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thewordypeach · 2 years ago

Text

Cream

Cream (Milk)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 2.9k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, oral, titty sucking and titty fucking, (lactation kink), implied breeding kink, squirting, etc. summary: Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it - author's note: ummm … so this sequel had me questioning my life choices. like i do not know what possessed me to take it this far lol so you better blow it up like you did with ‘Milk’ 🤭 anyways, i hope you like it <3 xoxo the wordy peach

It begins with: “You’ll never guess what they’re playing at movie night,”

You look at Joel, a single eyebrow raised. Joel wolfishly grins, his brown eyes sparkling, “Austin Powers and the Spy Who Shagged Me,”

He watches as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Joel can’t believe you don’t remember the conversation from last week, the one that had you confessing to him that you felt like one of those fembots from the aforementioned movie. He steps closer, head dipping to your ear, whispering: “Machine gun titties,”

That’s all it takes for you to remember. And it has your cheeks flushing pink. Sheepishly, you smile at him. But, of course, the cock block herself pipes up: “The spy who what?”

Ellie, you spunky little shithead. You love her to death. You never want her to grow up. But lately, she’s been ruining your alone time with Joel. You know she just wants to be a part of the family, and she is. It never even crossed your mind to think otherwise. She’s the daughter you never had. Sometimes you wish she’d just go and make friends that aren’t you or Joel.

You look at Joel, waiting for him to answer. But Joel is expectantly gazing at you. A playful smirk ghosts across his lips. He thinks it’s your duty to explain the birds, the bees, and everything between them to Ellie. Of course, she knows most of it. But she questions absolutely everything. Just yesterday, you had the unfortunate experience of explaining anal to her; Joel walked out of the house when she asked and didn’t return until later.

You poke a finger into Joel’s chest, hissing at him, “It’s your turn,”

His face goes slack before he gives you a sullen look. He pouts those luscious lips of his, “But darlin'….”

“Don't darlin' me, mister. You owe me for yesterday,”

Joel continues to pout but eventually relents. He turns to Ellie with a face void of any emotion: “It’s a classic movie from the 2000s,”

“Yeah, but what does shagged mean?” Ellie asks. Her eyes look between you and Joel, waiting for an answer. Joel grows uncomfortable. He’s never been one to talk about this kind of stuff.

“Yeah, Joel. What does shagged mean?” You ask.

“It- it… it means…” Joel stutters and stumbles over the words. His face is turning pink. He looks flustered as he searches for the right thing to say. You’re enjoying him floundering around. In one great, big breath, Joel spills out: “It’s a British slang term for intercourse,”

Ellie blinks at him several times as she repeats what Joel just said to her. She starts chuckling, “Shagged means sex?!” Ellie turns into a mess of laughter. She’s clutching her sides. It’s not that funny. But you like watching her have fun. It brings back the innocence and reminds you of childhood. You were young when the movie came out, and the world was ravaged by fungus a few years after. So you cherish this moment of hilarity. You rub your tummy and smile at how much fun you will have raising this new baby with Joel and Ellie -

You don’t make it to movie night because you’re busy with the nursery, and the thought of walking all the way to town hall makes you cringe. You don’t like going anywhere unless it is essential. You make Joel and Ellie do everything for you. There are still some things you do yourself.

You insist Joel and Ellie go. Ellie doesn’t fight it (she’s so excited to watch a piece of history), but Joel grumbles about it. He wants to stay and help. By helping, Joel means he wants to milk you. He can’t stop helping you, and it’s the only thing on his mind - Joel swears he even dreams about it now. However, there hasn’t been a single moment for him to help you. Tommy has Joel doing everything and anything, and between his brother and Ellie, Joel hasn’t had time for his new hobby.

So, after he drops Ellie off at the movie (making sure that she is settled and making sure that Tommy will bring her home after), Joel leaves and makes his way back to you. He wants to spend every free minute with you, but more importantly, this is the perfect opportunity to do what he’s been dreaming of without any interruptions. Joel needs his thirst quenched, and only one thing in this world can do it -

You hear him before you see him, and then you feel him. His arms wrap around your body, and he presses his chest into your back. You sink into the warmth, eyes closing and throat humming. His hands briefly touch your stomach before they find their rightful place. Joel cups your tits, placing each of them into his hands, and marvels at the heaviness. So full of his special cream.

“They’ve gotten bigger, haven’t they?” Joel murmurs. His cock is already hard and straining inside his pants. Hell, on the walk home, the prospect of milking you had him almost cumming right then and there.

“They’re definitely heavier,” Joel adds as he squeezes them. He notices you aren’t wearing a bra, and with one simple motion, he has his shirt on the floor (the only one that fits you). You’re facing him now, chest and belly exposed. The sight of you has him losing it. Joel feels happy and excited, and everything in between that. Joel can’t believe that you're his, and he’s yours. Nor can he believe his eyes because your tits are definitely bigger, and your nipples are already dewy with that milky nectar he loves so much.

Joel groans, latches his mouth onto your right side, and starts suckling like a starved man. Your nipple is already stiff and responsive, and you feel the sensation of milk rushing through to meet your partner’s greedy tongue. His hand expertly kneads the pillowy flesh, expressing even more of the sweet cream that has him hard as a rock. Joel starts to breathe deeper and sucks harder, causing you to moan.

Your fingers comb through Joel’s hair, and you hold him there because the pleasure of having Joel drain your tits is undeniable; in fact, the more Joel sucks and licks your nipple, the more your arousal grows. You have to remind him, “Joel…. We have less than ninety minutes -”

He grunts in response and moves his mouth to the other side he’s been neglecting. The feeling is indescribable, and you relish it. The relief Joel is giving you is insurmountable. But it also has you growing impatient with him. Your core is aching for his cock, and your hands travel over his body. You feel his muscles, thick and robust, beneath the plaid shirt. You need him now.

“Joel,” Your hand drops to the bulge in his jeans, and you gently rub it with purpose. The friction makes Joel groan, finally lifting his head from your tits. His eyes are filled with a dazy lustiness that makes you fumble with your words. Still, it doesn’t matter because Joel is suddenly pressing his lips against yours and kissing you with an ardour that makes you forget everything you are about to say.

You taste the substance that has Joel acting ravenous. It reminds you of cereal milk because it’s so sweet. You part from his lips, whispering, “Can I taste you now?”

He doesn’t have time to answer because you’re already lowering yourself to your knees, planting them on the ground in front of Joel. With one hand, you pop open the buttons of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Roughly, you tug at the opening and watch as his thick, luscious cock springs free from its confines. At the sight of it, you lick your lips. Your fingers wrap around his length and slide over his stiffness. The movement makes Joel shiver, and when your lips finally touch his cock, a groan escapes from his throat.

Joel has been so concerned about making you feel good that he forgot to consider himself. Suddenly, you thrust him inside your mouth while twisting your hand down his cock. He quickly fills your mouth, and his hand grasps your hair in hopes of controlling you. However, he’s fine with letting you have your way right now. It’s been a while since you had the opportunity to please him; Joel loves how the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you’re so adept at sucking him off that his length doesn’t make you gag anymore -

Expertly, you glide your mouth from the hilt to the tip of Joel’s cock, coating it in your saliva. Joel’s eyes nearly roll into his head because it feels so fucking good. It’s the only thing he can tell you because he’s almost lost his mind from the bliss of your mouth sheathing his cock. You don’t stop until Joel gasps for air and asks you to stop.

“Babe, babe, babe,” His voice is husky, and he roughly pulls on your hair. You gasp and gaze up at him with a thick string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Joel quivers at the sight and has to remember what he will say. You wait patiently. Obediently.

Breathlessly, he asks, “Do you want me to fuck you here? Or…”

Without skipping a beat, you reply, “Here,”

Joel doesn’t need to be told twice and is quick to shed his jeans before he starts to help you. You lean forward onto the palm of your hands and watch as Joel goes behind and begins to slide off the sweatpants you’re always wearing. Not that Joel minds. He knows it’s the only thing that fits you because you remind him every damn day. Once the sweatpants are off, he tosses them to the side and stares lovingly at your ass. It’s so round and perky and panty-less. He’s genuinely surprised, and it makes him smile.

He caresses your fleshy cheeks, asking, “Is this for me?”

Joel can’t see your face but can tell you are blushing. Sheepishly, you admit, “As soon as you left, I took them off - for easy access,”

“Oh, darlin’,” He swoons, “You’re so sweet to think of me,”

Joel pries your sweet cheeks apart and buries his face, his tongue immediately swirling around your puckered asshole. Mewls spill forth from your mouth, and you wiggle your hips, trying to splay them apart because your body needs more. Joel’s tongue slithers down, lapping the juice practically pouring out of your needy, swollen cunt. He licks and sucks with wild abandon, groaning at your deliciousness. He doesn’t stop until you are begging him, “Joel, fuck me. Fuck me with your big cock, please. Oh god, fuck me, already!”

He removes his mouth from your exterior and replaces it with his cock. He rubs and rubs his bulbous crown between your molten wetness, gliding it back and forth until it’s coated with your slickness. When he thinks it’s enough, he pushes into your tight cunt. At first, your channel is resistant. But slowly, your velvety walls happily start devouring Joel’s cock until his entire length basks in the warmth.

You are gasping at the sensation of being stretched out. It’s almost too much in this position, and a small rock of Joel’s hips gives way to your first orgasm. Your vision swirls as a wave of ecstasy comes crashing through. Your fingers grip the carpet as your cunt swells and clenches his cock. Your back arches as you cry out, “Fuck, Joel,”

Immediately, he stops, thinking he has hurt you or the baby. Panic-stricken, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“N-n-nothing,” You stutter out, attempting to catch your breath. Your lungs greedily suck in the air, saturated with the smell of sex. You tell him, “You made me cum,”

“Already?” He murmurs and devilishly thinks about the five times he made you cum last week. Joel rocks his hips again, and you whimper at the movement. At a glacial pace, Joel pulls out before sliding back in and burying his cock to the hilt. You’re gripping the carpet and moaning like crazy. He’s sure the neighbours can hear you, which drives Joel forward. He wants them to know how good he is at fucking you.

Joel grabs your hips, nails sinking into the fleshy bits, and plows in and out of your pussy. He’s pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in, ensuring you feel every inch of his girthy length. Your body is rocking beneath his, tits swaying like udders. You reach between your legs to touch your clit. It’s pulsating and yearning to be touched. You gingerly circle it, knowing a light touch is enough to send you over the edge. And you’re right because, within seconds, your second orgasm is rolling through.

You wail, “Joel, Joel, Joel,” but Joel doesn’t stop this time. He continues to youthfully spear your pussy and watches as your creamy juices coat his cock. Vigorously, you rub your clit because a third orgasm is imminent. Your back arches and your hips are high in the air, and Joel stops, pulling out completely, to watch as your pussy trembles with another orgasm. Your thighs are dripping with your juices, and his name still spills out of your mouth. Repeatedly.

His hand squeezes your hip, “Mmm, darlin’. That’s your third one - should we slow down? Don’t want to hurt -”

“Need more,” You interrupt him, “Need to cum more, Joel,”

Joel shakes his head, “Darlin’,'' He knows you aren’t thinking straight, driven to recklessness because of the pure ecstasy that has raptured your body. You turn over, laying on your back. You splay your legs apart, and your pussy glistens in the light. It’s so swollen, so puffy. Your hand is back, and your fingers are working your clit. But from this angle, it’s a little more challenging because of your protruding belly. And it’s making you frustrated. Especially because Joel is just watching, not helping.

“Joel,” You growl, “Fuck me,”

A single eyebrow of his shoots up, and you begrudgingly mutter, “Please,”

Much to your surprise, Joel moves. However, instead, he hovers above your chest and settles his cock in the valley of your tits. His hands squeeze them, and the milk for his unborn child sprays out, sprinkling across your chest and hitting his cock. At first, Joel goes slow, his cock passing between your tits. It’s a different kind of friction and holy hell… it feels good. His cock, slippery with your juices and milk, has him gliding through your breasts with ease. He grips harder and fucks your tits faster, rocking his hips back and forth.

As he slips in and out, he milks your bountiful breasts in the process. He does it until you are soaked. He’s breathing hard, and his balls are tightening. He’s close, so fucking close. But he doesn’t want to finish like this because he knows you want more orgasms, and who is he to deny his pregnant partner? You have been carrying his baby for months, and it hasn’t been easy. And Joel knows that once the baby is born, you won’t be able to have sex for weeks. Not until you’re healed. So, why not let you live a little?

He pulls his cock out of your cleavage and moves his face to yours, kissing you passionately. His tongue swirls and mingles with yours before he shifts down. Joel latches his mouth around your nipple and practically inhales a gulp of cream into his mouth. He doesn’t swallow and comes back up, kissing you again. Messily, Joel washes your mouth with your milk. It’s sweet and warm, and it’s fucking kinky as hell. It has you moaning into Joel’s mouth. He moans back, letting you know he loves every moment of it too.

As he continues to kiss you, Joel reaches down and takes his cock, sliding it over your puffy and sensitive lips before pressing it into your velvet channel. Your body welcomes him, and your mouth drops, gasping as you effortlessly fit his entire length . Once more, Joel explores your warm depths with a vigorous youthfulness. His flesh is clapping yours over and over until you are yelling his name over and over. Your hands are gripping his forearms, nails digging into his skin.

“Mmm, Joel, mmm, Joel, gonna cum, Joel, mmm - fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your eyes roll back, and an unwavering fourth climax raptures your body. A euphoric release rolls across your body, and you undulate beneath Joel. He watches as your belly quivers, and he feels your cunt trying to expel him, and when he does finally pull out, a massive bolt of liquid escapes - he realizes you’re squirting. Something he’s only heard rumours about. He’s astonished by the amount of liquid that is coming out and by how long your orgasm is lasting.

Meanwhile, you are gasping for air, lungs greedily gulping it down. You have no idea what happened; all you know is it’s a big wet mess down there. You’re gazing at Joel, cock-drunk. Orgasm-drunk. Your brain is buzzing with satisfaction. Your fixation on cumming has been satiated. However, your partner is still rock hard. He still needs to cum, and he’s more eager than ever before. He shoves his cock back in, and the molten wetness has his cock quivering as his climax punches through, pushing him over the edge.

He doesn't warn you. He doesn’t have to - the damage is done. You’re reaping what he sowed. Joel shoots his seed as far into you as possible with a single thrust. His hands touch your belly, caressing the soft skin, and he pushes his cock even deeper, where he empties the rest of his balls. When he pulls out, his cum mixed with yours oozes out from your crease and pools onto the carpet beneath you.

You dare to smile up at him, murmuring: “Thank you, Daddy,”

#joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #thewordypeach #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlof smut #freaks only <3 #the wordy peach #thewordypeachwrites #wpw

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 9 months ago

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A Southern Myth

Summary: Leon had been sent to a rural place in Texas where sightings of a BOW were reported. But upon entering the forgotten town, he began to get entangled in a horrific twist of events involving a religious cult. Things escalate and now he must survive with the help of a girl who doesn’t believe in anything.

Warning: horror. religion. mentions of blood and gore like description. cult activities. violence. swearing. reader is fem. there is no romance/smut.

A/N: omg I’ve never written something like this before🙈 CAPCOM should hire me for script writing.

“You believe you're on the righteous path, you believe you're a force for good, but you're not.” - John Seed, Far Cry 5

“Come forth, my children. Let your souls become pure under His guidance.”

“Let us rejoice in purity as we bathe in this sacrifice. Let us become one for Him, for He has been waiting.”

The sound of the dirt rolling under the car’s wheel made the road feel bumpy for Leon. The heat was intense the further he went into the rural side of what was once a town named Giligand in Texas. Once a lively town that had become a ghost town.

Until a group of religious settlers took over the desert land and claimed it their new home. They built their own society, far away from modern civilization. The orange and dried plants surrounding the new town as the wind blew hard. The sun intensified and caused Leon’s sweat to trickle down his body.

Right in the middle of nowhere is where he got sent- yet again. The D.S.O has assigned Leon a more haunting mission. The government division found in Texas’ own legislation had found weird signs of an unknown entity roaming around the dried up land. He found himself standing in front of an agent in Austin telling him about this entity.

“Our homeland security experts have raised a few concerns regarding a secluded town in Western Texas. They believe that this could be related to the virus incident that presided in other countries,” The senior agent stated as he gave Leon a stack of papers containing pictures and files of the sightings.

The abnormality was big and round. But its eyes were the only visible thing in the dark of night. Pure white eyes protruding from the creature’s face, sending a wave of uneasiness to Leon. The monster seemed tall, definitely more than 9 feet tall. Leon couldn’t tell exactly what it was but he guessed there were some sort of horns coming out the creature’s skull.

Leon had finally reached the town, being greeted by a yellowing sign. The sign written in Times New Roman “Welcome to Cunstacin” on the bottom “previously Giligand” and then near the border edge “Pop. 189”

Such a small town for a big state. Leon didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t aware of how much his life would change the minute he passed the sign without seeing those pure white eyes watching him from behind his truck.

The town itself was small but seemed very busy. The roads were flat with gravel. The houses were old and barren but still usable. He wondered how people were able to make a living of such an abandoned place. As he neared a motel, he was met with the leader of the town. A tall man of tan skin, hair long enough to reach his shoulders as his beard grew to his neck.

