#I brought crackers for both of us

[corvii-knight]

meee

Up on melancholy hill sits a crow just looking out on the day...

Aaskrähe (carrion crow) im Unteren Schlossgarten, Stuttgart-Ost.

[punkshort]

Roommates | 10. just us two

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into your new lives together.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol and food consumption, massive quantities of fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex (reader is on BC), oral sex (f!receiving), spanking, pussy pronouns, multiple orgasms, some sex tape action 👀

WC: 7.1K

A/N: Okay, we've reached the end of the road for these two! I can't believe I'm wrapping up another fic, jfc. Thank you so much for sticking around and expressing so much love and excitement for this story. It means so much to me that I'm able to share this part of myself with people who are just as happy as me about these characters. This chapter wasn't really necessary, most loose ends are already tied up but they deserved to be happy, so this entire chapter is just love and fluff and smut. Shout out to @txtattoostark for listening to me yap and for the watermelon moonshine inspo. Enjoy, and thanks again ❤️

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

Joel smiled to himself as he watched you in the kitchen with his mom from his spot in the living room. The old radio next to the sink, dusty and missing two buttons, was softly playing jazz music while you both worked on dinner. It wasn't the trailer park he grew up in. The small ranch house his mother bought with the life insurance money she received after his father passed away wasn't too bad. He begged her for years to let him give her some money, to buy her a place closer to town, to pay for new appliances at the very least, but she always refused. Instead, he found himself visiting her whenever he had a few days off so he could fix the sink or the washer or cut the grass.

He didn't mind. It was a good excuse to come visit. He enjoyed catching up and spending time with her.

But now, with you? Watching the way you seamlessly moved around the kitchen, laughing with his mom and stirring things in pots while swaying your hips in those tight denim shorts... yeah, this was different. This was much better.

"Hey, brother," Tommy said from behind, startling him out of his rosy daydream. Joel stood with a smile to engulf Tommy in a hug once he kicked off his shoes.

"You look tan," he remarked, then reached for Maria and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"New Orleans was sunny," Tommy said, holding some bottle of clear alcohol in his hand. "Brought back some moonshine. Watermelon. Mama's favorite."

"Oh, Tommy! Maria! You're back!" their mother cried from the kitchen before wiping her hands on a towel and hurrying over to the front door, her worn out blue slippers catching on the rug as she walked. "How was your honeymoon?" she asked after she squeezed them both within an inch of their lives.

"Amazing," Maria said happily. "We had such a great time. Have you ever been?"

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "Maybe James will take me one day."

"Is he here?" Tommy asked, handing his mother the liquor.

"No, he's visiting his daughter out of town this weekend. Come on, I have some snacks out."

The four of them entered the kitchen and you swiveled around with a big smile. Setting down the wooden spoon you were holding, you threw your arms around Maria's neck, then Tommy's.

"How was it?" you asked them, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

You and Maria fell into an animated conversation about some haunted ghost tour when Tommy cleared his throat and propped his hands on his hips.

The pair of you stopped talking to look at him questioningly, then realization dawned on you. You smirked and shook your head before digging into your back pocket to pull out a folded bill and slapped it into his palm.

"You were right, Tommy."

He laughed and tucked the money into his shirt pocket.

"Thought you mighta forgot."

Joel frowned and looked between the two of you curiously, but Maria seemed to know exactly what was going on because she was already chuckling to herself.

You glanced over at Joel, who was eating a cracker with cheese, and your expression softened. "Best hundred bucks I ever lost."

"The hell you givin' him a hundred bucks for?" Joel asked incredulously, but you just slipped your arms around his waist and rested your chin against his chest with a smile.

"I lost a bet," you told him.

He practically melted into a puddle under your touch. He couldn't get enough. After a year of denying yourselves or sneaking around, it felt so good to be open. He refused to ever take it for granted, so he tilted your face up and pressed a tender kiss against your lips. He felt your mouth twitch into a smile when Tommy groaned in fake disgust.

"Thought we were the newlyweds here."

You broke the kiss to shoot him a look over your shoulder.

"Try and keep up."

Joel tossed his head back and laughed, then released his hold on you so you could return to the stove. Maria washed her hands and picked up a knife to chop vegetables and Tommy reached for the bottle of moonshine their mother left on the counter.

"Let's crack into this," he said, and Joel nodded. He weaved through the kitchen to open up the cupboard where the glasses were kept, grabbing five tumblers. You were swaying again with the music and you gently knocked into him with your hips, just enough to tease him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Watch yourself, baby," he warned with a wink before placing the glasses down next to Tommy so he could pour.

Joel couldn't remember a time he had seen his mother look so happy. The five of them sat around her dining room table, a table made for four but you all squeezed in, knees knocking together underneath, arms brushing against one another, and it felt perfect.

