#BURN IN HELL BURN IN HELL!! PIECE OF SHIT COUNTRY!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladykailitha · 6 months ago

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Sweet Home Indiana Part 2

Hello! My elbow was doing better this morning and then I took a nap and hurt it again somehow...(head desk) so I'm still putting out my backlog without being able to build up more because of it, hopefully it gets better before I run out of backlog because that would be embarrassing.

Here we get some backstory as Eddie strolls back into Steve's life.

Pt 1

****

When Robin came into open the store she found Steve wearing the clothes he had been wearing the night before. None of the bread dough was rising, none of the cookies were baking having not even been made, the cakes were out on the cooling racks instead in the freezer to chill enough to have frosting put on them.

He was curled up next to their large stand mixer dubbed the Beast, cradling his sides like he was trying to hold in his innards.

“Steve...” she called out gently.

Steve looked up at her and her heart broke. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks tear-stained and blotchy. Snot ran down his nose and pooled on his upper lip.

She sighed and then turned around. She hunted around for a marker and a piece of paper. She wrote that they were closed for the day and hung it up outside the front door. She locked it behind her and went to go sit down next her best friend.

Steve laid his head on her shoulder and sighed.

“Eddie’s getting married.”

Robin had to force herself from jerking her head around to look at him because he needed her support more than he needed her ire in that moment.

“Who do I have to kill?” she muttered darkly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair soothingly.

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “She’s this hot shot legal assistant from Barbados. Like I didn’t even know that was a country until I looked it up. It’s in the Caribbean. Did you know that?”

“I did.”

Robin blinked for a minute. “Wait...she?”

Steve just shrugged. “People change, Robs. Don’t make it a thing.”

She bit her lip and worried it between her teeth. Because fucking hell she wanted to make a big deal out of it. Someone should make a big deal out of it.

“Nancy’s back in town visiting her family,” she said instead. “Holly’s graduating next week.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “Great! I’m being invaded by my ex. Just put me out of my misery now, Robs. I don’t think I can take it.”

Robin smacked his arms. “No. There will be no killing of the Steve. If anyone wants to make it your problem, then they’re going to have a problem with me, got it?”

“Thanks, Robbie,” he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. “Like the way he went about it was such complete shit. Like how dare he think that a simple annulment is going to get him off abandoning me for fame and fortune and then not coming back when it fell through?”

Robin’s head did whip around that time. “He fucking did what?”

Steve sighed and waved at the papers in the trash. She got up and picked them up. She read through them with increasing ire. Her hands started to shake and her face burned with indignation.

“Screw killing her,” she hissed. “I’m going to kill him. Just as soon as I find his scrawny ass. How dare he?”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I hunted down his number and called him out on it. I told him if he was so desperate to be free of me he had to tell me to my face.”

“So what you’re telling me...” Robin said slowly, “is that your not just being invaded by one ex, but most likely two exes. And like your two biggest heartbreaks ever?”

Steve got to his feet and lopped over to her. “That about sums it up, yeah. I know you closed the store, but I still have to make Mrs. Laurence’s cake. She’s supposed to pick it up at 3pm.”

She patted him on the shoulder and tossed away the papers. “Let’s make this cake. We can’t disappoint Mrs. Laurence.”

Steve and Robin went through and tossed everything that couldn’t be salvaged. Steve pulled the two chocolate sheet cakes out of the freezer and set them on the decorating table. He went into the walk-in freezer and got out the two large tubs of frosting; one chocolate buttercream and the other vanilla buttercream.

Robin pulled out the food dyes and began mixing the colors they would need for the cake. Steve went and grabbed one final thing from the fridge before closing the door. A raspberry filling.

He got to work starting with a crumb coating and then took the purple colored frosting from Robin and began covering the whole cake. Once it was completely covered he started adding design elements and darker purple flowers.

Then he passed it over to Robin who wrote “Happy 50th Anniversary” on the top.

All in all it had taken about an hour. Then he called up Mrs. Laurence and told her that Robin would be delivering the cake today because the shop was closed. He didn’t explain why and she didn’t ask. Mostly she was just grateful that it was going to be delivered.

Then Steve got to work preparing for tomorrow. Things like cookies and pastries that could stay in the fridge over night were made first. Then he started on the thing he was most famous for: his brownies.

He had four kinds, a triple chocolate that was dark chocolate brownie with milk chocolate frosting and chunks. The second one was a peanut butter marble with fudge drizzled over it and topped with chopped peanuts. The third was a cheesecake and caramel that was super popular with the high school kids. But the most famous, the one every raved about was the mint brownie. It had mint in the brownie itself, mint frosting, and fudge and crumbled brownie bits covering the top.

The Monster as it was fondly called by Steve’s customers could turn even the most fervent of mint haters over to the dark side, it was that good.

Finally everything was ready for tomorrow.

When Robin came back from delivering the cake, she sat down at the decorating table and leaned on her elbows, clasping her hands together.

“When are you going to get some people into help you?” she asked gently. “You know I won’t be here forever and you can’t keep doing it on your own.”

Steve who had just finished cleaning everything up looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to leave me?” he asked with a pout.

She slapped at his arm. “You know that I’m heading to college in the fall, just as soon as I pick which one I’m going to. You’ll have all summer to train a couple of people to take my place.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ll think about it after I deal with my exes this week.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I also get to interview these new peeps and make sure they’re good enough.”

“Deal!” he said and they shook hands.

****

Because they were closed the day before Steve had a line of customers lining up on the sidewalk when he turned the closed sign to read “OPEN”.

Robin and he got to work helping all the customers.

It was fine up until Mrs. O’Donnell came in absolutely bitching about how she always gets her bread on Wednesdays and he knows that he should have been open for her. Especially since Mrs. Laurence got her cake, so Steve should have been able to open for her to get her bread.

She had completely bottlenecked the whole line. Robin was working as hard as she could to keep up with demand on her side of the counter, but Steve could see she was starting to falter.

“Enough!” Steve barked and the whole shop went silent. “I had a personal matter come up that couldn’t have been avoided and Mrs. Laurence had paid for her cake well in advance which is why she still got it. And unless you don’t want to get your precious bread ever again, because I have banned you, then you better stop harassing me, get your damn bread, and get the fuck out of my store.”

Mrs. O’Donnell let out a small “eep!” before paying for her bread and leaving quickly. There was a small amount of clapping and Steve grinned.

“Next, please,” he said and the next customer came up.

Things went smoother after that.

Two hours later, the rush had ended and Robin and Steve worked on restocking the shelves.

“You always were a bitch, Steve,” a voice said from the corner on the shop were there were a couple of tables people could use to eat their tasty delights. “But watching you take down that bitch O’Donnell was like poetry in motion.”

Steve stiffened, hands clenching on the tray of brownies he was carrying. He slowly turned around and sure enough in all his black clothes, leather jacket, and many chained glory was Eddie Munson.

He gritted his teeth and slid the tray home in the display case. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped off his hands. “Nice to see you finally got tired of running.”

Eddie got to his feet and moved to step toward the counter when a little bell went off announcing a customer.

In walked this soft round woman with a bright smile. She didn’t even notice Eddie standing there, she just walked right up to Steve.

“Mrs. Laurence!” Steve greeted warmly. “How was the cake yesterday?”

Mrs. Laurence smiled. “It was lovely as always, dear. Nothing but rave reviews from all.”

He smiled at her fondly. “I’m glad. So what can I get you today?”

She tapped her finger on her lips as scanned over the case. “I’ll take a half dozen raspberry truffles and a monster please.”

Steve’s smile turned into a grin. “You’re just in time, I just finished a fresh batch of monsters just before you came in.”

“Lucky me indeed,” she said with a giggle. “They are so much better fresh. Not like your peanut butter ones. They taste better after a day or two to really set the peanut butter.”

Steve laughed as he packed her order. “I always feel like the opposite, give the brownie bites on top time to get chewy and they’re...” he did the chef’s kiss. “But I like how gooey the fresh peanut butter ones are fresh out of the oven.”

Mrs. Laurence laughed too. “Agree to disagree, dear.” She paid and turned around.

“Oh my goodness!” she huffed. “I didn’t even see you there, you must think me rude just jumping the line like that.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve got a rude bone in your body. Jeffy takes after you that way.”

She tilted her head. “Eddie?”

Eddie nodded mutely, lips pressed into a grim line. She swept him up in a hug.

“My Jeff didn’t say anything about you coming to town,” she admonished her youngest child.

Eddie just shook his head. “It was a last minute decision. Just something I have to take care of.”

She looked back at Steve who had his head tucked to his chin and then back to him. She nodded sagely. “I see. Do take care of yourself, Eddie.”

She wave back at Steve. “Bye, dear. Thank you so much again for the cake yesterday.”

“Of course, Mrs. Laurence, you have a good day,” Steve said softly.

Eddie finally made it to the counter.

“I forget she’s Jeff’s mom,” Steve muttered as he wiped down an already clean counter.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Yeah. Like I forgot he was in town for his parent’s wedding anniversary. I guess time does that to you.”

Steve nodded. “So you’re actually here.”

“So I’m actually here,” he agreed. “But first I want to know what the fuck a monster is?”

Steve’s eyes misted as he pulled out a brownie from the case and set it on a piece of parchment paper.

“It’s called that because it’s big, green, and ugly, but soft and sweet,” he explained like he was reading from a script, refusing to look up at Eddie, “just like the Frankenstein monster from that super old horror movie.”

Eddie looked down at the so-called monstrosity with a wave of affection for the man in front of him. That wasn’t why it was named the monster. The reason it was called that was because that’s what the towns people were calling him before he left for fortune and fame, because he played D&D, like metal music, and was an out and proud gay man. That and the fact that they thought he had killed a bunch of kids with a batch of bad blow.

Which had been bullshit. Considering he had never sold meth or cocaine and didn’t have any on him. So when they tested his hair, his clothes, his uncle’s trailer and couldn’t even find so much a speck of the stuff, let alone the stuff that killed the kids, they let him go.

As far as Eddie was aware they still don’t know who sold them the drugs.

So yeah, Steve made him the brownie when he was at his lowest to tell him how soft and sweet he was despite being called a monster.

Eddie opened his wallet and got out the cash for the brownie and handed it to Steve.

Steve went through the motions of getting him his change. Which Eddie immediately put in their little tip jar.

Steve boxed up the brownie and handed Eddie the box.

Eddie pulled out an envelope out of his messenger bag and handed it to Steve.

Steve sighed and pulled them out. He began to look over them over and had a pen in hand, when he looked up to see Eddie moaning around the brownie.

He clicked the pen and shoved it back in his apron. “I better have my lawyer look over this, after all I’m just dumb, right Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he choked down the bite of the brownie. Flashing back to their last major fight.

“God!” he screamed. “How can you be this stupid? Those kids are in high school now, they have their own parents, for fuck’s sake. Where is your ambition? This is just bullshit. You aren’t chained here for fuck’s sake.”

Steve’s face shuttered and the mask he only pulled out when his parents were around dropped over his features. Bland, clueless, and absolutely frightening in its uncanny valley.

That’s when Eddie knew he’d fucked up bad. He had said the three things he swore in his wedding vows he’d never say to Steve. That he had no ambition, that he was stupid, and that he was bullshit.

He turned on his heel and never looked back.

Steve smirked as if he knew what was flashing through his mind and walked away, leaving Eddie standing there with hand near his mouth, the expression of shock still on his frozen features.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

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2- @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

3- @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

4- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

5- @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

6- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

7- @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

8- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @blackpanzy

9- @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras @swimmingbirdrunningrock

10- @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rom com au

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kayesfanfics · 1 year ago

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Before He Cheats (Striker x Fem! Reader)

Summary: You’re a farmhand on Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch. When your boyfriend cheats on you, Striker is there to pick you back up.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, cursing, sexual content

A/N: This is inspired both by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood, and cowboy Pedro Pascal but with Striker, my fav cowboy. Also I’m like super proud of this ngl. Enjoy~

“That’s it, Sallie May! I’m burning down his house! His car! That fucker thinks he can sleep with some bitch and come crawlin’ back ta me?! Imma kill him! I will!” You ranted to your best friend, pacing back and forth in the family houses kitchen.

“I told ya that guy was no good, Y/N.” Sallie May shrugged from her spot sitting on the counter, watching you kick around the legs of a chair you had smashed to bits when you had gotten the text. Your boyfriend had cheated, and he only just now got around to telling you…THREE WEEKS LATER. He didn’t even have the balls to tell you in person, he had to do it over text so he didn’t face your wrath head on…but to be honest, that was a smart move. If he were here, you probably would’ve actually killed him.

“He told me I was different! He said he loved me!” You shouted, enraged and heartbroken.

“They always say that, darlin’.” A voice from somewhere behind you purred. You turned around, seeing the other farmhand of Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch.

“Hello, Striker.” You muttered, before finally bending down to pick up the ruined chair you had broken and had been tossing around the room, setting the pieces on the table.

“What’s with the chair?” Striker asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Y/N lost her shit.” Sallie May grinned as she hopped off the counter to grab a broom and sweep up the splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Aw, now why’s that, doll?” Striker asked, chewing on a piece of wheat.

“My goddamn boy-EX boyfriend, cheated on me weeks ago, and just now told me over TEXT! Can you believe that?! What kinda coward-“

“Oh, I can believe it. The men ‘round these parts are…sleazy.” He said, tossing the wheat piece in the pile of wood chips.

“Oh, excluding you, I presume?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well now, I ain’t no saint, but I’m no cheater. No honor in that.” He grinned as he approached you. “How abouts we head down to the bar, huh? Get some drinks, forget about that loser?”

“That…could be nice.” You admitted, blushing a little at how close Striker had gotten to you.

“What, I don’ get no invitation?” Sallie May piped up, grinning at you.

“Tell your mama I’m real sorry about the chair and I’ll fix it later. Please, Sallie May?” You whispered the last part to her. Everyone who had eyes had the hots for Striker, and she knew this could be a good lay to get your mind off your ex and move on quicker. So she finally nodded, and you winked at her before telling Striker you were gonna quickly change out of your dirty work gear.

You put something a little more bar-friendly on, making sure to choose a shirt that showed some extra cleavage, and a pair of jeans that made your ass look even better. Striker smirked and held an arm out for you to hold as he walked you out to his horse, Sallie May waving to you with a teasing grin on her face. You smiled when you reached Bombproof, petting the hell beast while Striker got the saddle ready, before helping you up and getting on himself. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he rode into town, heading to one of the nicer saloons in the area. Since you were deep in the country of Wrath, there was a place to tie your horse where they had a trough of water for them, and Striker held out his hand to help you off and walk you into the bar. The place was rather lively with twangy country music playing, some people watching some sports game on the tv, and others at tables eating or playing pool. You went up to the bar with Striker, ordering your first round and chatting with him.

“So, what was so great bout that little boyfriend of yours anyways? From what I heard from Sallie May, he was a real piece of shit.” Striker asked you as you took a swig of your drink.

“She got to you while I was upstairs, huh?” You chuckled, setting your drink down and rolling your eyes at your best friend.

“Oh yeah. Talked my ears off about how he “kinda-sorta” cheated before, he yelled at you a lot, you’re too forgivin’ of him, loved his car more than he loved you, yadda yadda.”

“That loud mouth.” You muttered under your breath before turning back to him. “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson. He was my first long term boyfriend, of course I let too much shit slide. But I won’ make that mistake twice.”

“Really? First boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Yer too pretty to just now have yer first boyfriend, sweet thing.” He winked at you before taking a sip of his drink, leaving you blushing up at him like some flustered schoolgirl.

“Quit that!” You smacked his arm playfully, knowing full well your face was red as a tomato. “I can’t imagine YOU’VE had many girlfriends yourself, tough guy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’ know, you don’ seem the type to like bein’ tied down is all.” You shrugged, tapping your nail on your glass.

“Yer right about that, I guess.” He sighed. “You got me, doll, I ain’t got much datin’ experience neither.”

“Oh? What about…experience with other relations?” You asked, a little more bold with some alcohol in your system.

“Whatcha mean by that, doll face?” Striker smiled back at you, both of you subconsciously leaning towards the other as you flirted.

You were about to answer, but man walked up to the both of you, knocking your drinks aside and the sticky liquid splashing all over you.

“Hey, watch it you-“ You were about to scold the person until you saw who it was. “You.”

“Yer gonna bitch at me bout cheatin while yer hangin off the arm of some random dick head?!” Your ex boyfriend yelled in your face drunkenly.

“Hey, back off her, dick head!” Striker shoved him off of you.

“Who the fuck are you anyways?” Your ex asked him, trying to puff out his chest and stand taller.

“Don’ matter, that ain’t how ya talk to her, sleaze bag.” Striker growled down at the man.

“Oh, so yer gonna hide behind this asshole, huh Y/N? I thought you were ‘sposed at be tough! You just gonna bend over fer him too?”

Your anger finally boiled over, and you pushed Striker aside to face your ex yourself. You decked him in the face so hard he fell backwards onto his ass, knocking over some other peoples table and getting food and drinks spilled all over himself. You glowered down at him, wanting to beat the shit out of him, but Striker snatched you up and dragged you out of the bar before you got into too much trouble. You yelled at Striker to let you go, squirming against his hold on you.

“Calm down, missy, before ya hurt yourself.” Striker said, only setting you down and letting go when you calmed down. You tried to rush past him back into the bar, but he was prepared and stopped you again.

“Let me kill him! Just a little!” You huffed as he drug you further away from the bar entrance.

“Not tonight, darlin’. Maybe another day, huh?” He suggested, letting you go again once you were drug out to the parking lot. You crossed your arms and pouted, needing to let your rage out somehow. Suddenly in your chaotic mind, a single thought stood out to you.

“His car.” You mumbled, looking around the parking lot.

“What’s goin on in that pretty lil head of yers?” Striker asked as he followed you, your eyes scanning the cars.

“His stupid fuckin’ car. He always loved that thing more than me.” You explained, smiling devilishly when you finally saw it. You went up to the souped-up sports car. “He spent more money on it than anything, its customized with some expensive ass shit.”

Striker grinned when he realized what you wanted to do. He even pulled a knife out of his belt and handed it to you, looking around for something else to use on the car. In a trash bin he saw a metal rod sticking put of it, so he grabbed it and watched you circle the nice car like a shark with its prey. The screech of metal on metal signaled you were digging the knife into he custom paint job, carving your name into it proudly. You got down and slashed his tires, stabbing them and watching them deflate before going to the other side of the car to give it the same treatment. Striker watched proudly as you destroyed this mans car, smirking and joining you not long after by smashing the windows in with the metal rod. You laughed when he joined in, stabbing the side of the car more and prying it open to give you access to the inside. You slashed his nice leather seats, tearing them to shreds and till the stuffing was falling out and flying in the air. You got out of the car and grabbed the metal rod from Striker, beginning to beat the shit out of this car, pretending it was your ex himself.

“Alright, alright, we gotta get outta here!” Striker said after letting you have your fun for awhile, but when some customers began to leave the bar, he knew it was time to go. You dropped the rod and took his hand, running off to the horses and getting on Bombproof while Striker untied him from the fence. You heard screaming in the distance, cackling when you realized it was your exes high pitched shrieks as he saw what had happened to his car.

“Come on, come on!” You laughed as Striker got on his horse, galloping away into the night. You listened to the screeches and screams of your ex with a smile on your face, reveling in the moment.

“He’s gon be so pissed when he sees your name on that thing!” Striker laughed loudly.

“So worth it!” You shouted back. “Thank you, Striker!”

“Not a problem, darlin’! You ready ta go home?” He asked as he slowed Bombproof down, far enough away from the bar you didn’t need to worry anymore.

“How abut we…” You smiled as your hands around his waist traveled further down his body. You felt hot and bothered after that adrenaline rush, and if you were being honest with yourself, you’ve been wanting to fuck this handsome cowboy for much longer than just tonight.

“One hotel room, comin’ up.” Striker smirked, before smacking his tail on Bombproof to make him run off. You held onto him as he raced the two of you to the nearest motel, tying Bombproof up at another fence before taking your hand and leading you to the front desk. Once the clerk handed him the room key, the two of you rushed up to the room together.

As soon as the door was opened, you turned Striker around to finally kiss him. He tasted of his drink and cigarettes, his lips rough but skilled as he kissed you back. He tapped on your thigh and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up, squeezing your ass through your jeans as he kicked the door shut behind him. He walked up to the bed, bending over to set you down as his lips never once left yours. You felt his bulge through his own jeans, his hips humping into your own, causing you to moan. He took the opportunity to stick his snake like tongue into your mouth, clawing at you as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He stood up to begin stripping, smiling as you watched himself shed his clothes intently.

“Been wantin’ to do this fer a long time, pretty girl.” He purred, now completely shirtless and his hat tossed across the room onto a lamp. He bent over you again, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms for him to take your shirt off and toss it over his shoulder, before his hands went under you to unclasp your bra. He lowly whistled when he saw your bare breasts, a hand squeezing one and playing with it while his mouth made its way to your neck, attaching to it with his teeth, leaving a bite mark before sucking a hickey into it. You moaned and arched your back, your chest pressing further into his hands as they both now groped your soft breasts, his breath heavy as he felt your body and marked you up with his mouth.

“Striker…” You moaned quietly, your own hands clawing at his back, leaving your own marks as well.

“We’re not at the farm, darlin’. We ain’t never gon see any of these people here, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar~” He groaned as your hips started to grind into his.

“Then hurry up and make me scream~” You moaned, biting your lip as he stood back up, kicking his boots off before taking yours off, tossing them near the door.

He pulled at your jeans, and you lifted your hips off the bed so he could take them off of you. He then took his own jeans off, his bulge much more prominent now through the thin fabric of his boxers. You sat up on the bed and nearly drooled as you stared at his crotch, imagining what he looked like underneath those boxers. You looked up at him with doe eyes as you slid off the bed onto your knees, two fingers hooking under the waistband, looking up for a nod of approval before you slipped his boxers off of him, his hard-on slapping against his abdomen once set free.

“Fuck, Striker…” You drooled over him, licking your lips before kissing the tip of his cock. He groaned at your action, a hand instinctively tangling into your hair, pushing you closer to him. You obediently opened your mouth, letting him shove his cock into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged a bit at the contact, but slowly got used to it as your throat began to relax.

“Good girl…” Striker panted, his nails scraping your scalp, making you moan around his length. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his shaft, your tongue licking up and down the underside of his cock. Striker hissed as you sucked him off so good, hips bucking into your face as his grip on your hair tightened. “Fuck, Y/N! You must’ve never given that dipshit head, he never woulda cheated if you did!”

The reminder of your ex only made you more determined to make Striker cum down your throat. You wanted every thought of that loser to be replaced with Striker, every memory of sex to be with Striker instead of him. You began to bob your head faster and suck harder, Striker nearly stumbling over when you did that, holding onto the bed behind you for support as his eyes squeezed shut at your actions. He soon came down your throat, his hand holding you in place so that your nose was pressed up against his abs so not a drop spilled from your mouth. Once he came down from his high he let you go and backed up to give you room to stand, catching his breath as you sat back up on the bed in front of him.