He approached Leon’s truck and greeted him with a polite smile, “Ah, you must be the new guy they sent here.” Leon nodded as he turned off the engine and jumped out of his car.

The man walked up to Leon and patted his shoulder, “Hope the road wasn’t too tedious. The distance between here and the city is pretty stretchy.” The man chuckled and looked behind him where two young women stood. “Go fetch his luggage and take it to his room. We don’t want to make our esteemed guest work too much now, don’t we?”

The two ladies nodded and walked over to the trunk of Leon’s truck. They both carried the brown and thick luggages to the motel, their silhouettes getting lost in between the halls.

The man then gently forced Leon to walk with him, “I’m sure you’re tired and you might want to get some rest, but there’s an afternoon mass the town wishes for you to attend. The people want to meet the new guy in town,” the man laughed again and gave Leon’s chest a lazy slap.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m here for work- strictly for work,” Leon replied as he looked at the man and then around the area.

The man chuckled and took his hand away from Leon’s shoulder, “No worries- I get it. You’re a busy guy and your work ethic is commendable,” the man leaned towards Leon’s ear to whisper, “But if you find yourself in need of His words, do come to the church behind the Great Willowed Forest.” The man leaned back and gave him another toothy smile, almost unsettling. “Make yourself at home.” That was the last thing the man said before he began to walk away.

Leon exhaled through his nose. He already got the creeps from the background check he ran on the town but meeting the people in person made the whole experience much more precarious.

He began to walk along the town, trying to find any other civilians. He saw an older woman with two children outside a two story building.

“Excuse me,” Leon said as he jogged to the three individuals. One of the children, a little boy with a bowl haircut pointed to Leon and exclaimed, “Look, meemaw- ‘tis the new guy!” The older woman slapped the little boy’s head, “Pointing at strangers is rude.”

Leon cleared his throat, “It’s alright,” he looked down at the kid before looking back at the older woman, “I’ve heard there were some strange… sightings around this town-“

“Ah, yes-“ the woman cut him off, “You’re talking Tervin.” Leon immediately furrowed his brows. They had named the potential B.O.W?

“Tervin?” Leon asked and the woman nodded, “Yes. He was sent by God,” she looked up at the sky and then back at him.

“He was kind enough to send us a messenger. My boy, the end is coming. We must cleanse our souls of our sins in order to enter our Eden.”

Leon immediately felt a weird sense of unease in his lower stomach, the bottom pit sinking down after the woman spoke.

The woman took a step forward and cupped Leon’s face, “He is our savior. He will bring us to an eternal peace. Time is ticking, we must proceed with His plan.”

Leon took a step back, taking deep breaths. What was this feeling? His heart was hammering against his rib cage and he could feel his head become light. Maybe it was heatstroke or maybe it was fear.

The woman stared at Leon, seemingly in a trance. He swore he saw her eye color vanish for a moment, not right before she “came back” and smiled at him. She then took hold of the two children’s hands and walked away. He could only stay there watching as they got further away.

He exhaled shakily as he ran a hand through his hair, this would be harder than he thought.

For the next following days, he’s been trying to talk to these people but everyone said remotely the same things.

“Monster? He’s no monster. He’s our salvation.”

“God sent him, it is His gift to us.”

“We must act quickly, the end is nigh”

Leon was currently sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he was currently staying. His elbows rested on his knees as his gaze fell on the picture of the creature he had in his hand. Pure black, except for the eyes. Something felt sinister- almost too evil. But he couldn’t pinpoint what. Everyone looked normal-ish.

He left the motel and began his 15th round of research. He was so sure he’d get kicked out if he kept asking the people questions. His mind traveled back to what the leader said, something about attending mass.

He didn’t want to but he knew that he had to try. Maybe there was something that could be useful in the church.

So that’s where he was headed. To the Great Willowed Forest. A forest full of tall trees and tall grass. The sun was setting and the church came into his line of vision. A tall Victorian structure that was adorned in white and gold. A bell sitting on top of the highest tower peak of the religious establishment. He slowly walked up the freaking and old steps of the church. Muffled talking from just the other of the door. With a light inhale, he pushed the door open with gentleness and stepped into the church.

The inside was much more beautiful. The benches were neatly fixed in rows as the windows were stained glass depicting stories of their God. The church was packed and the leader stood on the podium, preaching about their path to salvation.

“We must obey the Lord’s rule. For we are His children as well as His servants. We must makeup for the loss of His journey.”

Leon found himself an empty seat at the very back. No one seemed to have noticed him enter, they were all focusing on the town’s leader words. Almost as if they were bewitched.

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

The mass lasted for an hour and a half, and he didn’t find anything remotely useful. He sighed in defeat as he felt like he wasted his time, yet again. There were no signs of any B.O.W and these people were most certainly convinced that the monster was their key to heaven.

It was nighttime when Leon had left the church, walking aimlessly through the forest. His mind preoccupied with thoughts about potentially lying to the D.S.O and telling them it was just some southern myth.

Until he hears clinking sounds coming from behind a bush. His agent instincts activated and he quietly walked towards the bush to see what was behind it.

To his surprise, he’d found another person. A girl working on a garden. She had been couched down on the floor as her hands worked through the soil.

As he walked towards you, his boots crunched against the twigs lost in the grass. Your attention had been drawn to the sound and you quickly spotted the new man in town.

You furrowed your brows as he approached you, “You’re the new guy everyone’s talking about.”

Leon nodded curtly, “The one and only,” you hummed in response and resumed your duties.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

He was caught off guard by your immediate answer. You didn’t even look back at him. He could only stare at the back of your head as your hands worked through the soil.

“You didn’t even listen to what I had to say,” he approached you and crouched next to you, glancing at the plants you’ve been planting.

“I don’t need to. You’re asking questions about this stupid and fake thing everyone claims to be salvation or some other bullshit,” you grumbled.

“Not necessarily-“ he sighed and looked at your side profile, “I’m not here for that-“

“What do you want me to tell you? That there’s some sort of monster roaming around the forest?” You turned your head to look at him, “Because I won’t. I haven’t seen anything and I do not believe it even exists. Those lunatics are hell bent on their stupid… belief,” you scoffed as you turned your attention back to your plants.

“Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” you muttered. He looked at you some more before looking back down at your hands covered in dirt.

“So you aren’t with those people?” Leon raised a brow as he analyzed you. You shook your head no, “Hell no. You don’t know what they do to those who don’t believe in their God… you don’t know anything.”

Leon remained silent as your words settled down in his mind. There was more than what you led on and both of you knew this.

“Then tell me,” he replied quietly. You sighed and looked at him with an annoyed expression, “Doesn’t matter. Just go back to your shit and mind your business.”

He didn’t say anything, he just watched you for a few minutes before he stood up and left.

He went back to his motel room and laid down on the bed. Staring up at ceiling as he thought about the events that took place. He still couldn’t shake off the strange feeling he felt about this town. Something felt odd but he just didn’t know what. He sighed and decided to just sleep for the night.

Leon woke up early in the morning and tried to find the leader of the town. Surprisingly, he was at the church. He was sitting down on a bench, silently praying. Leon walked up to him and sat next to him as he waited for him to finish praying.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man said as he noticed Leon’s presence next to him. Leon cleared his throat and pulled out a picture of ‘Tervin’

“I need you to tell me about this. What do you know?” Leon’s brows were furrowed, he was serious. He didn’t come around to play. The man took the picture and stared at it. Something in his aura had changed upon seeing that picture.

“Where did you get this?” The man asked as he looked at Leon with an unreadable expression. Leon shrugged, “I can’t say.” The man hummed and looked back at the altar in front of them.

“Tervin is a gift from God. He was sent as a warning of impending doom,” the man replied in a flat voice. “If he isn’t satisfied, then he seeks blood. We must cleanse this town of impurities and relay a message to God that we are worthy of his Eden paradise.”

Something in that caused a shiver to run down Leon’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He remained serious and calm. Leon nodded once and stood up, feeling like no one will actually tell him anything.

“Thanks,” he muttered before he left the church. When he walked out, he nearly crashed into you.

“Watch it,” you hissed at him. He looked down at you with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you meant ‘excuse me’” he crossed his arms over his chest and kept blocking the doorway.

You sighed and looked at him unimpressed, “Excuse me.” Leon rolled his eyes and stepped to the side. As you began to walk past him, you noticed the picture in his hands. Your brows pinched together and you quickly pointed to it, “what’s that?”

Leon looked down at the picture and then back at you, “I’m supposed to investigate this… thing.” He watched you closely, trying to gauge your reaction as you stood there silently thinking.

“You’ll get yourself in trouble if you keep putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” you warned before stepping inside the church. He saw you walk up to the leader. He exhaled and walked back to the town. When will someone actually help him?

It was somewhere past 11 pm, he was staring at the files he had about this town and his objective. It was impossible to think how he didn’t have any leads. It was the Leon S Kennedy! He always saw that the job got done, always.

He groaned defeatedly and began to walk around the town, he doesn’t even know how many times he’s done that.

The town was awfully quiet. There was a fog occupying most of his vision, making the place look eerie and unsettling. He heard the rustling of the trees and grasses but he paid no mind to that. Not right now, at least.

He saw you sitting on a fountain, staring at your reflection deep in thought. Why were you the only one out here. He walked over to you and spoke in a soft voice, “What are you doing out here?”

You looked over at him and then back at the water, “Could ask you the same.”

Leon sighed and scratched his head, “I just- I wanted to ask questions but seems like everyone just… disappeared.”

You hummed in response as your fingers played with the water, “They didn’t. They’re at the church praying or something.”

His ears perked up, praying at this time? He didn’t want to question it but it still lingered in his mind.

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “You said you didn’t believe in God, why is that?” He asked in a quiet voice.

You looked at him before motioning for him to follow you, “It’s better if I just showed you.”

You led him through the dark forest, twigs snapping under your shoes and wind howling soft whispers as the moonlight glimmered down you two.

“This town ostracizes those who don’t believe in God. Do you know what happens to nonbelievers?” You looked behind your shoulder to glance at Leon for a brief moment.

“No, I don’t but do tell,” he followed behind you as his eyes scanned the forest for any threats.

You sighed and stopped walking once you’ve reached an abandoned cemetery, you walked up to one of the gravestones and stared down at the name, “Jeffrey Clyle. 1987-2024.”

“Sacrifice,” you whispered. Leon heard you and walked up next to you, your eyes distant and your expression solemn.

“Ever since rumors of the “messenger” started, they’ve been capturing and targeting those whose faith has been faltering…” your gaze remained down at the gravestone and Leon remained silent as he let you talk.

“They’ve been doing human sacrifices in the name of God. They believe that God would forgive them if they kill those who oppose him…” your voice trailed off for a moment before you turned your face to look at him, “It’s evil. Punishing people for not believing in something is inhumane. They’re all slaves to their own fucking religion, that God is not kind and I will never believe in it.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Leon asked as he stared into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Because my father is the fucking leader of this whole thing. I can’t just leave,” you mumbled and looked away. “I already get judged for not believing- imagine what would happen to me if I left?”

He remained silent once again. Your father was the preacher and the leader of the town? That makes things even more interesting. Leon never pictured himself to be in this kind of situation- not since Spain, at least. It all seemed the same to him. Religion controlling people, is that all it will ever be?

Then he remembered something from mass he attended,

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he began to finally realize what might happen. He looked down at you, “You mean to tell me… that your father participates in human sacrifices? Why?” His eyes were narrowed as his breathing became faster.

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Because his idiotic self thinks that sacrificing people will help him and his goons reach their heaven.”

Innocent lives were being used for this town’s religion. This didn’t sit right with Leon. He quickly ran out of the cemetery- his heartbeat speeding as his legs carried his body towards the church.

Under the embrace of the moon and the night, a gathering assembled at the edge of the churchyard, shrouded by the shadows cast by the townspeople. Their faces unrecognizable under the dark night, their chants in hushed tones as they circled around a sacrifice.

Bound by chains, a person writhed in resistance, their muffled cries stifled by a potato sack over their head. Leon stood behind a tree as you came behind him to look at the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

The leader of the town emerged, wielding a sacrificial blade gleaming under the moonlight. Each stroke of the blade sent shivers down your’s and Leon’s spine, as the victim's anguished pleas echoed through the night, a haunting presence appeared through the tethered night.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our Lord. Let us repent for our sins and wash ourselves with the blood of those who’ve been cleansed.”

The creature- otherwise known as the B.O.W- emerged from behind the forest and entered the churchyard. Its stature was 11 feet, towering over everyone. Its black glistening skin reflected the moonlight as its pearly white eyes penetrated the group of believers. Its horns swirled upwards, reaching up to the sky. The townspeople all bowed to the creature as they chanted its name, “All hail Tervin.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the B.O.W while your eyes widened at the fact that this “messenger” was indeed real. Leon took out his gun and aimed it at the B.O.W. You quickly pulled his arm down and whispered in a harsh tone, “Are you stupid? That thing could be dangerous.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at you, “I’ve fought those things before, I know what I’m doing.” He shook your hands away from his arm and aimed the gun back at the beast.

The beast approached the human sacrifice and with its claws, it picked up. Almost instantly crushing the human, letting the blood fall down like rain on the townspeople.

“Thank you, Lord, for this blessing”

The B.O.W then ate the human sacrifice after the townspeople showered in their blood. A scene so horrific and disturbing, it twisted your stomach upside down. The creeping sensation of the fact that it could’ve been you in that situation only made it worse.

To feel your rib cage cave in, piercing your lungs and heart as blood trickles down your mouth. Its claws clawing into your body, letting the blood flow like water.

It only made you shiver and writhe in disgust.

Leon then began to shoot at the B.O.W with his gun, drawing the attention of the townspeople. One bullet shot the creature’s eye, causing it to stagger backwards in pain. The group of believers all turned to look at you and Leon.

Their faces unrecognizable- their faces foreign as the creases and eyes all felt like distinct people. The group slowly began to walk towards you two as the monster howled in anger.

“God, forgive those sinners. They haven’t sought your guidance. Let us illuminate their path,”

The leader spoke as they approached you and Leon. Anxiety coursed through your body as you saw the B.O.W swing its claws at the group of believers. People flying left and right. The leader turned around and observed in delight.

“Yes, God, yes! We shall sacrifice ourselves for Eden.”

The whole group then began to chant, “For Eden. For Tervin.”

The B.O.W only had one goal in mind- and it was to kill the person who injured it. As Tervin kept walking towards you and Leon, Leon took hold of your wrist and began to ran. He dragged you through the forest back to the motel he was staying in.

He looked the door to his room and turned to look at you, “What the fuck was that!?” Leon was stressing, all these emotions resurfaced and he felt overwhelmed. Why was this happening, how was this happening?

“I told you, they’re fucking evil when it comes to their God,” you replied harshly.

“Yeah I wasn’t exactly expecting your father to be the leader of a cult with that thing as its dog!,” Leon replied as his hands traveled through his face and hair.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over you chest but just as you were to speak, the ground shook. Heavy footsteps were heard and Leon rushed to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw the group of believers walking over to the motel with Tervin in following them. They kept chanting as they kept walking.

“We need to get out of here now-“ you said as you began to hurry out the door. Leon, however, stopped you.

“I can’t just leave, I have a mission to do and it requires me to kill that thing. I cannot go home until it’s dead,” he said as he stared at you with a resolved expression.

You could only stare at him in silence for a few moments before sighing defeatedly, “Fine, do whatever you want.”

“Stay here,” he instructed as he took his gun and walked out, leaving you alone in his motel room.

In the flickering glow of the moonlight, amidst the eerie chants of the cultists, Leon stood there, gun in hand as he scanned the group. He needed to be smart. They had a B.O.W to their advantage.

As the first cultist lunged forward, knife in hand, Leon countered with swift precision, deflecting the blade with a punch to the gut. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasions. As he killed and wounded the cultists, they grew more frenzied, their chants escalating into desperate cries of fury. Yet, undeterred, Leon continued fighting.

“We must bring him to God!” They chanted as they kept lunging at Leon.

Amidst the chaos, the B.O.W stepped forward, its twisted features contorted with rage as it charged at Leon. With the gun pointed at the beast, he shot bullet after bullet, causing it to slow its movements.

“God, please forgive our brother for he has sinned. We must cleanse him.”

Leon ran out of bullets and just as the B.O.W was about to strike, he saw you throw a pitchfork at it. The blades piercing the creature’s skin, stabbing it right in the chest.

The B.O.W let out a screeching scream, “No! Our messenger!” The leader spoke in anguish as he watched the creature stumble back, falling to the ground with a thud. Leon reloaded his gun and began to shoot again, this time aiming for the head.

As Leon became busy, your father glared at you and it was like something turned in him, “You bitch. I’ve had just about it with you. You will submit to your God and you will repent!”

You’ve never heard him speak to you this way, so much malice in his voice that you didn’t recognize the man that used to be your father.

He lunged at you, his hands trying to reach for your neck to strangle you. You took a nearby torch and set his clothes on fire. He stood back and tried to set the fire off of himself- to which he fails. He screams and cries in pain as he began to get engulfed in the flames of his sins.

“Forgive me, my children!”

You finally understood everything. There was no God because your father believed he was that God. The flames burned up in hues of blue and orange right before the sparks flew into the night sky.