He leaned back in his chair after finishing his food, one arm draped along the back of your chair, his other hand loosely holding his glass of moonshine and he smiled. He tried to pay attention to Maria and his brother tell stories about their honeymoon, but he had a hard time looking away from you. Eventually, he stopped trying. His gaze slid down your face, admiring your smile and the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

He was so fucking lucky.

Tearing his eyes away to bring his glass to his lips, he caught his mother watching him across the table with a knowing smile. She winked at him before giving Tommy her attention once again and Joel felt his face warm.

Once dinner was over, he and Tommy stood to clear everyone's plates. A habit that was formed early on in their lives. Whoever didn't cook had to clean up.

After the dishes were done and the leftovers were packed away, the two brothers refilled their glasses and wandered out to the back porch where their mother, you and Maria had ended up.

Maria and Mrs. Miller were strolling around the yard, their mother pointing out plants and flowers and telling Maria some long winded story about each. The deer hate this one. Cindy up the street cut a chunk of this out of her garden for me, can you believe how big it is now? I got this from Home Depot on clearance half dead, look how good it's doing.

"Better go save her," Tommy murmured before jogging down the steps. Joel plopped himself next to you on the porch with a sigh and clinked your glasses together.

"Lucky you already got the flower tour earlier," he told you.

You bit your lip and chuckled. "She really loves her garden."

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting and you could hear the crickets coming to life all around you. Birds swooped anxiously overhead, rushing back to their nests for the night. A cool breeze floated through the air, rustling your hair and making you shiver.

"C'mere," he murmured, patting his thigh. You smirked and shook your head but put your glass down and stood to perch on his leg, wrapping your arms around his neck lovingly and giving him a chaste kiss.

He hummed in approval and licked his lips. "Taste good."

"Like watermelon?" you asked, fingers twisting around the long strands of hair on the back of his head.

He nodded. "And you."

You kissed him once again, lingering a bit longer that time so you could fully appreciate the softness of his lips between yours and breathing in deep the scent of soap still stuck to his skin.

Then voices began to grow louder behind you, indicating your alone time was coming to an end.

Tommy stumbled on the stairs leading up the porch and you turned around on Joel's lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you right where you were, before teasing his brother.

"Better take it easy. You been out for two weeks at work, you ain't callin' in tomorrow 'cause you're hungover."

Tommy rolled his eyes and took your abandoned chair.

"Yes, boss."

"How are things at the bar, Joel?" his mother asked, sitting down with a sigh. "I'm so glad you found some work I can actually tell my girlfriends about without lying."

You stifled a giggle and glanced at Maria, who was also trying to hold back her laughter.

"Good, Mama," Joel said, ignoring her other comment. His chin came to rest over your shoulder as he spoke. "The remodel is done. Opened up the room so there's a place to dance. Easier for customers to move around. Everyone's been real excited to see the changes. Been busy."

"He's been working so hard, too," you added, twisting to your side so your fingers could lovingly rake through the hair on the back of his neck. "Some days I don't even see him."

Mrs. Miller gave you a sympathetic look but you could tell she was proud of her oldest son for venturing outside his comfort zone and applying himself.

"So you're all moved in, I take it?" Maria asked, and you nodded.

"Didn't really have much. Most of my things were still packed from when I moved out."

"She's been sprucin' up the place, too. You oughta see it," Joel said fondly. "Got pretty lookin' art on the walls, fluffy pillows and blankets for the couch. Actually got some food in the damn fridge, too."

Tommy laughed heartily. "That mean you'll stop swipin' fries and shit from the kitchen?"

"Hey, I'm payin' for those fries. I'll take 'em if I want 'em," he said with a scowl, then looked up at you, his eyes softening. "But it's nice to have dinner waitin' for me at home," he added, bringing a smile to your face.

"You were always terrible at cooking," you teased, tugging on his earlobe playfully between your fingers.

The night dragged on, the stars lit up the quiet night sky and Mrs. Miller eventually began to yawn, indicating it was time to head home.

Home.

It felt so right to think of it that way. It was where you belonged. But you knew it wasn't simply the house. You could have been living in a shack and you would still be just as happy because it was with him.

Joel gripped your thigh while he drove his truck with one hand on the steering wheel. The windows were down, the wind whipped at your face, tangling your hair when you turned your head to gaze over at him.

"See anythin' you like?" he teased when he spotted you admiring him from the corner of his eye.

You giggled and felt his fingers squeeze your bare leg.

"You know what I want?"

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards and his eyes darkened with excitement. "What's that, sweetheart?"

You seductively ran your palm up his arm, sighing at the way his muscles twitched under your fingertips.

"I would really, really love... a vegetable garden."