“Shit, baby.” Was all he could say as he panted, more turned on now than ever as you batted your pretty eyes up at him. “Lay on back now, it’s time I returned the favor~”

You smiled sheepishly before lying back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched Striker kneel down in front of you, his own fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips for him once again to allow him to slip them off, a sexy grin adorning his face as he grabbed your thighs and propped them on either of his shoulders.

“Fuck me…” He muttered, kissing up your thighs and his eyes never leaving your glistening pussy. “Baby doll, you really are Satan’s favorite, huh?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer him, his tongue flicking over your clit stopping you. You whimpered at the feeling, it had been so long since you had received head from someone, and you knew his long tongue would hit the right spots. You moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking softly but enough to have your head tossing back and our back arching off the bed. You whined out his name as you gripped at the sheets below you, his tongue flicking across your folds before delving into your hole. One of his hands let go of your thigh so his fingers could rub your clit in slow but firm circles, his tongue working inside of you. You squirmed on the bed but his other hand held you firmly, one of your own hands flying to grab one of his horns, pushing him further into your cunt. He let out a muffled moan of surprise, but didn’t argue as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the hand on your thigh digging its claws into your soft flesh. You ground your hips into Strikers face, feeling yourself reaching the edge. You moaned out a warning to him, and he moaned into your cunt as his fingers rubbed your clit faster and his tongue went impossibly deeper inside of you. You let out a high pitched squeak at the feeling, loudly moaning out Strikers name as you quickly toppled over the edge, your hips and legs shaking and spasming from how intense your orgasm was. Once you settled down and Striker licked you clean, he finally stood back up and caged you between his arms, grinning down at you as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, cowboy…” You breathed out before leaning up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself on his mouth.

“I got some more surprises fer ya, darlin’. You wanna do this ass up or not?” He asked. You answered him by crawling up further onto the bed, bending over for him. He grinned as he pumped his cock, crawling up to you and pressing his chest to your back, kissing the base of your neck to make you shiver as you hugged a pillow, preparing yourself for that addicting stretch you hadn’t felt in so long. “Ready?”

You nodded desperately, Strikers body pressing against yours left your skin burning for more of him. You moved a hand to reach for his, and he chuckled but intertwined his fingers with yours, before aligning himself and beginning to push into you. You squeezed his hand and moaned as his cock began to stretch you open, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you buried your face into the pillow below you. Striker kissed you on your bare shoulder as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand comfortingly, he own eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. Once he was bottomed out, he awaited for you to tell him he could start moving. Your hips started to move against his, and he took it as a sign to keep going. He slowly pulled out halfway before snapping his hips back into you, smiling at the little squeak you let out at the action. He started moving his hips faster and faster, the hand holding yours being nearly crushed as you held onto it. You moaned lewdly as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you, whining and beginning to shake as you felt yourself approaching an orgasm again already. Striker chuckled as he felt your cunt squeeze him and your breathing becoming erratic as you neared your high.

“Don’ be embarrassed, sweet thing, cum for me~” He whispered into your ear encouragingly, freeing his hand from your grip to pinch and rub at your clit, a choked moan escaping your lips as you immediately came around his cock, Striker groaning at how you squeezed around him so tightly.

“S-Striker!” You nearly screamed as your body shook violently beneath him.

“That’s right, Y/N, scream my name~” He panted as he felt himself nearing his second orgasm of the night. He continued to pound into you, screams escaping you as your sensitive pussy was being overstimulated. He pulled out briefly to flip you over onto your back, desperate to see your face. He shoved his cock back into you, your breasts bouncing at the force he used to fuck you into the mattress. You began to babble incoherently as your eyes crossed and rolled back, Striker smiling smugly at how you unraveled around him.

“I-I’m almost there, Y/N.” He warned you, your legs clamping around him now allowing him to pull out.

“C-Cum in me!” You whimpered, feeling yet another orgasm coming on.

“You sure?”

“Just do it!” You screamed, your claws digging into his back to keep him in place.

His hips shot into yours as he came, groaning and panting as you also came with him, your juices squirting all over his dick as you both clutched onto the other desperately. Once you both came down from your highs, Striker collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths as your grips loosened on the other. After a few minutes, Striker stumbled out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wiping both of you down and tossing it onto the floor before getting back into the bed with you. He pulled you close, noticing your thighs still twitching from the intense squirting orgasm you had.

“Nobody’s…ever made me…d-do that…” You panted, tilting your head to face him, but not having the strength to move your body yet.

“Well…glad to be a stand out.” He chuckled as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“Striker…” You swallowed harshly. “I…”

“Save it for the mornin, doll.” He interrupted you, pulling you close to him and shutting his eyes. You nodded dumbly, not having the thoughts or energy to argue with him. Plus, this was nice, just being held by him so intimately, singing and letting morning you figure out your relationship with the man. For now, you just curled into his touch and buried your face into his chest.

#helluva boss striker #striker x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

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ashcal99 · 1 year ago

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Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale IV

Chapter Four

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn

Words: 7.4k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Hope you enjoy. Made this chapter extra long for the wait x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

January 29th, 2005

Camila sat there, frozen in time, for what seemed like an eternity trying to process what Jasper had just admitted. So, Jasper sat there, unmoving as well as not breathing. He wasn’t sure how she was taking the new information and suddenly found himself wishing that he held Edward’s power in that moment, willing to give everything just to know the thoughts that were going through her mind. Second best, he knew that she, remarkably, held no fright towards the admission, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she lacked the simple instinct that humans should be born with. The instinct to run away screaming when someone tells you that they’re a monster and could easily kill you.

At the end of the day, he knew that was what he was. A monster. He may have changed his diet and tried to appear human, but he was far from it. He had killed people. Innocent people. He couldn’t even make the argument that his family had done the same, because their body counts were minuscule compared to his. He had fed off of human blood for nearly eighty-five years before Alice had found him. Even with his new found vegetarianism considered, he still slipped up. More than anybody else, and even though he knew that Camila was safe around him, he also knew that she had every reason in the world to fear him, and it confused the hell out of him that she didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself as he spoke, the silence eating away at his resolve. “Can you please tell me what’s going through your mind?” He asked, nervousness gripping his throat as he croaked the words out.

Camila’s eyes flashed over to him, eyebrows creased in… confusion maybe? “I don’t know… I feel like I know I shouldn’t believe you, but for some reason, I do?” She said, eyes tracing his serious expression. “Can you prove it? N-not the vampire thing, I guess, but something to prove any of it is true?” She asked.

Jasper’s mind reeled for a moment trying to think of something quickly, when an idea popped into his head. “Remember how you said I’m really good at reading emotions? Like an empath?” He asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “It’s a little more than that. Some of us, when we turn, we get… gifts. When I was changed I could not only feel people’s emotions like they were my own, but manipulate them too.” He explained slowly, trying to find the right words.

Given the situation, he figured this was his best bet in not freaking her out any further. Eyes scanning her face to make sure that she was okay with what he was about to do, he pushed a wave of happiness towards her. He watched as the corners of her lips curved upwards, the crease between her eyebrows smoothing as her heart filled with overwhelming joy.

She didn’t know nor care why she had become so suddenly happy, but as soon as the emotion was ripped back from her, the pieces clicked together. The smile slowly dropped from her face as her mind returned to where had been just moments before. “Holy shit.” She huffed out. He was telling the truth. As soon as the feeling of joy had hit her, it was gone.

Her eyes widened suddenly. Maybe this was the explanation as to why she felt so strongly towards him. Maybe it was him all along, manipulating her feelings. “Y-you don’t do that to me often do you?” She asked nervously.

Jasper shook his head quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “No. I’ve never with you before.” He rushed out, hoping to whatever god that she would believe him.

Letting out a sigh, Camila let her shoulders drop as she let herself relax back into her seat. She had no reason to think he was lying. From what she could tell, all of her feelings and emotions involving him were genuine, no matter how much she wished that they weren’t there to begin with.

“So, is the whole thing about garlic true?” She asked trying to lighten the mood. Everything had suddenly gotten much too daunting.

Throwing his head back with a bark of laughter, Jasper ran his long thin fingers through his golden curls. How in the world was she taking all of this so well? The ball had to drop at some point, right? There’s no way that everything would go this smoothly. Surely after she learned about his past and how much of a monster he really was, surely then, she would run away screaming. But that admission would have to wait for another day, because in that moment, he would give anything keep Camila as far away from that part of him as possible.

——————

January 31st, 2005

The rest of her day with Jasper had flown by, and before Camila knew it, it was the start to her second week at Forks High School. After the exhaustion of her first week, and hanging out with Jasper on Saturday, the rest of her weekend consisted of sleep and cramming in the remainder of her homework. When Monday finally came around, she was well rested, at lest as well rested as she could be.

Camila had just joined the end of the line in the cafeteria, Eric talking her ear off behind her once again, when her eyes finally met Jasper’s across the crowded room. She hadn’t seen him since he had dropped her back off at home Saturday night. Like a perfect gentleman, he had waited, car pulled against the curb and watched her figure until she had successfully made it fully inside her home, before he drove away.

Now that her eyes had met his for the first time since she had been given the opportunity to fully, well mostly maybe, process his confession, she felt a weight leave her shoulders that she wasn’t even aware was there in the first place. The rest of their night on Saturday had consisted mostly of more light hearted conversation, so now that she had been given the time to think of more questions to ask him, she had began to grow anxious of waiting.

She knew the questions would have to wait, however, but seeing his face, that alone, eased that stress and anxiety from her. Everything had happened so quickly that her mind didn’t know how to calculate what his confession actually meant, and over the remainder of the weekend her mind had time to wander. He was dangerous, that much was apparent, but somehow, she also knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. That she was safe with him.

It felt almost like a fever dream, everything happening so quickly. They had only just met, but suddenly, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so comfortable with another person. So comfortable with being vulnerable, and content with sharing with him what she had been so keen on keeping from everyone else. Clearly he felt the same, that much she could gather herself, given his blatant honesty with her.

Eric’s voice broke her from her thoughts as he continued his ramble on about how their trip to La Push Beach had gone and how she ‘had to join them next time’. She had to stop herself from cringing, not looking forward to coming up with another excuse in the future. She turned to him, attempting to give a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to come off rude, especially with the wide grin that was stretched across his face. He was just trying to be friendly, and that’s what she wanted. So, even if his persistence slightly annoyed her, she was still happy to have him around.

Chills ran up her spine as icy fingertips brushed lightly across her lower back, bringing goosebumps quickly to the surface of her skin. She knew who it was, of course, before she looked up, having already gotten used to the feel of his touch, but that didn’t stop the flutter of her heart as her eyes met Jasper’s once more. He had sensed her unease from across the room and had decided to come to her rescue.

“Will you sit with us for lunch today?” He asked, giving her a quirked eyebrow as well as a small smile. Alice had been pestering him since his return on Saturday to spend more time with the girl. As usual, she would get what she wanted, she already knew that of course, but that didn’t stop her from reminding him at every chance she got.

Jasper watched as the gears in her head began to turn, slowly processing his invitation, her heart sputtering at his touch. He couldn’t help his smile from growing bigger across his face, enjoying hearing the reaction he had on her heart. “S-sure.” She stuttered out, turning back to the lunch lady to pay for her tray of food. She sent a small wave and smile to the boy, Eric, and fell in stride by Jasper’s side, his hand ghosting the small of her back as he lead her to the table that held the remainder of his family.

Eric stood for a moment, mouth agape as he stared at their retreating figures. What was it with the new girls and the Cullens? Why was that family suddenly so sociable after a year of barely speaking to anybody? From across the cafeteria, the two were beginning to attract the stares from the rest of her friend group, and when she finally made it to the table, Jasper pulling her chair out for her to take a seat, the majority of the overcrowded room was practically ogling them. A fact, in which was doing nothing to ease the anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Setting her tray down, she slowly dropped into the hard plastic seat, shoulders tensing as she took in the perfect faces sat in front of her. Camila had of course met Alice the week previous, but she had yet to meet Jasper’s other siblings. She wasn’t sure if she should feel more or less comfortable meeting the pale strangers now that she knew their secret, but the fact was, she knew and nothing would change that now.

Feeling waves of anxiety and stress radiate from Camila, he decided now would be a time to use his powers, one that he hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for later. He hated seeing the worry in her eyes and knew that her stress was unnecessary, so he did what he could and pushed feelings of calmness and comfortability towards her as he settled into the seat next to her.

As the anxiety lifted from her shoulders, a polite smile formed on Camila’s lips. Jasper cleared his throat from beside her, gaining the attention of his siblings. “Camila this is my family.” He gestured towards the group. “Alice you met already.” He said pointing to the pixie haired girl on the other side of Camila.

The whole family already knew of his admission, and given the circumstances he was more that content with their reactions. He hadn’t exactly known what to expect from the situation, never having dealt with anything like it before. Carlisle and Esme had been happy for him, and though this slightly unnerved him, he knew it came with good intentions. He knew what coming clean to Camila could mean for her future, for their future, but he still refused to get his hopes up. Her knowing and having the choice to ‘live’ on had no guarantee that she would make that decision, and as much as it pained him, he knew that he would never be able to make that choice for her.

Alice’s teeth shown brightly as she smiled at the girl, squealing lightly as she pulled her into a tight hug. Camila’s eyes widened, the immortal girl’s antics still surprising her despite already being on the receiving end previously. Before she was given the time to process and reciprocate the hug, Alice had pulled away and had returned to her comfortable position in her seat.

Alice was of course ecstatic, even though she had seen the whole thing happen already, because now she was free to develop their friendship. She had seen the whole thing play out and knew just how close she would grow to Camila, and like a child on Christmas morning, was practically bouncing with anticipation when he had arrived home Saturday night.

Jasper continued, stopping to roll his eyes at his sister. “This is Emmet and Rosalie.” He said, gesturing to the couple sitting at the opposite side of the table. Emmet gave a ginormous half smile half smirk to the girl, while Rosalie attempted the give a polite smile as well.

Emmet was of course laid back about the whole thing, only giving him a little bit of shit for finally finding his mate. Rosalie was surprisingly at ease with the situation, unlike her feelings towards Bella. Of course, Jasper knew why. She had always resented her immortality, having her humanity ripped away from her the way that it had been, and she wouldn’t wish that on anybody else. He knew her calm demeanor had to do with the fact that, unlike her human life, Camila had no chance of growing old. No chance of starting a family.

His heart ached at this knowledge, knowing that he would give anything he could to see Camila age into her beauty. To see her grow and start her adult life. To see her get married and have children, even if he wasn’t the one to give her that future. Unfortunately, maybe because God or whatever higher power was cruel or had a sick twisted sense of humor, she had no hope for that life.

It had been an unexpected punch to the gut to meet her mother. She was such a perfect reflection of her daughter that it was almost like he was glimpsing into that impossible future. He knew that this would be how Camila would look, given the chance. But she didn’t have that chance, and that was his best guess as to why Rosalie had refrained from giving him the same shit she had been giving Edward.

“And this is Edward.” Jasper said finally, turning to look at displeased expression of his adopted brother.

Edward had seemed slightly bitter about the situation. He obviously knew the differences between the two girls, but couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous at which the ease Jasper came by with telling Camila the truth. He himself would never wish the future of immortality onto Bella, but only wished that he didn’t have to suppress his want for the girl. He knew it was best to stay as far away from Bella as possible, hence why he had been avoiding her to the best of his abilities, but his resolve was beginning to waver.

Jasper didn’t have to deal with any of this, despite having his own struggles. Camila already knew the truth about them, and soon she would be making that decision on her own. Hell, he didn’t even have to worry about his thirst around the girl, a fact that he couldn’t help but be bitter about. Edward had always had what he considered decent self control with human blood, something that he couldn’t say the same for with Jasper, and the one person that it truly mattered for, he was at his lowest point with self control. It was cruel irony.

Despite not being able to read Edward’s mind like he could his, Jasper could feel his emotions, and he could fill in the rest himself. He didn’t want any animosity between him and his brother, but he knew that whatever Edward was feeling wouldn’t stop him from growing closer to Camila, and definitely wouldn’t stop Alice from begging him to let her spend more time with her. So that was why he had decided it was time to introduce her. What better time and place to break the ice between Camila and the rest of his family than the controlled environment of a school cafeteria? He had thought, and now, seeing the slight glare on Edward’s face, he couldn’t decide whether or not that had been a bad decision on his part.

As thoughts of anger rushed through Jasper’s mind, Edwards eyes flickered over to his. Edward’s glare softened as he processed Jasper’s internal dialog. He knew that it wasn’t his fault and he knew that it wasn’t Camila’s, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He was jealous and he was finding it difficult to hide his emotions. His eyes flitted across Jasper’s face, neck, and arms. The scars littered across his skin were a reminder to not push things with him. The crescents, nearly invisible to the human eye, were a gigantic red flag to any vampire. Neon lights that flashed bright as a warning to everyone around him to stay back or else. Although he knew that his brother would never hurt him, he also knew not to start a fight, because it would most definitely be one he would lose.

Huffing in irritation, Edward pulled out his chair, rushing to leave the cafeteria. He could try all he wanted to be civil and not start a fight, but he wasn’t about to sit there and take this torture. Over time it would get easier for him to cope, but in that moment, the wound was fresh and he needed to be far from the reminder.

Jasper sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes once again as he let his defenses fall back down to their normal level. “Ignore him.” He muttered to the girl beside him, slinging his arm protectively around the back of her chair.

——————

“So what’s with you and Cullen?” Tyler blurted out suddenly. Camila’s head fell to look at her boots that thudded along the hallway towards their last class of the day. She could feel the blood rushing up to her cheeks and knew that it would do little to help her case if he saw the growing blush.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning confusion. It was a matter of time before someone started the inevitable conversation given Jasper’s display in the cafeteria that day, but she had hoped she would have a bit more time to prepare herself.

Tyler stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “Yeah, you two seemed… cozy today at lunch.” He muttered.

Camila raised her head, quirking an eyebrow at the dark skinned boy in stride beside her. “Cozy?” She asked, a hint of humor tinting her voice. Tyler was clearly bothered by this whole situation, a fact that she found humorous given the circumstance. From the fact that Tyler had asked her to prom just a few days previous, she could gather herself that he was most likely jealous of Jasper. Not that he had any reason to be. Camila had every intention to stick to her plan of staying single and as much as she was beginning to care for Jasper, she didn’t see that changing.

A scoff sounded from the boy by her side as he rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Yeah. Cozy. You sat with his family at lunch instead of us, and he was practically all over you.” He argued.

Camila laughed lightly at his words. “He was not all over me.” She argued. In fact, like usual, she had been hyper aware of every touch from the pale immortal. As usual, he had shown to be very hesitant in touching her, only giving the slight graze of his fingertips along her covered back as he lead her to the table. She of course was also extremely aware of the arm that he had slung protectively around the back of her seat after Edward’s whole display, but he had been very precise in not letting his cold skin actually touch her in any way.

Tyler groaned frustratedly. “Whatever it was, I don’t like it.” He complained.

Camila’s eyebrows knitted together. What was it with people at this school being assholes to them? The Cullen’s kept to themselves, sure, but they were never anything but polite to anyone they came into contact with. At this point, all these little comments that everybody kept making were beginning to piss her off. “And why should you not liking it mean anything to me?” She asked incredulously. Sure, she wanted to make friends, and be nice, but she was starting to become defensive over Jasper and she wasn’t just going to stand there and take everybody’s bullshit. Because that’s what it was. Complete and utter bullshit.

Tyler’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to respond in that way, never seeing her angry before. “I mean, he’s kind of creepy isn’t he? I’m just trying to look out for you. He doesn’t seem… good.” He said trailing off towards the end as he took in the expression of anger growing more and more prevalent on her face.

She had to bite back a snide remark as she tried to process how she could respond without sounding like a total bitch. An awkward silence rung between the two teens before she decided that she didn’t really care anymore. If he was going to give unsolicited advice to her when he barely knew her then she would respond accordingly. “No offense Tyler, but I didn’t ask for your shitty advice. I’m a big girl, I can look out for myself, thanks.” She said finitely.

Pushing her aching legs to move her forward at a faster pace, she let out an internal sigh of relief as the door to her calculous class came into view. Lunch had gone well, all things considered. Despite Edward’s little display, the rest of Jasper’s family had welcomed her with open arms. While the conversation mostly consisted of small talk and them asking her questions about herself, she could tell that they were all genuinely nice people.

Alice had invited her over for the following weekend, in which Camila had immediately agreed to without thinking. Now that she had been given the time to think about the implications of the invite, she realized that she would be meeting their adoptive mother and seeing Carlisle. While she knew Carlisle fairly well, given meeting him the week prior, she realized how nervous she was to meet Esme. Jasper had talked the woman up so highly, but she couldn’t help but feel her nerves eating away at her. She would be meeting his mother soon, ‘adopted’ or not and it was only natural to have that kind of reaction.

Jasper, as usual, was already seated at their assigned table by the time she had arrived to the classroom. Camila flitted to the back of the room to her seat, letting her body drop into the confines of the cool plastic, as she let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked, concern lacing his voice. It was normal for her be exhausted by the end of the school day, but he could also feel her anger and frustration. The feelings set off warning bells in his mind and he was immediately on alert to what had upset her.

Camila rolled her eyes, raking her slim fingers through the long dark strands of her hair. “Tyler Crowley is an asshole.” She said simply, annoyance still evident on her face as she recalled their conversation that had just taken place moments ago.

His eyes flickered over to where said boy had just entered the classroom, narrowing as he took in the sight. “What did he say?” He asked, immediately defensive over the girl.

“He apparently has an issue with you and ‘just wants to look out for me’.” She said, yanking her workbook and and pencil case from her backpack and slamming them down on the desk.

Jasper’s shoulder’s drooped at her words as he hummed in reply. He couldn’t even be mad. What Tyler said was clearly justified, whether or not Camila had realized. She should be warned about him. Just because he didn’t thirst for her blood didn’t mean that he wasn’t a danger towards her. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t hurt her, even if it wasn’t intensional. Didn’t mean that he wasn’t a monster at the end of the day.

Hearing his near silent response, Camila turned her head to see him looking down slightly defeated, eyes refusing to meet her own. “Jasper.” She said, trying and failing to get him to look at her. “Jasper.” She repeated, grasping at his hand that laid in a tight fist at his thigh.

Electricity shot through her fingers as they brushed the marble skin of his clenched knuckles, but she pushed on. “Can you look at me, please?” She asked, her soft voice contrasting the anger that had filled it just moments ago.

His amber eyes flickered up to meet hers. As much as he wanted to sulk in that moment, he wanted more to give her what she wanted. Her eyes softened as she saw the pain that filled his. They were always filled with pain, but this was different. More of an inner torment and seeing it made her chest ache.

She turned his fist over in her palm, nudging the fingers apart so she could intertwine them with her own. “He’s full of shit, Jazz. I know you would never hurt me.” She said, voice softly ringing in his ears.