His skin melted, his eyes became a blobby mess and he fell to the ground. His screech becoming more faint as the life in being burnt away from his body. The flames expanding over the dried wheat of the town, engulfing the town in a pit of fire.

Leon had been too busy to even notice that you killed your father. He’s been shooting the B.O.W, making sure to blow its head off once and for all.

After two rounds of reloading, he finally was able to kill that damn thing. Watching it fall to the ground, sending harsh vibrations to the floor as silence overtook the ghostly town.

Heavy panting overtook the two of you as the silence grew deafening. You turned to look at Leon as he stared at the B.O.W all lifeless. You looked around and saw the bloodbath. Everyone was dead.

Pools of blood stained the gravel he once stepped, the lifeless bodies of the townspeople growing cold. The flames being the only source of light under the dark night.

Leon turned to look at you for a brief moment before looking up at sky as he tried to take deep breaths. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe what he was brought into. But he was glad it was over. For now at least.

Leon packed his things and went over to his truck, he looked at you, “Aren’t you coming?”

You looked at him and then back at the town- or what remained of the town. You nodded and walked over to his truck.

Both of you driving down the lane of the rose, exiting the town. Passing by a sign that read, “Please visit soon!”

Unaware of the presence with the white eyes watching you two leave the town.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #re4 leon #resident evil fic #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon #horror #southern gothic #x reader #re4r leon

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mrsevans90 · 11 months ago

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 13

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: SMUT, p in v intercourse, face sitting (oral F), tiny mention of butt stuff 😜, angst, period, Emma embarrassed, anxious Sy, Nana (because her sassiness is a warning), language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 12

Two weeks have passed since Emma’s parents visited and we have been spending the night together every night since. I’ve cleaned out a drawer in my bedroom that now holds extra clothes for when Emma’s here including some work scrubs so she can leave straight from my house. She cleaned out a drawer at her house for me and my spare clothes. I haven’t had this level of commitment to someone since I was in my twenties, but rather than feeling afraid I feel comforted. Coming home to her is just the most incredible feeling. She has really transformed my house into a home simply with her presence. We gave each other spare keys to each other’s homes last week so we wouldn’t have to wait on each other. I have finally accepted that Emma is my end game and I can’t run from happiness anymore. She’s basically aware of how damaged I am, having seen me through my worst flashback yet and even then, she wasn’t scared away. I often catch myself thinking about us living together, marrying her, and what our lives would look like if she would have me. I made myself so hard thinking about her pregnant with my children that I had to take a second shower one day last week. May have tapped into a bit of a breeding kink there but I plan to keep that to myself.

Tonight, it’s a Friday night and we decided to stay at mine. I’m on my way home and pull up to see that Emma’s jeep is already parked in the driveway and I smile. The vet clinic closes early on Friday afternoons due to it being slow, but this is the first time she’s beat me home. I unlock the front door and my nostrils are assaulted with the most incredible smelling aroma after a long day in the sun. I’m surprised that there are no dogs rushing to bombard me with excitement at the door, but as I walk further down the hall to find them practically on top of Emma on the couch as a show played on the tv.

“Hi Darlin’. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I say with a kiss to her forehead from behind the couch that she’s resting on. Emma’s lounging in one of my t-shirts and some of her teeny tiny sleep shorts that never fail to make me instantly hard. I can even tell that she’s braless and I’m tempted to cop a feel.

“Mmm. Hi babe. How was work?”

“Hot.” I say honestly as I spent the majority of the day outside in the sun building a porch for a client. “Something smells amazing in the kitchen.”

“The lasagna has about ten more minutes until it’s done. I figure that’s enough time for you to shower or change into comfortable clothes before we eat.”

“You’re too damn good to me, Sugar.” I say as I tuck a stray hair from her eyes that’s fallen from her messy updo.

“Nope, just trying to be as good as you deserve.” She says with a shy smile and I find myself not wanting to leave her presence even for just a quick shower after being without her all day. I make a point to greet the dogs who have traitorously not left Emma’s side even to greet me as I chuckle to myself at how quickly this astonishing woman has won all of us over.

I head to my bedroom, chucking clothes off as I go and toss them all into the hamper, which is surprisingly empty. I hop in the shower not wasting any time getting back to my girl, and a delicious smelling meal. Once I’m through, I put on some lounge shorts and a t-shirt and find Emma in the kitchen plating up our food. She’s made lasagna with garlic bread, and she poured us each a glass of sweet tea. My stomach growled at the sight and she giggled cutely as I helped carry the food to the table. Before she sits, I wrap her into my arms and kiss her.

“Thank you for making dinner, Sugar.”

“Mmm, anytime. You sure you’re okay with me using the key and showing up before you got here? I was bored at the house and figured the pups would keep me company.”

“Darlin’, I can’t possibly tell you how much it brought a smile to my face having you here when I got home. I always want you here. Feels like a home with you in it. Now, let’s eat this feast, babygirl.”

“I made brownies for dessert.” She grins as she picks up her drink.

“You trying to make me pop a boner at the dinner table?” I ask jokingly and she chokes on her sip of sweet tea. Once Emma’s breath comes back to her after I dutifully contributed by smacking her back, we both start laughing so hard she has tears streaming down her face.

“I did not expect you to say that, Sy!” I’ve noticed she calls me Sy when she’s being playful or out in public. When it’s just us or family around, she calls me Austin and I honestly really like that since nobody ever uses my first name besides her.

“I usually think of that sweet pussy when I think of dessert, but I don’t mind having a brownie or two first.” I say with a wink and she shakes her head at me with a grin.

“So vulgar, Mr. Syverson.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Ms. Miller.” I joke back.

We ate dinner until we were stuffed and I quickly began cleaning the kitchen. “Don’t look at me like that, woman. You cooked all of this. I’m cleaning. Go turn on your show and relax.” I tell her and she smacks my ass as she walks to the living room, with the dogs faithfully following her lead. I clean up and don’t hear the tv going so when I go looking for her, I see her in the backyard with the dogs. The summer heat has lessened as it is approaching dusk and Emma stands just outside the screened in porch throwing a tennis ball for Mills. Aika is rolling in the grass as lightning bugs start appearing at the edge of the yard. I walk out and wrap Emma tightly in my arms.

“I thought I told you to relax, Angel.”

“I am. This house, your property, everything about being here relaxes me. It’s so calm and quiet here.”

“Yeah? Always thought of this place as my little slice of heaven. Even more with you here.” I tell her and she smiles.

“Think you could see yourself living here with me one day?” I ask knowing it’s probably way to early and I might freak her out. To my surprise, she smiles and wraps her arms along my forearms that are holding her waist.

“It’s almost too easy to imagine that.” She whispers.

“Yeah?” I ask and she nods.

“Want to move in with me?” I ask surprising myself even. It’s early in the relationship still, but it feels right.

“Isn’t it too soon?” She asks as she turns and looks at my face scanning for the answer to her question.

“I guess that’s up to us to decide. I’m not ever wanting to pressure ya, Sugar, but I can’t say I don’t picture us living here together in this big old house. Maybe one day even some kids to fill up those bedrooms.”

Emma beams and kisses me. Moments of gentle kisses soon become heated and I’m guiding her back inside the screened in porch, the screen door squealing in protest as it slams behind us.

“Time for dessert, and I don’t mean the brownies.” I say between passionate kisses. My hands are under the too large shirt she’s wearing, and I pull it over her head. She seemingly has no qualms about being topless here in my secluded backyard and I quickly reach behind my neck and pull my own shirt off so I can feel her skin against mine. Our hands are everywhere, groping and teasing at the same time before I turn her back against my chest and take her breasts in my hands while nipping down her neck. After sucking on her skin, I turn and lay myself down on my back on the outdoor couch that I had built a few years ago.

“Climb on, sweetness.” I tell her and she slides her tiny shorts down along with her barely there thong and steps out of them. Emma reaches for my shorts that are tented from my very obvious boner but I shake my head and point to my chin. Emma’s cheeks turn bright pink and I smirk at her.

“Got your seat all ready for ya, Darlin’. Let me have a taste of that perfect peach.”

“I’ve never done that.” She whispers as I pull her close to my face.

“Sit down.” I tell her.

“Austin, you won’t be able to breathe, I’ll smother you!” Emma frets. Like her tiny little frame could possibly suffocate me, but even so that would be the ideal way to go.

“Woman, just sit on my face!” I say as I pull her hips and ass down and hold her tightly. Emma gasps when she contacts my beard and I blow my warm breath onto her delicate core.

“That’s more like it, Sugar. Relax and let me eat.” I command with a smack to her ass cheeks. Emma surges forward and grips the arm rest of the couch as I get to work. I slide my tongue around her entrance and lick up in figure eights around her clit. Emma’s breathing becomes faster and when I spear my tongue into her opening she moans. My hands knead and massage her buttocks as I stare up at her heaving breasts that are chasing each breath she takes. Her eyes are closed tightly as her head tilts back slightly from the sensation I’m providing. When I begin putting pressure on her sensitive little button, Emma begins grinding against my face, her earlier hesitation seemingly no longer of concern. I double down and focus my efforts of pleasuring her as best as I can. My arm stretches out and grabs a handful of her breasts and lightly pinch the peaked bud. God, I could stay down here all day watching her like this. I continue teasing her sensitive nipples and am finally rewarded with her grinding down hard as her hands are grasping the short hair on my head. Emma moans loudly in her bliss, not caring one bit that we are outside. Her thighs clamp around me as I suck on her sweet little nub and greedily swallow up the juices that are dripping from her core. I maneuver Emma to where she is laying on top of me as she comes down from her high and wipe my soaked beard with my hand. Emma leans up to kiss me and I’m certain she can taste her little cunt on my lips which makes me painfully hard.

“Fuck me, Sy. Hard.” She whines which makes me immediately sit up and lean her over the arm of the outdoor couch. Emma is panting in wordless anticipation as run my finger through her slick arousal before dropping my shorts and pressing myself against her. Emma impatiently pushes her ass further into my leaking erection and after spreading her legs a little wider, I slide home.

“Fucking hell, Darlin’. Never had a pussy feel so good. You’re perfect, baby girl.” I growl at her warm, wet heat as it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. It’s a privilege being able to worship her body and that knowledge is not lost on me. I give her only a moment to adjust before I retreat and then slam into her again.

“Ah! Baby! You feel so good inside of me.” She mewls as I thrust into her. I spread her round globes and look at her perfect little asshole.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby girl. So beautiful and sexy.” I grunt.

“Tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing, Sugar.” I command. My ball sack is smacking her clit each time I thrust forward and I can no longer help myself. I spit onto her tight hole and gently circle it with my thumb. Emma moans at the sensation and I slowly slide my thumb into her tight rim. I smack her left ass cheek as I gently prod my thumb in and out of her snug hole.

“Fuck babe! I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah Darlin’, let go for me. Let me feel you soak my cock.” I grunt.

Emma moans as she clamps down around me and I spear into her harder and faster until I reach my release, spurting my seed into her channel. Emma presses her body against the couch and I can’t help but lay across her soft back as I try and catch my breath. I’m not as young as I once was, but Sy’s still got it.

Emma looks absolutely shattered so once I remove myself from her, I gather our clothes, let the dogs inside and carry her to the master bathroom. I set her on the toilet while I start filling the bathtub and appreciate Emma’s sleepy smile at my preparations. While the water is filling, I jog back down to the kitchen, wash my hands, and grab the platter of brownies Emma made with two cups of milk. Emma giggles when she sees me smuggling our treats back into the bathroom and setting out a stool next to the tub to place them on. When the water is filled and the bubbles are sufficient, I step in first before helping Emma in and positioning her on my lap. Emma’s back rests against my chest and I think about the last time we bathed in here together and how nervous I was for her to sleep over. Now, I only sleep poorly when she’s not next to me. I lean forward and get each of us a brownie and we gently bump them together with a “cheers” before digging in.

“I gave Millsy-bear his last set of puppy shots this afternoon when I got here, by the way.” She says.

“Thanks, Sugar. No wonder he was snuggling hard on the couch when I made it home.”

“I gave him treats and extra cuddles for having to get a shot. Aika got one just for being cute. Bribery is key in veterinary medicine.” Emma says.

“You make house calls for all of your clients?”

“Only one. My favorite.”

“You’re my favorite too, Sugar.” I place a kiss on her temple.

“Oh, I was talking about Mills… Awkward.” She jokes and I tickle her ribs.

“I guess you’re up there on the list of my favorite things.” Emma says with kiss to my lips before picking a brownie crumb from my scruff. She smiles as she eats it and then takes a bite out of her dessert.

“Are you always this happy?” I ask her without thinking. I know I have a reputation of being extremely serious, or a ‘grump’ as Alex says, but Emma is the opposite. She’s like sunshine. The daytime to my nighttime. She’s made me smile and laugh more in these three months than probably ever before.

“Um not at all. You just make me really happy, Sy.”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Darlin.”

Emma and I lay in the tub talking about all things that come to mind until the water gets cold and my perpetual warmth isn’t enough for her. She's shivering as we climb out. We rinse off the bubble bath in the shower quickly before getting in bed and falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

I wake up early the next morning, close to six am and see my sleeping beauty is still a mess of hair and disheveled blankets next to me. She slept in one of my t-shirts last night since she was still cold from our extended bath, and as no surprise it’s twisted up around her waist. I smile at her disarray before snuggling up to her. When I do, I feel like I’ve rolled in something wet so I lift the covers. Oh no, a little patch of blood. Emma must’ve started her period in her sleep and knowing what I do about how she’s been treated in the past, I don’t want her to panic. I ease out of bed to grab some clothes, using my military stealth to do so as quietly as possible. Luckily my girl could sleep through a tornado, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I scribbled out a quick note telling her not to panic, and that I’ve run to the store but I’ll be right back in case she wakes up before placing it on my pillow.

Thank goodness there is a pharmacy about seven minutes from my house. I walk in and try my best to think of anything she might need. I purchase some tampons, pads, painkillers, a hot water bottle, and all of the chocolate my arms can carry. They even had some flowers there and I grabbed those at the checkout. The elderly woman at the register just smiled at me and told me I was a “good man.” This should be the standard for men taking care of their women, but clearly, it’s not. I quickly load everything up and head back to the house. I head to bedroom and Emma hasn’t moved an inch. I take the female hygiene items to the bathroom and place them on the countertop, before going to gently wake Emma up. I hate to do it but I figure it’s likely better to let her only see a little spot of blood rather than a big one and panicking even more.

“Sugar… Hey beautiful.” I stroke her hair away from her face and she gently shakes her head at me.

“uh-uh… no.” She grunts and I chuckle.

“Darlin’, can you wake up for me for just a minute please?”

“It’s Saturday… and still dark out, Sy.” She says after peaking one eye open.

“I know, and I’ll let you go back to sleep in just a minute but I need your attention.”

She yawns before I continue.

“I don’t want you to panic, so please remember, it’s okay. I’m not like the guys you’ve been with in the past.”

“Sy? What are you saying? It’s too early for riddles.”

“I think you may have started your period last night. Now, it’s no problem but I wanted to let you know so you co”

“Oh my god!” She interrupts, jerking covers up above her head to appraise the situation.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” She says with tears rimming her eyes as she lifts her head from the covers.

“Now, stop it right there. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s okay, Sugar. Take a breath.”

“I… um.. need to head back to my house.” She says quickly as a tear falls from her eye.

“I’ve got everything you need, baby, and I’m going to take care of you. Now, head on into the bathroom and take care of what you need to, and I’ll take care of this.”

“Sy, I’m so embarrassed. I need tampons and I didn’t bring any. I will replace the sheets.”

“No need, I’ll just toss ‘em in the washer and it’ll be just fine. I bought tampons and pads. They’re on the counter.” I help her out of bed and lead her into the bathroom.

“I tried to get a little bit of everything since I don’t know what you prefer so you just do what you need to do, baby girl. Nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.” I kiss her forehead and she nods as more tears streak down her face. I want to scoop her up and stop her tears but figured she might just want a minute alone to collect herself. I hear the shower turn on as I close the door behind me.

I walk out and quickly strip the bed and throw the sheets in the washer before making the bed up with clean sheets. As I’m making the bed, I get angry thinking about her douche ex-boyfriend who made her feel so ashamed for her body doing something that it is supposed to do. The more I think about it, the angrier I get as I’m shoving the pillows into the new pillowcases.

“Um, thank you, for the stuff.” I hear Emma whisper as I quickly turn around and see her there. She looks so small as she wraps her arms around herself.

“Is what I got okay?” I ask and she nods before going to her bag and pulling on some new panties, t-shirt, and sweatpants.

I pat the clean bed and she crawls up next to me before I hear her sob into my chest. I can’t seem to get her to look at me as she buries her face into my chest so I just hold her until her breath comes easier.

“Feel better?”

“Not really. I’m just embarrassed.”

“No need to be baby girl. I promise you, it’s fine. I just want you to be comfortable.”

“You make me comfortable. It’s just hard to change how I think after being told it was disgusting my whole life.”

“Trust me, if I ever see that douchebag again I will punch him so hard for ever making you feel like that.” I tell her as I wipe a tear from her cheek.

“Let me take care of you?” I ask and Emma nods with a small smile.

“Good. I got you an arsenal of chocolate, some painkillers, and a hot water bottle too.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Isn’t that stuff helpful?”

“It is, very much so… I just mean you didn’t have too.”