You laughed at the way his face fell in mock disappointment.

"I'll build you a vegetable garden," he finally said as he turned onto your street.

"Really?" you asked with a huge smile. He nodded and shot you a wink.

"'Course. Whatever you want, baby."

Joel stayed true to his word. About a week later you woke up on Saturday morning to the distant sound of a hammer beating a piece of wood in the backyard. Stretching a lazy arm out to your side, you pouted when you found Joel was missing.

Then the pieces slowly clicked together.

It was a rare weekend off for him. You had been talking about it for the past few days. He was looking forward to Tommy returning to work so he wouldn't be so short staffed and he could relax with you for two whole days. You didn't come up with any plans except laying in bed, ordering takeout and watching movies, content to just spend time together. But Joel sweetly surprised you by waking up early, something he absolutely detested, so he could build you the vegetable garden you asked for.

You lightly padded down the steps still clad in your tank top and shorts to grab a mug from the cupboard. The coffee pot sizzled with heat when you plucked it from the burner, half the liquid already gone. Once you fixed it the way you liked, you walked out onto the back deck and leaned over the railing, your mug cupped in both hands, to fully appreciate the sight before you.

Joel had his back to you as he crouched over a simple rectangular wooden frame on the ground. You could see the sweat collecting on the back of his neck and it made your mouth water. As your eyes traveled lower, you noticed the dark patches in his shirt forming at his collar and between his shoulder blades, making your thighs clench together while he worked, completely oblivious to you watching him, listening to him grunt and sigh when he lifted a new piece of wood.

You swallowed thickly before taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes never leaving his form while he stood to stretch his back. He lifted his hat from his head and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. Something was so fucking hot about him getting all sweaty and worked up, but on that particular day? When he was making you something, sacrificing his rare down time just for you? It lit a fire inside you that couldn't be tamed.

Before he noticed, you scooted back inside to fill up a glass of ice water. With your hand hovering over the door handle, you got an idea that sent a jolt of arousal right through you. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking your panties off to land on the couch, and shimmied your shorts back on.

Your pulse was fucking racing with excitement when you stepped outside once again, but this time you made sure to make a little noise so Joel would hear you. When the door clicked shut, he turned around and grinned before setting down his tools and stepping into the shade.

"Thank you, darlin'," he murmured when you handed him the water.

"You're welcome," you replied, your hands clasping behind your back as you practically vibrated in place with nervous energy. His eyes flicked down your body curiously right when he was finishing up his drink.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, sensing something was off while he set the glass down on the deck.

"Mhmm," you said, a nervous grin spreading across your face. "Missed you, though."

He chuckled and wiped some sweat away from his face with the bottom of his shirt. Your mouth went dry and your eyes instantly locked onto his tanned stomach and the dark smattering of curls that led below his waistband. The sleep shorts you were wearing were thin. If they were a lighter color, you could probably see right through them if you really looked. As it turned out, they were also terrible at absorbing moisture because they were sticking uncomfortably to your inner thighs while you waited for him to notice.

"Huh?" you said when you realized he was speaking.

He shook his head and dropped his shirt back down. "I said, I'm makin' you the damn garden you wanted."

You inched forward and took his hand in yours. "Well, do you think it can wait? Because I need to show you something inside that needs your help."

Somehow, he was still not picking up what you were implying.

"Baby, I'm on a roll. I just need another hour, maybe two-"

You tugged the hand you were holding between your legs and his eyes widened when he felt the wetness waiting for him there.

"Sorry. Got tired of being subtle," you told him with a playful smirk. He whipped his head around, checking to see if any of the neighbors were out tending to their lawns or enjoying their morning coffee on their patios while his fingers hooked around the soaked material.

You saw in his face the exact moment he realized you were bare underneath your shorts. It was like his brain was buffering, desperately trying to calculate how long he allowed you to stand there practically begging to be fucked while he rambled on about a goddamn garden. The surprise in his features slowly faded into the hazy, lust filled gaze you were so familiar with, and you smiled triumphantly.

"Get your ass inside right fuckin' now before I do somethin' that'll get us both thrown in jail," he growled, something primal shifting in his face while his body flooded with arousal, his need for you dripping heavier in his veins with each steady beat of his heart.

You squeaked and covered your ass when he swat at you from behind, then you hurried past him, back into the house.

Looking back on it, to think you would have made it upstairs to your bedroom was comical. His hands grabbed your hips halfway up the carpeted steps, pulling you down as you laughed giddily and pretended to try to fight off his attack, clawing fruitlessly at the stairs while he smiled into your lower back where his mouth was alternating kisses and bites across your skin.

"You wanted attention, you got it," he mumbled before yanking your shorts down and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your ass. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to make you yelp in surprise and leave a few linear indents in your skin.