The pain in his heart grew at her words. He didn’t deserve her. She was too perfect for his damned self and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from being grateful that she was there. It didn’t stop him from selfishly wanting her. He pulled their intertwined fingers up to his lips were he laid a soft kiss on the back of her palm, thanking her for her kindness. Thanking her for her comfort.

The touch of his chilled lips on her skin sent her heart into overdrive, and knowing that he could he hear his effect on her didn’t help the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks. She had expected him to drop her hold after that, but instead, their hands remained, bound together and laying gently in his lap.

Class continued, the two working together on finishing the next page in their worksheet. Jasper of course could finish the work in less than a minute, but anything that gave him the excuse to talk to Camila he would gladly do. She sat there, eyebrows furrowed as she worked over a particularly difficult problem on the sheet. Normally, she would have no problem solving the equations, but today her mind was wandering too much. She sighed, giving up as she let her pencil clatter onto the chipped veneer of the desk.

“Do you want to come over to my house today?” She asked suddenly. Clearly seeing that she had caught him off guard, she continued. “I have more questions.” She clarified.

Jasper groaned internally. As much as he would love to avoid the inevitable conversation, he also knew that it had to happen at some point. At least he would get to spend more time with her, a definite plus. “Sure, I can just drive us after class if you’d like.” He offered. Alice had told him to drive separately to school that day, and now it was clear why. He would have to thank her later.

Camila nodded, pulling her flip phone from her bag and trying to discreetly type a quick text to her mother letting her know that Jasper would drive her home. Doing so was a bit difficult to do one handed, but she wasn’t about to take her other hand out of his grasp.

The remainder of the class trudged on slowly to Camila’s dismay. Now that she knew that she would be able to ask all of the questions that had been racing through her mind, she couldn’t seem to clear her head of them. Finally, a bell rang shrilly throughout the class, signaling the end of the school day. An unspoken agreement stood between her and Jasper as they both proceeded to pack away their belongings without undoing the grip on each other’s hands.

She wasn’t sure what the hand holding meant to him or even herself, but she didn’t exactly care. She already had to constantly remind herself of her promise to keep any romance at bay, but hand holding didn’t necessarily have to mean that. It was comforting, having his cold palm pressed against hers, and despite her internal screaming at herself that it was a bad idea, she didn’t want to pull away. So there they were, walking down the hallway, hand in hand, attracting even more stares than usual.

Camila let out a sigh as they reached the parking lot, the cool air feeling nice on her feverish skin. Puffs of vapor swirled in front of her mouth as steady breaths of hot air left her parted lips. Jasper had to rip his eyes away from the sight to make sure that he was walking in the right direction. He needed to pull his shit together. Kissing her hand had been bad enough, but he had to stop himself from thinking too much about her lips. Her soft warm plump lips. Jesus Christ, STOP.

He wished so badly in that moment that he could’ve kissed her. Regardless of the numerous bystanders. However, he knew that it wasn’t safe. He didn’t trust himself enough not to end up accidentally hurting her. He didn’t even know if she would’ve kissed him back for fuck’s sake. And here he was feeling like an absolute creep again.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he pulled the passenger door of his car open for her. Reluctantly, she let loose of his grasp, immediately feeling an emptiness without it’s presence. She settled into the plush bucket seat, pulling her bag into her lap as he shut the door softly behind her.

Flitting quickly, or as quick as seemed human, to the driver’s side, Jasper slid in and turned the key in the ignition. Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the parking spot and shifted back into drive as he sped out onto the street. He internally thanked his past self for buying a manual transmission before reaching over to grasp Camila’s hand once more.

Camila let her hair fall in front of her face, hoping that the curtain of dark strands hid the smile that she couldn’t wipe away. For someone who was so adamant on not dating, she kept finding herself being giddy whenever he touched her. What was she a twelve year-old? He was just holding her hand, she shouldn’t feel like a swarm of butterflies was flying around in her stomach.

The drive to Camila’s home hadn’t taken long, and by the time they arrived at the small house, he mother’s mini van was still absent from the driveway. She had replied earlier letting her know that she was going to go grocery shopping since she had time before she had to go to work, and Camila was happy to see that she hadn’t returned yet. One less awkward interaction with Jasper and her parents would always be a good thing.

As they stepped through the threshold of the home, she found herself wishing she had cleaned her room. She hadn’t thought of the mess she had left behind before she had invited him over, albeit a small mess. Either way, she couldn’t help herself but try and hurriedly pick up the few pieces of clothing scattered around the room once they made it through the doorway.

Once she was content with her ‘cleaning’ she shut the door softly behind her and plopped down on her mattress, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. Scooting backwards until her back met the wall, she patted the empty space beside her, gesturing for Jasper to join her. On one hand, she almost wanted to sit out on the couch in the living room, as it would probably seem less intimate that way, but she also didn’t want to be interrupted by her mother when she inevitably returned home from the store. So there they were sitting side by side awkwardly on her worn out used mattress and now she didn’t know how to start the conversation.

Sensing her hesitation, Jasper spoke up. “So, you have questions.” He said, wanting to end the torture of waiting any longer. If she was going to run away screaming, he would rather it be sooner than later, because the anticipation was slowly eating away at him.

Camila sucked in a breath. “How old are you?” She blurted out. Jasper groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. He should’ve expected her to jump right to the point, but, somehow, he hadn’t. “You said it was a conversation for another day. It’s another day now.” She reasoned.

“I know. I know.” He said with a sigh. “I’m just really old, Darlin’.” He said, hoping the nickname would distract her. It didn’t.

She scoffed. “That’s not an answer.” She said bluntly.

Jasper closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as he braced for the impact of her reaction. “I’m a hundred and sixty-one.” He muttered lowly. Utter silence followed.

Camila didn’t know what she expected, if the age he had given was younger or older than she had thought it would be, but hearing him say such a precise age made everything seem way more real. She couldn’t find the words to say in response, so instead, she reached over to grasp his hand once more, letting him know that she wasn’t disgusted like he had thought.

“Will you tell me your story?” She asked, not being able to help her intrigue.

His bright gold eyes met her emerald irises. “It’s kind of gruesome.” He warned, trying his best to prolong the inevitable admission of his past, but knowing that it was just that. Inevitable.

“I want to know.” She said simply. “If you’re willing to tell me.” She clarified.

Jasper was fucked and he knew it. Anything that she wanted, he would give her in a heartbeat, but she would hate him after this. “I didn't have quite the same upbringing as my adopted siblings.” He said, reaching his free hand over reluctantly, to roll up the sleeve on the arm that she held.

She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed them before, but there they were. Hundreds of crescent shaped scars shimmering lightly in the dim lighting emitted from her ceiling fan. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the scars were scattered across every piece of visible skin. Down his arms, onto the hand that was holding hers, a few up his neck to his handsome face. “Are those… bites?” She asked incredulously.

“Battle scars.” He responded, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I was seventeen when I joined the Confederate Army.” He said, pausing when he saw her grimace. “I know. I wish I could say that I didn’t know what I was fighting for, or against, but I knew enough. I’m not proud of it.” He said hanging is head in shame.

“I was the youngest major in the Texas cavalry. All without having seen any real battle.” He continued.

Camila perked up. “I knew that was a Texas accent.” She said smirking at him, gaining a small smile in repose. Leave it to her to try and lighten the mood as soon as it gets dark.

Still, he pushed on, knowing that it was about to become a much darker conversation. ��I was riding back to Galveston...after evacuating a column of women and children. When I saw her.” He said dauntingly. “I immediately offered her my aid.” He continued.

“Maria was creating an army. A newborn vampire army.” He clarified. “Our kind are at their strongest in their first year after changing. Their human blood still lingers in their veins and gives them more speed and strength.” He explained.

“Newborn armies were very common in the South, and cost a brutal battles for territory.” He continued, losing himself in the story. “Maria won them all. She was smart, careful. And she had me. I was the second in command. My abilities to control emotions served her well.” He said, looking down to the warm hand he still had clutched in his own, trying to find comfort in her touch.

“I trained her newborns. An endless occupation since she never let them live beyond their first year.” He said, cringing from the memory. “It was my job to dispose of them.” He said, voice thick with emotion. It pained him to remember what he had done. To remember their pain. “I could feel everything they felt.”

The crease between Camila’s brows deepened. It clearly hurt for him to recall these memories, and she found herself wishing that she could take that pain away.

“I thought what Maria and I had was love. But I was her puppet. She pulled the strings. I didn't know there was another way. Until I found Alice in 1948. Now she'd seen me coming, of course.” He paused, remembering that this would wouldn’t make much sense to Camila.

He gathered his thoughts quickly, trying explain the best he could. “She has visions, of possible futures. They change when decisions are made, but she knew when and where to find me.” He smiled slightly. “She saw you, even though she conveniently didn’t warn me.” He explained.

“I don't know what I'd have become without her. I’d done horrible, unspeakable things, and she helped me get past that. My family choses to feed off of animal blood rather than human blood, but it wasn’t always like that for me. I’ve killed innocent people. I’m not a… good person.” He ended his story with a sigh, unsure of how she was feeling.

Her mind was filled with conflicting emotions that he couldn’t quite place all together. “I completely understand if you want me to leave.” He said, moving to pull his hand away from hers.

Her grip tightened as her eyes shot up to his. “No, stay. Please.” She muttered. She knew how her reaction must seem. In truth, she had almost expected worse. As bad as his story was, at least he didn’t actively kill people. It was a horrible argument, she knew, but after being given the rest of the weekend to let her mind wander, she had tried to prepare herself for the worst.

Her silence was agony and he couldn’t help himself when he asked. “Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

Camila sighed, bringing her eyes back to his. “I’m not going to sit here and act like what you did wasn’t wrong, because it was. But I’m also not going to actively try and make you feel any worse for it. You’ve had over fifty years to regret what you did, and you clearly do. I’m not going to judge you for something that you wish you could’ve changed, not when I know you’re a good person now.” She said.

Jasper shook his head in disbelief. How was she this forgiving? It seemed impossible. He was sure she would be disgusted with him, but here she was forgiving him for something he couldn’t even forgive himself for. “How are you not terrified of me?” He asked.

She looked deep into his eyes as she answered. “I’m not scared because I know you won’t do anything to hurt me.” She said simply.

“I could hurt you on accident. Very easily.” He argued, looking ashamed. “I could crush you just by hugging you too tightly. I know you don’t understand fully, but it would be so easy that I actively have to try and not hurt you.” He said, a deep frown on his face.

Camila’s eyebrows furrowed as she brought her free hand down to trace the crescent shaped scars that littered his arm. “I don’t know what to tell you. I trust you, that’s the best answer I can give you, Jasper. You need to try and have trust in yourself.” She answered.

Jasper shook his head, baffled that she had so much trust in him to begin with. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. Seeing the sadness still in his eyes, she rushed, trying to find a change of topic to lighten the mood from the darkness that it had reached. “So, if you can manipulate emotions and Alice sees visions of the future, does anyone else in your family have a ‘gift’.” She asked, curiosity peaking once again.

Jasper was thankful for the change of topic, already feeling himself beginning to spiral from the continuous self hatred. “Yeah, Edward is the only other one in our family. He can, um, read minds… I know it sounds ridiculous.” He said, slightly humiliated at how fictional everything sounded.

“Oh god. That’s… embarrassing.” She muttered, her mind beginning to wander. Edward had no doubt read her mind and heard her thoughts of Jasper. Those were thoughts she didn’t even want to admit to herself and now he definitely had knew all about them.

Suddenly her mind went to his exit at lunch. Was that why he had left? Was it something she had thought that had set him off? “What happened with him at lunch today?” She asked.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Jasper tried to form the most comprehensible explanation. “He’s jealous that I can tell you the truth and he can’t tell Bella.” He said simply.

“Bella Swan?” Camila asked.

Jasper nodded. “He… has a particular interest in her. He’s been trying to avoid her because he knows that it won’t end well, and he’s jealous that I don’t have to do the same with you.” He explained.

“Why is it different with me?” She asked, trying to ignore the implication that Jasper had an interest in her.

His eyes trailed across the bare walls of her bedroom, looking anywhere but at her as he continued. “He has a really hard time with the scent of her blood, while yours is different for me.” He said.

“Because of the leukemia?” She asked.

Jasper nodded again. “It’s more dangerous for her than it is for you because of that. It’s hard for him to even be in the same room as her. Either way it would end badly.” He explained.

“End badly how? Surely it could end in more ways than just him killing her right?” She asked. She knew the subject had to be touchy and sensitive, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking.

Here it was. The scariest topic of them all. If he didn’t handle this just right, if he didn’t use the right words, then there went his chance of a future with her. He gulped, mustering the courage to speak. “He could kill her or he could change her. Both which he doesn’t want to do.”

Camila’s eyed widened. She hadn’t even thought of that. Changing into a vampire. She wasn’t sure why her mind hadn’t gone there, but she hadn’t even considered that a possibility. She couldn’t help it when her mind wandered to what this could mean for her. He had said it like he was trying to imply something else entirely. He had to know the possible endings. Surely Alice had seen.

“Are there more possible endings for me? Futures where I don’t die from the leukemia?” She asked. She had to know. She had spent a year coming to terms with the fact that her life would be cut short, but now she wasn’t sure. She knew that her illness would in no doubt end up taking her human life, but what if she turned. What if she changed into something else where the cancer didn’t effect her anymore? What if she wasn’t human anymore? She had to know, because suddenly, after a year of withering away, she might have another option. She might have hope.

Jasper turned his eyes back to hers. This was the make it or break it moment. He sucked in a breath, feeling a tightness in his chest regardless of the fact that he didn’t need the oxygen.

And he spoke. “Yes… Alice has seen it."

Next Chapter

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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, language

Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

February 2004

Des Moines, IA

You gripped your knife tightly in your fist, the blade pointed towards the ground as you crouched silently forward, choosing your steps very carefully. About 5 feet away from the runner, you stupidly stepped on a piece of glass you didn't notice embedded on the thin carpet. The runner whipped around with a scream, lunging towards you snapping its teeth in the air. You sidestepped it at the last minute, kicking and making it fall face first onto the ground. You jumped on its back and jammed your knife deep into its skull, blood dripping down to absorb into the floor as you panted heavily.

"What the hell was that?!" Joel yelled, whipping the back door open. You felt the cold blast of air hit you, even from all the way across the restaurant. You tugged on your knife, removing it from the runner's head and wiped it on the back of its shirt before putting the knife back on your hip.

"There was one left, must've missed it," you called back to him, brushing yourself off and walking towards the back of the room.

"Shit, I swore I got 'em all. You good?" He said, looking you over with his flashlight as you approached. You held up your hand to your eyes to block the beam of light.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I fucked up," you said, lowering your hand when he aimed his light down, satisfied you were not harmed. "I stepped on some glass, had to get creative. You think we can stay here the night? I think these cushions come off the booths. Not sure we can find any extra blankets here, though."

"We can put on layers, we've been through worse," Joel said, already yanking on some of the booth cushions, pulling a few out on the floor to sleep on.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, then check the kitchen. I'll be right back," you dropped your pack on the ground and strolled off towards the women’s room in the corner. Once you were done, you stared at yourself in the mirror over the bathroom sink, shocked to see how different you looked. You hadn't seen a mirror in several weeks. Your face looked more hollow, you definitely had lost some weight. You pulled your hair out of the ponytail you typically kept, realizing that it was the longest you’ve seen it since you were little. You tried running your fingers through it to manage it a bit, but it seemed hopeless. You gathered your hair back behind your head and slid the hair-tie over it once again.

You didn't find much left in the restaurant kitchen, which was a huge disappointment. You were running low on food, having walked through thick forests and then open prairies for the past two weeks, not coming across any shelters to raid. Joel had purposely redirected you to this city in the hopes of restocking your food supplies and taking a short break from sleeping in the freezing cold wilderness. Luckily, your bow and arrows proved very useful, and kept the two of you fed when you had barely anything else to survive. Joel had never used a bow before yours, so you had taught him the basics from what you could remember. He seemed to have a knack for survival. He caught on very quickly and soon became better with it than you.

You sighed as you opened the last cupboard door, finding it just as empty as the rest. You were about to close it when a colorful wrapper caught your eye, shoved all the way in the back behind some pots. You reached your arm in as far as it could go, your fingertips barely grazing the item before you managed to pull it forward a smidge and grab it. You could have cried you were so happy with what you found.

“Joel!” you called out as you walked back into the dining room, heading towards the small lit up area he made for the two of you and your sleeping bag already rolled out on your cushion. “You’ll never believe what I found!”

He turned around from adjusting his own sleeping bag. He immediately spotted the jar in your hand and groaned. “Peanut butter!” he exclaimed with relief, “Fuck yes.” He sat down on his cushion to dig out the spoons from your packs. You both ate in silence, enjoying eating something other than rabbit or squirrel for the first time in weeks. You still had some provisions in your packs that lasted you about a week after you left Chicago, but as you traveled more out west, the options became limited, and the weather slowed you down significantly, causing you to eat through a lot of your food. You had become dependent on the wildlife for sustenance, and you got lucky, but it was getting old.

Joel had been kind enough to bury your parents before you moved on. He didn’t want you to have to help carry their bodies, so he had to make do with burying them where they were killed. He found a broken shovel about half a mile down the road in an abandoned mechanic’s shop, and it took him the rest of the day, but he made sure they were taken care of. He even found some large rocks to mark their graves. He was worried about you for a long time after that. You were distant and didn’t speak much. He didn't know what to do, other than giving you space and time to process your grief, while taking on as many of the responsibilities he could to keep you both alive. He insisted on being the one to hunt as often as possible. He sought out as many safe places indoors to set up camp as he could, even if it meant wasting half the day’s sunlight, he would sacrifice it so you would be more comfortable. He stayed in those places a day or two longer than he wanted, just so you could possibly sleep a little more soundly. It hardly mattered anyway: he wasn’t convinced he would ever find Tommy, or even if he was still alive. There didn’t seem to be much rush to your journey anymore, but it gave you something to fight for, so he kept pushing forward.

Then, one day, he did something to make you laugh. He couldn't even remember what it was, but hearing the sound made him desperate to make you do it again. So, the next day, he tried telling you a shitty joke, and you laughed again. Every time he heard it, he felt his chest loosen and his breathing eased. You seemed like yourself again, but he could tell the deaths of your parents changed you. You became more hardened, more focused, and angrier at the world around you. He noticed the way you took down infected with such ferocity, such disdain. It used to bother you, but now you could kill one without blinking an eye. He knew it was foolish to expect your innocence to remain intact, but every night he still wished he could somehow shield you from it all.

Somewhat full, you laid down on your cushion and wrapped yourself in your sleeping bag, exhaling softly and closing your eyes. Joel gazed at you a little longer than he should have before he leaned over to turn the lanterns off. Tomorrow, he knew you would have to venture back out into the cold and find some more food. He had hoped this restaurant would have had more than enough, but someone before him must have thought the same thing. He turned his head to glance over at you again in the darkness, listening to your steady breathing. He still ached for you, desperately. He hoped he didn't read the signals wrong that morning in your bedroom - there was no way he could have - but the more time that passed, the more unsure of himself he became. He was so close. So close to tasting you again, holding you in his arms, protecting you from the evil surrounding you.

He stared up at the ceiling and focused on falling asleep. He needed to be alert and well rested so you could finally find some food and get back on the road.

The two of you were walking down the street the next morning after having eaten the rest of the peanut butter and not much else. This part of town seemed to be abandoned by people, but you did come across a few infected. Most of the time, you heard them clamoring about in a closed up building you passed, but a few did cross your path that you had to take down. Joel had a theory that the infected slowed down in the colder months, that maybe they went dormant, or it was just harder for them to move. Whatever the reason, he seemed to be right. Even when you did come across one, they seemed a lot slower, making your job much easier.

As you made your way towards the end of the road, the houses and trees cleared and you could see further ahead, smiling when you saw a familiar logo. You turned to Joel, who seemed to notice it, too.

"I don't think I've ever been so excited to see a Walmart before," you said, smiling in his direction. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's a big store, we gotta be real careful. Ain't no way we can clear the whole place by ourselves," he told you as you entered the parking lot. "Gotta stay close together and be silent. No guns. Let's just stick to the grocery section, take what we need, and get the hell out." You nodded, looking at the building as you approached it from the outside, trying to listen for any noise coming from within. Joel put his hand out on your arm to stop you, making you twist around and giving him a confused look.

"I mean it," he said, looking serious. "Could be a whole hoard in there. And it'll be dark. It's risky."

"I know, I'll be careful, I promise," you gave him a look just as serious to prove you were paying attention. His eyes shifted back and forth between yours before nodding his head in the direction of the store.

You both stepped quietly inside the store through the broken sliding door, clicking on your flashlights and looking at your surroundings before making a move. Your attention went up to the signs hanging above the aisles, spotting the grocery section was straight ahead past the cash registers. The two of you crept forward, careful not to step on anything that would give away your position. You walked through the bakery, surrounded by moldy bread. So far, the place seemed quiet, but that didn't necessarily mean it was empty.

The store was reasonably picked over but there were a few things left on the shelves you could use. You packed your bag with rice, chicken broth, a few cans of dented soup, and a jar of pasta sauce. For the sake of being extra quiet, you motioned with your finger for Joel to step forward, and you stretched to whisper in his ear.

"We should check out the stock room," you said quietly, your breath tickling his neck. It wasn't the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to him, but that didn't matter. He nodded and suppressed the urge to shudder. He picked up his bag and led you to the end of the aisle, looking both ways before leading you to the swinging doors on the wall. Joel held out a hand for you to stay put while he pushed the door open a crack, sweeping his flashlight across the room. It had aisles, just like the store, but it wasn't as neatly organized. Once he confirmed it was safe, you both entered, scanning the shelves to pinpoint where the groceries were stocked. Your flashlight landed on a corner of the room where you recognized boxes of crackers and cans of vegetables. You nudged him with your elbow, and you both made your way over, checking down every aisle before advancing.

Your jaw dropped at the amount of food that was left. Someone had the same idea as you, it wasn't fully stocked, but it was much more well stocked than the shelves out front. You hurriedly packed your bags with as many useful items as you could carry. You were so hungry, but you had to resist the urge to rip into anything right then and there, afraid the noise of a wrapper would possibly draw attention.

You were just finishing up when Joel wandered towards the end of the aisle, his flashlight settling on something shiny the next aisle over. He squinted and bent down to get a closer look through the shelves. By the time he realized he was looking at blood pooling around a dead clicker, it was too late. A pair of arms reached out behind him, yanking him backwards. A hand covered his mouth and an arm squeezed around his neck, making his vision go fuzzy. His eyes shot over to you in a panic. You were still crouching over your backpacks, facing away from him, and zipping them closed. He brought his hands up and laced them together before driving his elbow behind him, hitting the man right in the diaphragm. The grip on his throat instantly loosened and the man doubled over coughing. You whipped around now, your knife already in your hand. You watched as Joel brought his knee up to the man's face twice, blood bursting from his mouth and nose, staining Joel's pants. Joel drove his knife into the man's eye, his body twitching before slumping on the floor at his feet.