“I want too… Sugar, I love you.” I say and Emma sits up to look at me.

“You do?” She bites her lip.

“I love you more than I can even articulate.” I tell her truthfully.

“I love you too, Austin. I love you so much.” She says and I swear to God, I am beaming.

I love this woman and she loves me. Emma leans forward and kisses me in a kiss so consuming I can picture our whole lives together. After kissing a little, we lay back down and I stroke her hair until she’s fallen back asleep. When she’s thoroughly asleep, I ease up and decide to take the dogs out to get them a little bit of exercise before heading to the kitchen to make us some breakfast.

Emma saunters downstairs about two hours later seeming more well rested as I’ve got her breakfast plated up. She kisses on the dogs who are eagerly corralling around her legs before walking over to me and kissing me tenderly.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“Anything for you, sweet darlin’.” I wink over my coffee cup as Emma fills her cup and adds her creamer.

Emma glances at her phone with an inquisitive look.

“Everything alright?” I ask.

“Yeah, I just was checking my security cameras. I think the Rodriguez family across the street from me got their teenager a car. It’s been parked out in the street across from the house all day yesterday. I knew he must be close to driving age. It just turned around in my driveway so I got a notification on my phone. That’s all.” She says nonchalantly and I nod at her assumption.

“What should we do today?” I ask her as we eat.

“Maybe go to the grocery store? I figured I could go ahead and meal prep for the week. I also need to get the ingredients to make banana pudding for your Nana and PawPaw’s house.”

“Sugar, you don’t have to go to all that trouble.” I start but Emma shakes her head.

“No, when we talked last week I told her that I wouldn’t mind bringing dessert.” I just about choke on my bacon.

“She called you?” I ask and Emma blushes.

“She did. Is that okay?”

“Of course, that’s more than fine… I just don’t want her bothering you. She’s a bit of a handful if you know what I mean. I didn’t even realize she got your number.”

“Well, she told me not to tell you because you would ‘whine about her interfering’, but she called the vet clinic and got in touch with me there. She said she wanted to make sure I was joining y’all for lunch Sunday, and then wanted my mom’s number so they could keep in touch.”

“That woman.” I shake my head incredulously.

“I ask her to not interfere, and she goes around calling you and your family. Good grief.” I chuckle at the audacity of Nana. She’s going to get her way no matter what. She’s never gone to these extremes to contact anyone I’ve dated though, so maybe it’s a good thing.

Emma giggles.

“I think it’s sweet. Anyway, we got to talking about her cooking and I offered to make dessert. If that’s okay with you, let’s go ahead and go to the store after breakfast.”

“I’ll do anything you want me too, Sugar.”

We eat and chat a bit before Emma changes clothes and starts gathering her items to head to the store. I head upstairs and throw on some different clothes as well before we load up and head to the store.

When we get there, I’m in charge of the buggy. Emma has a list on her phone of all the items she needs to get, so I just follow her with the cart as she gathers her items. I also add a few of my own favorites as we are traversing the aisles, such as chips and beef jerky.

Once we’ve got everything on our list, we head to the checkout and I insist again on paying. Emma crosses her arms, jutting out her hip with a scowl that I can’t help but chuckle at. She’s like an angry kitten and I just want to kiss all over her face, so I do. After we pay, we make our way out the doors.

“By the way, you said you wanted steaks one night this week. Did you remember to put those in the cart?”

“Shit, I totally forgot. Here,” I hand Emma my truck keys. “Let me run back and grab some while you put the groceries in the truck?” I ask and Emma nods. I kiss her forehead before jogging back in the store to collect and purchase the forgotten steaks.

I skip the small talk with the cashier and head straight for the self-check out so that I hopefully don’t keep Emma waiting too long. After buying our main dinner entrée, I head outside toward my large grey truck, with Syverson Contracting Inc. embossed along the side. Emma must’ve loaded the groceries quickly as I don't see her. I walk over and notice she’s not in the passenger seat before I hear her scream.

“LET GO OF ME!” I drop the bag and turn to look for her. About 30 yards away, I spot someone I recognize. Then it dawns on me who it is.

Colin.

Part 14

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar

Author's Note: Ya girl's struggling with a sinus infection right now but I was able to finally get this posted! Had an ultrasound today and baby was healthy and active so I am happy!

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

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fishfooddude · 11 months ago

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Alone with the Baby

Gator's alone with the baby for the first time. CW: N/A

Fargo Masterlist Directory

Gator woke up to soft cries from the baby monitor on his side table. He slowly sat up and pushed his hair back before looking at the clock: 4:45 AM, “Well, guess I’m awake.” he chuckled before exiting your shared bedroom and walking across the hall into the nursery you’d decorated with soft pastel colors and squiggly lines he hadn’t understood. “Good mornin’ princess.” Gator yawned as he picked up his daughter. She calmed down as he cradled her close to his chest. “Did you just want a cuddle?” he asked, “You really are your Mamá’s daughter, huh?” her bottom lip poked out as tears silently fell from her eyes. “Let’s get you changed and fed… you’re gonna have the best day.”

“I gotta go, honey bee. I love you.” “Love you too. Have a good day at work, Gator.” he grinned at your words before hanging up the call and shoving his phone in his pocket. You being out of town sucked. Granted, he liked the extra time with your daughter, Vivi. It was always more fun when you were around. Roy came outside as Gator exited his truck and opened the back door to retrieve Vivi. “There’s my grandbaby,” Roy said coldly in a way only he could do. “Where’s that little wife of yours, Gator? Why is it that mine is taking care of Vivianna?” Roy smiled down at her. Gator was a disappointment, but Roy was happy to be a grandfather before he was senile. “She’s in Austin visiting her sister.” Gator answered before lifting the baby carrier out of his truck to take Vivi inside, “You sure about that kid?” he ignored Roy’s question as he hurried to get his daughter out of the cold.

“Thank you again, Karen.” Gator grinned as he handed Vivi off to her. She shook her head, “I told you, Gator, we’re family. I’m more than happy to watch this little angel.” Gator chuckled at her enthusiasm; since the twins started attending regular school, she’d become bored at home. “When’s she comin’ home?” Karen asked, bouncing Vivi on her hip. “Couple more days,” Gator answered before turning to Vivi. He squished her chubby cheek, making her squeal happily, showing off her toothy smile. “Be good, baby girl.”

Gator’s smile faded as he got into a cruiser with Roy. He was in a bad mood, and Gator knew it was probably his fault. They drove in silence until Roy finally broke the silence to criticize you again, “So your wife keeps your balls in her handbag, right?” Gator looked up at the car's roof, not wanting to fight. “We couldn’t go to her sister’s wedding-” Roy’s scoff cut Gator off. “You provide for her, and she cares for the home and my grandbaby. How do you even know she’s in Austin?” Roy criticized as he pulled up to the sheriff’s station. Gator ignored the question and left the cruiser immediately to take a hit from his vape. He trusted you completely, but he’d be lying if he said his father’s words didn’t affect him.

Roy continued his rant about your mothering abilities as the two walked inside the station; thankfully, Bowman cut off Roy before he could degrade you further. Gator slipped away and was able to avoid Roy for the majority of his shift. He couldn’t help but let Roy’s words bug him throughout the day. Gator trusted you. He knew you were in Austin with your sister; you’d sent him updates frequently, and he was happy you were enjoying your time away from him and Vivi. It’s only been a week, but it had been the longest you’d been away from her, and while you could conceal some of the mom guilt, Gator could tell you were upset.

As Gator sent you a picture of Vivi from that morning, he tapped the call button in the upper corner of the screen, only for it to go immediately to voicemail. His eyebrows knit together. You never turned your phone off; maybe it had died. Gator sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He tried to distract himself with paperwork, but it proved ineffective.

“Hi, princess.” Gator cooed as he picked Vivi up from the crib Karen had dug out of the garage. He watched as she adjusted herself in his arms as he walked downstairs. The twins looked up at him before returning to setting the table, “Are you leaving?” Karen asked as she put a stack of plates on the table. Gator nodded. “Yeah. The wife asked me to keep up with her bedtime routine.” Karen looked disappointed but nodded. “Are you dropping her off tomorrow?” Gator shook his head. “I’m off until Thursday, and then we’re pickin' her up on Friday morning.” Karen frowned but walked over to say bye to Vivi. While Gator just saw Karen as Roy’s wife, he did respect her love for his daughter and half-sisters. “Well, this little angel can visit me whenever she wants.”

Gator sat on the couch that night, vape in one hand and his phone in the other. Football was on the TV, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was waiting for you to call him back. As the hours passed, with every tick of the clock- Roy’s words got louder. He was snapped out of his trance when he heard cries over the baby monitor. He rose and walked upstairs quickly, “What’s the matter, princess? Drop your paci?” he asked as he stepped into the nursery. Vivi’s cries filled the room; Gator scooped her up and rocked her, “Oh, you just need a diaper change… We’ll get ya cleaned up, baby girl.” he cooed as he looked into her big brown eyes filled with tears.

“All better. I knew I could manage to take care of you, Vivi.” Gator laughed as he balanced her on his waist, “I know it’s not part of Mommy’s bedtime routine, but you’re gettin' extra cuddles, baby girl.” Vivi had her head on Gator’s shoulder, furiously sucking on her paci as he walked back to the living room. He sat on the couch and began explaining the football game to her. Vivi stared up at him, bored, which made him laugh. “Mommy makes the same face when I explain plays to her. Just wish she’d call me already…”

The following day, Gator woke up on the couch. His back was already sore. He groaned as he opened his eyes. Vivi was still asleep on his chest, making him grin. He carefully sat up, trying not to disrupt her sleep, as he reached for his phone from the coffee table and saw five missed calls from you and a voicemail. “Oh shit…” he pressed the callback button. When you answered, he could tell you’d been crying, “Gator! I’msosorrymyphonediedwhilewewereoutyesterday-” Gator chuckled. “Baby, I can’t understand you when you’re like this.” he heard you take a deep breath. “Okay… I’m sorry I forgot to call you last night when I got back to Erica’s house.” Gator nodded. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You havin' fun?” “Yeah… I love Erica, but oh god’m ready to come home and be with you and Vivi again.” “You’ll see us on Friday, angel.” “I know… I just feel guilty.” Gator frowned and took a second before responding, “Hey. Don’t feel guilty, baby. I can handle our daughter.” “I know you can, but I just miss her.”

That day and the next were a blur. Gator opted to spend his days off fixing up the house and cleaning up after himself. He didn’t want you to come home to a dirty house and think you could never leave him alone with the baby again. “Okay, Vivi. That’s how you fix a drippy sink. Mamá will be happy I finally did this, which means Daddy will also be happy-I’ll let Mamá explain that one…” he washed his hands before picking Vivi up from her ‘baby jail’ and walked out of the kitchen. Gator sat on the porch swing, holding Vivi’s waist as she stood on his lap, pointing at the sky as clouds rolled by. Her giggles were music to his ears, “What does that one look like, baby girl?”. Moments like this felt like magic to Gator, watching Vivi smile and listen to her giggles and snorts as she discovered the world- it was a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“Gator!” he couldn’t help but smile when you called out his name and ran up to Vivi and him. You smiled and quickly kissed him before snatching Vivi from his arms. Vivi squealed as you held her to your chest, “I missed you, princess.” you mumbled into her head as you felt a hand on your lower back, “Let’s get you home, Mamá.”

#fargo #fargo s5 #fargo season 5 #gator tillman #gator tillman one shot #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman fic

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hellowoolf · 1 year ago

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on strawberries and masonry: chapter iii

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), blood & gore, scars (NOT self inflicted), knives, guns, SMUT!!, unprotected p in v, fingering (if i left out any, let me know!)

word count: 9k

authors note: the fucking. at long last. thank god. (this is my first time writing smut omg goodbye)

series masterlist | masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

joel speaks to you like copper oxidizing in the sun. it’s slow at first, a shiny amber thing you covet, bestowed every once in a while on patrol or in the dining hall. but when the green catches hold, the gloss of it gone but easier, softer, it’s only a week or two from start to finish. he remains taut with you, strung into a tight wire you weary your hands trying to soften. even still, his prevailing silence makes him a vault, and at every moment you deem appropriate, you store your secrets there.

you tell him about the strawberries first. of the redness of that first one, and the way you’d wept with tommy and noah over the soil. of your hoarding of them, too. you recall to him your brisk walks in the biting air with ellie, smuggling handfuls stained red in the warmth of your coats, to deposit the bunches of them in your kitchen.

he doesn’t ask you again, after his vulnerability on your porch that night, about ellie, but regardless you tally your moments with her to recite for him. you watch him grip to them like a wounded animal in the snow, though still he is joel, and so mostly he is quiet as you recount your greenhouse conversations. you’re certain, now, that he isn’t her father, but she mirrors him to a degree of uncanniness, what with her constant bristling. this you do not say to joel, but mostly because you suspect he already knows.

you pull from joel what he lets you. you learn he lived in austin, before. you learn he worked in a boston qz most recently, up until the trek with ellie to wyoming (the motives of this are strictly off-limits, and though you enjoy pushing him, you allow this omission to stand). you learn he loves music, and played the guitar a lifetime ago. and you gather scraps of him in the moments between the stories, too; he is performative, despite himself, and runs inhumanly hot, and reaches still for his southern manners like he’ll someday be rewarded for them. most of all, though, you learn he is not very good at covering the craters of himself. the small set of moments from his life before jackson he allows you to see are censured, punctured through by his own tongue, you deduce to muzzle the voices of the characters of his past he won’t let you meet. but his recollections remain wounded by his carving of them, and so the ghosts of his memories, unnamed as they are, are clear to you. there is one in boston, and another set along the path to jackson. most incurably, there is one in austin, but unlike the rest, joel carries this specter with him.

the dining hall is always bloated with townspeople when you return from your rounds. the warmth of them overcomes the cold of the outside (it has persisted into late january this year) and as you find a table with joel at your side, the buzzing heat tickles at you from under your coat. you sit down at an empty table with joel on your left.

“but i do think they’re being weird. quiet, i guess, and tommy isn’t ever quiet.” you turn to joel, whose mouth is full already, and he leans back in his chair. tommy pulled away from you, and joel, too, over the last two weeks or so. maria has kept her distance—you have learned to expect this—but tommy is so insistently social, and so his waning outings in town seem odd to you.

“i dunno. tommy’s tommy, ain’t he?”

“yes, tommy’s tommy. but tommy hasn’t been tommy. you see what i’m saying?”

joel shrugs, stabbing again at his plate. “i guess,” but his thought isn’t finished, so you don’t respond quite yet. the brown of his eyes flickers when he’s let the tail of his sentence go, and you’ve learned to make space for them. “i…i don’t think maria’s too comfortable with my bein here.” he won’t look at you, but still it’s as vulnerable as joel ever is with you; he thinks tommy is distant because of him. you’re thrown to that night with maria in your kitchen, asking (demanding, really) that you patrol with joel, to the unyielding truth that your forced proximity to him begins and ends with your proclivity for violence. you aren’t quick to guilt, but it lays its clammy hand on your shoulder while you watch him eat. you’re reminded of how hot the room is, and begin to pull your arms from your jacket, turning your head slightly to lay it across your chair.

“maybe not, but she’s never been too excited about me, either. maria’s protective, very protective. but tommy’s different, too, he–” you don’t know if it’s the looking or his finger that comes first, but in any case you’re jolted somewhat ungracefully into silence. joel’s face has contorted into something unrecognizable as he looks down at your arm, bare in a tank top for the first time in months, and you watch as his pointer finger follows his eyeline down the scar on your left bicep. oh fuck. the callous of his touch just barely dances along the top of it, padding his fingertip along the skin in what feels like disbelief and disappointment and something else entirely. the mark closed up years ago, but the feeling of joel’s hand along your skin nearly burns the thing off. your sanity and your wanting of him are so flammable, and the spark of his touch sets the whole of you in smoke. after a few seconds of it, of the looking and the touching and the silence, joel remembers himself and stiffens again in his chair.

“i’m sorry, darlin, i-” he stops himself. “i'm sorry.”

and him calling you darlin is entirely unfair. you flush, across your chest and down your spine and down through your sex. there is something truly wrong with you. “no, no. it’s okay. i didn’t realize you hadn’t seen it.”

though he’s retracted his hand, joel’s stare remains clutched across your bicep. his fists curl in on themselves in his lap, and he stays there, firm and looking at you and cupping on nothing in his palms. you fill the silence.

“it was a long time ago. i don’t think about it much anymore.” this is only halfway dishonest.

“i shouldnta touched it.” he almost sounds bashful, boyish. he finally looks away from the scar and back at his food. “shouldn’t be starin either.” the depth of his voice tears through you despite the softness of it now, a whisper nearly unintelligible under the sounds of the dining hall. it strikes you that he thinks you a victim, and the thought nearly makes you sick. by maria’s fear of him, you’re certain joel has as blood-stained a past as you do, and late at night you tell yourself he would understand. still, you haven’t had the heart to tell him. what would you even say?

joel shakes his head slightly side to side like he’s reprimanding a child, though the child is him, now, and you could laugh at how awful and sweet and misinformed it is. you’d like to forgive him again, but you think he’ll excuse himself if you say any more about it, so you let the whole thing dissolve away.

“you like strawberries, sting?”

joel groans. yes, along with the lusting and your little fruits, the nickname is a luxury you cannot deny yourself.