Joel usually took his time with you. He preferred it that way. He liked to watch your face as he tormented you between your legs. He liked to see what new sounds he could pull from your throat when he changed an angle.

But not that day.

No, that day he yanked your shorts all the way off, tossing them over his shoulder and down the steps before grabbing your hips with his hands, all rough and sweaty from working outside.

You braced yourself for the inevitable stretch, the welcome yet slightly painful intrusion that you yearned for, but what happened next shocked you.

Your eyes widened and you gasped when you felt his mouth descend on your pussy from behind, his tongue immediately setting an intense pace, which was a change from the way he usually ate you. But speed and passion weren't the only variation. He never, ever went down on you from behind before.

"I- J-Joel, what are... oh," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as he lapped eagerly at your core. Instinctively, you spread your hips and sunk down further onto his mouth. Your cheek was rubbing harshly against the carpet and your lips were parted, allowing a small trail of drool to trickle down your chin. If you had any awareness left, you might have cared, but the pleasure he was building between your legs left your brain completely numb.

"Oh, fuck yes, Joel - keep going, just like that," you groaned, reaching behind you blindly to grab a fistful of his hair. "Fuck you and that fucking mouth," you gasped when his tongue flatted against your clit. He chuckled against your core but didn't stop. His hand slid up the back of your thigh and gave your cheek a firm jiggle before smacking his palm down across your ass. You jolted forward, your forehead bumping up against the next step, and cried out for more so he did it again, but on the other side.

"You like that?" he panted, pulling away from you for just a moment to catch his breath. You arched your back, giving him a generous view of the mess he left between your legs and he was afraid for the first time ever that he might come completely untouched. He inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw your cunt pulse, calling to him like a goddamn siren at sea. "Fuck, so beautiful," he growled before closing his eyes and picking up right where he left off.

His thumbs spread your lips so his tongue could tease your entrance, scooping up your arousal and rutting his hips against the stairs, eating you like he was about to go off to war.

"I'm... oh, shit, Joel!" you exclaimed, pulling at his hair roughly so he wouldn't dare try to stop when you were so close to your climax. And he could sense it. He was good at that. He knew what you needed sometimes before you even knew. So once again, he brought his palm down sharply across your ass, a little harder that time but not too much. Just enough to leave a few seconds of sting, electrifying your nerve endings and pulling you over the edge.

Two tears rolled down your cheeks when you came. The little bit of pain from his hand and the carpet digging into your cheek and knees mixed with your pleasure in such a way that it left you breathless.

Finally, once he felt your legs begin to tremble and whimpers fell from your lips, he pulled away with a deep gasp. His eyes were pinned to the way your pussy looked; all drenched with a combination of his spit and your release, and he cursed under his breath.

"She looks so fuckin' good, baby, wish you could see what I see," he murmured, mesmerized as he continued to stare without any shame. You hardly had any of your senses. Your breath was ragged and your throat was dry but still, you tilted your chin and whispered, "show me."

A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes lit up.

"Yeah? You'd let me take a picture of this pretty pussy?" he asked, but he was already digging in his back pocket for his phone. You nodded, eyes still closed.

When both his hands left your waist, you arched your back a bit more and spread your legs, presenting yourself to him. You heard a deep groan rumble from his chest and he whispered, "fuckin' natural, baby," before you heard the shutter on his phone. One, two, three times at least you heard the familiar little click, click, then he leaned over your slumped body and slid his phone in front of your face.

"See? Look at you. Look at what I get to see," he murmured into your ear. Your eyes opened and widened as you stared at your wrecked pussy on the screen.

"Oh, wow," you breathed, not expecting at all to find it sexy, but you did. You fucking did. "Look at what you did to me," you said, craning your neck over your shoulder. His eyes flickered with heat and his mouth crashed down onto yours.

"Just wait til I split you open on my cock," he said, his voice rumbling against your back. "Have you all stuffed full with my cum. Now that's a pretty sight."

You groaned and shakily pushed yourself up.

"I'm begging you, please, Joel... do not fuck me on these stairs. My knees are killing me."

He laughed and helped you stand, legs wobbling just a little.

"Nah. I got an idea and we can't do it here."

You laid underneath the covers in bed, your lower half still bare and your tank top still on while you nervously chewed on your lower lip, watching Joel at the foot of the bed tinker with a camcorder he had buried somewhere in his closet that he swore up and down he never used with anyone else.

Never wanted to before, he had said when you eyed it suspiciously after he explained he swiped it from a set when it was used as a prop in one of his films years ago.

"Battery's dead but I'll just leave it plugged in," he said, then he flipped out the little screen tucked into the side of the device and swiveled it around so it was facing out. He set it on his end table and adjusted it until he was satisfied with the angle, then looked over his shoulder with a grin.