Joel looked up just in time to see you dodging the knife of a second man, kicking him in the groin before shoving your knife between his ribs. He ran down the aisle to you, hearing the man's raspy breaths as blood filled his lungs. You pulled your knife out and stabbed him again, this time closer to the heart. The raspy breathing stopped, and his body relaxed against the linoleum floor. Joel sighed in relief, slowing his pace, his heart pounding.

Then he felt something hard hit the back of his head, causing him to fall forward, his vision narrowing as he fought the urge to pass out. Joel felt the heavy boot of his attacker sticking to his back as he tried to push himself up, but his head was swimming, and he couldn't find the strength. He collapsed back on the floor with a grunt, blinking his eyes frantically trying to clear his vision. He was struggling to breathe with the weight of the man's foot pressed on his back, and once again raised himself up to try and roll over when the pressure on his back was suddenly gone. He gasped for breath, pulling himself into a seated position and shaking his head wildly, his vision finally clearing.

You had tackled and pinned Joel's attacker on the ground, sitting on his chest as you struggled with his knife between the two of you, the blade pointed downwards towards his throat as you gritted your teeth and pushed down with everything you had. His feet kicked wildly underneath you, trying to roll you off, but you weren't budging, your eyes burning into his as the blade scratched at his throat. Joel stumbled to his feet, still dizzy, as he struggled to make his way towards you. With a loud grunt, you put all your weight onto the hilt of the knife, lifting off his chest and finally piercing through his skin until you could feel the tip of the knife make contact with the linoleum. He laid underneath you gurgling as blood poured from his neck, his eyes wild with fear. You panted heavily, letting your muscles relax after the strenuous fight. With your weight off his chest, the man was able to grab a second knife you hadn't noticed from his belt and stabbed frantically at your side, which you tried to swat away before his arm grew weak and he stopped breathing.

Joel's arms wrapped around you and lifted you off the dead man, turning you around to look at you closer with his flashlight. Your face was splattered with blood, your hair wild, covered with sweat and still gasping for air. He aimed his flashlight lower and noticed a big red circle of blood staining the side of your t-shirt. His breath caught in his throat and the adrenaline sharpened his vision as he lifted your shirt up gingerly. You winced when the fabric peeled away from your skin, not realizing you had been hurt until that moment.

"Oh, fuck," Joel whispered and his breathing picked up as he glanced around for something to stop the bleeding. You had been stabbed along your ribs and down your side. He couldn't tell how deep the wound was in the dark, but it was enough to cause you to bleed heavily. He grabbed a used rag from his jeans pocket, pressing on your wound firmly, making you cry out in pain. He wrapped your hands over the rag and instructed you to press as hard as you could. He ran back to grab your packs, slinging both backpacks, the rifle and the bow over his shoulder. When you saw him trying to pull everything onto his back, you held your hand out to him.

"Give me my pack," you rasped. He shook his head, still trying to find a way to carry it all. "Give it to me!" you raised your voice in a harsh whisper now, giving him a look that meant were serious. He relented, gently putting the straps over your shoulders, then pulling out a new rag to wedge between your side wound and the strap of your backpack.

You leaned on Joel as he led you out of the back room, pausing briefly to make sure there weren’t any others, then headed back towards the front door. It began snowing while you were inside, and the wind was picking up, making it difficult to see. He looked around, desperately trying to find a safe place to take you.

Across the street he could make out a strip mall, and one of the buildings looked like it was a dentist's office. It was a long walk across the big parking lot, but he moved as fast as he could while you leaned on him for support. He propped you up against the building to catch your breath as he used his knife to work the lock of the office open.

"Stay here," he instructed. You nodded weakly; your eyes half closed. He pushed the door open and checked to make sure the small office was empty of threats before taking you inside. He helped you sit down in one of the exam chairs, pushing it back so it reclined. You stared up at the ceiling and at the lamp dangling over your face. Joel pushed the curtains open in the room and looked down at the wound on your ribs, noticing the amount of blood increased due to the walk across the street: it was now trailing down past your hips and nearly touching your mid-thigh. He took the soiled rag from your hand and replaced it with a fresh one while he went to work ripping open drawers and cabinets. He finally found a needle and thread and a stack of stainless-steel bowls. He set the needle aside and picked up some of the bowls.

"You keep pressin' as hard as you can, you hear me?" he said, and you nodded as you draped your other arm across your eyes. "I gotta go out and get some snow, I'll be back in a minute. You holler if you need anythin'."

Joel stepped out the door with the bowls in his hand, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. He scooped up snow into the bowls, grateful it had begun to storm since it would hide your tracks and keep any raiders away.

He came back into the room and saw you had nearly bled through another rag. He set a couple bowls aside to melt into drinkable water and took a handful from another, pressing it against your wound. You hissed at the contact, but after a minute the numbness from the cold made your muscles relax.

Joel dug around in his pack to find some rubbing alcohol he had taken from your apartment months ago. He found another clean rag to drench the alcohol in and removed the snow from your side.

“I ain’t gonna lie to you, this is gonna hurt. You need to hold onto somethin’?” he asked you, trying to hide the tremor in his hand. You shook your head, turning your face away from him and gripped the arm of the chair anyway. He pressed the alcohol-soaked rag onto the stab wound, finally cleaning some of the blood away to get a better look at what he was dealing with. You groaned and your body tensed, but you remained as still as possible while he cleaned you up. He could see a stab wound between two of your ribs. It didn’t look very deep, but it was wide. He made his way down your side, cleaning the blood up as he went with the snow and then the rag, refreshing it with alcohol when he needed to. There was a longer gash down the length of your side, maybe about five inches long. It was wide, but it was shallow. There were a few other scratches as well, but those would be fine to heal on their own. He gauged the main problem would be the wound between your ribs, and the long gash.

He turned around to prep the needle, filling a bowl with some rubbing alcohol and pulled out more rags. Turning back to you, he was startled to find you looking at him. He swallowed, bringing the needle and black thread towards you.

“Are you ready?” he asked you, and you nodded steadily, but he could see the fear in your eyes. He laid a hand on top of one of yours reassuringly. “I got this, I got you,” he said. You turned away from him then, staring at the wall opposite you as you braced for the pain. The first few times he pierced you with the needle hurt the most, then as you got used to the pain and knew what to expect, it got a little easier to handle. He took his time with the stab wound, he wanted to make sure he didn’t have to redo that later, then let you have a break before starting on the long gash. He told you it would only need a few stitches, just where the wound was the widest so it wouldn’t scar too badly. That part ended up hurting the most since it was closer to the bones of your ribs and there was less fat to cushion the pain.

Once the stitches were done, he rinsed everything with the rubbing alcohol from the bowl, his hands and needle included. He made a mental note to keep that needle in his pack in case one of you got hurt again.

“You hungry?” Joel asked you, and you nodded eagerly but then winced at the pain the movement caused. He dug around in his pack for some of the food you had grabbed from Walmart and set you up with a few things to eat, then went to explore the rest of the office in hopes of finding some medicine. He got lucky in the dentist’s actual office, finding a few bottles of antibiotics and some pain killers in his desk drawer. He made sure you took two antibiotics with your food before finding something to eat for himself. He sat hunched over against the wall in the room, looking down at his food and avoiding eye contact. You adjusted yourself in the chair so you could look at him and let out a whimper when the movement was too much. He shot up to help you, but you waved him off.

“What’s going on?” you asked him directly, staring him down. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with grief and anger.

“This was my fault,” he said bluntly, a clipped tone to his voice. “I wasn’t payin’ attention, I should’ve seen that guy comin’, and it got you hurt. If somethin’ worse woulda happened, I never would’ve forgiven myself,” his voice broke at the end of his sentence, looking away from you so you couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault. We got jumped, don't beat yourself up about it. Please," you told him, trying to catch his eye again but failing. "Joel?" you said, but he turned away, rubbing his hands up and down his face like he always does when he's frustrated. "Joel!" you called out again, this time more firmly. He stilled, and slowly turned to face you, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Us or them," you said, staring intently at him, desperately trying to communicate the words you couldn't say.

He let out a shaky sigh, and nodded, breaking eye contact with you and gazed out the window at the snow fall. "Shoulda been me," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well," you grunted as you struggled to sit up in the chair, "I'm glad it wasn't because I couldn't carry all our stuff and you out of there," he turned his head to look back at you, then giving him a smirk, added, "I would've left you for dead."

His lips twitched as he tried to hold back his grin at your joke, not ready to forgive himself yet. He cleared his throat and leaned over to sling your backpacks over his shoulders.

"The dentist had a couch in his office. C'mon, grab my shoulder, lean on me," he said, bending forward so you could get yourself into a standing position. It took a few tries; the pain was worse than you had expected now that you were moving. You slowly ambled down the hall with Joel, and he got you stretched out on the couch before he unzipped your sleeping bag and rested it on top of you like a blanket.

He rolled his own sleeping bag out on the floor next to you, grateful the couch came with two pillows. It had been a long time since either of you slept on one. It was still daylight out, but the blizzard made it darker outside. Joel let you rest while he went around the office to see if there was anything else of use now that he wasn't so frantic. He had completely missed the small break room towards the back of the building. He found some unopened bottles of water, snacks, a couple cans of soup and crackers. He spread all the usable food out on the table but brought the crackers back with him to check on you. You were still laying stiffly on the couch and staring at a stock photo of a beach on the wall, looking uncomfortable.

"Are you in pain? I got some pills from the drawer," Joel dug out the bottle and read the warning label. "They sound pretty strong." You shook your head, not wanting to dull your senses in case of another attack, but now that the stiffness was setting in, the pain was getting worse. You glanced out the window, seeing the storm outside. Deciding it was unlikely anyone would be out in the snow and find you, you changed your mind and stuck your hand out to him. He dropped two pills into your hand and gave you a water bottle.

"Here, have a little somethin’ more to eat with those, don't need you gettin' sick," he said, offering the crackers in your direction. You took the sleeve from him and munched on one slowly as you waited for the pills to kick in. Joel walked around to the desk and collapsed into the leather chair, kicking his feet up on the desktop and mindlessly flipped through open patient charts left on the desk. You shoved another cracker in your mouth and watched the snow coming down outside. You sat up a little more on the couch. The movement made you feel dizzy from the pills, but you hardly felt a thing at your side when you moved. Your eyes drifted lazily to Joel’s broad figure sitting behind the wooden desk. It brought back memories you hadn’t thought about in months. Memories of a different time, when you would sit on the other side of his desk all flustered and nervous.

He looked up and caught you staring at him. “What?” he asked, a bemused expression on his face. You shook your head but couldn’t stop the stupid smile from spreading across your face. Goddamn pills.

“Nothing, it’s just funny…” you started, trailing off and then giggled, causing Joel to raise his eyebrows and grin.

“Those pills must be workin’, huh?” he asked, his grin widening. You nodded, stifling your giggles and took a deep breath.

“I was just thinking, everyone used to be so scared of you in the office, they would warn me to steer clear of you, that you had a horrible temper. And look at us now,” you let out another giggle before continuing. “What the hell happened?”

He smiled at you again and tipped his head back on the top of the leather chair to look up towards the ceiling, remembering life the way it was before.

“Yeah, I was an asshole, wasn’t I?” he said, making you laugh harder now, then you clutched your side with a small wince. “Hey, take it easy, you might not feel anythin’ but you can still pop a stitch.” You quieted your laughter now, knowing he was right, and chewed the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, reminiscing about those days just 6 short months ago. Joel rolled his head to the side to look at you. “I didn’t scare you, though,” he said quietly, not sure why he was encouraging you while you were in this state.

You glanced back at him and shook your head, then held up one finger. “Only once,” you said definitively.

He stared at you and held his breath. He knew exactly what you were referring to: the argument the two of you had that was never brought up again. The day he called you a whore and ruined everything. He was the first to look away, casting his gaze back down on the desk before him. He should have apologized by now, he should have explained himself, but he always found an excuse to avoid it. Today’s excuse was you were too loopy on the pain pills and that conversation needed to happen when you both had a clear head. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as you waited for him to say something. Anything to take back what he said.

“I think you should get some sleep,” he finally told you, dropping his hand and looking up at you. You knew he was going to avoid talking about it, but you were still disappointed. The pills had really taken effect now as you felt your eyelids grow heavy. You sighed, scooting down to lay flat on the couch and pulling your sleeping bag over you. You closed your eyes but couldn’t resist saying one more thing.

“I would do anything for you,” you whispered before nodding off. Joel’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut as he tried to hold back the tears that unexpectedly sprung to his eyes.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he whispered back, but you were already asleep.

The storm let up after another day, which was just as well since it allowed you more time to heal. Joel didn’t want to stay long at this place, worried that the attackers had a larger group and would come looking for you. Once the snow stopped and you had replenished your backpacks with more rags, first aid, and the food from the break room, you were off at first light. You both realized quickly that you were making terrible time since the snow was knee deep and you were already struggling to stay balanced due to your injury. After a very slow mile, Joel had found a sturdy fallen branch for you that he broke down into a more manageable size, allowing you to use it like a cane in the snow. You had to admit that it made traveling a lot easier, but you were still fighting to hide the throbbing pain at your side. After another hour, Joel agreed to let you rest. He made sure you took your antibiotic and ate some more crackers. Your feet felt numb, even though you had 3 pairs of socks and thick hiking boots.

"Joel," you whined, looking up at him standing guard as he surveyed the thick forest around you. "How much longer are we going to walk? This snow is so deep, and my side is killing me."

"I gotta find us somewhere safe, then we can stay there til you're all healed up and we'll wait out the rest of winter, I promise," he said, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze, "I'm gonna take care of you."

You sighed and regretted complaining almost immediately. You could tell he was still beating himself up over how you got injured and you didn't want to keep reminding him of it. He was shouldering too many responsibilities and you could see the worry and anxiety behind his eyes.

"Alright, let's get moving, I'm good," you said, using your stick to pull yourself back up into a standing position. Joel glanced over you once more to make sure you were, in fact, 'good' like you claimed. Satisfied, he turned and led you through the woods. The trees were thick, mostly pine trees that kept all their needles in the winter. It was good to keep you hidden but it was also bad because it could keep someone else hidden, too.

After another few miles, Joel paused a moment to examine his map. He had a general idea where you were, but he didn’t exactly have a destination in mind. He just figured he would know it when he saw it, and it turned out, he was right.

His head was down examining the map in his hands as he walked through the forest and approaching a clearing. Now he wasn’t sure he knew where you were, since the location on the map still showed greenery up ahead. He was mumbling to himself about getting turned around when you gasped, and his head shot up.

You had stumbled across a small neighborhood of about ten or twelve houses, all surrounded by the lush forest you had just hiked through. He had to blink a few times, feeling like he was looking at an oasis in the desert. As you approached the neighborhood, you passed a sign that read 'Hidden Springs - lots starting at $200,000'.

"Man, they really knew what they were doing when they named this place," you joked as you walked side by side down the abandoned street. The houses were all finished except for three which were partially constructed, forever frozen in time.

"This must be a new neighborhood, that's why it ain't showing up on the map," Joel said excitedly as he spun around to make sure you were still alone. "I haven't seen any tracks or smoke or nothin', this place is off the grid," he turned to smile at you. "We can work with this."

You grinned happily, so relieved to finally have found a place where you could rest for more than a couple nights.

"Well, which house d'you want?" Joel asked, looking at all the houses up and down. They were mostly two-story houses, but there were a couple of small ranch homes interspersed. You spotted one in the middle of the neighborhood on your right-hand side and pointed to it. it was a white two-story house with blue shutters and a red door.

"I've always wanted a wraparound porch," you said. "What do you think?" He couldn't keep the smile off his face, the whole place seemed too good to be true and best of all, you would be happy and safe.

He made his way up the front porch to peer inside the windows. He didn't see any movement, and fortunately it looked like the previous owners had a chance to move in, spotting the fully furnished living room. He had insisted on making you wait outside until he could be certain the place was abandoned before letting you in. The house was beautiful and practically brand new. You drifted from room to room to get a feel for the layout: the stairs and a hallway leading to the kitchen faced you right as you walked in the front door, a living room to your right and a den to your left, and a half bath attached to the hallway. The kitchen had a small mudroom attached, which led to the backyard. Upstairs there were three bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom was the only room that had windows facing the front of the house, so you chose to stay in that room, both of you slipping into the king size bed without even questioning if you should sleep apart.

Chapter Thirteen

Taglist: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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nexility-sims · 6 months ago

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟕 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | AUGUST 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Trish Fitzpatrick wore many hats, but her favorite was “freelance journalist.” Her area of expertise grew directly out of myriad side gigs: what she called portrait pieces of interesting people. Outlets clamored for them—or, they had since she’d buttered up famous, neurotic opera singer-turned-starlet Prudence Boone into revealing she had a glass eye, a secret runaway daughter, and a hair-eating habit. Of course, Prudence was basically a stranger. They had once had a fifteen minute conversation on the deck of a yacht, bonding over the fact that neither actually knew to whom the vessel belonged. Prudence thought Trish’s outlandish suggestions were funny enough to remember her when she called to pitch the piece. It had gone the same way with Renzo. Of course, they had met while fighting over a scarf in a vintage clothing store. Trish considered letting him win to be a debt, one for which she would demand recompense at the ideal time. Opportunities passed, and then August 1991 proved to be the time.

❧ i got the irresistible urge to do renzo backstory, which was meant to be an outtake, but then i was like, "uh, no, this totally works as story proper if i put leonor in it," so here we are ! context and such. given the amount of work, this might be my magnum opus until further notice ... it was also just fun to do :^) checked off the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll boxes ?? where's my prize. in conclusion, i love my white boy of the week or whatever

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

I grew up in a tiny town—Petunia. Petunia? You say it differently. It’s the country coming out, I guess. Not “pee-tyoon-ee-ah,” it’s “puh-toon-yuh.” Petunia. That’s it. So, how was it? Fond memories? In retrospect, maybe. I wanted to get the hell out of there from day one. What I remember is being very unhappy—dispositionally sullen, not just a pouty kid, but fully down and out. Born that way, probably. And your parents? My parents … Life had the upper hand, man. They were good at losing. I didn’t want that life.

My dad professed to be a traveling salesman—What, he wasn’t? I mean, he didn’t know jack shit about vacuums or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. But, he wasn’t around a lot, it sounds like? Gone for weeks at a time. Just me and my mom. How was she? Not really there either. When I got home from school, she’d pop her pills and be gone until morning. She wasn’t avoiding me; she was avoiding life. She did what she had to do in the mornings—you know, I had what I needed, the bare essentials—but she was checked out. You had a lot of unsupervised time, then. Oh, did I. Too much. I mean, I had books to read, and I got into music early—From her? No. My dad’d blow into town and bring pity gifts. Not kid-appropriate shit, now that I think about it. Heavy, gritty stories. A guitar I was too little to use. Flip lighter. But, you know, I was a kid. I wanted to run and play with everyone else, too. Of course.

Here’s the thing: it was hard to be a scrawny kid named Lorencio in Petunia. Shit, I can imagine. What was that like? … Hard, like I said. Well—Details? I got the shit kicked out of me. Regularly. What do they call it—um—“school of hard knocks”? Yeah. I remember, one time, I limped home on a Saturday. Mom was out of it, but she leapt up when she saw all the blood. Cleaned me up. It’s like I’m there now—in that bathroom with the dirty tile, her burning me with peroxide … She didn’t really talk, you know, not in a serious way? But she did then? She said, in Uspanian, “‘Don’t roll over for anyone.’” Interesting. So, that’s the lesson? Part of it. I realized that summer it didn’t matter if you were scrawny, if you talked funny, if you were poor. What mattered was not being a pussy. [Laughs] Oh, yeah? If you want credibility, if you want respect, sometimes you gotta be able to take a beating. Don’t roll over. That’s right.

I think it also helped when the growth spurt hit. You must’ve still been scrawny. [Laughs] String bean. So it goes. Adolescence . Now, you grew up fast, is what I’ve heard. You could say that. My life changed when Marty got out of lock-up—Sorry, what?—for “teen offenders”; he set his grandparents’ car on fire—oh, I see, regular kid shit—Uh huh. We hit it off. He introduced me to other guys, including Jesse. They’d huff gas together. Oh my God. Not whippits? Sure, but less convenient. That’s—No good, yeah. Fun though. Have you—? I’ve tried everything, Patricia.

Jesus! So, Marty and Jesse…? We got on like a house fire. [Groans] They were into petty crime for the thrill of it—Now, Renzo, is arson petty? He did it one fucking time. Everyone overreacted. They got into trouble for fun, and for you it was—? Money. Not a lot. I was too dumb to consider the risks. But, you did other things for money, too? Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t hooking. [Snorts] I worked a lot. I was cutting school to work, getting paid under the table, all of that. Maybe—hear me out—some of it was thrilling for you, too? I won’t tell anyone. [Chuckles] What can I say? Credibility.

I feel like I’m mischaracterizing … I love Marty and Jesse, to this day. Jesse’s daughter is your godchild, right? Yeah. Marty went back to Petunia in … ‘88? Jesse and I had better luck, or maybe we were just more desperate. Either way, my point is that delinquents get a bad rap—With good reason! Sure, okay. Both of them were deeper and more complicated than that. You’re not an outlier. No. We’re a dime a dozen. No one gives them the chances you got. Uh huh. So, we bonded over that—feeling down and out, like I said, but also the fact that we loved music. Marty’s family had money, so they’d bought him a nice bass guitar. But, Jesse’s mind … He’s so fucking creative. He wasn’t a reader, but I could tell him about something I’d been chewing on, and he’d have a song inspired by it within the hour. He has an incredible voice, too. He does.

I guess it’s not surprising that you guys did what you did. There was nothing for us at home, you know? Packing up and heading out west didn’t feel like a risk. And your mom understood that? Better than anyone. I know people judged her—shit, I judge her, too—but I always knew she was trying. That’s sweet. Is it? I mean, I think so … She met my dad at a bus stop three weeks after she arrived in the country and made the mistake of getting off at his stop. That’s it. That was her crime. Well, I’m sure she’s doing better now, huh? She lives in a nicer house in a nicer city, but that doesn’t cure depression, now does it? I suppose not. There was this woman whose lawn I’d cut all the time … A real bitch, but she was extra nice because she felt bad for me. Hated my mother. I think she was just jealous because my dad was her high school sweetheart. Isn’t that just how it goes? Damn foreigner stealing a real catch from her. [Scoffs] Sticky fingers when she invited me inside for lemonade—cigs and quarters from her purse, Valium from the cabinet, that kind of thing. [Laughs] Casual. It was pretty brazen, honestly. Fucking dumb kid.

Alright, so, you come out here with Marty and Jesse to make music, and now you’re a serious actor with a name and a big career ahead of you. How’d that happen? It was completely accidental. While we waited for a record deal, I did odd jobs, like auto work—you know, in a body shop. It was decent. Had you worked on cars before that? So, I got familiar, uh … [Chuckles] We’ve established I was a rascal. We could get under the hood of a parked car and make a few dollars off parts. I can get you in so much trouble, Renzo! [Laughs]

Don’t tell anyone, come on! I was a kid. Have a heart. I guess it paid off. But, alright, body work? What’s the connection? It’s kind of convoluted. When business was slow, the guy I worked for loaned his employees out to another mechanic. This guy, long story short, brought me along to assist him on a movie set. I guess he was a known quantity? Everyone knows the right guy! That’s everyone’s explanation for where they end up. Me, too. Uh huh. I don’t know why they let me do it, but—Somehow it worked out. Yeah, it did. Right place, right time.

