his chest.

His laughter was soothing. “I might have to have a midnight snack if you don’t knock it off.”

“I’ll be a good girl,” you replied. He laughed again while he stroked your hair. Eventually, Jake’s fingers stopped moving and his breathing told you he was asleep. Still worried everything was a dream, you fought to stay awake.

When you finally nodded off, you were already dreaming of Jake between your legs—he loved breakfast first thing in the morning.

#jake seresin smut #hangman smut #top gun smut #jake hangman seresin #top gun holiday #hangman #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun #top gun maverick

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tsukana · 10 months

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savage. the heartache made me so fucking unforgiving

— r.h.sin (whiskey words & a shovel; volume I)

#goodomensedit #good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #go2 spoilers #go2 #tsu gifs #ineffable husbands more like ineffable idiots

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aylacavebear · 3 months

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Stockroom Antics - Chapter 7

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3522

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This chapter switches back and forth on POV's. This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7

Your POV As you finished out your shift, you noticed that he was still watching you, as well as when his partner left. You didn’t go talk to him, nor did he with you. Something else that relieved you was that there didn’t seem to be any demons in the store anymore, which helped you relax. Sarah bugged you about the date, teasing you a bit.

When five rolled around, you were feeling slightly excited about your date with this stranger and quickly clocked out, bidding your coworkers farewell for the night. You didn’t even notice the Impala in the parking lot as you headed on your way. During the drive, you went through all sorts of questions you wanted to ask him, including finding out what the hell his name was.

“Shit,” you grumbled as you saw the pile of ashes still on the inside of your property line.

You sighed, parked your truck, and headed into your backyard, grabbing the flathead shovel before going back out front. You dragged the trashcan over and cleaned up most of the ashes. It looked like it had to come from at least three demons, although you weren’t entirely sure.

“At least the warding worked,” you mumbled aloud, feeling rather proud of yourself before you put everything away and headed inside.

It was a quarter to six, and the bar was only about five minutes from your house. You didn’t want to overdo it and dress up too much, so you picked out a simple spaghetti strap, black dress, and a pair of black flats to go with it. Then you pulled on a dark blue flannel, tying it so it looked like a half top, leaving it unbuttoned. You left your hair down. Dinner was leftovers since you’d prepared a week's worth of meals for yourself over the prior weekend you had off—chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the side.

The time ticked by, sometimes slowly, other times quickly, and before you knew it, it was time to head to the bar. You’d decided that you would stick to somewhat safe topics to start with, and depending on how he answered would depend on how deep your questions would venture. You parked in the dirt area of the parking lot, noticing that he hadn’t gotten there yet. Part of you wondered if he’d actually show.

The bar wasn’t busy since it was the middle of the week, and you found several empty seats near the far side of the bar. When one of the bartenders came over and asked what you wanted, you asked for a double shot of whiskey, at least to start with. She smiled and poured your drink. At first, you just sipped it, but when seven-thirty rolled around, you downed the shot that was left.

“Jerk,” you mumbled, looking away from the door.

“What’s the matter?” the bartender asked you.

“Got stood up,” you sighed, “Could I get a beer?”

“Sorry to hear about you getting stood up. I’ll have that beer back in a flash,” she replied, giving you a compassionate smile.

Your mind wandered, mostly about him. What was the point of him asking you if he wasn’t even going to show, you thought to yourself as the bartender set the beer down in front of you. You popped the top and began sipping it. It wasn’t like you lived far away; there was usually very little traffic late at night. Halfway through your beer, you heard the door open again and glanced over, raising an eyebrow. A soft scoff left your lips as you shook your head; he showed up.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He’d spend the last half hour just sitting in the driver’s seat in the parking lot. Her truck was there. He wasn’t feeling all those things he had earlier when he was near her at the store; he just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting her to talk. It was clear she knew things as she’d warded her property. He just wasn’t sure how much she knew.