“‘n so i played, but never out at bars or anything. tommy sure as hell wanted me to,” he said, securing his horse back in the barn.

“so who’d you play like?” you called from your stall in the stables.

“nobody,” he grunted back.

“you play like sting?”

noah found an old record of his on a run once, and you sat by jesse’s record player for hours at a time listening to it. in truth, it was some of the only music you really knew by heart. as you asked it, the both of you stepped out from your corners of the barn, and he stood with his hip cocked. you grinned at him, but he looked incredulously back at you.

“like sting? are you serious?”

you crossed your arms over your chest. “i’m asking a question. can’t i ask a question?”

“jesus. sting played the bass,” he said, exasperated, as he turned from you to walk out. you thought of his thorniness and guitar playing and the colors of his voice. sting. you decided you’d call him that as you followed out after him.

“i think so. i think i used to.” he seems far more relaxed in his chair now, and it makes you sink further into yours.

“i just have too many now. i’ve been thinking of giving some away,” you say, looking at him. “would you take some?” and it’s true; they’ve been overflowing into your sink and onto your windowsill. your little plant has been bountiful, and you had insisted her harvests were yours, but watching them mold on your counter has not proven as indulgent as you had thought. another, quieter and much more dangerous piece of yourself, tells you that really, you just want to give something to joel, to give anything to joel, but you cite instead the rotting by your fridge and allow yourself to ignore that little voice.

joel eyes you. “you really askin? or you bein courteous?”

“am i ever courteous?” you laugh. he smiles a little and laughs, too.

“no, no. i guess not.”

you’re giddy with the shake of his chest and his grin. he doesn’t laugh all that often, you suppose because it exhausts him so, but when joel laughs it’s an anatomical revelation. the whole of him wrestles with it. you’re wet, again, (it’s nearly constant for how often you’re together), and you eat what’s left of your lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your favorite of the group before jackson was danny. you’d met eliza first, in the salt lake qz, but danny was your age, and beautiful in a delicate sort of way that struck you as unnatural. you remember the stories your father told you from the bible, of the angels with eyes and wings and bloodlust, and danny was of that sort. it surrendered you to him, you think, and so you let him fuck you when the moon wasn’t out. he never made you come, really, but it wasn’t about the coming then. you were teenagers and guilty, so heavy and ashamed and good at the killing, and so the rub of a tree at your back as you let him put his cock in you was an escape from your being and the blood on your hands.

in his back pocket danny kept a polaroid, folded up and frayed around the edges, of him as a child, much of the same abnormality and prettiness, and ellie reminds you of that photo. for a thing you’re certain has seen death on and about her, ellie remains strange and stunning. she sits to your left with her legs out in front of her, sorting through your stock of seeds. you spin your knife along your knuckles as you sort through a pole bean plant to harvest the ripened pods, the orange light of sunset filtering through the leaves and quilting shapes along your skin.

“okay, mainly you’re almost outta radishes. everything else you gotta pretty nice setup on,” she says, setting the box down next to her. ellie had broken her outstanding silence with you, and you determine quickly that she isn’t disillusioned with who you have been. she’d told you once that you hold your knife like you’re worried someone will take it from you. she’d laughed and laughed, conjured scenarios of your vegetables rising against you, and you laughed with her. still, she sees your practice with it, the disjoint of your grip against the unmoving of your plants, and inherits the knowing of the damage you’ve done.

“alright. i’ll see if anyone going through the set of cabins down south can find anything,” you say back, sifting still through the bean leaves.

“and what do you say now?” ellie’s voice lilts with her smile, all childlike wickedness, and you turn to her, grinning back.

“thank you, ellie.”

with a grunt and a stumble she stands back up and gives you a half bow, echoing self contentedly, “thank you, ellie.” you snort.

as she leaves, you watch tommy approach through the greenhouse walls. you think he’s frightened of her, hides himself in his coat as though she may reach out and tear him apart, but still he tips his chin to her as he makes his way towards you and crosses her path. you can’t help but smile, tracking the peeking green of a few pole beans she’d stolen bounce from her pocket as she walks away. you walk out the doors to lean on the outside greenhouse wall.

“i see you’ve risen from your crypt,” you say as he arrives fully in front of you.

tommy grins tight lipped, his arms cradled to his ribs as he keeps his hands in the pockets of his jeans. there’s an anxiety to him, to the way he rocks back and forth before you. “yeah, yeah. i already heard it from damn near everyone i’ve seen today.”

“i’ve been more social than you these past two weeks. you know how fucked up that is, tommy?” you’re trying your hardest to show him you’re joking, coax him into honesty. he’s come to confess something to you, you think.

“oh give me a break,” he replies.

you raise your eyebrows slightly and holds your arms out in front of you; you have the floor. a beat.

“well i came to tell you the news.” you hum. “maria and i are, well i guess maria is, shit,” he says, but he’s smiling now, coy and wistful, scratching the back of his head as he asks, “how did people used to do this?” you say nothing, still. “maria and i are having a baby.”

and something between your lungs shifts out of place. they are going to have a child. a child. your first thought is that they will be good parents, tommy and maria; their flesh and blood is warm with sun and work and something lovely, and it will make for something worth growing, you’re certain. they will be of jackson, like your plants and the snow, and maybe the whole of humanity is forgiven for children like this, born into safety and wood cabins.

your second thought is so horrifically selfish you can hardly stomach it, let alone recite it. you swallow it back down.

“tommy, that’s amazing,” and you hug him there, a copy of your embrace standing in the reflection of the greenhouse walls. “how are you feeling about it?”

he pulls back grinning. yes, he will be a good father. “well shit, scared out of my mind, you know,” he chuckles, “but real excited. maria, too.”

you give him a smile that you mean. “well, you guys let me know if i can do anything,” you say, and gesture towards the garden, “if there are any herbs or things that could help maria with any of it you just let me know.”

tommy nods and puts his hands in his pockets, nodding. “i thank ya for it.”

for a moment, the two of you stand there in the waning sunlight, watching what you’ve become. tommy, you think, is precisely what he was meant to be. he has always been far too content with existence, molded over as it might now be, to deny fatherhood. you wonder what he sees in you.

“well, give maria my congratulations. lord knows she’s doing the heavy lifting,” you chuckle as you move to go back into the greenhouse, “and come knocking if i can help.”

you make it to the door before tommy calls your name and you turn around.

“how’re you doin on patrol with joel?” he asks you from his spot, letting the words cross the now sizable distance between you. you’re thankful for how far he is, hoping whatever grin is laying itself across your face is too subtle for him to make out.

“we’re doing okay, i think. he’s a little tense…and can be fucking terrifying.” and now you really smile. “but i can handle him.”

tommy barks out a laugh and begins to walk backwards towards the town square, calling out with a palm cupped to the side of his mouth, “you’re good for him!”

and you let yourself be jovial, laughing as you kneel to your beets, but really you might never forgive him for saying something like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

joel still hasn’t come to visit your garden, though you’re grateful for this now. the warmth of the greenhouse has become your respite from the constant wanting, and you think if he materialized in the doorway you’d melt there in the soil. pacing through your kitchen, you eye the little basket of strawberries on your counter. you’ve named them joel’s already, but each time you’ve made to bring them to him your resolve disintegrates down your thighs.

but oh, they are so perfect now, reddened into a vivid blush, and if you don’t hand them off today you’ll have to throw them out. you grab the basket and slip out the door, doing your best to avoid spitting up your heartbeat on the walk to joel’s porch.

it’s nearly dusk, and when he opens the door he has a glass with about a finger of whiskey in his right hand. it sloshes as he looks you over, eyes measured a little with surprise and something else, but you stay tied to the wrap of his fingers around the glass and lock your knees to keep from dropping to them.

“hey, sting,” you grin (or grimace, more like).

“uh,” he leans a shoulder on the doorway and the movement brings his chest closer to you outside of the threshold. you smell the whiskey and the pine of him as he continues, “hey.”

his voice is deeper, now, hoarse with the weight of the day, and you conclude that you are, in fact, doomed for madness, if he keeps looking at you like that. you bring the basket of strawberries up to your chest and gesture them to him. “i just wanted to drop these off. they’ll go bad in a few days.”

joel peers down into the basket and grins a little, turning to put the tumbler on a table behind him before stepping more fully out of the house. you think he expects you to take a step back to make room for him, but you allow his chest to crowd yours, tilting your head further back. “well shit,” he laughs, “these are real.”

“yeah, well, now they’re real and they’re yours.”

joel lets his eyes circle once more over your face before extending his hands to take the basket. the warmth of his fingers as they brush yours along the weaving makes you clench and expand in the span of a moment. “thank you, really,” he says softly, sincerely, and the basket is so much smaller, now, held to his front.

you shove your hands into your back pockets. “eat them soon, though, please.”

joel turns around again to put the basket inside just beside the whiskey glass, and says to you behind him, “can always make jam or somethin if i can’t go through em all.”

your stomach twists up and it pushes what can only be described as a giggle (an awful thing) from you. “jam? you know how to make jam?”

he shifts back around and cocks his hip, sticking a knee out. “the fuck you mean by that tone?”

you laugh harder, earnestly, nearly folding over with it as he grips the door, ready to close it. “jam?”

“yes, jam. it ain’t that hard.”

you keep laughing just for the sake of it now, but as joel begins to swing the door shut with a quiet jesus you hold your hands out. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, you just don’t look the type is all.”

with a tilt of his head he asks, “oh yeah? so what type am i?”

this quiets you. please, do not give yourself away, do not bleed your hand, do not. you narrow your eyes at him, dramatizing your assessment, pleading with yourself to construct an answer suitable for near sunset, but you take too long, boots nearly reaching his. he grunts, bringing his thumb and pointer finger up to hold your chin and twist you away from him. you feel the calluses on the pads of his fingers for the moment that he grasps your head between them, and your pussy drools a little. still, you begin to make your way down his porch; this is far from the most aggressive way joel has decided the conversation has ended, and so despite his push of your chin from his palm you make it to the final step pleased, the warmth of his skin still licking where he touched you.

“goodnight.”

you stop, take a deep breath in, the silence behind you petting down your spine. he hasn’t closed the door. he’s waiting for you to say it back. and you die a little death there, with one foot on the road. “goodnight, sting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the air is noticeably warmer this morning as you drag it into your mouth, padding along the beginnings of spring towards the stables. joel has prepared his horse already when you walk in, giving you a mornin, and he’s leaned up statuesque on her side with an elbow. the sling of his gun’s strap hugs his chest through his flannel, and the barrel peeks up over his shoulder, but only just. you salute to him as you saddle your horse.

“morning yourself.” you feel him stretch behind you as he mounts his horse (you are always so painfully aware of his body) and smirk, “rough night? did the jam give you trouble?”

“christ, i didn’t make any, darlin i’m just tired.”

you mount your horse. darlin. jesus.

“well you rest up, cowboy, i’ll cover you.”

joel grunts and says nothing as you trot out the gates together. he doesn’t think you capable of protecting him; in all, it is your best kept secret.

as the both of you wind through your northern route, you notice again the opening forest floor, weeds and flower beds resurfacing again beneath the trees. elderberries start to bloom out here this time of year, and in years past noah has uprooted the bushes for you to replant and harvest. the flowers are edible, too, and beautiful, and you wonder if joel will let you stop a moment to look for them. you wait until the trees grow thick and quiet around you before asking.

“joel,” he makes a noise in response, “could we stop here for a little? there are berries that grow around here and i want to see if i can find any to take back to the greenhouse.”

joel looks at you from his horse, affectless. “you serious?”

“yes.”

he lets out a sigh that morphs into a yawn midway through and shakes his head around a little, dusting something from his mind. “alright, alright. fine. but stay close, please,” and he trails off as he says it but you catch the end all the same.

you smile up at him, feet already on the ground and setting your rifle at your horses hooves to pull your knife out. as you weave through the shadows of the brush you call back to joel, “maybe you can make some marmalade out of these, too,” and you’re buzzing with the scoff that passes even through the feet between you, but he’s grinning, small and against his best efforts, and you spot that, too.

“you ever gonna let that go?”

and you don’t answer, ducking into an embankment of bush and leaves.

it’s been years since you’ve foraged like this. you used to pick mushrooms and berries from the ground with danny at night when you ran with the raiders, eat them together and take your chances. this feels different, though, charged with a tenderness and gentle knowing that’s new to you now. the world out here looks so much like your garden, feels so much like yours, and it strikes you that the mountains answer to you in your own small way. you could find a spot, up and away from the snow, and decide what grows there, play god with the grasses and the weeds. so though you find no elderberries in this brush, you are quiet with that little victory as you pace back to where you left joel.

as you approach, joel’s voice calls through the trees. a deep and pained “fuck!” and the rustling of clothes grows louder as you pad forward. there’s a shrill grunting, too, not joel’s, not joel’s. you take stock of your heartbeat and your fingers and the blade in your coat. there is someone else here. you move silently on the dirt, hiding your body in the bark and greenery, and then you spot him, kneeling with his hands behind his head, his gun kicked a few feet away, and a scrawny figure holds a glock to the skin of his forehead. suddenly you’re 19 again, and unafraid. joel spots you from your place halfway behind a tree and his eyes widen a fraction. don’t come out, he’s pleading with you, but you will not listen. your father’s knife, tucked into your jacket, coughs to life.

you trample the ground below you as you stumble out, hands in the air. you whine, “please, please, don’t hurt him,” and the man whirls around to you. he looks gaunt, his cheeks pressed into his face, but his beard, which hangs wiry by his chin, is streaked with something bloody and dead. he bares his teeth and laughs with delirium.

“so there is another one,” he says as he approaches, gun pointed now at your nose. you let him think you a coward and flinch as he presses it to your face. “you’re prettier ‘an your partner, ain’t ya?”

you keep your eyes wide, say nothing. not yet, not yet, he isn’t close enough. joel barks from behind him, lowly and wild, “don’t you fucking dare,” but the man has already brought his other hand to drag around your face, through the hollow of your collarbone, down your sternum. you let your lip tremble and joel flinches ahead of you.

the man calls behind him to joel, saying “if i hear you move a goddamn inch i’ll shoot ‘er.” joel’s face is pulled up into fury and brutality and helplessness, nostrils flaring and chest heaving, but he stills.

“please, please, i’ll do anything, let us go,” and as you say it, already his right hand is tilting, the barrel of the gun slowly drifting from your cheek. just a little more.

his breath is soiled with rot as it fans over your face and he’s so close to you now, whispering, “anything?”

the gun is pointed just to the right of your ear.

now.

you twist your arm between your shoulder and his wrist to grab his hand, pointing the gun to the treeline as you duck under it to spin behind him, your free hand reaching into your coat and stabbing through the artery that runs through his neck. blood pours from around the handle as the man falls to his knees, and you grip him by the filth of his hair to pull your knife back out. you let out a breath, standing over what is now a corpse. it’s been years, but you are always yourself, aren’t you?

you falter only when you turn around and joel is there. he’s sat fully on his haunches, arms hanging loosely by his sides as he looks up at you. and the look on his face is…you don’t entirely know. his eyebrows kiss, knit together on his forehead, and his eyes look through you, like you’re an apparition before him, but still his mouth hangs open slightly. you think if you stay here, standing above him, the whole mangled history will come clawing from your mouth, so instead you move to sit beside him, the both of you now facing the body you left behind.

the silence survives, for a few seconds. joel’s shoulders slump as he adjusts himself to sit with his legs out, and he pulls in a deep breath.

“you done that a lot?”

you take a moment before replying, “yeah.” you think of how the truth seems to demand to be known regardless, regardless of your stifling of it and your wanting of joel and whatever innocence you’ve never had but cling to when with him. you think of this, and begin speaking.

“i was 18 when they found me in the salt lake qz. there was a group of them, 9 at the time, and this woman, eliza, she promised they’d take care of me. feed me more than the qz had. and i wasn’t starving or anything, really, or in any kind of trouble. i could take care of myself, you know. maybe i should’ve had a stronger moral compass. i was just…” you take a breath, “i was so alone, then. my father died on outbreak day, and mom was never really in the picture. some of them were my age, some were older. i don’t know. i’d learned how to use the knife like…” you look again at the corpse, “like that by then. i’d killed by then. it didn’t feel like i was losing anything, being a raider.”

joel is still beside you, looking down at his hands, but you know he is listening.