"You sure?" he clarified again. Your eyes flickered from him to the camera, then back again.

"Yeah," you squeaked, your voice very clearly betraying you. His gaze softened and he leaned across the bed to press a chaste kiss against your forehead.

"We don't gotta do this," he assured you. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"No," you replied, shaking your head. "I want to, I'm just nervous."

He scoffed and readjusted himself so he was lying next to you, blocking the idle camera.

"Nothin' to be nervous 'bout. It's just for me 'n you," he murmured before cupping your face and pressing his lips tenderly against yours. When his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, you sighed and looped your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace and deepening the kiss. His hand slid down from your cheek to squeeze your breast, groaning a little when he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

His lips dragged down to your jaw, his teeth grazing your throat until he found a spot he liked and latched on while pushing the sheets from your body. The anticipation bubbled up while his hand continued to travel lower, your legs instinctively falling open for him. You finally relaxed when he successfully distracted you with his fingers through your folds and gasped as he slid two inside you with ease.

"Oh, yeah, you're ready for me," he moaned into your neck, his erection bordering on painful. He exhaled shakily when one of your hands wrapped around his length and began to gently stroke him, your palm so soft and warm that he almost forgot about the camera.

"C'mon, baby, sit up f'me," he said, pulling his hand from between your legs and leaning back so he could kick his jeans off. You scrambled to sit, your breaths coming in shallow pants as you watched him tug his shirt over his head. When he reached for the hem of your tank top, he paused and turned to tap the record button on the camcorder. Instantly, your limbs went rigid and your hands fell to your lap, covering yourself, but when he turned back to you he pinched your chin in his fingers, pulling your nervous gaze from the camera lens.

"Eyes on me," he told you, his voice low and deep, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and raised your arms so he could peel off your tank top. He tossed it onto the floor and sat back on his heels to admire the way your tits sat exposed to him, his eyes darkening when your nipples hardened with arousal. He lunged forward and took one in his mouth, his hot, wet tongue lavishing your pebbled skin before switching to the other one. You tipped your head back and moaned, mouth open as you stared up blankly at the ceiling, your fingers rising to get tangled in his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, planting little kisses all over your chest and circling his arms around your ribs, tugging you closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trembling when his cock pressed between your bodies, his erection sliding through your wet heat and suddenly you couldn't breathe.

"I-I need you," you whimpered, weakly lifting your hips into his lap.

"I know, baby, I know," he hummed. One hand dropped to cup your ass so he could reposition his legs underneath you, then flexed his hips so the tip of his cock lined up with your opening. "Want me to fuck you just like this? Sittin' in my lap?"

You nodded, your eyelids heavy with desire as you tightened your grip around his neck. The second he pressed into you, you gasped. He watched with adoration as your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, breathing deep and slow as you relaxed and slowly took him.

"Joel," you whispered, jaw slack. "Joel, I love you."

He moaned and pulled your hips flush with his, forcing you to take the last few inches all at once. "I love you, too, baby. Christ, you're incredible. Fuckin' look at you."

Look at you. His words made you remember the camera. Your eyes flickered over to the little rectangular screen, the outline of your bodies perfectly centered, and you swallowed tightly.

"Pretend like it's the mirror," he whispered in your ear as he began to gently rock in and out, "just like the mirror at the hotel, okay?"

You nodded and sighed, your shoulders loosening and your muscles relaxing as you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his. He tightened his grip around your middle, his body engulfing you in warmth. You rested your head on his shoulder as he continued to fuck you nice and slow, stretching you out around him, reaching depths that had you reeling.

This was it. There was nothing else outside those four walls. You had everything you ever wanted right there. The way he kissed you, touched you, made love to you always left you feeling so safe. Deep down, you always knew he was the missing piece in your life, the mysterious thing you kept searching for in others and were always left disappointed. Because nobody else ever loved you and cared for you the way he did.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you told him, your tongue dragging up his neck, collecting the dried sweat with a moan. You began to bounce in his lap a little faster and he immediately matched your pace with thrusts of his own.

"I'm the one who's lucky," he said through clenched teeth. He exhaled heavily through his nose and tucked his chin to his chest so he could watch himself disappear inside your cunt. "So soft. Softest pussy. So fuckin' warm and wet, you feel so good. Goddamnit, every fuckin' time..."

You smiled to yourself as you listened to him ramble. "Maybe we're both lucky."

He chuckled and you gasped when his cock brushed up against that one spot that made you see stars. You feverishly grabbed his face with both hands and bit desperately at his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth and making him groan.