You’re in the spot. How did you get into it, though? This is embarrassing as hell but, fuck it, I’ll be honest. Please. Don’t stop now. [Chuckles] I got a shot because I’d been chatting up this girl who, as it turns out, was the director’s kid—or, in fact, she approached me. I had no idea who she was or why she was there. Of course she did! That’s not surprising, is it? I think I was the most disinterested person there. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked a couple times, then—out of the blue—someone asked me if I wanted to hop into a scene, say a line, ten seconds flat. She did that for you? I don’t know what she did. No one mentioned her. Maybe she thought you looked like a movie star. [Snorts] Fuck. I hope not. Did you want to do it? I wanted to make music. I wanted to finish reading my book. I wanted … I mean, I said yeah. Can’t decline that. Makes a good story, right? What happened with her—? Oh, hell. Sorry! Moving on, for now. [Groans]

I got a call several weeks later about an audition. How did that feel? Bizarre. We’d done a demo for a producer once, but this was different. Were you excited? I was terrified. But, I went. Didn’t get that part, although everyone was perfectly nice to me. How disappointing. You always remember your first … But, hey, you have to look at it this way: I didn’t want to be an actor. I thought it was cool, but it felt like … ? Go ahead, give me a good metaphor. Like when you’ve been craving your favorite food, but then someone offers you a helping of something different, new, appetizing. How’s that? Passable. C-plus. [Laughs] Fuck you, Pat.

Okay, so the road didn’t end there. No, it didn’t. I got another call, and that one went well. This was for … Sugar Sweet? That’s the one. Cornball, but I love that movie. Never seen it. What! How is that possible? You were in it. You went to the premiere screening. There are pictures. Saw my first scene, excused myself to go piss, didn’t come back until the applause had started. Wow. Everyone has opinions about that movie these days—very contentious, whether or not Alicia was in the wrong when she left me and stole my lifelong dream. What do you think? Me, Renzo? Good for her. I thought it was kind of bitchy. It’s peculiar how many women say that. I wonder why … ! Billy’s so dreamy. Please, ask me about something else, Pat. So, this romantic comedy is your launching pad. It leads to the television show. The television show blows up immediately. Walk me through what that felt like?

Also terrifying. I really cannot emphasize enough that I didn’t want attention. I wanted money and time to support my music, and acting seemed like a good way to do that. Just didn’t account for the side effects. Like fame? Uh huh. I was a nobody in Sugar Sweet, and the pay was shit, but it felt like a miraculously good deal at the time. What it did is put me in the running for more serious work. I think, even then, sometimes the casting folks were hesitant to take a risk on someone with no experience whatsoever, even if they had—A spark? Talent? Sure. It was unsettling, the idea that I was some kind of “natural,” and I compensated by working really hard. Well, you’ve established yourself as a hard worker. Sure. I guess they saw that—the improvement, in addition to the fact that I had a resume to speak of by then. Or, eh, they saw that you were pretty. Right, of course, you don’t need talent if you have Teen Mag’s favorite cheekbones. [Snickers] I joined a cast with other people who had very little experience, and we bonded over that. I just didn’t expect to be … What, the center of attention? That, yeah.

You know what’s fucking weird? Huh? Signing your name on a picture of your own face that belongs to someone else. That they’re going to take it home and pin it to their fucking wall or frame it on their bedside table. Someone’s kid treating you like their school crush, blushing and shit while they’re asking for you to do it. That does seem like a strange experience. Over and over again. Teenyboppers, goddamn. You were in the magazines for them. I read a couple interviews. No the fuck I was not. I did not do those. No? What they do is take quotes from actual, consented conversations and stitch them together for their own use. It’s legal. That’s fascinating. Maybe I should try that. Less work. [Laughs] Yeah, alright, flush your “exclusive access” privilege right down the toilet.

But, look, I’m not disparaging the fans wholesale. That’d be unfair. And, ouch, ungrateful? Yeah. The initial couple years were fucking insane, but I was with people I liked, and a lot of the fans we actually met were … Normal? Uh huh. Not a hysterical, handsy, screaming blob. You got grabbed? Groped, Pat. Oh boy. We don’t like grabass, I guess. Well, hold on now, just not like that—You keep sidetracking me. What kind of interviewer are you? I’m having fun with my buddy! Sue me. [Chuckles] You got it, baby. What was I saying? The fans? Yeah. The ones we met one-on-one were cool, usually. They had deep thoughts about the show, you know? Ideas about the characters, the plots—filled in holes in the shitty writing. No offense to Jack and Reuben, I hope! Don’t print that, Pat.

If I’m being honest, having to answer their questions made me think deeply about the role. That’s stayed with me. I don’t like being walked up on in public, but sometimes it’d go fine. The first time someone came up to me in the wild, her mother looked so fucking apologetic that I decided, “Cool it, don’t be a jackass.” She wanted to talk about the book I was buying. Same thing would happen to Frank, Perry, Vicky. How about the show itself? That was a three year commitment.

It was alright. In retrospect, I understand that television isn’t for respectable actors, which made the transition hard. Harder to have been on a show for teenagers. But, you made that switch in Uspana. So, did that play into the calculus at all? I lucked out, in the sense that the show was co-produced, and I got to do the dubbing for the Uspanian version. I wasn’t a total unknown, even if they thought my Uspanian was shitty. Is it? Losing an accent is hard, in my defense.

When my contract ended, I hit the road. You didn’t think about staying on? I thought about it with horror, yes. [Laughs] You’d keep shit-talking the whole production if I let you. Maybe. So, in Uspana? It was like exhaling for the first time in a while. I did nothing for a couple months. All that hard work, being a beloved TV star … Throw me a bone, Pat. But, anyway, I didn’t even see my mom’s family again for a few weeks—You knew them, though? Yeah, we’d met, during the press trips. Beach life by yourself. Luxury.

You know, I needed to reconnect with myself. That’s how I felt. I felt like I had been an imposter, then I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t, and now … You could go a different way. A fork in the road, for your career. Your life, really. Right, yeah. I went to Canarís like any good tourist. I had more money than I’d ever had in my life. I had no plans. Sounds like a dream. It was.

Crucially, I was out of my mind most of the time. Kite high. So fucking high. I swear I almost drowned twice, at which point it was politely suggested that I stop using the pool. Did you politely agree? Fuck no. [Laughs] Troublemaking aside, I ended up taking phone calls, making plans with people—Industry people? Yeah. There were people I knew already, but meeting the ones I really wanted to work with happened kind of organically—parties, premieres for other films, cafes. At the Morningstar Cafe in Canarís? Right, exactly. Same way I ended up finding The Den. Someone at the cafe had worked with Karolina Teague, and she took me there one evening after we all got tossed out of some poor son of a bitch’s house. Sounds rowdy. Can’t blame him. It was after midnight. And? Well, it was a lunch that’d started at eleven in the morning, so. [Chuckles]

So, I have a question. You’re pretty consistent—in terms of behavior. “Behavior?” [Snorts] Yeah, okay, I understand. What was that like, with cameras on you? The photographers in Uspana definitely aren’t less aggressive. That’s part of it. I don’t know if I’d call it an epiphany, but I left Canarís for Nakawe with the understanding that I was going to just do what I wanted to do. Oh boy. Within reason, fuck. Reason. Sure, yes. You didn’t feel like a dumb kid anymore. I mean, I guess I have more fun with the camera guys here. They can get away with more, ergo, so can we.

I distinctly recall you got arrested for—I barely touched that guy or his fucking camera. Did him a favor, if I did. Dogshit quality device. [Chuckles] Not sure he saw it that way, but the charges were dropped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, shouldn’t have reacted that way. I kept thinking about my mom seeing those pictures … The one time I got picked up, she backhanded me in the middle of the station, right in front of the cops. Jesus. In the car, she goes, “If you get caught again, I’m going to rip your ears off.” Empty threat, I guess.

The Den—I want to talk about that. Please, let’s. Your first time there? It was with Karolina, like I said, and there was a local band playing that night. They’d wrapped up their set by the time we arrived and were just … jamming on the stage, taking feedback and requests from the people who were still there. Some kind of funky jazz mash-up. I liked it. How did it come to you? It opened in ‘57 as a bar and, at some point, it turned into more of a music venue open to a certain segment of Nakawe. The guy who owned it gave exposure to a lot of people who went on to really do something with their art, and that’s why it ended up being a somewhat exclusive spot. Celebrities already knew it and brought their friends. Uh huh. I could stroll up, and the cameras weren’t with me because they were already there. He got tired of that, I think—He was an older fella, right? Yeah. But, really, he managed other properties, and The Den wasn’t his passion project the way it’s become for me. So, you had the money and took it off his hands.

What goes on in there? [Laughs] Pat, you’ve been inside. Well, not for me! If I’m going to describe it to people who’ll never go inside, what would I say? I mean, it’s a hangout spot. It’s a performance venue. We had, uh, mimes last month. Truly gifted, those people. [Laughs] Really? I don’t come up with all of the ideas myself, but I only agree to the shit I’m interested in. It’s kind of selfish, but I guess I’m lucky to know a lot of people who’ll toss in five dollars to enjoy it. It’s something. Compelling. I mean it. Thanks. That’s not all, though. I mean, you describe it as a “haven.” It’s very private. Some of your regulars are troubled individuals. Damn, Patricia, just say it. I feel like a cop! “Do you condone drug use in your establishment?” nonsense. But, well … I’m not explaining it. Either you—they, whoever the hell—get it or don’t. Come for the music, come to unwind however you like, doesn’t fucking matter to me as long as you’re coming with an invitation. I like to go in the back room, close the door, let the music and noise seep through. Muffled. You don’t really strike me as a partier, frankly. You never have. I wouldn’t argue with that. I like parties, but I don’t need to be at the center. Some do. That’s fine. This place is for us all.

Maybe it works out because of that, that you’re curating this space but not necessarily always in it? What do you mean? Well, you reopened it and then, if memory serves, immediately went off to do a film. The party kept going. You just like to know it’s happening. Alright, sure. That’s true. Knowing it’s there … Yeah. I like it. I was in that back room, thinking about the script, when I decided to do it, actually. Life felt like it was falling into place. It was a good time to take a leap. “’You are going to be a cowboy?’” “’No, I’m going to be a farmer.’” I had that conversation a thousand times. Reporters, man. Hey! Everyone was so surprised. I think they thought the premise was … I don’t know, that it just wasn’t something I would want to do? Or, worse, that the filmmakers wouldn’t want to work with someone like me? Unflattering assumptions, sounds like. Can’t blame them. I had a lot to prove. Still do.

How was six weeks in Texict? Fucking heaven. I loved it. My mother’s from the northwest so, even when I visited family, it wasn’t anywhere close. No reason to visit until we dropped in to do the film. Every day, I woke up happy to be alive. Happy to be doing this job. Gorgeous. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it wasn’t just the location, was it?

No, you’re right. I felt like I was really acting—for the first time, seriously. Maybe the cast helped? I’d worked with established actors before. The leads in Sugar Sweet were—well, you know who they were. I learned a ton from them. But, yeah, I guess Sasha was the first person I’d worked alongside who had me sweating. Oh? I wanted to impress her so fucking badly. I wanted to keep up, you know? So talented. So raw. She rips every line out of her chest with her bare hands. Bloodbath of emotion. The premise was new, too. Not a lighthearted romance this time. No. We were young parents of a ill child—stressed as fuck, trying to make life work, struggling separately to be together. Can’t lie, I ate that shit up. So did the critics. Hell yeah.

Every nomination felt surreal. The recognition was incredible. Validating. Sasha and some of the others swept up. I was just honored to be up there with them, honestly. Okay, well, let’s talk about Sasha. Do we have to? Yes. Indulge me! [Grumbling] I mean, all I can really say at this point is that I was obsessed, and it wasn’t until it was over that I had the clarity of mind to really wonder, hm, “Was I in love with Sasha, my coworker, or was I in love with Sasha playing Lucy, my wife?” That seems like an occupational hazard. I wouldn’t describe it that way. You take sensitive, delusional, beautiful people, pay them to get vulnerable and intimate with each other … It’s special, even if it’s … Not genuine? No, it is that. It’s not real, but it is genuine. How else can you say, “Well, our schedules don’t line up anymore, but I’ll have this scar of our initials forever?” You do not! No, I don’t. The letter S is really hard to cut without fucking up. Not a sober man’s idea. No.

Since I have you on the topic—hey, no, absolutely not—I’m obligated to ask if there’s anyone in your life right now. How’s that? Women’s magazines can snap this up and stitch it together for themselves. This is a public service. Patricia … Yes, Lorencio?

Look, I know you do your research. I do. I’m very good at it, too. What’s that like, princess pus—Pat. Pat, I’m begging you—Are you obsessed? The letter L is easier, I bet. It is. Would you go with another L or an R?

I’m not talking about this—not for you to print, anyway. Well, talk to me as a friend, then? I’m not just professionally nosy. We’re friends? Who else calls me Pat and gets away with it? You haven’t been Trish in a long time, it’s true … [Sighs] Fuck. Someone can be precious, right? Lovable. You can hold them in your hands and think, “This person matters to me. They’re special. I like to be around them; I like to listen to them; I want their affection.” You can really, genuinely cherish someone.

But? Maybe you find their life to be completely fucking repellent. Unbearable. … Damn.

There’s parallels, though, right? I mean, fame is fame, there’s got to be value in relatability, and—There’s an open mic going on downstairs in the hotel bar right this minute. Let’s take a break, Pat, what do you say? Let’s just go watch some of it. I’ll let you print dick measurements and my deepest, darkest secrets if you say yes. [Laughs] Well, if that’s on the table—

#just gonna toss in a cw #cw drugs #long post #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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sixhours · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday Thursday

Thanks for the tags @two-birds-alone-together @sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused @whocaresstillthelouvre and @evolnoomym!

More from the hospital fic that mayyyybe has a title? But I'm not confident in it yet. I've written over 11k words for this thing and maybe 1k of those words are passable. It's slow-going.

Tagging @bumblepony @chronicallyonlinewriter @ameerawrites @femmefacetious @wordywarriorwrites and anyone else who would like to share!

-------

Marlene's lips curl in a smirk, and Joel's rage is instant and white-hot.

“Where…is she?” he wheezes, throat burning.

“Ellie is fine.”

“Glad…to…hear it,” he grits out. “Now where…is she?”

“She’s resting. Honest to god, Joel, we were about to pack up and leave. It’s a fucking miracle you made it at all. I should have known, though. If anyone could do it…”

“Was all…her,” he says, head swimming and spinning on an ever-changing axis. He needs to stand, needs to get to Ellie, to see for himself that she's not dead or strapped to a table somewhere, but his damn legs won’t cooperate.

“Well, you did the job. There’s a car and a battery waiting–”

“Don’t care…’bout the payment,” he says. “Just…let me see her.”

She considers him, brow furrowed. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

He glares at her, or as much as he can where the room keeps spinning. He’s not sure if he’s looking at her or one of her thugs or the wall by her head. “I want…to see her.”

“Joel–”

“I’m not…leavin’ her, Marlene.”

“You really think that’s in her best interest?” she says cooly. “That you’re in her best interest?”

No, he thinks dully, but that didn't stop him from growing desperately, hopelessly attached. The simpering lilt in Marlene's voice spurs him on, gives him strength. He finds his feet and lurches toward her.

“Take me to her. Now.”

“Joel–”

“No, you take me to her right now!”

The butt of the gun hits him in the gut before he can take another step and the breath leaves his lungs in one pitiful whoosh. He goes down hard on his hands and knees, gasping. One of the men hulks over him, no doubt poised to strike again.

“Enough,” Marlene says softly, no urgency in her tone, no real threat. Her voice remains flat. “Joel–”

“Take…me…to her,” he croaks, eyes watering. “So help…me god, Marlene, I’ll…I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of–”

She sighs and kneels to get in his face.

“Down, boy,” she quips. “Look, I need you to take a fucking breath. We just got her calmed down. I don’t want to have to sedate her because you can't keep your shit together.”

He snarls. “Maybe if you hadn’t fuckin’ attacked–”

“That wasn’t the intention–”

“Like hell it wasn’t,” he spits.

She takes a deep breath, huffs out her nose, and stands, offering her hand. He sneers but the room is tilting and his gut aches something fierce and he needs to get up off the floor. He needs to get to Ellie. He can feel Marlene's blunt nails digging into his wrist when she helps him up.

“I would’ve thought you’d know better,” she says archly. "Falling for the cargo."

“Fuck you,” he spits. “You're the one who sent a fuckin’ child across the country like a piece of freight.”

“Yeah, I did. And she made it, thanks to you.”

“Take me to her,” he repeats, fairly vibrating with anger. He doesn't have a plan if she doesn't comply, and doesn't have much hope that she will. He only knows he will bludgeon and bloody every single person standing between him and that little girl before he'll let them be separated again.

#the last of us fanfiction #wip wednesday #tlou fanfiction #joel and ellie

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bonezone44 · 1 year ago

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Muddy Waters, pt 3. (18+)

'Lateralus'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You and Joel spend an evening together. It's romantic. And awkward. The next morning, you and Ezra have 'quality time.' It's filthy.

Word Count: 8,8k

part 1, part 2 ----- part 4

tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.

This Chapter: Pet names: baby, darlin, 'shy girl'. Oral (f receiving), fingering, objectification (maybe?), rough/painful P in V, bicurious!Ezra, dirty talk re: anal, threesome, double penetration, math, activities involving a hairbrush, cuckolding.

Warnings: Country music, slow dancing, romance.

Author's Note: I feel like I'm fresh from the trenches. My body hurts from sitting at the computer and ruminating! I suffer for my art!

----

That night, once Joel had finally peeled himself off of you, you got up from the kitchen table and started talking to him like nothing had happened. He tried to grab a rag to help clean you up, but you waved him off and grabbed it yourself. You washed the glasses and put away the liquor. You even made sure the table was in its right spot and the chairs were back underneath it. You made it look as if you had never been there to begin with. No remnants of you at all.

Something about it made him feel used.

Then Ellie walked back in the house.

And you looked just as shocked as he did.

“Joel!” Ellie whined.

You were able to compose yourself faster than he was, hands held carefully in front of the cum stains on your clothes.

“Jesse?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ugh!” Ellie groaned and stomped. “Is it that obvious?”

You offered a sympathetic smile.

“Joel. Jesse is ruining me and Dina’s house plans!”

Joel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you. Utterly befuddled.

“I’ll let you handle this,” you whispered. You waved good-bye the same way you did after your first visit. All nice and friendly-like as you stepped out the front door.

What the hell?

Now he was really confused by you.

“Joel! Are you listening?” Ellie waved her hand in his face.

“What?”

“Dina showed Jesse our house plans and now he wants to make ALL these changes and they’re bullshit, okay?”

“Wait, what houseplans?” Joel tried to orient himself.

“You said I have to follow your rules as long as I’m under your roof.”

“Okay?”

“So we’re gonna build us a new roof!” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And put a house underneath it! But look!” She slammed a piece of paper down on the table. Right where you had been sitting only minutes before.

Joel’s stomach turned.

“Look at the bathroom!” She pointed to the drawing, pencil lines drawn and erased several times. “Anytime I tell Jesse anything, he has to do the opposite. He wants to put the toilet and the shower and the sink on all different walls—”

“Well, Ellie,” Joel cleared his throat, trying to focus himself. “Y-you really wanna have all your water in a line on one wall–”

“That’s what I told him!”

Joel looked one last time out the front door, but you were long gone.

There was no way–absolutely–no–way that you knew that Ellie would come back home instead of staying at Dina’s overnight like she had said she would. And yet you got up and cleaned the place as if you did.

Joel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the burning it made him feel in his chest, like a fresh wound stinging in the open air.

And, once more, you got away without him learning where you lived.

And now he really couldn’t ask someone in town. They would know there was something between the two of you for sure. It would be written in red all over his face. And he wasn’t ready for that.

He would have to wait again. Wait until the two of you happened to cross paths in town or by the stables. Or, if Lady Luck was favoring him, you would walk by his house, and he could invite you in again.

Joel didn’t like waiting. Especially when he had already had a taste of what he wanted. Not even a real taste at that. His hands never crept under your shit. His mouth never went lower than your neck. He didn’t see your bellybutton–your pants were pulled up too high. He can’t remember if he even held your hands.

It was like getting the scent of coffee wafting by and not being able to take a sip. He couldn’t find where the goddamn coffeepot lived, for Christ’s sake.

But at least you were out and about again. That was something to look forward to–aching every day for the sight of your smiling face, walking in the sunshine, and knowing you were aching for him right back.

‘Poor Ezra,’ Joel thought. ‘That man’s not gonna know what hit him.’

+++++

The next time you visited Joel, it was Friday night after dinner. He had found you in town to invite you–said something about Ellie staying out ‘for real this time.’ And before you parted ways, you made sure to tease him for ‘looking for you.’

But once you got home to get ready, you became an anxious mess.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ezra,” you said as you stood naked in your shared bedroom, digging through your clothes dresser. “Is-is this okay? I mean, am I being selfish?”

“Selfish?” Ezra smirked with furrowed brows. “You think anyone else in this town wants to fuck that old man?”

“Ezra!” You turned to him with a gasp and slapped him hard on the arm. You couldn’t fight back your smile.

He chuckled. “I would like to point out that you did not answer the question.” He raised his brows, lines drawn on his forehead. “And it is certainly a fair one. Shit, baby.” He placed his hand on his chest with his fingers splayed. “The way I see it–” His eyes were wide and serious. “--You’re doing this town a favor. You fuckin him is a goddamn public service. Maybe while you’re over there you can pull that giant stick out of his ass.”

“Ezra.” You groaned. “You’re not helpin me.”

“Well,” he held his palm out. “I am supplyin you with my perspective of the matter. I suppose it is up to you, then, to determine how you feel about the whole situation.”

Part of you wished that Ezra could read your mind and figure it all out for you, but he clearly wasn’t even gonna try. You sighed. “... I want it, you know?” You stared down at the top of your dresser, covered in clothes and books. “But I don’t understand why. I don’t–I mean–shouldn’t–” you huffed and faced Ezra. “Should you be enough? Why do I want this?”

“You are an evolved woman.” He held your hands within his own and looked into your eyes. “And you are precious to me. And if you believe that this will make you happy, then why are you worried about whether it is something you should or should not do?”

You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose. “I just… I need it to make sense.”

Ezra stood from the bed. He released your hands and slid his fingers up your arms, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You opened your eyes again when he cradled your cheeks. “Not everything is going to fit into a pretty little box for you to define and decipher. Embrace the random,” he said with a grin. “Ride the spiral to the end.”

You fought back a smile. “It may just go where no one’s been.”