“and so we used to trap people like that. men, mostly. they’d throw me out in groups of them, let them get close and then…” you wave your hand around, a stand-in for the killing. “i ran with them for a few years. they kept their promises.” your scar throbs beneath your sleeve and you take another breath. “and then another group got the jump on us. we’d been looking through a warehouse and they’d been hiding there, i guess. they killed a few, nearly killed me, i think. they sliced through the artery down my left arm,” and you trace the line of the scar as you say it, “but matteo killed the rest before they slit my throat. he tried to stitch me up a little with what was left of our twine. still, they left me there. i didn’t really blame them. still don’t.

tommy found me there. he patrolled with noah, back then, and they came passing through after everyone else had left or died. at first they said i could only stay until the wound was healed, but in the end nobody had the heart to turn me out.” finally, you look at him, and he shifts his head up to look back at you. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.” and you are.

joel’s eyes flit over your face, scowling still but soft, too, and brings a hand up, slowly. he cups his palm around your cheek to turn your head, thumb soft along your face, and wipes the blood splatter along your neck and jaw with his other hand. when he shifts your face back to his, he lets his thumb trace the line of your nose, around the curve of your chin, once, featherlight, under your bottom lip. your mouth opens up a little, watching him watch you. he nods, then, decisive, and pulls himself off the ground, helping you up after him.

you ride back to jackson in silence, leaving the dead man in the open. you let joel turn over what he saw, what he heard, in the quiet of your horse’s footsteps. he leaves you in the barn when you’ve dismounted, tells you to stay put, and reports the man to tommy. you stay, leaned up against the barn wall, waiting for him, something inside you scratching along the lining of your body, wondering what he’s thinking and knowing you have no right to it. when joel comes back, you notice the streak of blood on his thigh where he’d wiped his fingers after holding your face. you consider each other a moment from across the stables, and something passes between you. you saved his life today, and he’s grateful for it in a way he’s struggling with, and you can both agree you needn’t mention it again, at least until tomorrow. these thoughts he lets you read, before dropping them.

“you like whiskey?” he asks. and god what you wouldn’t do for a drink, so you nod. he jerks his head behind him and grunts, “c’mon.”

you let him lead you to his house, and for the first time you come inside.

joel has lived in jackson for years less than you, but still he’s filled it more than you have yours. there are books, on little tables and in the shelves, and half-done whittlings, and pencils. you flush with the scent of him, so strong in the curtains and the couch.

joel pours you a healthy shot into a tumbler, and then one for himself, and he lets you roam as you sip on it, following at your back without a word. you approach each of his shelfs, run your fingers along them, linger on the pieces of him he’s littered around. you finger through a pile of guitar picks and set your glass down there.

“what did you think of me when you first met me?” and you don’t entirely know why you ask it, at first. it comes, maybe, out of a selfish need to be reassured, or an even more dire want to hear his voice.

“what did i think of you?” he asks, and you can feel him approaching your back slowly. you hum, and joel reaches around you to set his glass down next to yours. he’s so close now and you squeeze your thighs together. “why d’you wanna know?”

and really you do your best at keeping yourself even. certainly, you tell yourself, he doesn’t mean to have this effect on you. certainly, he’s only trying to be kind after you sliced someone open for him. “i guess…” you think a moment, and then, “you asked me last night what kind of person you were. i want to know what you thought of me.”

he sighs a little, inches closer still. and his voice is so deep when he says at your back, “can i touch you here?” and you see in your periphery his pointer finger at your shoulder, hooking lightly over your hair. you barely muffle the shake in your chest and nod, and he pulls your hair over your other shoulder to bare your neck.

joel runs his nose along the line of your shoulder and lets out a breath there, pained and dismantled. into the seam of your neck, he whispers, “as soon as i saw you darlin i thought,” and he pauses to bring the backs of his knuckles, desperately light, down your spine, and you clench around nothing. “i thought you looked so goddamn soft. the fuckin garden and the strawberries, jesus, the strawberries.”

the paw of his hand, now at the base of your backbone, stretches itself along one of your hips. he says, now, “what about here? can i touch you here?” you nod again. joel’s fingertips press into you over your jeans there, but still he keeps his palm raised with a tremble that feels like restraint. “i thought i’d scare you.”

you let out a breath, slow, and muffled by your own attempt at control, and press your thighs together. the growing wetness at the nexus of your legs sears you, all lightning and heartbeat, and you will yourself to stay standing against the insistent pull of your arousal. joel tips his nose above the lobe of your ear to speak into it, lowly and gruffly and nearly apologetic (but not quite), “i’m too goddamn selfish.” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and breathes deeply again. “and violent.” this time, his words really do sound like repentance, and you stay silent to make space for the full of his confession. but his lips hover over the crest of your shoulder again, barely grazing, branding you all the same. “but you’re…” his jaw unhinges slightly, but he collects himself, “you’re vicious, baby.”

you whimper, then, and the sound of it makes him press his entire hand into your hip, suddenly frantic and squeezing at you.

“you hurt people, haven’t you darlin?”

you have to gasp for air, your pussy leaking into your underwear, because he’s seeing you, horrific and violent, and choosing to seek you out anyway. you nod cautiously, and his hands feel like they’re everywhere. and then gruffly, into your ear:

“you gonna hurt me?”

and you figure now, at least, you must be honest with him. “probably.” you barely recognize your own voice, the color of it darker with want than you’ve ever heard before.

joel pulls himself flush with your back, letting you feel the hardness of him, and allows himself a single push of his cock on your ass, muffling something animal in the back of this throat. he bands his free arm around your front to splay his palm on your sternum, pressing unforgivingly, and you feel the wild screaming of your heartbeat echoed back at you through his skin. he’s shaking, whispering, “don’t let me do this.”

you lay your head back into his shoulder to bring your mouth further up to him, arching yourself into his hold, making a home for yourself there. and pleading is a crime you refuse to commit in the presence of others, but you cannot help your own desperation now. “please.”

he spins you around then, and the lip of the shelf behind you presses determinedly into the skin below the hem of your shirt, but he’s kissing you (like he hates you, almost, or maybe himself) and so you take in the pain like it’s easy and you love it. his hands cup your head on either side, cradling the base where it meets your neck and threading his fingers through your hair as he nips at your bottom lip, laving over it with his tongue. he moans into your mouth as you kiss him back, lord forgive you for what that makes you feel, and you hitch a leg up to his hip to press your cunt into him. even through your jeans and his, he is an inhuman kind of large, and you wrap a handful of his shirt between your fingers to anchor you to sanity as you grind your hips at him. i need you i need you i need you, and you don’t say it, won’t say it, but you think it all the same.

his hands move from around your head to grab at both ass cheeks, dragging your center across the front of his pants and you groan at each other from the feeling. whatever it is that sews you together is being reaped. you let yourself be dramatic; you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“joel, please,” you whisper into his mouth, which continues to eat at you.

“please what?” he pants back through your lips. “say it. what are you askin for?” despite this torture, his hands start to grope down your sides and pull at the buttons of your jeans. you move to press yourself into his grip but he insists, pushing you back into the wall. “tell me,” he growls, and it’s shadowy and lustful and deep, but as desperate as you feel, and it emboldens you.

“fuck me now, joel, please, please,” and you continue to beg, though your words turn incoherent, as he brings you up the stairs, holding your pussy still against his cock as it hardens behind his zipper. your pleading tightens joel's fingers on your waist, your thighs, the crook of your knee.

joel splays you on his bed, the tendrils of his hair haloed out around him as you run your fingers through and hold, and joel sucks and bites down your neck as he smooths his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. you whine out as he grabs at you, tight and wanting, and he pulls away so the both of you can pull your clothes off. you’re frantic as you sweep away your shirt and then your jeans, left bare besides your underwear on his bed, and you’d be embarrassed at your frenzy if joel wasn’t equally so pulling at his pants and shirt, but as it is you let yourself marvel at him. the broadness of his shoulders and biceps as he opens himself to you, the softness of his tummy, and oh, god, his cock tents in his boxers and you feel the already overwhelming wetness in your panties spread itself further. as soon as he’s on the brink of nakedness he’s on you again, caging your head between his palms on the mattress and pressing the hard line of his cock into your aching sex. his eyes bite at you with as much physicality as his teeth and tongue. something rumbles and unlocks in joel’s chest watching the rise and fall of your breasts as you heave, still grinding on you like he has no choice.

“goddamn it darlin,” he grits out, letting his eyes close a moment to feel the drag of your pussy against him. “you think about this?” your jaw falls open as you let a sigh out, one that means yes, and he moans deeply as he wraps his palms around each breast and squeezes. “you think about it as much as i do?” you nod again; you are past embarrassment, even humiliation, you are unreachable. it is only joel and his depth and you under him. “you touch yourself thinking of me?” and now you moan with the full of your chest, letting it loose in the sliver of air between you, and he returns it. “show me,” he pleads.

you let yourself a moment to pull the air, now heated with your body and his, into your lungs before you drag your fingers down your front and into your panties. he watches the movement of it, and his mouth stays open around a silent groan watching your fingers circle and push under the fabric, hearing you. you’re fucking dripping, and the squelches of your digits as you fuck yourself on them makes him groan and thrust his hips a little into nothing. you whimper his name and he falters a little.

as a tightness grows in your belly, approaching without mercy with the scent of him at your lips, he finally brings his own hand down into your panties. he cups his palm over your moving hand and you begin to pull it out, but he catches your wrist.

“no. keep going,” he groans. and you realize now he’s feeling how you touch yourself, barely resting his hand over your fingers as you pet inside, and you nearly come at the sight and thought and feeling of it.

as you near your high again, he tightens his grip on your wrist and pulls your hand from your cunt with a growl. you whine at the loss, but he pushes two fingers inside you and suddenly you’re yelping like an animal, thrashing as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. he whispers, mostly to himself, “oh jesus christ you are so fucking tight,” and you keen. joel circles the spongy spot deep inside you and you clench around his fingers, pushing your clit further into his hold, and you’re so close, so close, so close. you tell him so, and he smiles a little, lustful and wicked but nearly in disbelief, too, and he says back to you, “it feel good, honey?” and you could almost laugh at him for questioning something so glaringly obvious, but any thought is cut off by a white and swirling pleasure that coils and then unties itself, and you come with a high pitched moan while he groans above you. that’s it, baby, oh my god. he whispers this to you as you come, but it sounds underwater and you can barely process it even as you come down from your high and joel pulls his fingers away.

when your vision clears, you look above you to joel with his fingers in his mouth, eyes closed and stroking himself over his boxers, and now you really think you’re hinging on death.

“fuck me now, joel, please, jesus,” you say, though it’s breathy and broken with the intensity of your orgasm, which throbs still through your clit and around your walls.

joel pushes you further up his bed and lets his head dip again into your neck as he pulls his boxers and your panties off, biting with a diminishing mercy and chastising, “greedy.” you nod because you are.

when finally, finally, his bare cock is running through the wetness of your cunt, barely catching on the opening, and you’re two heaving bodies with the feeling of it, the both of you pause for the first time since joel’s entryway. you press a little foot into the back of his bare thigh, and you watch each other there, nearly in and of one another.

you whisper, “you gonna be okay, sting?”

joel breathes out onto your face and you feel his cock jump and pulse along your dripping seam. he looks pained, but you grin because you know better, can feel better by the rawness of him on you.

“yeah,” he replies. “are you?” and he looks down to where you nearly connect, gyrating his hips again and prolonging the feeling of his head at your entrance. you have just enough sense to notice his cock is as massive as you’d felt it to be, red and weeping along your pussy, and you’ll take him in your mouth sometime but not now, he has to fuck you now or you’ll blind yourself with your own wanting heat.

you murmur back a yes (it’s the best you can do), and he fists his hands in the sheets by your hands as he pushes himself in.

you imagined joel would fuck you roughly, unforgivingly; in this, you were right. but he is not rushed. joel drags his cock deep through your walls, letting the head bump your cervix before pulling nearly all the way out, and then reburying himself inside, but it is meticulous, intentional. you press back up, as best you can, to rub your clit in the dark curls at his base, and in return he curves his hips deeper into you; the friction there makes your walls pulse, and you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it pistons in and out.

only when you’ve recovered from the initial stretch of him can you hear the noises the both of you are making. it is unholy, unceremonious, and loud. you’re moaning in his ear as he fucks you, and he groans into your mouth, the side of your head, your neck, every patch of skin on the expanse of you that he can reach.

so fuckin wet f’me, huh?

fuck, baby, this pussy is so fucking good.

yeah, yeah—oh fuck—clench me like that, fuck.

you know you won’t last long, and from the stumble of his hips each time you whimper at him you know he won’t either. with each thrust his balls slap and stick to your skin, the bed frame bumping on the wall.

joel sits up straighter, eyes trained on your stretch around him and the wetness that pours out there. he looks wild, awed at how you suck him in, and you’re mewling just as wildly because he’s so fucking deep and you think you can see the bump of his head below your navel when he thrusts inside. you curl your hand over his bicep and press your nails in, moaning out, “joel, joel, oh my god, you’re so deep i can see it.”

joel follows your eyeline and moans out something broken and incoherent, pressing a palm down where he knots up from your skin to feel himself moving in your walls, and you scream. the sensation makes you clamp down harder on him and joel grips the other hand on your hip.

“stop, oh my god, stop,” he grunts, cock still hard and unyielding and beating inside you.

“i won’t last, joel, please,” you whine back, and joel lets his eyes slip closed for a moment before nodding. he mutters out a fuck and presses your knees up to your chest, slinging each calf over his shoulders as he fucks you harder, deeper, and your eyes roll back in your head.

“jesus christ, darlin, you’ll kill me.” another moan. “come on my cock, baby, c’mon, let me feel it” and it’s a demand and a prayer at once, and who are you to refuse? you feel your cunt soaking him, the squelch of your bodies together intensifying, and the filth of it unravels you a second time. you come like a punishment, hard and drawn out and expansive in your body, and joel is moaning out at the feeling, “so good, so fucking good.”

you drag your nails down his back, hoping the marks are harsh enough to stay, and joel’s head tips back with his mouth pulled open. his cock swells and twitches inside you, and as his fingers turn white with his grip on your legs he pulls out, pushing your thighs together and fucking the skin there until the white ropes of his come paint your chest and stomach.

you both pant as joel slumps slightly over you, keeping an elbow at the side of your head to keep his weight off you but allowing your legs to fall to the bed again. despite the fucking, this is by far the most intimate; your breaths meeting between your faces, his nose pressed against yours. you look for something to say, but come up short. joel spares you by pushing himself off the bed and retreating to the bathroom.

you are both quiet as he wipes you with a cloth, though he remains gentle, diligent. when you’re clean, he throws it somewhere off the bed and sits on the edge, back to you and head in his hands. you shift to let your legs hang off his quilt, but don’t turn to him.

“joel,” you say, lowly. it’s only his name, but you know you’re asking something of him now, something you’re not sure either of you are strong enough to give. still, you wait for his response, keeping your gaze on his floorboards.

“what are we gonna do?” and it’s so soft, it reminds you of the day you met months ago. he is timid again, and it frightens you. the weight of your friendship, which you feel finally has bloomed into something worth nurturing, presses along your airways. you’ve wanted him for so long, and now you’ve had him, and you want him again. and so you’ve had your cake, and you move now to take a bite.

“we…” you let out a breath, as steady as the moment allows, “we’re friends.”

joel runs his fingers through his curls once before looking at you, and you gaze back. his eyes squint as he assesses your naked body on the edge of his mattress. “you gonna want me to fuck you again, darlin?”

you think he’s trying to panic you, euthanize whatever amalgam you’re constructing on his bedroom floor before it overcomes the both of you, but you do not shrink from him. “probably.”

he nods.

“are you?”

joel sighs. “probably.”

and so you redress yourself and return home, legs trembling and aching unbearably between them, and wonder for how long you and joel can deny absolutes in favor of the gray area you’re carving out together. probably probably probably, the both of you are clinging to probably. but you have no qualms with using nails and teeth to find purchase, and so despite all better judgment, you mostly feel sated, at last. what price could you possibly pay for this anyway? your heart? your soul? you forwent your ticket to absolution years ago, and you suppose the last half holy thing you can do is want, so why deny yourself this carnality? this is your last testament to living, to fuck joel and be his friend and deny the inevitable complication. you have taken and taken and taken and the blood remains on your hands, so what’s one last smeared fingerprint on the walls of your existence? when death comes for you, she’ll have such an awfully easy time, for you’ll have left a walkway in red behind you. what’s one last sign post? i am here. and it will be painted in your wanting and platonic insistence and the piece of joel you took within yourself tonight.

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taglist: @koshkaj-blog @shotgun-shelby @limerence4u (if anyone wants to be added let me know!!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #fem!reader #jackson!joel #the last of us #tlou #on strawberries and masonry #joel miller smut

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ourtearsofrain · 7 months ago

Text

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 14

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, (background) Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: capital “A” Awkward between Sam and Danny again

A/N: Austin’s finally making an official/actual appearance :)

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October 2nd, 2:14 PM

“Alright so Danny shouldn’t be home yet, so you should have a few hours to prepare for whatever you want to say to him.” Josh closes the door behind him, shrugging some of Sam’s bags to the floor noisily.

“Sounds good.” Sam cracks his knuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the apartment. “Oh, and Austin, thanks for picking me up at the airport with Josh.”

“No problem.” He leans in towards Sam with a small smile, dropping his voice so his boyfriend couldn’t hear. “And between me and you, the main reason I came along was ‘cause I was worried y’all’d end up on the wrong side of town. Josh’s been livin’ here for about six years and still gets lost on the subway.”

Just as Sam laughs, he hears a door open on the other side of the apartment, heavy footsteps soon heard heading their way, causing his heart to jump into his throat. With Josh and Austin in his sight, there was only one other person that could be there.

“Hey Josh, didn’t know you were having company-” Danny cuts himself off as he enters the room, his eyes going wide as they land on Sam. “-over.”

“Danny!” Josh slaps a smile on his face to hide his nerves, his voice higher than usual as he walks towards his roommate. “I thought you had a lecture until four.”

“I usually do. Professor’s sick so canceled class.” His tone is flat, barely concealed anger lurking beneath it as he forces his focus on Josh. “Why is he here?”