Your body was loose and pliant now, so with more confidence you quickened the roll of your hips, relishing in the way his cock felt dragging in and out of you, how your clit rubbed against the coarse hair at his base, in the noises you managed to pull from his throat each time your skin slapped together.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Show me what you like. Oh, good girl," he groaned, hands sliding up your back to hold you as you began to lose yourself. He could see it in the look in your eyes and the way your fingers dug into his shoulders.

It was the most beautiful fucking thing.

Your body moved perfectly in tandem with his, your sharp gasps and his deep groans filling the room, the camera long forgotten by now.

"Oh, god, I'm close," you whimpered as you felt the heat that had been building begin to quickly creep up and spread through your stomach. "Oh, fuck. Oh, god... Joel, don't stop, please..." you begged, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your vision began to blur.

"I ain't stoppin'. C'mon, give it to me, lemme feel you," he growled. He snapped steadily into you now, each thrust punctuated by a grunt while his eyes locked on yours, watching with pride as you crumbled and fell apart, your walls squeezing him so beautifully as you came that it nearly pulled him right over the edge with you.

It happened fast. One second you were in his lap, your body tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and the next he had pulled out of you and flipped you onto your hands and knees. Only when you felt his thick cock slide back inside did you fully realize you had switched positions. And shit, taking him from that particular angle always was so much more intense, but combined with the fact that your new view included the camera in the corner of your eye made everything so much more powerful.

You could fucking see him now and you couldn't look away, completely entranced with the way his face looked as he slammed into you. His mouth hung open as he looked down at you with what could only be described as complete and utter desire. You could feel his hand running up the length of your spine but you could also see the look of worship in his eye, the way his face twisted in pleasure when he watched your ass ripple from the force of his hips, and you felt a heavy wave suddenly crash over you once again.

"Oh, fuck!" Joel groaned loudly as he watched another orgasm shoot through you. His hands grabbed at your waist to try to keep you still, but you were trembling everywhere and you couldn't hold yourself up any longer.

You fell onto your elbows, the side of your face pressing into the bed while he held up your hips, fucking into you harder now that he could tell you were spent. "I'm gonna come, baby, I'm -" he cut himself off with a desperate whine, the buildup from the past hour or so becoming too much and causing his release to intensify.

Your bodies finally stilled and he pumped you full of his spend, his groans getting caught in his throat as he pulsed inside you. He watched in a daze when his cum started to leak out even though he was still inside, and without thinking, he snatched the camera from the bedside table so he could get a close up.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he whispered hoarsely, chest heaving and hands shaking as he held the camera at his chest, pointing it down to where you were connected. "So glad you're back on the pill. Fuckin' beautiful, all full of me like this. Shit," he muttered, swiping a finger to collect some of his release to rub it over your clit. With a whine, your body jolted forward and he chuckled before dropping his hand, knowing you were too overstimulated.

"Joel," you whispered tiredly. Your eyelids were heavy and your thighs were shaking from the effort of holding yourself up.

"I know, baby, just one more thing and then I'll clean you up," he promised. He took a deep breath and steadied the camera before slipping out of you.

He made a pained noise in the back of his throat when he watched through the lens the way your body leaked of him, your pussy all swollen and stretched out, completely fucked, messy and used.

"Jesus," he croaked, wishing he could keep filming but your body sagged forward and he stopped the recording before tossing the camera onto the other side of the bed so he could check on you.

"You alright?"

You nodded, eyes closed, lips bitten raw, hair a complete mess but you still wore a satisfied smile.

"Tired. I think I'm gonna just..." you yawned and stretched out your shaky limbs. "Just gonna close my eyes for a sec."

He grinned and stood up to go to the bathroom, plucking a couple clean washcloths from the linen closet and wetting them both under the faucet so he could clean himself up with one and take the other back to you.

"Did you eat?" he asked softly as he gently and carefully dragged the washcloth through your thighs. You shook your head, eyes still closed. "I'm gonna go make you somethin'. Gotta eat, honey," he whispered before kissing the top of your head and covering you with the sheet. But by the time he came back upstairs with a bagel and cream cheese, you were fast asleep.

So you're getting married, then?

Well, he hasn't really asked me, not in so many words.

Four, you mean?

Huh?

Well, that's how many it takes: will you marry me?

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard two familiar voices reciting an even more familiar dialogue from the television, the volume turned down so low, you could hear the neighbor's dog barking from four houses down.

Joel shifted in bed next to you as quietly as he could, unaware you had awoken. You peered up at him, hair all messy, chest still bare, and you smiled when you caught him stifling a laugh at Audrey Hepburn.

"Hey," you said, voice coming out rougher than you expected, so you cleared your throat. He immediately muted the television and turned toward you, grinning as his eyes raked up and down your sleep-addled face.