Dean finally took a deep breath and made his way inside, a quarter past seven. He looked around the bar, two pool tables to his left and the bar to his right, and there were tables and booth seats scattered on the other half of the bar. He saw her sitting alone and nursing a beer at the far side of the bar. One more deep breath, and he walked over to her.

“Still up for some company? And, I’m sorry I was late, forgot how long of a drive it was from town,” he told her, only half lying.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess so, since you’re here,” she replied without looking up at him.

He sighed and sat next to her on a barstool, “I really am sorry,” he told her again, meaning it.

The bartender came over, and he ordered a beer, which she retrieved, and he popped the top, taking a sip.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You weren’t entirely sure what to believe, but for now, you decided to give him at least the benefit of the doubt, “How about at least telling me your name,” you suggested, looking over at him.

He smirked a little, “I’m Dean. Thanks for staying,” he replied, sipping his beer.

He was in regular street clothes, jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a jacket, and you were thankful you’d chosen what you had, “Nice to meet you, Dean. Are you allowed to tell me about this stakeout that involves my work?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Well, I could tell you, but I might get in trouble if I do,” he replied, and you could have sworn he was flirting, but it was hard to tell. The man seemed just to be naturally charming.

You smirked, “You look like the kind of guy who’s used to getting into trouble,” you replied, deciding just to be yourself and be playful, even teasing him a little. You still needed information, after all.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He wasn’t feeling those same things he had when he’d been around her at the store, but he still found her more interesting than he should have. Dean was grateful she’d decided to stay but knew he’d have to keep his wits about him. She was quick with her comebacks, something he wasn’t used to from women.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he chuckled.

Dean watched her, noticing how relaxed she looked as she leaned a bit on the counter, her hand on her beer, sipping it from time to time.

She glared at him playfully, “You like being vague, don’t you?” she asked, although it was rhetorical, and he knew it.

“Looks like you can read me like an open book, Sweetheart,” he replied, shaking his head and still smiling before he sipped his beer.

“I’m working on it,” she mused, “So, what can you tell me?”

He’d prepared for this, figuring she was going to ask, “There’s a group of people in the area that are trafficking people, mostly women. It’s happened before, but we still haven’t gotten the ringleader. This isn’t the first time we’ve been in the area,” he explained to her, hoping he’d buy his story.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You didn’t watch the news. There were too many bad things going on in the world as it was, and you didn’t want to know just how bad it really was out there. You didn’t live terribly far from the border, so his story at least made sense to you. You’d know people when you were a teenager who had run drugs over the border for the cartels, even if you had never been involved with any of it.

It still seemed as though he was hiding something; you noticed it in his eyes, “How many times have you been to this area?” you asked, seeing just how far you could push.

You noticed how he sipped his beer like he was debating an answer, “More times than I’d like to admit in the last five years,” he replied, sighing.

That sparked something in you, but you managed to hide it from your expression, “What brought you here the first time?” you asked curiously.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He had to really think about how to answer her. It wasn’t like he could tell her it was because of the hardest monsoon the place had seen, when the F0 had touched down in the area due to demonic activity. Dean took a sip of his beer.

“That was when the trafficking started, and my partner and I got assigned to the case,” he told her. It was mostly true.

“Huh,” she replied, then looked away from him and sipped her beer.

He tried to read her, but she wasn’t easy to read. It was like a challenge to him, and he had already decided he was going to face it head-on, “You seem surprised,” he mused, putting on his signature smirk.

“Kind of. That’s when I got into a car accident. There was a really bad storm the next day. At least that’s what my family told me after I woke up from the coma I was in,” she replied, seeming somewhat casual, but at the same time, it almost sounded like she was digging for information out of him.

“I’m sorry to hear about that. Was it a bad one?” he asked, wondering just where she was headed with things and how much she might divulge.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You glanced over at him, tilting your head a bit, “Figured you had read up on me. You’ve been watching me at work more than my other co-workers. It’s kind of obvious that you and your partner have been keeping an eye on me,” you told him, plainly, but confidently.