“That’s right, baby,” he muttered and kissed you softly on your lips. “Now c’mon. You need to get dressed.” He smacked your bare hip with the flat of his hand, causing you to yelp.

How was Ezra so sweet and so perfect to you? You rested your forehead in your palm, smiling and shaking your head. “I-I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wear the blue number,” Ezra suggested with a wink. He was sitting on the bed again with his left ankle crossed on his right knee. His right knee jumped up and down.

Your lips curled in. The blue number–named affectionately by Ezra himself. It was a bra and panties from two completely different lingerie sets whose shades of blue vaguely matched. They weren’t even the same material. The panties were a simple cotton and the bra was a dull satin–the wire long gone. He enjoyed it, though. Not that it ever stayed on for long.

“No,” you shook your head resolutely. “That’s for you. I don’t wanna wear it for him.”

Ezra leaned back on his elbows with a thoughtful look. “Well, then wear whatever makes you comfortable, baby.”

Now that was the right idea. Comfort. That’s what you really needed.

You didn’t want to spend the whole evening tugging on your clothes and worrying about your appearance. You wanted to focus on Joel. Focus on yourself. Focus on whatever the hell was bringing you two together.

Turned out, Joel had dressed up for you. Your chest warmed when he opened his front door. His hair was brushed neat and his beard was freshly trimmed. You swore he even ironed his button-up shirt; deep clay red with tortoise shell-looking buttons.

“You look amazing,” you blurted out after your quiet hello’s.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“I feel so underdressed,” you said quickly, watching him close the door behind you. “I was so nervous about someone seein me walk over here all dolled up so I just put this on. I hope that’s okay.” You wore your favorite long sleeve shirt and jeans. The comfort of it wasn’t make you feel as confident as you had hoped. Not with Joel looking sharp and smelling crisp with cologne.

He walked to your front, placed both hands on your lower back, and gently pulled you close. “I think you look beautiful,” he spoke softly.

You wanted to wave him off, part of you unconvinced, but he leaned forward a little more and pressed his lips into yours. There was no tug or pull, no beginning or end. It was light and playful the way your mouths met. His facial hair tickling your skin.

It made your cheeks burn. Your hands slid up his arms, resting on his broad shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was smooth and felt almost new.

He stepped backwards and you stepped with him–his hands guiding you further into the living room, lit warmly by table lamps. Excitement was already heating you within. The house was quiet and still.

“So, no Ellie tonight?” you asked.

“Some kinda campin trip for the older kids.” He huffed and shook his head. “I can’t figure why they wanna sleep outside.”

You grimaced. “Campin stopped bein fun a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.” He leaned forward for another kiss. As light and teasing as the one before. It felt good. Comfortable. You were a little embarrassed, though, by how quickly he could turn you on and how easily you let him pull you in. Ezra had to do the work, sometimes, to get you to relax.

“What did you uhh… have planned for us?” you asked in an attempt to slow things down a bit.

He nosed your cheek. “We can do whatever you want, darlin.”

You scoffed with a smile. “You invited me over.” Your hands slid down to his arms and squeezed. They were warm and firm beneath your fingers. “I’m not here to just fool around.”

He stood tall, his hands rising to your waist, thumbs sliding back and forth. “You’re not?” he smirked.

You laughed. “I am your guest, Joel.” You smirked right back. “Entertain me.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a sparkle in his eye. “Alright.” He let you go and walked over to the corner of the room, fiddling with something on the end table while you fiddled with your too-casual outfit.

Shit, you felt silly. You felt out of place and out of time. He looked beautiful over there with his shirt tucked into his dark denim. Long fingers messing around with an old stereo. He looked mature. Sturdy. Put together. In fact, his whole house was nice and clean and organized. Nothing appearing out of place. His presence felt like a towering mountain and you–you felt like a street puddle in comparison.

Soft country music began pouring from the speakers, only a little warped. You didn’t recognize the singer’s baritone voice, but you were never much for country music anyway (It wasn't angry enough for your taste).

“It’s not the best, but it’ll do,” Joel said as he returned to you. “Alright.” One hand circled your waist while the other grasped your hand and raised it in the air. It made your stomach sink. You knew what was coming. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Your eyes went wide. Your free hand clenched his bicep. “I-I don’t know how to dance.”

“What?” he huffed, amused and confused. “Everybody knows how to dance.” He shrugged. “It’s easy.”

“I’ve never… danced,” you said, feeling like sweat was about to start dripping down the side of your forehead.

His brows furrowed with a smirk. “You never went to a school dance even?” He shook his head. “Homecoming? Prom?”

“Not really.” You squirmed. “I’d go with friends, but I wasn’t the type to really dance. I never dated anybody to-to-to dance with.”

“Really?” He grinned wide with surprise. “You’re too pretty to not been asked.” He raised his chin. “Were you one of those shy girls or something?” Clearly implying that he was not one of the shy ones in school.

You had to look away, suddenly feeling even smaller than a street puddle–you felt like a bead of condensation falling off the corner of a window unit mid-summer.

“I wasn’t that shy,” you mumbled in defense of your younger self. “Boys just wanted sex in high school and I was not about to have sex with any of them.”

“Yeah, we were trouble, weren’t we?”

“Y’all were awful.” You forced a smile, though you felt anything but happy about those years. “I was terrified.”

He laughed. “Alright, shy girl.”

You shrank even smaller.

He bit his lip. “Lemme show you how to dance.” He pointed with his chin. “Put that hand on my shoulder.”

You brought the uncertain hand that had been resting on his bicep back up to his shoulder. Your thumb toyed with the collar of his shirt as you held your breath in your chest. You prayed he didn’t enjoy this ‘shy girl’ thing too much. You weren’t exactly here to relive your teenage years.

Though you two did get off last time like teenagers.

And boy, if you knew then what you knew now–

He took a tentative step forward and you fumbled.

Your face went cold. Your body froze.

“Just relax.” He spoke gently. His smile, soft and kind. “We were dancin when you came in.” He brought his lips to your neck. “Just move with me, darlin,” he whispered beneath your ear. “I gotchu.”

You swallowed. His mouth felt so good and his smoky voice washed away all the anxious thoughts that were icing up your mind. You could finally feel his hand, too, the one holding yours. It was both soft and calloused, strong and tender. His sturdiness comforted all the frightened little nerve endings that had spread throughout your limbs. He was a mountain–grounding you and giving you a stable surface to stand upon.

Maybe you weren’t condensation.

Maybe you weren’t a street puddle, either.

Your bodies came together once more and he swayed you both from side-to-side, meandering to a song of love and longing. Your footsteps creaked along the wooden floors, but you felt like you were floating.

He pulled his head back as you two glided. “Ezra never dance with you?”

“Ha!” You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’d find the whole concept ridiculous.”

“Damn shame,” he said with a smirk, bringing your bodies even closer. “You got a good way of movin.”

His compliment gave you butterflies. Though you weren’t really doing much of the moving–you were just following him.

But maybe that was what he liked about it.

Maybe he wanted someone flowing along with him, wherever he guided. Like a stream running down and around the crevices of his stony surface, following along whatever path he carved out.

“Did you dance with a lot of girls in high school?” you asked. “You seem to know what you’re doing pretty well.”

“Yeeaah, I dance with a few.” He nodded. “Danced a lot more after high school, though. Used to go to this bar back in Texas called Howler’s.” His mouth widened to a grin. “My friends and I would go on Saturday nights. Get all dressed up to meet women.” His brows went high into his forehead. “Women. Not girls. Women,” he clarified with a laugh. “We somehow got it in our heads that we were too mature for the girls our own age and we belonged with real, sophisticated ladies.” He started shaking his head with a flustered smile, cheeks turning red. “They taught us a thing or two, I tell ya. Laid us out flat.”

You laughed. “I… I honestly can’t even picture that.”

“Oh yeah,” he assured you. “They were havin none of us, I can tell you that much.” He smirked. “It was fine with me, though.” He shrugged. “Got real good at dancin and got real good at women.”

You wished you could see a photo of young Joel Miller. Wished you could see him trying to hit on older women at bars and get turned down or laughed off. What a riot it must have been.

It ached, though. You never got to have that experience. You were only eighteen when everything happened. You had just started taking classes at a community college and feeling like you were in thirteenth grade. You hadn’t even been to a club, yet, let alone a bar. You were in a new town with a new home, new job, surrounded by new people. All alone–

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You quickly wiped the tear from your eye, only recognizing it when Joel spoke up. “I just… I like this.” Because you did. “I like gettin to dance.” It was healing something in you that you had forgotten even hurt.

“‘M happy I get to share it with you.”

It was hypnotizing the way he was looking at you. His smile was steady as he searched your face, moving you around without looking where he was going. There was so much affection in his sweet brown eyes. You had to close your own to stop your cheeks from burning and instead, chose to rest your head on his chest. He was so warm. So tender. And you were so present that you could hear his heart beating over the music.

As Joel continued to lead you around the furniture in the living room and kitchen, you suddenly thought of the other night, when you were grinding against him and he countered your rhythm so perfectly. The carnality of the memory brought your stomach to the floor and fire to your cheeks. You opened your eyes, wanting to kiss him again. Wanting to feel the poke and scratch of his mustache.

And there was Joel, still staring right back down at you with stars in his eyes. You couldn’t help but lean forward and press your lips into his–finding a way to dance and kiss and melt all at once. The kiss was slow. Languid. Dragging on and on without breaking.

And then Joel stopped dancing–stopped following the flow of the music.

The abrupt change of momentum set your heart racing, running laps in your chest. You wanted to keep dancing, keep moving, but you didn’t know how to express it with your lips tangled as they were.

You felt his broad hands slide up and down your back and it made your breaths grow shallow. You tried to push past it and adapt to the new direction. You didn’t realize how much you had been focusing on the music. The movement of your mouths felt so disparate to the tune coming out the speakers.

You heard a weighty thud and realized Joel had backed into the wall. He pulled you into the space between his legs, his growing hardness pressing against you. Part of you wanted to pull back.

One of his hands tugged your shirt by the hem before slipping beneath.

As soon as his warm fingers touched your flesh, you gasped.

Your body flinched and your hand came down and clutched his wrist.

“Shit.” You bit your lip. “I-I’m sorry.” You weren’t though. You were grateful that your body spoke up when you didn’t know how to. Your eyes squeezed shut. You took a breath and let go of his hand.

He rested it lightly on your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so embarrassed.” You gave him the most apologetic look you could muster. “I-I don’t think I can do anything tonight.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “We don’t have to.” He stood tall, separating your bodies. The hand on your hip dropped away while his other found rest on your shoulder. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just–” you briefly closed your eyes again and sighed. “I suddenly feel like a–like a scared teenager.”

A sheepish smile bloomed on his face and you weren’t sure why. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wandering the room. “Let’s go sit down,” he said and pointed to the couch with his chin.

Fuck, you felt awkward–loud footsteps bringing you back to Earth after a brief stroll through the heavens. This whole thing was going very differently than last time and very differently than all the scenarios you had been imagining all week in your head with your hand between your legs. You wondered if this was even going to work or if your previous visit had just been fueled by too much alcohol in your systems.

Shit.

It felt so weird and confusing to be alive sometimes.

You sat on the couch feeling so much colder than you had only moments before. Like a bucket of water had been poured over you–wet clothes clinging to your skin.

Joel turned the music down low before joining you on the couch, the cushions sinking deep to the weight of his body. “I haven’t done my due diligence,” he said as he angled himself toward you.

“What do you mean?” You turned to him as well. You were close enough to each other that your knees could touch if you wanted.

He reached forward and grabbed one of your hands, holding it and grazing the top of it with his thumb. It was nice. Sweet, even.

He looked into your eyes, working his jaw, words on the edge of his lips. A smile flashed on his face–arriving and disappearing in seconds. He looked down and sighed.

The anticipation only made you more curious. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly something difficult. You always considered yourself easy for others to talk to–you tried your best to be open and accepting. It was why you were so good at visiting people.

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I noticed you for a long time.”

You blinked. “...what?” you whispered, shocked. Some unknown emotion started twisting itself in your throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he said so matter-of-factly. So clean cut and dry. “And you always look so happy, but I–” He released a hot breath from his nostrils. “--But I never had a reason to talk to you.”

“Joel…” You had no idea. Not a clue. His words caressed your heart.

He gave a playful smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Then you noticed my shutters.”

A laugh burst from your chest and your free hand flew to your mouth, trying to quiet down. “I was pissed,” you said, grinning beneath your fingers. “I see everything that goes on in this little town but I never saw you workin on those things.”

“‘M glad for it.” He chuckled. “I am.” He looked down at his hand holding yours. “And you got me feelin like a teenager, too.” He smirked up at you. “Got me movin fast and makin assumptions. Thinkin I know everything.”

It felt good to hear him say it. It felt good to hear him admit to something. But he wasn’t the only one moving fast.

“You know, you were right the other night about…” You steadied yourself through your stuttered words, unable to look at him as you spoke. “About you callin for me and I just came runnin.” You stared at the woven threads of cotton spanning your knee. “People tug on me everyday.” Your free hand moved to your stomach. “I can feel them wantin my help or wantin my attention. It’s like they got a lasso around my waist and I gotta dig my heels in to-to-to make ‘em leave me alone. But with you–” You threw your hand up and met his eyes. “When you tugged on me, I didn’t question whether I should or shouldn’t.” You shrugged, but that unknown emotion was snaking around your throat again. “I-I came runnin like it was nothin.” You shook your head, eyes back to your knee. “I don’t know what that means–”

“I don’t think it means anythin bad,” Joel said with a laugh.

“Yeah,” you smiled and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

What was that from before? If you knew then what you knew now–and now, there was nothing in your gut telling you to stay away. Not yet had Joel given you any kind of warning sign that he had any particularly nefarious intentions.

Your body wasn’t so cold anymore. The music no longer felt so disparate. You felt comfortable with Joel again. You felt at ease. You felt tired, too. The excitement. The dancing. The talking. It wore you out. You had had a long day on top of it all.

“I don’t wanna leave, yet.” Because you didn’t. “Can I stay over?” You placed your hand on top of his. “Just to sleep,” you clarified with a wide grin.

“Of course.” He mirrored your expression. “I want whatever you want.”

That phrase he kept saying… He was giving you something with it, but you weren’t sure what exactly. He couldn’t possibly want what you wanted when you didn’t know what you wanted. You tried not to think about it too much.

You made it to bed about an hour later, after more conversation. You were content to sleep in your own shirt. Joel stared at you from the other side of the bed as you undid your jeans and slid them down your legs. His expression made you laugh.

“Sorry. I’m not sleepin in these,” you said as you stepped out of them.

“That’s fine,” he muttered and looked away–fingers scratching the back of his neck. He wore a plain white t-shirt and navy blue sleep pants.

If you were at home, you would have left your jeans in a little ring on the floor, but Joel’s house was too clean. You picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the dresser next to the bed. You hated to do it, but you kept your bra on, knowing your back would ache in the morning. It felt too exposing. Even under your shirt.

Climbing into bed with him had your body warming up all over again. But it had your heart racing, too, just like before. It felt so strange to share a bed with someone other than Ezra. You hadn’t even shared a room with anyone else since you two first arrived in Jackson a couple years previous.

“I’ll stick to my side of the bed,” said Joel as he got situated under the covers.

You laughed. “Thank you, Joel.” You reached over from under the blanket and grabbed his hand. You pulled it close and kissed his knuckles. “Good night.”

He rolled toward you–watching and making sure you weren’t gonna pull away. He placed his palm on your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. “Good night,” he said into your lips. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back, showing you the grin on his face.

He turned away to face the window and–-there was that mountain again. His broad shoulders high above the low dip of his waist. You felt like gravity was pulling you in, bringing your body closer to his. You slid your hand along his ribs, fingers splayed to hold him.

“Is this alright?” you asked with your neck tilting your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “It’s alright.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you tighter.

You kissed the back of his neck and nuzzled into him before falling asleep.

+++++++

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel.

Not one bit.

Not even a little.

Okay, well, maybe a little.

But only in the way that kept him on his toes–kept him from taking advantage of the partnership you two shared.

You were right to say that Ezra didn’t keep you on a leash. You were your own woman. Always had been. Always would be.

Ezra was just along for the ride–doing everything he could to love you and see you happy. He made sure to protect you and take care of you.

Because not only did you understand him–you indulged him. You let him indulge in you. You let him express parts of himself he hadn’t known existed until you came along and found a way to reel it right on out of him.

He couldn’t remember how it started between the two of you all those years ago. Just that it did. It was while you and Ezra were still working alongside his cousins.

Seemingly outta nowhere, you two had slowly gravitated towards one another on a level deeper than survival and then—SMACK! You were like two magnets clacking together; lips, hands, groins, in constant contact. And then there were times when you would be so repelled from each other it was like one of you went flying off into the sky, getting lost in the clouds, til the inevitable pull of gravity brought you right back down again.

You two had good times and bad, but Jackson was good. Very good. And he was keen to let the good times keep rolling.

It just so happened that Joel Miller became a part of these good times.

Now…

Ezra was a man.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to want another man making love to his woman. It was insulting to his physical prowess. Humiliating to his ego. Downright derogatory to his dignity.

Which made the situation all the more appealing to him–being as contrary a person as he was.

Ezra was overwhelmed by the thought of Joel fucking you. Couldn’t stop fantasizing. Couldn’t stop touching himself. There was no need to savor the orgasms, either. Ezra was rubbing them out, one right after the other as he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, muttering to himself. He didn’t feel like some aging man hitting 40 anymore, with libido and desire in decline. He felt like some pubescent kid who newly discovered what his dick was for and was aching to get some practice in.

Ezra loved you. Loved you more than his extensive vocabulary could possibly define. And the thought of someone else loving you? Doing things to you that had hadn’t and maybe in ways that he couldn’t?

And the fact that it was Joel Miller of all people? Ol’ Gruff ‘n’ Tuff with the stick up his ass?

Sheeeeiit.

(For how explicit Ezra could be with his thoughts and feelings, there was a certain piece of all this that had him speechless. A forgotten memory had been unearthed. An old fantasy. An unrealized dream from decades ago that Ezra had put out of his mind for reasons he could not yet approach for fear of rapture. It came to him in flashes and dick twitches. It set his mouth watering and his heart racing. It had him sweaty and confused. It was the thought, the idea, the implication of himself being sexual with another man.)

Ezra had been aching for you to come home–had been aching for you all night, in fact, while he was out on patrol. He had been uncharacteristically quiet with his patrol partner as they circled their way around the outskirts of Jackson. He was too busy wondering what Joel might be doing to you and how he was doing it and what kind of noises that old man might make and how loud he would be when he made them.

It didn’t matter how many times he had just jerked off in the shower, he was ready and eager for more–his leg bouncing impatiently while he sat on the bed.

He sighed in relief when you met him in the bedroom. He rubbed his palms on his pajama-clad thighs.

“There’s my little slut,” he said with a sly grin.

You laughed and waved him off. “I am not dealing with you right now.” You walked over to the dresser and started taking off your clothes.

“Why not?” He asked, all offended.

“Because nothing happened!”

“What?”

“Nothing happened.” You repeated. “We didn’t have sex.” You laughed again. “He didn’t even get to second base.”

“Not even second base?” Ezra was aching and pained. “Baby.” He gave you a compassionate look. “Could he not… perform?”

“Ezra!” you shouted. You picked up one of your notebooks from the top of your dresser and threw it directly at his face.

He caught it. “It was an honest question,” he mumbled and tossed the book on the bedside table.

You took your time to explain it all and Ezra did his best to understand.

He thought it was the sweetest thing in the world that Joel danced with you. He had no idea you were a dancing kind of woman. He tried to picture himself dancing with you and–no. It was wrong. All wrong. Ezra just wasn’t a dancing kind of man.

Maybe dancing was for you and Joel.

Like the ‘blue number’ was for you and him.

He liked that. He could work with it.

All you had changed into was a loose t-shirt and a pair of underwear before lying down next to him on the bed. You clearly had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. So he decided to feel you out. Poke at you a little bit to see how you responded.

He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. “I think you’re beautiful, too, you know.” He grazed your arm with his finger.

“I know, Ezra.” You smiled and turned your head away.

“It is unfortunate that your body reacted the way that it did.” He caressed your cheek with the scarred-up knuckle of his right index finger. “Your love is the most precious experience there is.”

“Stop.” Your embarrassed grin grew wider as you squirmed and turned away again.

Ezra crawled over you and you made space for him between your legs. “It’s been a while.”

You covered your face with your hand. “I know–” You looked up at Ezra with urgency. “--and it has nothing to do with Joel, okay?”

Ezra’s cheeks warmed and he felt a lightness grow in his chest. “I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know.” It soothed him to hear you say it aloud. He mouthed at your breast through your shirt with his eyes up.

Your worry disappeared–replaced with a soft smile as you looked at him affectionately. You wove your fingers through his hair.

He palmed your breast and found your nipple. He sucked on it through the fabric, increasing the intensity over time. Harder and harder.

Your breath hitched and your mouth opened.

The hand around your breast tightened as he pulled his mouth away.

You released the tiniest whimper.

“Lemme play with you, baby,” he said with his chin tucked in and his eyes wide and serious.

Your expression changed once his suggestion registered. Your jaw went slack. Your breaths shortened.

You swallowed.

He waited.

“Okay,” you whispered and started to nod before stopping yourself. “Wait. But… but…”

“But? But?” He mocked you. He already knew your answer. He knew whatever excuse you had wasn’t worth a damn. He knew you were already getting wet for him. “But what, baby?” he smirked.

“I should shower first,” you whispered.

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Baby. Have you met me?” He shook his head at you, bewildered by your protest. “If that’s your best appeal, then we shall proceed.” He scooted down the bed and tugged your underwear roughly down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

He tapped your knee with an amused sigh. “Alright, show me what’s good.” He said it with his eyes locked tight on your lower half, mouth watering like some cartoon wolf about to eat a Thanksgiving feast.

With slow breaths, you slowly pulled your knees up and lifted your feet into the air. You grabbed the backs of your thighs and spread them apart. Exposing yourself.

Ezra moaned. “Been far too long,” he muttered to himself. He licked one strong stripe up your seam, causing you to twitch. “Baby,” he began with nothing but endearment in his eyes. “You are like sour candy the way you make my mouth water.”

You threw your head back against the pillows in an attempt to hide the burning shame on your face.

He wasted no time in spreading your pussy part with both of his hands. He applied pressure with his forearms on your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. You yelped and cursed when dove straight into your clit, laving it with languid strokes and teasing it with the tip of his wet tongue.

“I am a disgrace to every man on this planet, baby, and I apologize sincerely for that.” When he pulled away to speak, he’d reach out with one of his long fingers to toy with your bud, watching it puff and swell. “No time like the present, I suppose,” he murmured against your lips, rubbing his mouth up and down your spread folds, tickling you with unkempt facial hair. He gave it a chaste little kiss. “I should be eating this pussy every day.” He looked up at you tenderly. “Lord knows you deserve it.”

He slipped his finger inside of you to collect your wetness. His eyes glittered as you gasped from the sudden intrusion. He pulled it back out and swirled the tip around your entrance. “Fuckin’ ambrosial.”