"Hey, yourself," he said softly. He pushed the hair off your face, letting his thumb linger on your cheek while he continued to examine you closely. "Feelin' okay?"

You nodded and yawned, stretching your sore legs out underneath the blankets. "You fucked me into a coma."

He laughed heartily and rubbed his palm over his chest, embarrassment flushing his bronzed skin.

"But I guess that's what I get for shacking up with a pornstar," you added with a giggle. He tossed his head back and laughed even louder at that and you couldn't resist, his happiness too infectious. You inched forward and nuzzled into his side, his arm dropping to wrap around your shoulders.

When the laughter died down, he gazed lovingly at you and, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, reminded you, "ex-pornstar, but I suppose old habits die hard, huh?"

"Mm, maybe, but that's okay," you said, tracing light, invisible patterns on his stomach. "It's nothing I can't handle."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Careful, or I might have'ta hold you to that."

"Bring it on, superstar," you whispered before leaning up and pressing a gentle, soft kiss against his mouth. You licked your lips and hummed before looking up at him through your lashes. "Cream cheese?"

"I made you a bagel, but you fell asleep," he admitted, "but figured we could relax the rest of the day. Order in, watch movies... just like we said we would."

"I don't remember saying we would do all that naked," you teased.

"Thought that was implied, baby," he said with a frown. "You shacked up with a pornstar, what'd you expect?"

What did you expect? Did you ever imagine your life would turn out the way it did? Sitting in bed with a sheet wrapped around you, eating Chinese food and watching a Turner Classic Movies marathon with the man of your dreams? You always wished for it; before you met, after you became friends, while you were carrying on an illicit affair, and even when you weren't on speaking terms, you always, always wished for it. But did you ever really think it would come true?

You couldn't really remember, and at that point, it didn't matter. Because you didn't care how you got there, just as long as you were together, you were happy.

You did exactly what he said you would do. You stayed in bed until the sun began to set, wasting the whole day away curled into his side watching old movies and pointing out your favorite parts, exactly the way you used to.

It was around nine when Joel suggested going out for ice cream. Let's get out, stretch our legs and walk along the river, he had said after vowing to finish your vegetable garden the next day.

And on your way out, your hands fused together even while he struggled to lock the door one handed, you looked at the chairs on his porch and smiled to yourself.

"What's that for?" he asked, tapping your cheek lovingly while you walked side by side to his truck.

"Nothing, it's stupid," you told him with a shrug.

"Ain't nothin' you got to say is stupid to me."

You sighed when he let your hand go so you could round the truck and hop into the passenger seat. After you clicked your seatbelt into place, he put the keys in the ignition but waited to turn it on. Instead, he looked at you expectantly with his eyebrows raised.

"Fine," you mumbled, "I'm gonna sound fucking crazy, but... fine."

"Oh, well now this I gotta hear," he said.

You gave him a look before turning in your seat to face him. "The chairs on your porch." He nodded.

"So far, not crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Remember when I came by to drop off the shirts for the Jack and Jill party?"

He nodded again and you could feel the self-consciousness begin to creep up.

"We weren't on great terms back then. I had just found out you bought a house. I felt like I hardly even knew you anymore. And I was so damn nervous, I didn't want to fuck things up even more than I already had, but when I saw you had two..." You paused when you saw the flicker of understanding cross his face. "I thought you maybe found someone else. I know. It's crazy, like I said."

Joel smiled and reached his hand across the seat to lace together with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Got the second one for you."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise.

"What?" you breathed.

He gave you a shrug and tilted his head bashfully. "I was just waitin' for you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckling yourself so you could stretch your body over to his seat and pull him into a deep kiss.

"I thought I lost you," you whispered against his mouth, and he chuckled.

"You didn't. I was all yours that very first night, sweetheart."

You didn't even try to deny it. He was right. It seemed so obvious now. Why didn't you see it back then? But before you began to mentally chastise yourself for being so bullheaded, you stopped. You couldn't change the past, something you've been learning to accept in therapy for months now, but what you could do was focus on your future. And while you sat next to Joel as he drove towards your favorite ice cream place in town, windows down and stars twinkling in the sky, you smiled because your future together looked pretty damn bright.

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe taking care of sick reader

warnings: none! fluff hi lovelies! i just got this idea while i was sleep-deprived and really just felt like writing fluff since it seems i haven't been writing it much lately ,,, and also because what i have planned next for bsf!rafe is ... well, let's just say he's gonna be in the trenches.

you were certain this was the worst you'd ever felt. you should've known it'd happen - of course, taking care of your little sister while she was sick would have some kind of consequences.

the tv in your bedroom was playing old episodes of buffy the vampire slayer, something you always watched when you were hungover or otherwise having a bad day, and apparently now whenever you were sick.

you had no appetite, and your entire body felt like it was on fire while also being ice cold, your trash can filled with used tissues, your second box of them now on your nightstand next to a cup of tea that had gone cold.

a soft knock was on your door, and you sighed, you knew that your sister felt guilty for getting you sick, but you also didn't want her to get sick all over again. "i told you, don't come in!"

but the door still creaked open, and you let out a soft sigh, the heels of your palms now pressing against your eyes. "i told you not to feel guilty that you got me sick, i don't blame you."