He may have asked you out for a drink, but how he and his partner had been watching you at work had been enough to know that they knew something. You were also second-guessing whether or not he was a real FBI agent as well. Since he’d shown up late, it was time to get to the point of things carefully.

Dean didn’t seem to answer you right away, although he hadn’t stopped looking at you, even when he sipped his beer, “Alright. Yeah. I read your file, but it only contains the technical details.”

You watched him, almost studied him as he answered. He knew more than he was letting on, and you knew it, “I honestly don’t remember it. I blacked out the moment my car plowed into the back of that rig. Then, I woke up in a hospital bed two weeks later,” you explained, then looked away from him.

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked down at the counter, “I should have died in that wreck from what I was told.”

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean watched how she moved slightly, where her eyes shifted. He was pretty sure she knew she was at least different than a normal human, “I’m glad you’re okay. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to have drinks with you tonight,” he told her with a slight smirk.

She turned to face him, tilting her head just a bit, “So, why are you and your partner watching me, in particular? I know that’s why you asked me out for drinks,” she asked, blunter than he’d been prepared for.

He couldn’t hide all the surprise of her bluntness. He even chuckled at her bluntness, shaking his head slightly. However, Dean had prepared for this question as well.

“Well, Sweetheart, you’re the only connection to all the places that have been hit,” he told her, finishing his beer.

It was her turn to be surprised. Dean had spent his whole life learning how to read people, and it was clear to him that she was attempting to hide something. He just wasn’t sure how far he could push her or if she’d even knew what she was.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You momentarily froze as your chest tightened and your breathing became shallow. That was the one thing you’d hoped he wouldn’t put together. Dean was clearly more intelligent than he had been letting on.

“So you think they’re after me,” you sighed, signaling the bartender, “I’ll have that whiskey now.”

She nodded at you, then got your drink. You took a sip. Dean was clearly waiting till the bartender left before speaking again.

“You fit the profile, physically. My partner and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he finally answered, seeming concerned. “When I asked you about the sulfur smell that first day, I questioned you. You’ve smelled it before, haven’t you?” he pushed, but you could tell he was trying to get you to talk more.

You sighed, taking another sip of your whiskey, “Yeah,” you paused, staring more at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. For a moment, you pursed your lips, debating your following statement, “You’re not FBI, are you? Just like you aren’t asking me about any crime ring. You’re asking me about demons.”

You could see his reaction from your peripheral, causing a slight smirk to tug at the corner of your lips. That was all you needed as an answer to your question.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean barely managed not to choke on his beer with your question. For a moment, all he could do was look at you. He’d prepared for all kinds of ways tonight would go, but your bluntness and knack for reading him was still throwing him off.

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head, deciding just to be honest, “You’re right, I’m not FBI. Yes, I was asking you about demons. I was honest, though. I do believe they’re after you.”

She sighed, sipping her whiskey again, and he tilted his head. He still wondered if she knew what she was. The fact that she was able to keep her expression somewhat void of emotions was something that intrigued him, as it made it hard for him to read her.

“My brother and I want to keep you safe, but we can’t do that if you don’t open up to me,” he told her, trying to reassure her, even if he was a stranger to her.

“Brother, huh?” she chuckled, “I know you’re not a demon. I also know if I can trust you.”

“Yeah, he’s my younger brother. We do this sort of thing a lot. It’s kind of the family business,” he replied, sipping his beer.

That was when he explained everything to her: how he’d been raised in the life, the things they hunted, and the things they’d investigated over the last five years when it came to this particular case. Dean left out that he knew what she was, though. He hoped she’d open up a little more now that he’d been more upfront with her.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You took a deep breath, as that was a lot to take in. You’d never met nor heard of a hunter before, but it made sense. Monsters did need to be handled by something. The bartender refilled your whiskey, seeing your glass empty.

“I couldn’t imagine living like that,” you said, almost feeling bad about how the brothers were raised.

“Well, someone’s gotta step up, and we like being able to save people,” he replied, giving you a softer smile than you’d seen all night.