Next, he used his tongue and finger at the same time. He lapped and sucked at your clit, lazily moving his finger in and out of you.

“C’mon, Ezra. I need more!”

He pulled back, pulled his finger out, and slapped you hard on the meat of your hip. He pointed at you–with the same fucking finger that was just inside you. It was shining in the dull light of the room along with everything surrounding his mouth. “You take what I give you and you fuckin like it.” His words rolled out of him low and heavy.

This was the only time Ezra was allowed to speak to you like that–all angry and mean. It was rare for him to speak to anyone like that since living in Jackson. He knew how much you loved it–how much you loved this fun, chatty man turning cruel and denying you.

“Here I am, providin you a fuckin service,” he muttered to himself. You had become someone in the background, again. His mind focused solely on your pussy. Like it was a mystery of the universe he was so close to solving if he could just fiddle with it the right way. He licked into you with the flat of his tongue and moved his head up and down. He tried to keep at least one forearm on your thigh, his fingers spread across your folds as he splayed you apart. “Fuck, I missed this,” he spoke into the hair on your mound before giving it a loving kiss.

“Me, too,” you sighed.

Ezra grinned. “I haven’t fucked your asshole in a while, either.” He felt sweet victory when you moaned. “That was the one good thing about Memphis, huh? That big jar of Vaseline.”

“Uh-huh,” you answered.

“Yeah?” His fingertip found your entrance once more. “You liked that, huh?” He spread your slick around your lips.

You moaned out a ‘yes’ and rolled your ankles.

He stared between your legs at your wet cunt, at the spit and moisture that leaked down to your other hole. “You took that hurt so good, baby. So fuckin good.”

“Mhmm.”

“Strongest woman alive.” He slid the broad side of his index finger up and down your folds, lost in a distant memory. “Remember that hairbrush?” he smirked.

“Ezra.” You whined and adjusted the grip you had on your legs.

“It’s just me and you, baby. There is no reason to feel any sense of shame.” His finger dipped inside you, all the way. “Nothing wrong with using what you have on hand.” He wiggled it around, teasing you without any significant stretch or pressure. “Or are you worried about Joel uncovering your avaricious and sordid history?”

Your eyes and brows were squeezed tight. You huffed. “Ez.”

“What?” he pulled his finger back out, all wet and glistening before sliding it around your folds again. “He seems like the kinda man to appreciate our ingenuity, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect an answer. His mind already somewhere new. “How big did you say his dick was?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” you spoke between frustrated breaths.

Ezra grunted in disappointment. “I was trying to visualize my fat cock stuffing your ass full and him in your tight little cunt instead of that hairbrush.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned and started rolling your hips.

Ezra’s tongue was back on you, digging deep into your entrance.

You were crying out his name and whimpering.

“C’mon, baby,” Ezra said low with his mouth still buried close. “Gimme one.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You were shaking your head and writhing. “I need more.”

He burst into cruel laughter. “No, you don’t.” He leaned back and replaced his tongue with his finger. “I've seen you get off with less than this.” He shook his hand side-to-side, finger sliding back and forth across your wet clit at a rapid speed. “You want me and Joel to fuck you at the same time, don’t you?

“Mhmm!” you answered through hitched breaths. Your right leg jolted.

“Well, now let’s examine the options, baby. Two men for three different holes.” He grinned. “What’s the math on that, you think?” Your whimpering desperation spurred him on. “It’s called variation.” He raised his brows. His lone finger continued its unforgiving pace across your clit. “And I believe it adds up to six, but that just sounds wrong and limited, don’t it?” He tilted his head to the side. “If I’m in your ass and he fucks your mouth, that’s one. If I’m in your ass and he’s in your cunt, that’s two.”

You started bouncing on the bed, trying to grind yourself into Ezra’s hand.

“Stay still!” he groused and placed both hands on the backs of your thighs.

“Nonononono,” you whined and kicked at him with your feet.

He held you tighter and snarled. “I am trying to work out the specifics of this equation with you and you are not helping my concentration.”

“Fuck, Ezra. Why are you like this?” you cried.

“If you are unhappy, then you are free to leave,” he said.

You whimpered. Sighed. Resigned. “I’ll stay.”

He huffed with a smile. “Fuckin predictable.” He slapped the back of your thighs with both hands. He hummed, fingers squeezing into your skin. “If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fuckin your ass, that’s three. If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fillin your mouth, then that’s four.” He looked up at the ceiling, murmuring to himself. He rocked back and forth, using his palms on your thighs as leverage. “Actually in this situation, it would be six variations for myself as well as six variations for Joel. But if we include using the same hole at the same time, then it would be nine variations per.” He looked at your dazed expression with a grin. “Doesn’t that sound nice?"

“Yes, Ezra. It sounds very nice.”

“I thought so, too.” He collected the growing moisture in his mouth and spit on your entrance, causing your body to shudder. He slipped his finger back inside. “Do you think you could fit two cocks in here, baby?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned.

He shook his head, slowly pulling his pruning finger in and out. “I’m sure with enough lubrication and determination that Joel and I could find a way.” He swallowed, overcome with an image in his mind. “Or maybe I fuck you and make him watch.” He stared at your sopping wet center, finger gently circling its edges. “Make him sit in the corner like a bad little boy and jerk off without gettin to touch you at all.”

You moaned and Ezra grinned.

“Think about it, baby.” His voice grew deeper. “Think about Joel Miller wantin you down to the depths of his soul but I won’t let him touch you.” He grunted, wiggling his finger around inside of you. “I would likely have to cuff his hands together. Otherwise I am sure he would simply pull me out of you and replace my cock with his own inside this wet little hole.” He started grinding his erection against the mattress. “Think about it. Think about the chains of his handcuffs jinglin while he’s jerkin off, wishin he could fuck this tight, chokin pussy.” He curled his finger, finally pressing against the tender spot of your inner wall. He sucked your clit in a strong, steady rhythm–slurping and lapping at your wet flesh.

And there you were, shaking beneath his mouth, breaths short and high in your chest. You groaned deep and loud as if your orgasm had been punched straight from your diaphragm. You reached down with frantic fingers on his head and face to push him away.

“Too much. Too much,” you panted.

“From not enough to too much.” He grinned and relented.

“Holy shit, Ezra.” Your legs fell and you stretched them out, curling your toes. “Oh my god,” you sighed. You shifted your hips around and rolled your shoulders.

Ezra waited for your breaths to become slow and even before he asked, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, my hip almost started cramping,” you answered in a daze. Your whole body appeared limp and sinking into the bed.

“Good.” Ezra stood up and ripped his shirt off over his head. He shucked his pajama pants off, too, before crawling back between your legs. “I’m not stretching you out.” He hovered above you. His hard, wide cock was warm and moist against your thigh. He looked down at you, wide-eyed and serious. “You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna like it.”

You nodded with your eyes barely open. You licked your lips. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna tear you up, alright?”

Your eyelids fell shut. “Yes,” you whispered with your brows furrowed deep.

“You like that, huh? When I tear you up?” Asking these questions and hearing your answers made his whole chest heat up. His cheeks burned and his hips rolled into you–the pressure relieving some of the ache he felt in his cock.

“Yes, Ezra,” you whimpered desperately. “Tear me up.”

He huffed. “Alright.” He guided his cock to your entrance, breaching it only just so. Then with his other hand, he covered your mouth. “Fuckin masochist,” he muttered. He locked eyes with you. His hand muffled your pained groan as he swiftly pierced your tight wet cunt.

“Shit, that’s beautiful, baby.” He didn’t wait for your body to adjust before pistoning in and out of you. He moved his hand from your mouth to the back of your head, holding it in place so he could maintain eye contact as your warm hole swallowed his cock. “This pussy takes it so good for me. So beautifully.”

You nodded and groaned.

He palmed the backs of your thighs and pushed them upward, in the same way he had you positioned before. “Old man doesn’t know what he’s missin,” he laughed as you shouted in pleasure–his cock thrashing against your g-spot. “Maybe you should inform him of the ways I pleasure you. Maybe then he’d have something to fantasize about while fuckin his own hand in the shower.”

You were nodding and groaning, dazed and slack-jawed beneath him. Face twisted in anguished pleasure. His hips snapped harder, deeper and deeper.

“I can’t wait,” he spoke through panting breaths. “I can’t wait for him to fuck you. Want that dirty old man to fuck you so bad.” One hand released your thigh and grabbed your cheeks. He got real close, his lips touched yours as he spoke, as he pistoned in and out of you. “I want you chokin on his cock, baby.”

“Uh huh?” you cried.

“Let him fill up that pretty mouth of yours with his cum.”

“Mhmm! Mhmm!” you nodded. Your voice was breathy and shaken.

“You gotta let me know how it tastes, okay?”

You nodded again. Frantically.

“Yeah?” You’d do that for me, baby?” He let go of your face and leaned back, clenching his teeth. All angry and focused. “You’d let that old man fuck your pretty mouth? Let me taste that cum inside you?”

You whimpered. “Yes! Yes!”

“Fuckin filthy,” he spat, chasing his own high, using your pussy to get him there. He wasn’t worried about you coming again. It was his turn now. “Fuckin filthy.” He repeated, shaking his head.

He wished Joel could see you like this–split wide open on his cock–lost in a warm vortex of pleasure and speaking in tongues.

Ezra continued to snap his hips into you until a warmth tingled through him and a white hot light overtook his vision. He spilled into you with a pained groan. He rolled his hips again and again as your cunt milked him dry–his whole world coming to a quiet standstill.

He fell forward on his palms over you.

Ezra was wide eyed and clear-headed, but a little unstable, as blood pulsed in waves through his body. The whole room seemed to jut out at him–all the shapes and colors suddenly becoming three-dimensional objects. His mind reeled. His face and body stung sharp from those words he said toward the end.

‘Let me taste that cum inside you.’

He replayed those words again and again.

All with a clear vision in the back of his mind of Joel’s cock–well, the way he was imagining it, anyways–making his mouth water and making his dick fire into the heavens.

But you were there beneath him with chewed up lips and glazed eyes and tears running down the sides of your face.

“I love you. I love you.” You said again and again, sniffling and pulling him close with trembling hands. “I love you so fuckin much.”

You.

You made everything so easy. You took Ezra. You took everything he gave you. You weren’t doing it because you were forced to. It wasn’t an obligation. He wasn’t a chore.

You did it because you wanted to. Because you both had an overwhelming desire to hurt and be hurt. To love and be loved.

He pressed his forehead into yours. “I love you, too, baby.” He let you kiss him soft and slow with your tongue. “I love you.” You had no idea how much you made everything okay–how much you allowed him to allow himself to think and experience.

Ezra’s tenderness returned in full force as he cleaned you up and cradled you. He showered you in kisses and caressed your skin.

“My angel,” he said and he meant it. He felt like you were some divine entity sent to Earth to heal him and love him. To save him from a life of plasma-hot anger and pain.

“Born bad,” his daddy would say. Ezra had spent most of his childhood in juvenile detention. He had just gotten out of jail for the first time, in fact, when it all …happened.

And then you came along and told him he was ‘too smart for his own good.’ Though, because you two were arguing at the time, there were a lot more curse words involved in the sentiment. But it had given him so much peace to be recognized as something more. Something other than the ‘stupid fuck-up’ he had been taught his whole life that he was by his daddy and his cousins and the government bodies that had shuffled him around.

There were so many times over the years that you soothed him, altered his perspective, guided his hand toward more cooperative choices.

He worshiped you. He worshiped every inch of your skin and every ounce of your soul.

He loved you so much.

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel Miller.

He only worried about your happiness.

+++++++

tag list: @toxicanonymity @jksprincess10 @walkintotheriveranddisappear @shotgun-shelby @alwaysdjarin @longlongtime2023

Author's Note: I hope that smut at the end was okay. I've overthought it for the past 72 hours. I don't know who's cucking who at this point. 🙏 god bless.

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Part 4

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

#joel miller #ezra prospect #joel miller x f!reader #ezra x reader x joel miller #my writing #muddy waters series

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topazadine · 2 months ago

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🐎Story/WIP Tour Tag⛰️

Thank you @the-golden-comet for the tag! This one looks interesting and I am not sure I can do it justice, but I'll give it a shot. I absolutely loved Captain Hart taking us all around the world!

Our tour guide through Breme and Sina today will be Mordrek Willets, spy with the Sinan Intelligence Services. He doesn't appear until the fourth book in The Eirenic Verses, but you'll get a little sneak peak of him today.

Here, we're looking at his diary entries of the different places he has visted in Sina and Breme, which will be coded with the country color.

Kulniryi

Capital of Sina, home to the Royal Ocean Palace, Queen Alnan College, and of course, Thieves' Quarter, home to yours truly. Major international port, which would likely be the perfect place to launch an attack if the Fuarese Union gets sick of being Sina's vassal state. Kulniryi Harbor is one of the deepest and largest ports in the world - or so Queen Susuma says. Able to accommodate dozens of merchant ships at a time, it's no wonder that vessels from all across the globe come here. At least I can always be assured a beautiful woman to romance at one of the dozens of pubs. Loud, ugly, but perhaps the most beautiful city I've ever seen. So clean, and I must grudgingly admit that the black Royal Ocean Palace looks striking against the pale granite cliffs.

Santal

Suburb of Kulniryi. Most notable for Wet Cat Tavern, run by my good friend Ganbold. He's done me far too many favors over the years. Given that he was able to gracefully exit the Sinan Intelligence Services in a much more ... diplomatic way than me, it's always brimming with good intel. And Ganbold is more than happy to calmly and rationally persuade anyone who may not be behaving correctly to leave. Without any dangerous tactics, of course. Also home to the Haratshi family. I don't really want to talk much more about that.

Heretic's Way

This was the path that the heretical Princess Yiella took out of the future land of Sina with her lover, Seinn Luridalr Breme, who subsequently blocked their exit in quite a fantastical way. Anyway, Heretic's Way is perfect for those seeking a more discreet way to travel around Sina, given that everyone's terrified of the place. Not really sure why. Sinans aren't known for being particularly superstitious, but it seems the entire country has thrown away their brains when it comes to this one little path. Or maybe it's because they keep finding half-eaten bodies scattered willy-nilly about the premises. Briar bears, to be sure. I wouldn't know anything about that. Just secondhand information.

Eavelnen

Utter piece of shit town. Ugly, useless, and the one single pub is filthy. I was pretty sure I caught multiple diseases, but at least the alcohol's strong enough to burn away any parasites that might have got their hooks into me. Can't really say much more than that the air is perfumed with horse manure and body odor. You can smell the place from a mile away.

Traifalnar

What a strange little place - like one of those fairytales they read to children. It's built on a swamp, so there are dozens of little bridges that create a lacey network of streets. The buildings are sunk into the murky soil by heavy timber pylons that are probably rotted half to hell by now, so they're girded by strong wires that hold them all up, leaning against one another and distributing the weight. The townsfolk use these wires to send baskets or messages across the streets when they're too lazy to get out and walk. Its pub, Firefly's Rest, is pretty cute, I must admit. But god, the bugs. No wonder all the townsfolk wear citronella cloaks all year round.

Wieleiss

A forgettable town. It's one of the smaller military outposts but damn, do they take themselves far too seriously. The rolling foothills of the Rimuk Mountains - aftershocks of Breme's Saint Luridalr creating her fantastical barrier - start around here, so the town has a lovely view of the hills if you're staying at the Inn Wieleiss, the tallest building in town. I will admit that their inn is excellent: clean, with a well-stocked bar. The security leaves something to be desired, though. Probably because the soldiers themselves are not of the finest quality this far from Kulniryi. Of course they're taking bribes. The place has almost no industry. They're basically private security at this point.

Yunnoun

Spooky town. Butting right up against the Rimuk Mountains, it's the most fortified outpost in the entire country, always ready at a moment's notice to attack. Most of the populace is connected to the armed forces in some way, whether they're soldiers, military wives, or contractors. Their stables are enormous and maintained with almost neurotic precision. Of course, the Sinan army does not use horses in warfare - most of the soldiers have to go right up the Rimuk Pass to engage - but they are very useful for ferrying supplies, and most soldiers are accomplished in equestrianism anyway, as they may be asked to ferry messages to other outposts. Horseback riding is a good way to keep them from getting lazy, too. There are four entrances, each guarded by multiple soldiers who do not take kindly to those without proper identification. The military headquarters squats in the center of the town, with the barracks stretching out like spiders. Its training grounds is incredibly extensive and can accommodate hundreds of soldiers at a time.

Nyulinsk Defensive Tower

A tower hammered into the Rimuk Mountains, which has always been a sore spot for the Bremish. We stuck a military fortification on their most sacred mountain: Mt. Luridalr, so named after their beloved saint. Of course Queen Kulni did that just to piss them off, and it has worked marvelously for hundreds of years. More than a few soldiers have been picked off the top while trying to perform maintenance, so the poor tower is beat all to hell. There are singe marks from flaming arrows on the interior - it has always fascinated me how well the Bremish archers can get their arrows into those tiny slits. I imagine it has something to do with their precious High Poetry. I have not been inside so cannot speak much about the interior. Queen Susuma doesn't trust me enough, I suppose. As well she should not.

Rimuk Pass

This was supposedly where Saint Luridalr stood while bringing up the mountains: it's almost like an empty doorway in the middle of the enormous range that spans the length of the continent. Well, it used to be an open door. The Bremish have fortified it to hell and back with layers upon layers of brick; I imagine dozens of their soldiers have died attempting to protect their country by building a bigger wall. And, of course, during battles, which take place almost exclusively at the Pass. Our army has installed convenient footholds to climb up the side and drop down into enemy territory. Once they are beyond the Sinan border, most know that they are unlikely to return. Many have defected upon realizing how defenseless they will be on the other side - and how little Queen Susuma cares about getting them back unless they are somehow related to the royal family.

Dropbone Caverns

A strange, curving, and terrifying network of caverns buried under the Rimuk Mountains: impurities in the rock when it was wrenched from deep in the earth. There are at least two rivers that wind through it, having percolated from the very top of the mountains on their way into the groundwater. I can confirm that this long filtration process makes for very hard water. Delicious, though. The Bremish, being superstitious fools, refuse to use the Dropbone Caverns - or any caverns under the Rimuks - as points of attack. They believe that their dead reside in some mythical Cave of All Fallen, where Saint Luridalr waits with them for the end of the world. From there, they believe that their goddess Poesy will rewrite the world and they will reincarnate with their loved ones after a long "dream." Utterly ridiculous notion and very tactically unwise, but the taboo is so strong that the Bremish Army sporadically performs sweeps through a small section to ensure that none of their people have set up camp there. Being as they only check perhaps once or twice a year, and daren't traverse very far, most of the caverns remain unmapped. There are deep ravines that can easily become one's tomb if they aren't careful.

Vieleste

Beautiful Vieleste is a military outpost close to the Bremish entrance of the Dropbone Caverns. It is also home to the Vieleste Meronym, one of the High Poet Society's religious centers. An easy rule of thumb is that if there is a meronym, there is likely a military presence as well. The High Poets and the Bremish Army are closely entangled, given that the poets help enchant weapons for the military's use. I have never heard of anywhere in Breme where there is not at least the tiniest military outpost near an official meronym, though the High Poets have retreats throughout the country where their members can work in privacy. Anyway, Vieleste is a unique place in that some of the buildings have been erected atop the ruins of older homes that were crushed by boulders triggered by the Sinans. To think that they live atop the graves of their ancestors ... very disturbing, to be honest. I have been told this is because they believe though the boulders were sent from malice, they are hewed from the Rimuk Mountains, and thus they are sacred.

Gold Cascade

Oh, how can one even speak of the Gold Cascade without breaking down in tears at its beauty? It is born from a lake at the top of one of the Rimuk Mountains, which few have ever seen. The Bremish refuse to climb the mountains, and the Sinans rarely go for pleasure. I find myself deeply curious about what it may look like up there, at the top of the world .... This thunderous waterfall is so named because at sundrop, it is lit up in glorious golden hues, making it seem a stream of citrine pouring down the mountain. Some also believe that Saint Luridalr herself hid a treasure trove at its base, but I doubt it. She did not seem the avaricious type from what I have been told. At certain times, the Gold Cascade is wreathed in rainbows, while it steams during the summer. A unique ecosystem has grown up around it, including hardy fish and beautiful ferns. However, its strength has carved out underclings through the rock that surrounds it, creating vortices that could easily drown anyone who attempts to swim there. There are a number of superstitions about damned souls, and some believe that the Cave of All Fallen begins at its base.

Miskinint Lake

Technically a sinkhole, but I'm not about to argue with the Bremish about this. It is fed from the Gold Cascade further upstream, which then turns into the Great Gold River that nourishes most of the populace until it peters out into smaller rivers around the Windswept. I have been told this is a popular swimming hole and diving spot because of its steep cliffs and great width. There are specialized species that live here, including the Miskinint crayfish. Absolutely delicious with sheep's butter.

Caichaille

A very small, isolated town near the Rimuk Mountains, upways from Vieleste and its ilk. Perhaps 100 people live here, though it may be less. There is a cave entrance close by that has been firmly closed with a large iron door, and only the High Poets are allowed inside this cave to provide alms to the dead. The town itself is ringed with a defensive boulder wall, but there is a poet's retreats on its outskirts. A really ugly one, to be honest. It looks like someone just threw together a bunch of boulders and called it a day. I imagine it was probably a young High Poet forced to do this to prove her power.

Vercingetorix

Previously named Paulemaule, its current name is in honor of one of Breme's five saints, whose claim to fame was learning how to poison arrows and kill scores of Sinans through some incurable disease. Saint Vercingetorix was eventually caught and tortured by Sinan forces, and the secret to this poetry died with her. Some of her body parts were recovered by the Bremish and are kept as relics at the meronym. Given that she killed Sinans through an epidemic, Saint Vercingetorix is the patron saint of healing, and her meronym is renowned for its focus on the medical arts. Many desperately ill Bremish come here in hopes of finding a cure for their ailments. There is also a small military outpost, as expected, but I have seen that it is poorly maintained and ill-equipped to deal with an invasion.

Bewerian

The capital of Breme, it is the largest and most prosperous town. It is separated from its adjoining suburb, Goldnin, by Mermina's Bridge, which spans the Great Gold River. Mermina was one of Breme's five saints, who reversed a terrible drought of the Great Gold River through her poetry. Bewerian is home to the Bremish Council and the War Committee, which is their central place of governance. The War Committee is subordinate to the Bremish Council, and both are informally whipped by the High Poet Society, which works autonomously and could rescind its promise to help the military at any time. There is also a court here, where the most serious of crimes are prosecuted: sedition, treason, murder, child abuse, and assault. I have been told that the trials are mostly perfunctionary and that being convicted is a near-certainty. The punishments are brutal yet appropriate, such as castration for a serial sexual offender. Can't say I have many complaints about that.