As Josh tries to find any excuse, Austin comes to his rescue, moving to his side to gently grab his arm. “Hey, darlin’, weren’t you gonna go help me with that… thing.”

“What thing?” Josh’s face twists in confusion before he finally understands, his eyes going wide as he lets Austin begin to pull him towards the door. “Oh right! That thing! We’re uh… gonna go do that.” Before Danny can call them out on their bullshit, they dart out the door, closing it roughly behind them before the lock clicks into place.

Danny turns around without a word, walking back down the hall towards his room and hoping Sam wouldn’t follow. Unfortunately for him, he hears Sam’s remaining bags fall to the ground before quick footsteps echo against the walls behind him. “Danny!”

Nope, nope, I am not doing this right now. I don’t care that he flew in from another state, I refuse to talk to him. I can’t talk to him- He slams his bedroom door behind him before Sam catches up, locking it quickly as he rests his forehead against the wood, his breaths panicked as he tries to keep the tears from his eyes.

“Danny, please. Open the door, I want to talk.”

“I don’t. Go away.” He crosses the room, putting as much distance between him and Sam as he could.

“I’m not leaving.”

Fine. He’ll get bored eventually. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he hears Sam’s back lean against the wood, sliding down to what he assumed to be sitting against his door.

--------------------------------------------------------

4:27 PM

He has to be gone; he can’t still be sitting there. Danny gets up from his desk chair, having spent the last two hours with his eyes glued to the faint shadow under the door, praying that it wasn’t caused by Sam. He takes a deep breath before flinging the door open, causing Sam to fall back into his room, flat on his back as he looks up at Danny. “Fine. What the fuck do you want? What was so goddamn important that you had to cross state lines to tell me? Huh? You came here to talk, so fucking do it.”

Although he was wounded by Danny’s tone, he knew he deserved it, scrambling off the ground to come to a stand before him. Danny stares daggers at him, his hand still braced on the door as if he was trying to prevent Sam from entering the room any more.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.” Everything Sam had rehearsed in his mind vanishes as his voice breaks, tears coming to his eyes as he curses himself for crumbling so quickly. “That doesn’t even begin to cover or make up for what I’ve done, what I’ve put you through all these years. I have been such an incredible asshole to you. You’re my best friend, Danny, and I can’t- I can’t lose that, I can’t lose you again.”

“What?” Danny takes a step backwards in his confusion, only for Sam to close the distance between them, his tears trailing down his cheeks as Danny tries to keep his own at bay.

“I should have talked to you after you kissed me years ago instead of running off, I should have told you I loved you then. I shouldn’t have ignored you for years because I was too goddamn afraid of losing you, that only pushed you away even further. I shouldn’t have toyed with your emotions all summer by so openly flirting, I should have just told you how I felt. And I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have chose staying in Frankenmuth where it’s safe over you. I’m so, so sorry. I wish that I was better than I am. I- I’m working on it I swear.”

In his surprise, Danny stays silent, barely registering the tears flowing down his cheeks as he backs himself into the edge of his mattress, sitting down to prevent himself from falling. Once again, Sam closes the distance between them, kneeling in front of Danny and bringing his hands up to hold his. “I don’t know why I am the way I am; I don’t think I’m strong enough to be your man, and I’m just lowering your expectations. But I’m here now, I’m here. And I’m trying, I promise. If- if you still love me, if you don’t hate me, which would be completely reasonable, I’m here now. I know now why I was so scared, why I refused to leave Michigan, but I now know that I need- I need to leave. And I need you, Danny. Tell me to leave and you’ll never see me again, but if you still want this, us, tell me to stay and I will, I won’t push you away again.”

Danny’s mind races at his words, not knowing where to start. “You’d move here? For me?”

“Yes, Danny. I would move across the world for you.”

He shakes his head slightly, beginning to pull his hands away from Sam’s grasp. “I don’t want you to uproot your entire life for me, I don’t want to be your only reason.”

“You aren’t, I swear.” Danny pauses his motions, allowing Sam to keep his hands in his own while he waits for an explanation. “Josh and I talked, and it helped a lot. He helped me realize that my future isn’t in Frankenmuth, that my ‘reasons’ for staying are just excuses. I’ve been afraid of so many things for so long and I refuse to live in fear anymore. I need to get out and I’m going to either way, whether you still want this or not. You may be a large reason for me leaving, but I don’t want you to choose keeping me in your life just because you’re worried I’ll rot in Michigan if you don’t. I need to take control of my own life. I need to do things that will make me happy.”

“Like what?”

“Like this, apologizing. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to apologize. Wherever I transfer to for school next, I’m changing my major. I’m going to study astronomy, Danny. And I don’t care if it isn’t as ‘safe’ of a choice as business, I don’t care if I need to restart by taking completely different classes, I know I’ll be happy and that’s all that matters.”

Before Sam can try to find his next words to fill the silence, Danny tackles him around the middle in a crushing hug, sending them both to the floor. Danny buries his face into Sam’s neck, feeling his racing pulse beneath his cheek as his tears soak into his thin t-shirt. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Sammy.” They stay this way for a few moments, each man reveling in the feeling of the other in their arms. Finally, Danny pulls back to look at Sam, his hand coming up to cup his jaw as they sit up. “I’m still really fucking mad at you for what happened, but this is definitely helping. I can’t just forget the years of hurting, but I know that I could have tried to communicate better, and if you’re being completely honest with me, if you’re actually going to try to work on this, I can’t hate you. I could never hate you, Sammy. I love you, always have and I always will.”

A new flood of tears stream down Sam’s face as he closes the distance between their lips, pulling Danny towards himself briskly. His hand tangles in his hair to impossibly deepen their kiss, his other hand finding his thigh as he drinks him up. After a few minutes, he finally pulls away, trying to keep his eyes on Danny’s as they drift down to his lips again. “Does this mean we can be an ‘us’? That I can- that I can call you mine, my boyfriend.”

“Yes, Sammy.” Danny laughs, bringing the pad of his thumb to wipe stray tears from his cheek. “If you’re serious about moving here, trying to communicate better, taking control of your life. If you mean it, I’d be happy to call you mine.”

Excitement and relief flows through Sam as he leans in again, bringing his lips to Danny’s. Once more, they lose themselves in each other for a few minutes, only breaking their kiss when Sam leans back slightly, resting his forehead against Danny’s. “Does this mean I can move in with you? It’ll bring down your rent, I know that shit is expensive here.”

Danny barks out a laugh, his hand still cradling his cheek as he gazes at him with adoration. “Yes, you can move in with me. Have you talked to Josh about that yet? Not that I think he’d have an issue with it.”

“No… as far as he knows, I’m still making my mind up about moving here.” As if he was summoned, the two men hear the front door close quietly down the hall, Josh’s tentative footsteps crossing their front entryway following it.

“Tell him together?” Danny offers.

“Yeah… together.” For the first time in years, Sam felt nothing but hope, his entire body alight with the feeling as he finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel; a new beginning, a new life, excitement for what was to come next. And Sam knew that with Danny at his side, he could be happy like this for the rest of his life.

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A/N: Go listen to 'Ready Now' by Dodie and think of them

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @currentlyfangirling10

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #sam gvf #sanny gvf #greta van angst #greta van fluff #sam kiszka x danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner

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shefanispeculator · 9 months ago

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Blake Shelton knew exactly how to impress on the final night of his 2024 Back to the Honky Tonk Tour: lean into his roots and call up his friends. The Ada, Oklahoma, native’s Saturday night (March 30) performance at Tulsa’s BOK Center was brimming with guest performers, all fellow Okies. The special occasion was Oklahoma Is All for the Hall, a fundraiser for the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum’s education programs. Even Gwen Stefani showed up to sing.

“Hey, everybody, say hello to my personal favorite new Oklahoman!” Shelton said to introduce his wife, the night’s only unannounced special guest. Stefani—lead singer of the band No Doubt, a solo artist, and, like Shelton, a former coach on the TV singing competition The Voice—joined her husband for a trio of songs midway through Shelton’s set. Together, they performed their two country radio chart-toppers, “Nobody But You” and “Happy Anywhere,” as well as “Purple Irises,” a recently released duet from Stefani’s next album.

“I don’t know if you guys have a clue what you bought a ticket for. Get comfortable—this is gonna take a while, okay?” Shelton told the crowd after opening his set with 2021’s “Come Back as a Country Boy.” “We’re here for one reason tonight. . . . That’s to celebrate country music like Okies do.”

Shelton’s fans were up to the task. They knew all the words to “Some Beach” and “Austin,” a pair of Shelton’s early-career #1s. They cheered at every mention of their home state. They even showed up with gifts.

“When something’s cool, it’s cool,” Shelton said as he showed off a flag held by a fan close to the stage, featuring one of Shelton’s high school photos on one side and one of Stefani’s on the other.

“We were meant to be—look at those mullets!” Shelton joked.

Shelton performed more than twenty of his songs during the course of the evening, interspersed with appearances from his special guests. In between Shelton’s performances, Kristin Chenoweth, Wade Hayes, the Swon Brothers, and Country Music Hall of Fame members Ronnie Dunn and Vince Gill—all introduced by radio host Storme Warren of TuneIn Radio’s The Big 615—each offered up two songs of their own. (Additionally, local country artist Justin Adams opened the show.) Dunn’s mini-set, in particular, was warmly received, with the Brooks & Dunn member sharing memories of local honky-tonks Duke’s Country and Tulsa City Limits. “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” had the crowd line dancing at their seats.

Despite being, as she acknowledged, the outlier of the bunch, Broadway star Chenoweth earned one of the biggest standing ovations of the night. Accompanied only by Shelton’s keyboard player, Philip de Steiguer, she performed a gorgeous cover of the Willie Nelson hit “Always on My Mind” and brought the house down with a rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

“This is for anybody out there who has dreams just like I did growing up in this town,” said Chenoweth, who is originally from the Tulsa suburb of Broken Arrow.

That theme emerged once more during Gill’s set, when he shared an unreleased song, “Heroes.” He and guitarist Jack Schneider also performed “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” dedicating the song to Shelton’s brother Richie, who died in a car accident in 1990, and fellow Oklahoman and Country Music Hall of Fame member-elect Toby Keith, who died of cancer in February.

Gill began the All for the Hall series of fundraising concerts in 2005 by suggesting that country music artists donate the proceeds from one annual performance to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. Shelton’s Saturday show raised nearly $800,000 for the nonprofit museum’s education programs, making it the most successful All for the Hall benefit offered outside of Nashville to date. The museum’s educational offerings directly served more than 230,000 people last year though in-person and virtual programs.

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bandcampsnoop · 3 months ago

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10/6/24.

Hector J. Guerra is the main impetus behind the band hhhhhh. The band appears to be Los Angeles based. I heard about this release via Austin Town Hall. Nathan Lankford described it as a "classical brand of paisley psychedelia." When I think of that I think of bands like Rain Parade, Green on Red and Three O'Clock.

While I agree that there is a definite psychedelic feel to this, I wouldn't necessarily call it classic paisley (although the song "return receipt" definitely has a classic feel). To me, it recalls the work of Sonny Smith (Sonny & The Sunsets) combined with more folky sounds like Kings of Convenience.

This appears to be self released.

#hhhhhh #Los Angeles #Hector J. Guerra #Austin Town Hall #Rain Parade #Green on Red #Three O'Clock #Sonny Smith #Sonny & The Sunsets #Kings of Convenience #Bandcamp

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purpleplaid17 · 26 days ago

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Jess Watches // Sat 30 Nov // Day 423 & Sun 1 Dec // Day 424 Synopses & Favourite Scenes & Poll

Wicked Little Letters (2023) (with mum)

When people in Littlehampton--including conservative local, Edith--begin receiving letters full of hilarious profanities, the rowdy, Irish migrant, Rose, is charged with the crime. Suspecting that something is amiss, the town's women investigate.

Me, on my knees, begging Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley to swear obscenities at me in the street.

"Oh, fuck off, you pasty old shrivelled old piss bastard fucking old cunt!"

Also, Anjana Vasan lady detective series when?

The Legend of Korra (rw with L) 3x02 Rebirth

As the Avatar team faces difficulties while searching for new airbenders, Zaheer makes the next step in his plan.

Team Avatar feeling righteous in bullying people into joining the air nation. Why are we rooting for them again?

Ugly Betty (with mum) 4x16 All the World's a Stage

Justin finds himself in an unexpected triangle with his new pals, Austin and Lily. When Betty drops by class, she's smitten with a cool young playwright, Zachary, whom she will profile for Mode. But she challenges her own ethics when she starts dating him.

Justin not fully realizing and/or accepting his true feelings for Austin. Oof, been there. And Aaron Tveit should've sang to Betty at Mode, with Amanda as backup. Also, Good Willie should listen to Bahamas tits-out Willie and take some 'island time' off.

Unprisoned (with mum) 2x07 A PTCD Christmas Carole

While Edwin and the family deck the halls and jingle the bells, Paige must get to the bottom of why she doesn't like Christmas before she ends up ruining it for everyone -- and in the process has a major revelation and a healing.

I'm a bit of a 'nah bumbug' myself tbh. I appreciate the family time, but am not fussed for all the decorations and very over-played songs. Although Finn's gingerbread palace was "all hits, no skips".

#wicked little letters #the legend of korra #tlok #ugly betty #unprisoned #polls #tumblr polls #jess watches #day 423 #day 424

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youhavehitawall · 10 months ago

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Usually I turn on anon when I drop into someone’s ask box for the first time, but forget that

I’ve looked through your Backwater Downs tag, and I’m hooked, a gay OT3 with a mute character? Sign me up right now, I need more of them immediately, and I mean need, hand ‘em over, this is a robbery

Also, I’m assuming Backwater Downs is in Australia, but I haven’t seen it explicitly stated as such, definitely a place you can disappear and be pronounced dead when you’re still living in a town with what constitutes as “civilization”

Also also, I’ve only gotten a little taste of your lore on Ratchet’s family, and I’m curious as to whether or not all his siblings actually want him dead? I’m a sucker for complicated family dynamics

YAAAY im so glad you enjoy them theyre like my favourite ever guys in the whole universe :D :D (gets robbed) The main OT3 is so so real. Reg's laid-back lifestyle and artistic hobbies help Ratchet and Austin to find peace and rest after long eventful lives. Ratchet's fiery competitiveness encourages them to explore and push their endurance. Austin's quick wit and mule-like stubbornness keeps Reg and Ratchet mentally sharp and out of harm's way. They balance each other perfectly.

BWD is set in australia! It's deep in the Outback, vaguely inspired by the Grawin opal fields, but more in the West. the closest town is probably Halls Creek, and it's still a few hours from BWD, which is not on the map and never will be. It's not really called "backwater downs" - thats just what the residents call it. BWD is more a mining / farming patch of land where a few dozen cars have congregated for companionship. And yes, it would be very easy to disappear there and be declared dead forever! Especially if your family is on the other side of the planet.

Ratchet has five siblings, the oldest being Robyn and the youngest Firestorm. Robyn wanted him dead because the alternative was him leaving her, and she couldn't stand that. Her production siblings - Turner, Hawk, and Belle- follow her lead even if they don't agree.

Ratchet is four years younger than Robyn and her production, and Firestorm is two years younger than Ratchet. Their parents are not in the picture anymore. Of them, only these three remain. Ratchet doesn't know three of his sibs are dead and gone. Firestorm doesn't know his favourite big brother is alive. Robyn doesn't know much of anything, anymore, and spends her days in a listless haze travelling the far northern stretches of America completely alone.

Firestorm is the most affected. He loved all his siblings dearly. He organised a six-month search for Ratchet when he disappeared and organised his funeral after the second year, when Firestorm was only twenty-two. He's had to plan three funerals since and each one broke his heart. His oldest son, Rico, is named after Ratchet (whos legal name is actually Ricochet.) He doesn't know that Robyn tried to kill Ratchet, and he keeps in contact with her as much as he can. She's guilty and she lets the phone ring out.

Firestorm would welcome Ratchet home openly, any time, any condition. Even a body would be preferable to the endless sinister 'what if?' that lurks in his mind every single day. He held a funeral with an empty grave and after more than forty years he still expects Ricochet to be in the next room. Robyn knows Ricochet is alive and she knows he's terrified of her, and she knows Firestorm misses him and it's her fault. She wanted to keep her siblings close and now they're all split apart. She lets the phone ring out.

#backwater downs #food for thought #everytime i get an ask abt bwd i jump up and tap dance #cars fandom #cars pixar

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mlovesstories · 2 years ago

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Coughing and Spilling the Tea

Summary: Jensen’s daughter knows something he doesn’t. And she can’t wait to tell him.

Words: None

Warnings: none

“Dad!” YN yelled for Jensen. “I have something to tell you!” She grinned as he walked into the living room.

“Can’t talk! Emergency at the brewery!” He called behind him as he stepped through the garage door. “Talk later!”

“Ungh.” YN sighed in disappointment. “Whatever.”

“So, what’s the big news? I’m here, you can tell me!” Jared walked in and sat down next to her on the couch.

“Hi!” YN gasped. “Were you charmed into hanging out with me tonight?” YN laughed.

“I wanted to. Haven’t seen my little punk in a while.”

“I saw you yesterday.” YN tilted her head in curiosity.

“You know what I mean. Just me and you.”