For a bit, your mind wandered. Something inside you told you he was being honest and that you could trust him. It was a new feeling, as it had never happened with a stranger before.

You shifted on your barstool to face him again, studying his expression, “I know I’m different, at least since my accident. My mom said I was a fairy, but after all the research I did, it just didn’t fit.”

The way he seemed to consider your words, pursing his lips briefly, made you tilt your head a bit. He did know something, far more than what he’d already said.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Again, he had to take a moment, although he was thankful she’d finally admitted what she knew. The part that puzzled him was what she said about her mom, which only made more questions in his mind.

“You’re not a fairy. You’re what's called a Pari. It’s similar to a fairy but more powerful. How does your mom know about that stuff? If it’s not too personal to ask,” he told her, wanting to keep her talking.

The bartender brought another beer for Dean, taking his empty before walking away.

He watched her tilt her head, a somewhat puzzled look on her face, “My mom said it was in my bloodline. She told me she dreams of another place where there are more like me. I started dreaming of it too, after my accident,” she explained.

“Well, now, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” he said, still a bit surprised, “Pari are from a different dimension; at least, that’s what we could find in the lore. Some people carry a gene that gets turned on when they are in a near-death experience. If my brother and I were back at our place, I’m sure there’s better information there.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

Sarah was going to have a field day with how this ‘date’ was going, you thought to yourself. You thought about what he said: Pari, a different dimension, carrying a gene. What were you even supposed to do with that information, and how were you supposed to keep yourself safe? Too many thoughts and not enough time to process it all.

“So, what happens now? I mean… It’s clear that demons are after me because of what I am. But I mean…” you trailed off and sighed, looking down at your drink.

“You could come with me and my brother. We can take you somewhere safe where they won’t be able to find you,” he told you, seeming genuine.

“For how long?” you asked, trying not to sound sad at the thought of having to hide for the rest of your life.

“At least until we can figure out what the demons want with you,” he explained.

The two of you sat silently for a few minutes while you sipped your whiskey, carefully considering what he suggested. Your friends and family, as did your home and job, wandered into your thoughts.

“What about my job? I can’t just walk away,” you asked, still not looking over at him.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

She looked so sad to him at that moment, “My brother and I can take care of that part. Can you be ready to go in the morning?” he asked, hopeful.

At least this way, she’d be in the bunker where they could keep an eye on her. Plus, they would have the books and research at their fingertips to figure out more about her. Now, all he had to do was get her to agree, and then he had to break the news to his brother.

There was another long silence, but he let it linger, letting her think and process it all. He watched her sip her whiskey as he sipped his beer.

“Will you be picking me up in the morning?” she asked, somewhat quietly, and he could tell she was sad.

Dean sighed, “Yeah. I can be there around nine. It will give you time to get your things together and wake up. I’ll let my brother know when I head back to the motel tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him, finishing her drink.

When she stood and reached for her wallet, he stopped her, “I did still ask you out tonight. I got the bill.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You looked up at him, his hand on your arm. Even with the strength you felt from him, his touch was soft, almost gentle. It surprised you.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied, a bit unsure of how you felt toward him at the moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he told you, giving you a friendly smile.

As you walked away, you only glanced back once, over your shoulder at him. Then, you headed home. Your thoughts raced, but your movements were slow once you got inside your place. There was a duffle bag in the bottom of your closet, which you pulled out and tossed on your bed. Since he hadn’t given you a time frame, you packed a decent amount of clothes, your toiletries, and some personal effects that were dear to your heart.

All in all, you had your duffle bag, a crate with a mix of toiletries and personal items, your backpack with your journal, coloring items, and more miscellaneous needs and keepsakes. Lastly was your purse, which you hardly ever used. You put your wallet, phone charger, pocket knife, and other little tidbits in.

You sighed once it was all stacked neatly by your front door and then changed into something comfortable for the night. So far, you haven’t messaged anyone about what was going on. You weren’t sure if it was even a good idea to say anything. You weren’t even in the mood to read Tumblr that night.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

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