Goldnin

The primary suburb of Bewerian, this is the home to Breme's principal marketplace and the Goldnin Meronym, where the most powerful High Poets train and perform their arts. I suspect that placing the meronym in the suburb was to demonstrate their independence from the government and military, forcing high-ranking officials from the Bremish Council to make the commute if they wish to consult with the poets. This is also the location of the War Academy, where soldiers train or wait for deployment. The training grounds are large and well-equipped, while there are numerous dormitories and barracks. One can see child soldiers here, as young as 11 years old, developing their bloodlust. There are also children they title "Future Boys," who can be thrown there by their parents when as young as 6 or 7. They are forced to perform manual labor until they reach the age of entrance into the Academy.

The Windswept

A vague and mysterious area of Breme set aside for the nomadic tribes: the original inhabitants of Breme, who were slowly pushed aside as more people turned to an agrarian lifestyle. While the nomads have representation on the Bremish Council and their own system of governance, they are often treated as second-class citizens by the settled peoples, who view them as backwards and archaic. In many ways, it feels like they are an enclave within the overall country, making their own rules and settling their own disputes through ancient processes. This area is less resource-rich than the settlements, yet carefully maintained by the tribes for maximum efficiency. Seasonal migrations help to cycle the soil and allow it to rest. There are large herds of feral horses, wolves, wild pigs, and even some strange, savage flightless birds that frequently cause problems. Large herbivorous creatures known as auraks live here and are hunted down using the fearless Bremish wolfhounds, domesticated from wolves and known for their indefatigability. Apparently the settled peoples think aurak meat is disgusting and prefer their livestock.

All these fascinating places will feature, at sometime or another, in the Eirenic Verses. If you'd like to get a good idea of what Goldnin and Bewerian are like, check out 9 Years Yearning, the first book in the series!

Tumblr tag list: @kuebiko-writing, @ryns-ramblings, @cain-e-brookman, @halfbit, @macabremoons,

@theverumproject, @aquadestinyswriting, @urlocalwitch555, @sarahswriting, @drchenquill,

@davycoquette, @mysticstarlightduck, @aalinaaaaaa, @gioiaalbanoart, @theaistired,

@somethingclevermahogony, @wyked-ao3, @avaseofpeonies,

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us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2 · 2 months ago

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Batman au but it’s a 2000s spy/agent show like chuck or white collar or burn notice or the other ones.

Jason dies and then joins the fbi, why? Well he just kinda escaped from the league of assassins and was like “well, I am basically an awesome super spy agent, why the hell not?”

Goes through the rigours of being accepted into the fbi, and then is an agent but he’s like super low ranking because he’s kinda annoying as shit.

Jason goes under literally no fake name he just is Jason Todd, and is just there.

jason works with the fbi on CPS stuff and well it’s fucking DC and he was an orphan, so he keeps coming across baby meta’s and android children, Witch constructs, cult rituals and more!

he ends up ascending in the ranks by 1 and becomes a really valuable asset to CPS and the FBI, we get Jason being kind to street kids and finding their families, we get Jason unintentionally adopting a kid he did not MEAN TO it just HAPPENED not HIS FAULT he WAS A FOSTER CARRER smh.

Jason accidentally comes across dublex and the other guys from Cadmus post Cadmus breaking into pieces and is like “bro you live like this?”

Jason travels the country and all his officers and agent friends are not from Gotham so Jason freaks them out.

it’s super fun because Jason has a life for a while until they learn about his league of assassins stint and he get fired and then he goes on the red hood arc because they suck screw ‘em.

#-pop #batman headcanon #batman au #jason todd

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 1 year ago

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Johnny dating a country girl maybe? Or a girl that's just from the south, idk I randomly thought of this I think it'd be neat 😭

All Over Again

Hot summers and hot love in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2.4k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, flirting, guns, hangovers, erotic fishing

An: Thank you so much for this request!! Believe it or not, I actually was pondering this idea for a while! XD A good chunk of this is based off of where I grew up (in the middle of nowhere), so most of this definitely comes from experience! That, and I was inspired by these two amazing fics by one of my favorite writers on here, @thedreamydemon !! You all should ABSLOUTELY check her out!! The first scene specificly takes inspiration from this clip of Knox from the Big Brother video that I still just can’t get enough of!! This is maybe the filthiest thing I have ever written. Hope you enjoy! :D

Pop! One beer can fell off where it was propped up on an old piece of furniture in Johnny’s front yard, landing on the half dead grass with a clink before he started on the next one. There was no way in hell you would ever own a gun, but there was just something so sexy about how he handled that thing. Maybe it was how, when he aimed, he’d raise his shoulder just enough to make those too short t-shirts he always wore ride up about an inch above his belt, giving you a peek at the contoured lines of his stomach. Pop! Clink. Maybe it was the way he handled that pump action so skilfully and how muscular his biceps looked when he did, the sun golden against his skin as his sleeves stretched around them. Pop! Clink.

He didn’t seem to notice you until went to take a seat in the lawn chair he had set up on the dirt road few cars ever traversed, cracking open a beer and leaning his Winchester 1897 against one of the metal arms. Sun glinted off of the silver frame of his sunglasses, sweat making his skin just barely glisten as he brought the sweating can to his lips, glancing up at you, “Hey, mama.” Smiling that crooked way he always did, Johnny passed you a beer, “What brings you ‘round here?” The heat wasn't the only thing that had you sweating bullets, but you tried to play cool, “Well…” The liquid soothed your burning throat as you took a swig, “I was thinkin’ maybe we could go down by the creek- cool off a little…” The last part of your sentence lingered in the air, as if to suggest something else that Johnny immediately picked up on. He pretended not to get it just to tease you a little, “Sure thing. In fact , I gotta idea…” Standing up, he dusted his hands off in his dickies, “Why don’t we do a little fishin’?”

Johnny looked at you like you were crazy when you told him you never learned how, “You’re kidding.” Gazing up at him as he stood just a little too close to you, you raised your hands in appeal, “No- completely serious here.” You didn’t have The fainted clue what was so important about knowing how to fish or what your boyfriend found absolutely hilarious about the fact that you didn't. He cooed teasingly, trying to get under your skin a little just to bug you, “Aww, what’s the matter? Daddy never taught you how?” You couldn’t tell if it was the sun or your blush that made your face feel hot. Something in you wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off of his face, but you played civil, rolling your eyes and saying nothing, he responded to your silence, “Well,” One of his hands came to rest heavy on your shoulder, “Not to worry, doll, ‘cause I’m gonna teach you everything you need’t know.”

☆彡

The shade of the towering Blue Ash trees that flanked the rocky bed of the river provided relief from the blistering heat as Johnny held your hand in his, helping you traverse the uneven terrain like the good boyfriend he was even though you insisted you were perfectly capable of it yourself. His palm still felt cool from his beer as you squeezed it. the decline evened out as you neared the edge of the water, crouching by the bubbling water. Sun streamed through the leaves overhead, dappling patterns on your skin as you peered into the lazy current while your boyfriend sat down near you on the rocks, setting everything up.

“Now, what I want you to do,” Johnny threaded a wriggling pink worm onto the hook, “S’just hold this for me till you feel a little tug, alright?” He snickered saying the last part. You only half listened to him as he explained, nodding to make it seem like you got it, “Mmhm…” Distracted, you could barely prepare yourself before you felt a strong pair of hands grip your hips and pull you back, landing on the lap of your boyfriend. That was definitely one way to get your attention. Handing you the rod stiffly, he positioned your hands around it with his significantly larger, more skilled ones, holding them there for a second as he tilted his head to the side, bringing it right behind your ear, his voice low and soft against the skin of your neck, “That easy enough for you?” Not sure whether you were more turned on or ticked off by his petty behavior, you aired on the former, “Yeah...”

“Good, now…” His hands released from around yours, “the most important part of fishing is payin’ attention.” You could feel him smile against the shell of your ear, the calloused pads of his fingers slipping down your wrists, then your forearms, the only sound for maybe a mile being the woods arround you. “If you can’t pay attention, then…well, you won’t be able’t catch anything worthwhile.” Little tickling touches made you squirm as his hands made their way to your waist, his thumbs slinking down to your lower back as he played with the hem of your tank top, a few of his fingers skillfully grazing the skin underneath it. Ohh, he knew what he was doing. Johnny chuckled at your inability to sit still as you squirmed in his lap, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, mockingly, “Easy, easy…” Gently, like you wouldn’t even have noticed if your nerves weren’t on fire, his lips found your neck, sucking just barely. You felt Johnny grin at the noise you made when his mouth made contact with your pulse point, feeling the flutter of your heartbeat under your skin. It was twisted, but god, it was hot. He was fucking with you

Your hands began to tremor a little from how fervent he was and you practically snapped, albeit softer than you would’ve wanted, “What- what do you know about fishing anyway?” Johnny’s hands came back up to wrap around yours, steadying them as he pulled himself away from the swollen, pink skin of your neck, murmuring against you, “I know more than you do.” Well, he was right.

Just then, you felt a tug at the end of the line. Thinking quick, you scrambled for the reel, spinning it faster than you thought you physically could. Johnny’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates when he saw the flopping, wet monster of a catfish you reeled in, almost jumping at the sight with you still in his lap, “Holy shit!” He seemed more surprised than you, even though you were the one who caught the damn thing, “What’d you mean, holy shit’? I thought you were gonna take me fishing!” He chuckled in surprise, jaw still a little slack, “Well, I mean- I wasn't thinking about that kinda fish!” It took you a second to realize the stupid dirty joke he made, facepalming. Although that prospect wasn’t entirely awful in your mind, you feigned disgust, “Come on! Y’can’t believe I’m that easy, do you?” Johnny shrugged, “Well, a guy can hope…”

★彡

It was rare that Johnny wasn’t outside on a day like this. Usually, he’d be sitting in front of his single wide, drinking his beer on the ‘porch’ he fashioned out of stolen scrap lumber that you never really trusted enough to step foot on. But he wasn’t today, so you decided to be a good girlfriend and pop by. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he needed a little company.

The semi rotted wood creaked unsteadily under your feet as you opened up the screen, knocking gently on the white plywood door that was covered in mildew, as was the siding and just about anything on the outside of that house. Leaning against the door to listen, almost pressing your cheek to it, you called, “Johnny…?” A beat passed before you got a short, groggy response from inside, “S’unlocked.”

The living room was cloaked in darkness from the drawn lacy valance curtains, little slivers of light where they didn’t fully cover the windows stretching over the floor, like a peephole to the mess they hid. A low groan from the couch alerted you to your boyfriend’s presence in the dark. Shutting the door behind you, it took a few seconds for your eyes to get adjusted.

Johnny’s long legs stretched out on the couch, his head propped up on one side and his feet on the other, clad in nothing but his white boxers. Your eyes trailed down from his bare, toned chest, rising and falling with each breath, down his stomach to the trail of hair that led below his waistband that made you practically salivate at the mere sight of. A pink and purple tie-dye bruise the size of your fist sat just to the left of it, drawing your attention to the myriad of smaller bruises and scratches that dappled his body. He didn’t look too hot but god, did he look good. Practically drooling, you tried your best to hide it, “Can I, uh- get you some coffee?” Johnny’s voice was low and hoarse as he nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great, honey.” He laid all sprawled out like that as you gingerly stepped over the crinkling empty beer cans that littered the ground as you prepared a cup for him and yourself.

Returning, you found him sitting up, the arm that was haphazardly thrown over his eyes having been removed as he took the cup, looking up at you. He was sporting a nasty shiner and a busted lip, but besides that the only thing that was really awry was the absence of his sunglasses. Even indoors and at night, he usually wore them to hide his drunk circles, but you always told him they were cute, especially with the dead look he always kinda had behind his eyes. Leaning down, you gave him a gentle kiss on his purple, bruised cheekbone and he winced. You scoffed at his reaction, smiling, “Don't be a baby.”

Sitting down next to him on the couch, Johnny took that as his cue to get comfortable, laying back with his head on your lap. You ran a hand through his hair, his thick locks tickling the spaces between your fingers. The soothing motion elicited a groan from deep in his throat as he stared up at you adoringly. Johnny snickered, his crows feet crinkling up, “Nice view here.” Yep, he was feeling better. “Oh? Y’like the twins?” You giggled, and so did he, still somewhat inebriated, “Mmhm. Love ‘em.”

“Y’know, Rodge’s playin’ the bar tonight.” Johnny cracked a wry smile, “Wanna go?” You weren’t one to turn him down, even if he couldn’t dance sober, much less drunk. Nonetheless, you probably had all of Rodger’s CD’s in your pick up, and he always put on a great show at the kind of honky tonk bars you and Johnny frequented, so it was hard to say no. “Okay, well…” You stroked one of Johnny’s temples with your thumb, tracing an old scar, “If I can get you feelin’ better by tonight, then sure.” He took the hand that was resting on his face and planted a gentle kiss on one of your knuckles, “I’ll make sure of it, doll.”

☆彡

Johnny always had the fellas over- that is, on nights he wasn't taking you out. They’d build a bonfire on the burnt patch of his lawn and drink and sing Marshall Tucker songs until the sun came up. But on those other nights, when you were out fooling around somewhere far too late- those were your favorite nights- like tonight, nestled snugly under Johnny’s arm in a bar that stank like sweat and booze. Romantic.

He learned how to dance slow from movies, and you could tell from how Johnny stumbled over your feet a little as Rodge started up on a real sappy number about whoring. The lights were all low and his hand sat loosely on your waist, holding you close enough that you could taste the beer on his breath. Leaning down, you felt his forehead rest gently against yours like he was just about to kiss you, but before he could close the distance between your mouths, the song faded out, and applause erupted in the crowd as he wordlessly slipped away from you.

But before you could start panickedly scouring the bar for him, poof! Your boyfriend reappeared on stage, stumbling up to the mic to applause from the crowd. He was somewhat of a local celebrity due to his usual antics and held up to his gutsy reputation with little stunts like this. “Hey, cuz.” Rodger shot him a nod and Johnny grabbed the mic, leaning closer with a grin that could tempt a nun, “I gotta song for a special lady out there tonight. Think y’could help me out?” He shot you a grin as the beginning plucky notes of the next song began. Inside, you felt like one of those teen girls that would scream at Beatles shows, watching your boyfriend drunkenly crooning Johnny Cash to you up on that shitty plywood stage. Well, he was singing it to about a hundred people, all dancing and hollering themselves, but you knew he had his eye on you behind those sunglasses.

The song ended to much applause and excitement, the crowd really fired up from his performance as you stood there, lovesick. All of a sudden you were hoisted off of your feet and into the air! You panicked for a moment before you recognized the familiar cackle of the man who was holding you. “Knoxville!” You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “That was amazing!” He chuckled, cracking a goofy smile, “Thanks, sweetheart. Now, what’d you say we get outta here?”

“That’d be great.”

#jackass #johnny knoxville #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #never thought I’d have to use the tag ‘erotic fishing’ in my life but #whoops!

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 year ago

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tuesday again 10/3/2023

september was not kind but we're back with a real making section babEY and lengthy all other sections

listening

SHIFTED by Jolynn J Chin, a progressive jazz (?) piano piece that changes time signatures on every bar. i am led to understand this is a massive technical achievement but more importantly to me it sounds cool as hell. this is a little funny bc pianist friends occasionally complain that the technically challenging pieces that are fun to play aren't that fun to actually listen to. spotify

youtube

the artist uploaded an explainer video that went well over my head but i have no music theory background. i know that not every video with a lady patiently talking through a problem on a whiteboard is going to be a physics video but spiritually this is a physics video to me

youtube

how'd i find this: spotify discover weekly

reading

lee winter's The Fixer. perfectly fine technical quality of writing but absolutely bizarre plot. there will be spoilers for this book bc i cannot talk about this book without them.

A naive activist is hired by a corporate villain but doesn’t realize it. Cue one awkward farce, a twisty puzzle, and the slowest of slow burns in this opposites-attract, ice queen romance. Nine years ago, aloof, icy Michelle Hastings chose career over love. She’s now living with that choice as she rules a secret corporation catering to the rich and powerful. Enter Eden Lawless. The guileless activist finds it a bit weird being employed by a mystery organization to bring down a corrupt mayor. But, hey, she’s up for a challenge. Much harder is getting her beautiful new boss out of her head. The pull between them is electric.

this was not the fanfic level of mean woman i prefer. this woman is a bit of a tsundere boss with some past regrets. like yeah her Company does awful shit but she herself is a very restrained sort of James Bond villain level of icy polite.

unfortunately the actual plot itself is so fucking bizarre.

one of my two concerns: the author is not Jewish but has written Michelle as such, and employed sensitivity readers. i do not know that it is in the very best of taste to have a Jewish woman as the head of a shadowy, textually evil, para-governmental organization pulling strings behind the scenes for the rich and powerful.

the other thing that really threw me is that the series of events we are concerned with, a mayoral election in small-town uhhhh maryland??? i have returned the book and cannot fact check-- seems to be a very thinly veiled rehashing of the 2016 presidential primaries. but as a mayoral campaign.

there is an obnoxious redheaded used car salesman who is running for national publicity for his used car business and writes nasty jingles about his main opponent, a very unpleasant woman who nevertheless gets things done but WAS a slumlord and DID ruin our activist Eden's life. everyone in the county is in her pocket. things are running quietly and well in town, and her platform is solar. the solar farms would take up literally all the actual farmland in the country and (spoiler) she is defeated bc the townspeople think this would be an eyesore and not actually bring that many jobs to the town. again, i stress this is a small town mayoral campaign. they are a college town but it is an EXTREMELY small lib arts college. she has the correct idea about renewables but downfall is that she personally is reprehensible and is going about renewables WRONG!!!

our main character Eden sinks this renewable energy plan bc, again, in college, legally-not-Hillary-Clinton got her dad fired from the local hospital and ran them out of town bc of Eden's protests against her slumlord activities.

then there is the objectively best candidate, a retired pediatrician in the very early stages of dementia who is sort of a puppet candidate for his wife, the actual political mind who hired the evil CEO Michelle's company through a shell company in order to sink her husband's opponent. VERY weird setup.

this was indirectly recced by a big name romance writer who would would not appreciate being tagged lol. i will not be reading the second half of this duology. too much stuff that made me go WHUH???

watching

The Big O is a 1999 and then 2003 detective noir mecha anime. i have never wondered what batman: the animated series would look like if it went in a different retrofuturist direction and put bruce wayne in mecha, but now i have that answer.

this show looks good as fuckin hell. there are SO many dutch angles and dials and gadgets and switches. there's a cut in the first episode that doesn't translate well to screenshots, to the interior of a luxury apartment building and the water in the pool is sloshing around as mechs fight outside.

ive only seen the first three episodes but im having a marvelous fucking time. very importantly for me, there is a robot who is a child but notorious womanizer Bruce Wayne Roger Smith isn't fuckin weird about it.

how i found it: this post reblogged by @ouroborosenso ! the line "You're a louse, Roger Smith." got one short sharp bark of laughter out of me, and a bone dry sense of humor is an excellent selling point. it's available on the internet archive (dubbed but no subtitles)

playing

im having a grand old time with g/enshin's new area. my shit did kind of get rocked with the revelation that the prisoners-- okay let's back up. the player character gets sent to prison on false charges so they can investigate something for the chief justice. backing up farther, the watery land of Fontaine runs on magic energy produced during its court trials. this incentivizes them to make the court trials full-on fucking dramatic productions with very little care for like. victims. once convicted (fontaine feels like it has a near 100% conviction rate, very much like japan) prisoners go to an underwater prison that is a more steampunk version of bioshock. these prisoners make the automated clockwork humanoid police force, as well as the automated clockwork police dogs. there is a panopticon.

the economy in the prison (cannot believe this game that wants me to spend money on anime waifus so i can watch their skirts billow teasingly in the wind while i fight big monsters also wants me to think about prison economies) anyway the economy in the prison is scrip-based. you get one free meal a day but everything else runs on scrip. apparently many people choose to stay in prison after their terms are up bc they have achieved some sort of power and stability there. says a lot about the surface world, don't it? wish we SAW literally any of that in the surface world!

i guess being very overt about drawing from a fifteen year old game is like. kosher? so many other games have drawn from bioshock, but genshin draws so heavily and frequently from Breath of the Wild that it was a little jarring to go from the last area with the cute little korok seed knockoffs and a lot of thinking about academic misconduct to somewhere with a flavor of politics i think a lot more about. as you travel throughout the land of genshin impact, you are quite involved in big diplomatic incidents and overthrowing various baddies, installing the correct people, things of this nature. i think this new land of Fontaine is the most overtly political in that literally all of your time here is spent thinking about exactly how this country's administration operates. it's not a real "hey look we've recreated the Torture Nexus" situation yet but i am curious about what sort of themes the next expansion will be chewing on. im also not quite done with the second of two giant quests that take place in the prison so stay tuned.

bonkers fucking game. wish it wasn't gambling based and didn't have to adhere so closely to chinese restrictions. wish literally ANY outlet was regularly covering this insane lore hiding under the gacha and grind systems

making

the goddamn couch covers are finally done. they are 9x12 and 12x16 100% cotton drop cloths from Chicago Art Supply, and im quite happy with their quality (evenness of weave, normal selvededge, normal seams). i used rit all purpose dye in fuchsia (hot bucket method with colorstay, more on that later) and the itajime triangle method of shibori dyeing. this involved folding the fabric accordion-wise, folding it like a flag, then sandwiching it between two triangles of wood or plastic with many many many rubber bands or twine.

it was a right fucking bitch to prewash, dry, and fold these fuckers. mack was deeply unhelpful. if i need to wash them in future i will be visiting a laundromat.

i could not procure enough dye locally for the recommended 1 packet per 1 lb of dry fabric (4 and 8 pounds respectively) so i did a .75 strength dye bath, since i wasn’t trying to dye the entire thing perfectly and evenly. i think you could probably do a half or quarter strength with more time and be fine. the photo on the left is the smaller dropcloth after a half hour in the bucket (unfolded in the washer to reduce. well to just reduce many problems) , and i did not like that high of a contrast bc i did want some color on all the fabric. so i unfolded and dunked the whole thing back in for literally thirty seconds and it promptly sucked up the rest of the available dye molecules, making it lower contrast than i wanted. so it goes.

i didn’t like how even and neat the triangle motif was on this go round (when deciding on colors and patterns for this project i was thinking about coral and pink cow print but did not want a literal pink cow print couch), so for the next one i did a much worse job folding and was way more aggressive with the rubber bands. i also folded it in half lengthwise to make the accordion folds easier for myself, something i did not do for the smaller one.

and here she is through my balcony screen door after an hour in the dye bucket and a wash with half the recommended amount of fixative to get it to bleed a Little for better coverage of the fabric but keep it lower contrast. i am not completely thrilled with how this came out bc i feel it reads a little sorority girl tshirt. im not sure if making the motif/triangles smaller would have helped any, and even though i was not folding it in half every time you can only fold something so many times before it becomes extremely cumbersome.

couch before the cushion, the cover loosely on the couch. i am going to safety pin and tuck the shit out of this but do not currently have the bandwidth to actually sew it. we’ll see how this goes! kind of a pain in the ass and physically taxing but not a lot of actual hands on time, and now the dyeing bug is out of my system.

preview of next project: i am going to repaint this somewhat shabby globe bar with northern hemisphere constellations :)

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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