“Oh! In that case, can we pig out on pizza and ice cream and watch terrible movies please? Is he going to be gone for a while?” Her face went from excitement to sadness quickly.

“It may be a while. You tell me your good news and then I will answer your question,” he winked. “I won’t tell your dad, promise.”

“I heard that Danneel Harris was working on a project in Austin, and she wants to “cross paths” with my dad! OOOOOOoooo!” YN giggled.

Jared rolled his eyes.

“And where did you hear that?”

“So you have heard it too!” YN gasped.

“For the record, no, I had not heard that.”

“You know how it is here. Plus- the kids I go to school with are all famous people and who are in town since their parents seem to have connections and know everyone.”

“You want them to date,” Jared sighed. “Look-”

“Yes, I want them to date. I’ve met her, and she is nice! They would get along great! Gen knows her, right? I’m going to go ask her what she thinks.”

“Nope, you’re staying right here.” Jared put his foot between her and the pathway to the door. “We have pizza to order and a movie to watch.”

YN’s face fell.

“Gen is having a self-care night anyway. She’s had a long week. You can ask her later.”

His niece grumbled and sat back down.

“Fine,” she huffed.

After an evening of fun activities, Jensen was still not home. Jared spent the night at the Ackles’ home because of it.

“I’m fourteen! I’ll be fine! Plus, you guys live next door, and I have my radio you gave me.”

She dangled the two-way radio in front of him.

“I told your dad I would. It’s fine.”

During the night, he heard her coughing from her room.

“Hey, you okay?” He knocked lightly and slowly opened the door.

“Yeah,” YN rasped.

He walked closer to her as she coughed again.

Jared felt her forehead.

“Yikes,” he hummed to himself. “Where is the humidifier? Take off all those blankets, it will help with your fever.”

“I don’t have a fever.” YN turned away from him. “I’m fine.”

“Wrong answer. Let’s go, chop, chop.”

“The humidifier is in the hall closet.” YN coughed again.

“I’ll be right back.” Jared walked out of her room.

He heard her groan and cough all night long. The next morning, her dad was asleep in his room, but Jared was still on high alert for what she needed.

“Your dad got home super late last night. He’s resting. Would you like met to get you some tea?”

YN sat up in her bed.

“That would be great,” she whispered.

YN heard the sound of voices chatting from the kitchen.

Dad’s awake. And home.

YN smiled to herself.

“Here,” Jared slowly handed her a coffee mug with Sam Winchester on it.

“Of course you would choose that one,” YN grinned before turning away and coughing.

“I’m going to go home and have breakfast with Gen. Feel better,” he kissed the top of her head and exited the room.

A few minutes later, her dad rushed in with a wrinkled forehead and jaw clenched.

“Jared said you wanted to spill the tea! Why would you do that? It would make a mess and leave a stain!” Jensen crossed his arms and stood tall.

YN’s eyebrows scrunched as she tried to figure out what he was saying.

“I’m drinking the tea because my throat hurts. I have no reason to spill the-” YN giggled. “OH! It’s a saying, you weirdo! It means gossip!”

A look of relief washed over him. He pulled a chair close to her bed.

“And what’s that?”

“Your new girlfriend is shooting a movie here! I heard she wants to hang out with you while she is here.”

“Who?” Jensen sat up, confused.

“Danneel!”

@metalfangirl @squirrelnotsam

Forevers:

@katymacsupernatural @unicornblood4ever

@fangirl-moment-x @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl

@super100012 @percywinchester27 @waywardsuns @supernatural-jackles

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09 @kingandrear @bellero @skylarraker

@seality @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats

@cherryblossomflowers @because-you-never-know-when

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname

@internationalmusicteacher @mersuperwholocked-lowlife

@encounterthepast @torn-and-frayed

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural @silverstripe101a

@thevelvetseries @samsgirl93 @supernatural3002 *

* @breereadsthings *

@vicmc624 @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @beatifuldisaster018

@miraclesoflove @myopiamystical

@waywardnewcomer

@akshi8278

#supernatural #supernaturalrpf #Jensen Ackles #mlovesstories #mlovesstoriescoughingandspillingthetea #jensen ackles x daughter #jensen x daughter #Jared Padalecki #jared padalecki x niece!reader #Danneel Harris #danneel ackles #Jensen x Danneel #jensen ackles x danneel

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 1 year ago

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Learn to Ride

Paring: Austin Steele and Kit Jackson

Summary: A Teen Kit teaches his best friend Austin how to horse ride

This is a Fic made for @Choicesmlm (on Insta) for the Fandom Secret Pal Event

Taglist: @choicesficwriterscreations @princess-geek @aesthetic-aag

A young Austin Steel had always loved horses. Or, at least he had loved them in theory. He'd had books, yellowed, musty books with loose bindings and bent covers which had seemed to give them a sort of authority – that had depicted horses of all shapes and sizes, their manes trickling down past their shoulders and their coats glimmering like the stars. It hadn't taken long for him to become infatuated by them. Numerous afternoons he had been spent skipping through the halls and imagining a riding horse, or sketching them, or talking about them. He had been enchanted.

However, none of this had prepared him for the awe that came with meeting an actual horse, or having the chance to ride one.

"Are you ready?"

It took a moment for Austin to tear his gaze from Kit's horse – a Friesian mare – in order to meet his eyes. Austin nodded, his throat now dry.

It'd been Kit's idea, of course. He'd insisted that Austin would need some form of transportation that wasn't walking or driving and when Austin had realized what he'd been implying he'd been almost embarrassingly enthusiastic in agreeing with him.

However, as he eyed the horse's hooves, which were as large and round as dinner plates, and fringed by long black feathering, he started to wonder if he'd made a mistake. He'd known horses would be large in person, but Kit's mount was a beast. Kit who was nearly a head taller than he was already seemed dwarfed by the mare, though Austin seemed to take no notice Kit handled the horse with the ease as if like handling a sword.

"Yeah, of course," Austin said finally, suddenly becoming aware of the sweat that coated his palms, in spite of the cool air.

He swallowed, and then looked at the mare again, reaching out a hand shyly and feeling the horse's nose brush his palm, the feel of it surprisingly soft, like velvet.

"What's her name?"

"Betty," Kit said, glancing at the mare fondly, and then turning to scan around the field in which they stood. Austin followed the gaze. The area wasn't particularly large – perhaps an acre at most – but it was clear enough, with lengthy, golden grass carpeting it, and a throng of trees at its perimeter, forming something like an arena. Kit had told him that most of the people in the town such as his family learned there, since it was quiet enough to focus in, but still close to town.

Austin looked back at the mare, who flicked an ear in his direction, peering at her past her long, curling forelock.

"What's her name mean?" he asked, hoping it wasn't too obvious that he was stalling.

"Oath," Kit said, turning to meet his eyes. "It's not particularly imaginative, but it fits her."

Austin couldn't help but agree the mare's coat was as dark as coal, apart from the areas that caught the sunlight, where instead it shined like the surface of a lake, rippling as the mare shifted. He had seemed to move like a shadow, as well, as Kit had led her across the field earlier that day, her strides incredibly graceful for such a large animal.

Kit looked at Austin questioningly after a minute of silence had passed, with Austin remaining rooted where he stood in front of the mare.

"Is something wrong, Buddy?"

Austin quickly shook his head. "No, I just I haven't actually been around a horse before, you know?"

Kit lifted his chin, examining his best friend's face for a moment, and then nodded in understanding.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Austin took a step toward the horse, and then hesitated once more when he noticed that the mare's back was bare, only an expanse of dark, smooth coat where a saddle should have been.

"Isn't there supposed to be a…"

Austin hesitated, uncertain of what the grounders would call a saddle. It took a minute for Kit to catch his implication, but then he shook his head.

"When our cowboys learn to ride, they do so with nothing between them and their horse but their clothing. Proper balance is essential – once you have it, the rest will follow."

Though it didn't make him feel any better, Austin decided there was no point in arguing with Kit.

"Okay," he said, drawing in a deep breath. "That's fine. So, should I just… get on?"

"That is usually how one starts," Kit replied, his tone so utterly deadpan that Austin almost wondered if he was teasing him.

Biting back a sardonic remark, Austin strode up to the horse's right side and stared up at its back. He could just see over its withers, even when standing on her tiptoes.

"That's the wrong side, Austin," Kit commented from around the horse, his tone lacking judgment, though Austin's cheeks colored all the same. "You mount on the left side."

Austin groaned quietly, and then walked back around the horse's front to join Kit.

When he hesitated once more, Kit eyed him questioningly.

"Would you prefer it if I gave a demonstration first?"

Austin nodded, trying not to appear too relived. "Yeah, that'd be great, Kit."

Kit wordlessly stepped to the horse's side, and Austin moved back to give him room.

As Austin watched, Kit fisted a hand in the horse's mane and kicked off the ground, vaulting up onto the mare's back with ease. He straightened up immediately, taking up the slack from the reins, and then pressed his calves into its sides, encouraging the horse on.

Austin observed as Kit set Betty on a large circle around him. Though the posture was always proud on the ground, upon the horse Kit seemed even more regal, shoulders back and chest out, chin lifted, frame tall and poised, matching the horse's arched neck and forward stride in their elegance.

Austin didn't want to admit to how much the image stole his breath.

"You must remember to communicate with your horse," Kit called, distracting Austin from his admiration of his best friend temporarily. "A horse wants direction, not just a passenger."

Kit moved the mare forward into a trot with a firm press of his legs and a cluck, sitting easily as the mare sprung forward, legs moving in long, striding pairs as he continued to orbit around Austin.

"Once you've formed a connection with your horse, you'll only need to think what you want from them. They'll listen."

After trotting a few more increasingly large circles, Kit deepened his seat and encouraged the mare into a steady canter, his hips following the motion in a way that Austin found incredibly distracting.

The longer he observed Kit ride, the more he noticed just how connected to the horse he really was. He seemed to communicate with the mare with his whole being, hands in a constant, gentle game of give and take with the reins, controlling the horse's energy, while his legs seemed to bring it to the surface. Sometimes he would cluck to the mare, or speak to her in murmured whispers. His body seemed to play a role all its own with his frame tilting back when he went to collect the horse, or twisting with the horse's shoulders when he turned her. The whole thing seemed to be a dance between horse and rider, fluid, elegant, and controlled, a constant exchange of information and direction.

All of Austin's books had described riding in terms of a craft, talking of things to do and those to avoid. However, Austin thought, none of the books had ever described it as such an art.

Kit looked strangely at ease, Austin realized, as he observed the look of concentration and contentment on Kit's face. Though he rarely seemed truly nervous, he never seemed entirely comfortable either, tension seeming to simmer just beneath the surface of his skin, showing through in the way he held himself, in the subtle tightness of him expression. However, as he rode, he seemed entirely relaxed, hands soft on the reins, with motions fluid and graceful as he guided the mare around the field.

In Austin's eyes he looked almost beautiful.

Austin was so busy trying to understand where that thought had come from that he almost didn't notice where Kit was guiding the horse until the mare was suddenly going airborne, her knees tucked up to her chest as she cleared the trunk of a fallen oak, which was so large Austin doubted he could have wrapped his arms around it. Kit rode the jump with ease, holding himself up off the horse's back, hands pushing forward to give the mare the freedom she needed to clear it. Once over it, he pushed the horse into a controlled gallop around the edge of the field, his body tilted forward to encourage her on.

Show off, Austin thought. Kit was actually showing off.

Eventually, Kit collected the mare back down and brought her to Austin, drawing her to a halt beside him.

"Wow," Austin said, a breathless laugh escaping his throat. "That was impressive."

Kit tilted his head in acknowledgment. "You can learn. You'll only need practice."

Austin nodded, watching as Kit slipped from the horse's back and gathered the reins in his hand beneath its chin.

"Have you had her for long?" Austin asked, watching as Kit smoothed a hand down the mare's glistening neck.

"Not really," Kit said. "My parents were the ones who trained her."

The pride in Kit's voice caught Austin's attention, and he couldn't help but notice the small smile that lingered on his best friend's face as he stroked the mare's neck. There was so much affection in the small gesture, as understated as it was. It made something in Austin's body twist though he wasn't sure why.

"Would you like to try now?" Kit asked, turning to meet Austin's eye. His expression was soft, the absence of his normal dirt and dust leaving him looking younger than he normally did, and Austin held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary before responding.

"Yeah, alright, I'm ready. I just hope she listens to me as well as she does to you."

"She will," Kit reassured him.

When Austin went to mount, Kit cupped his hands beside the mare's side, offering Austin a leg up, and helped to push his up onto the mare's back.

"Remember to keep your knees relaxed," Kit told him as Austin straightened himself up, trying to adjust to the feel of the horse's back beneath him. "Keep them loose, like water. You don't pinch, just touch."

Kit touched Austin's calf, encouraging him to press it lightly into Betty's side. Austin swallowed, and then nodded.

Kit left him sitting on the horse while he strode to the tree line, returning a moment later with a length of rope with a clip tied to the end. This was attached this to the horse's bridle, and then stepped back a few yards, leaving the rope slack between them.

"I'm starting on a leash?" Austin asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I learned by riding around a field like this entirely on my own for a week until I stopped falling. We don't have that sort of time, Austin," Kit replied sharply. Austin could tell that Kit didn't want to waste his time teaching him how to ride, but also didn't want him to feel left out.

Austin tried not gawk at him. "No one taught you?"

Kit hesitated. "My father explained the basics of it, but I was otherwise left to figure it out on my own."

"How old were you?"

Kit considered it. "Nine."

Austin had a sudden mental image of a even younger Kit astride one of the hulking horses they rode, dwarfed by it even more than he already was. He imagined him falling all that way to the ground again and again, and getting back on each time until finally mastering the art. The idea was somewhere between amusing and pitiful, and Austin snorted quietly, shaking her head dismissively when Kit raised an eyebrow.

"So, what do I do?" Austin asked.

Austin looked at him for a moment, his eyes thoughtful, and Austin realized he was going to be in for an interesting afternoon.

They started with walking. Austin had thought he couldn't screw that up, but he had been wrong.

"Soften your hands Austin," Kit called, Austin's name falling sharply from mouth, clicking at the 't.' "Think of it as talking to her with your hands, rather than shouting."

Five minutes later, Kit was telling him to pick up the slack from his reins.

Austin discovered that the trot was similar to the horseback equivalent of heavy turbulence. He spent a good twenty minutes desperately trying to avoid being bounced right off of the mare's back, Kit coaching him all the while, a hand resting on his hip while the other held the mare's rope, his brows furrowed in concentration as he observed.

Austin liked cantering much more, the motion of it akin to a swaying, rather than a jolting. However, the wind rushing past his ears made it hard to hear Kit's critiques from below.

Eventually, Kit took him off the lunge line and let Austin make his own circles around him, still calling out directions as Austin learned to master the new controls.

"Sit back if you want her to slow down, Austin. Use your weight."

"She's not stopping—"

"Order her, Austin! Don't be afraid."

And later:

"Am I falling? I feel like I'm going to fall."

"Stop thinking about it, and think about relaxing."

And then:

"Wonderful, Austin. Keep doing that."

"What exactly am I doing—"

"Never mind. You just stopped. Square your shoulders."

And so on.

While he learned quite a lot that afternoon about horseback riding, he learned even more about Kit. For example, he learned his best friend was a strangely effective and patient teacher, who liked to using metaphors to explain things – "Imagine your hips are a pail of water. Keep them level and relaxed, so nothing jars and spills." – and who seemed to approach riding in the same way he approached everything, with a relaxed air of authority. He also learned that Kit chewed at his lip when he was focusing intently on something, and that he was terrible at hiding his exasperation when he did get impatient. And, finally, he learned that Kit was never satisfied until everything was perfect.

By the time Kit had decided that Austin's riding was satisfactory, the sun had sunk behind the trees, and twilight had descended on the field, bathing the world in a faded periwinkle, the crescent moon hanging in the sky like a sideways smile.

"How'd I do?" Austin asked breathlessly, as he slid down from the mare's back, landing on shaky legs on the ground beside him. His legs felt like lead, and sweat left his shirt clinging to his back – he hadn't realized staying on a horse would be such a workout.

"You did pretty well," Kit said, and when Austin met Kit's eyes he was certain he saw something there, and in the set of his mouth, that he thought just might have been pride.

They held each other's gazes for a moment, and then Kit glanced up, as if suddenly becoming aware of the time of day.

"We should head back," he said. "They should be expecting us."

Austin nodded in agreement, too exhausted to bother forming an actual sentence.

"You can ride with me," Kit said, remounting the Betty with ease, and then offering a hand down to Austin. Austin hesitated, the onset of soreness in his legs making him reluctant to get back on, but he eventually took Kit's hand and scrambled back on behind him.

"Thank you," Austin said suddenly, as he felt Kit move the mare forward into a trot. "I – your help means a lot."

He saw Kit nod. "It's fine… Clarke."

Kit sent the mare into a canter, and Austin wrapped his arms around Kit's waist loosely to keep balance. For a moment, he thought he felt Kit's breath hitch, but decided that he had imagined it.

As they traveled back to the ranch, the world silent around them apart from the rhythmic drumming of the mare's footfalls, Austin rested his chin on Kit's shoulder. Though it was dark, Austin could have sworn she saw Kit smile.

#untameable #austin x kit #choices #playchoices #choices fanfic

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