"i wasn't aware that i did that."

you furrowed your brows when the voice that came from the door wasn't your little sister's soft, warm voice, but instead a rough, deep voice, one you were intimately familiar with. you didn't even need to take your hands away from your eyes to know who it belonged to.

but once you did, you were confronted with your best friend's tall figure standing at your doorway, a smile on his face and a grocery bag and a bouquet of flowers in hand as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. you pulled your blanket up to your nose, aware that you definitely didn't look the best right now, only making the boy chuckle.

"why are you here, rafe?" you asked in a soft voice that was muffled by the blanket, "i texted you to tell you i'm sick."

"i know." rafe said as he slowly walked over to your bed, sitting at the edge of it. "you do know that you don't need to hide, right? i've seen you sick a million times when we were kids." the boy chuckled, slowly pulling the blanket down, revealing your face.

"then why are you here?"

"i'm here to take care of you." he said with a small smile. it was odd, you were sure you hadn't seen rafe act this gentle since you were both children, the boy now pulling things out of the grocery bag. "i brought you some crackers, and some of your favorite snacks. and, chicken noodle soup. your sister said you haven't really been eating."

"rafe, you do know that you could get sick too, right?" you asked as rafe started emptying the contents of the grocery bag, revealing an array of some of your favorite snacks, your eyes widening.

"well, if i do, i expect the same treatment from you."

you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him, "you do know that no funny business is gonna go down, right?" and the blonde simply burst into laughter. "i mean, this isn't exactly an attractive sight."

"just let me take care of you."

and even though you kept trying to tell rafe to leave, that he'd probably get sick if he stayed, but your attempts were futile, and after a while, there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on your nightstand along with a new cup of tea, you had downed the chicken noodle soup, the warmth of it calming down some of the pain in your throat, and you were both now settled in your queen-sized bed, a cold towel on your forehead that rafe had insisted you needed.

"i can't believe you're watching this again." rafe grinned, his arm lazily thrown around your shoulder as he bit into one of the twizzlers he had brought, buffy still playing on tv.

"what do you mean? it's a great show."

"mmhm. and you're sure it has nothing to do with your crush on that emo bleach-blonde vampire?"

you softly smacked rafe's chest before taking the cold towel off your forehead, now having turned lukewarm. "you know, he kind of reminds me of you."

that statement made rafe grin, turning to look at you with lifted brows, "oh, yeah? is that why you have a crush on him?"

you simply rolled your eyes, letting out a small scoff.

rafe hadn't even noticed the moment you had gone slack in his arms, still focused on the tv, only realizing that you were asleep when you let out a small, adorable whine in your sleep. he looked down at your face, so serene and beautiful, it made something in his chest ache. he'd never tell you, but the moments he loved the most were the ones like this. ones when he could just admire you without having to hide it.

he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, tugging it behind your ear before pressing a soft, feather-like kiss on your forehead, looking down at you, an aching feeling stabbing in his chest, one that was more intimate than any of the sexual aching he felt for you. and that was the moment that he really realized he was in trouble.

and in a soft whisper, he said, "i love you." hoping that the girl it was meant for wouldn't be able to hear it.

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 19

▪ Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Bulge Kink

▪ Genre: Smut

▪ Word Count: 2.1k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Chan, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, big dick Chan, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie

▪ Other Warnings: brief mentions of fire, mentions of food and consumption of food, reader both mentions, and interacts with both of her parents

▪ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Ash Grey, Burnt Orange, and White Oak <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

The cold night air sends chills up your spine as you pull the blanket that's draped over your shoulders tighter around you. You sit in silence, admiring the comforting sound of the crackling logs that burn slowly in the fire pit in front of you.

You take a second to peer across from you at your parents, your mom tucked securely into your dad's side as they too gaze into the fire. A bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate squares sit in a neat pile in one of the vacant chairs, patiently waiting to be savored amongst the three of you.

The way this scene is playing out reminds you of your childhood. The comforting warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the moon, the gentle twinkle of the stars, it brought you peace, and to some extent, made you feel like a little kid again.

You love visiting your parents, enjoying the break from all your responsibilities and otherwise hectic life, but you can't say you don't really miss Chan. It's rare for you and Chan to be separated for any reason other than work, and you two have grown used to the schedule, handling it with ease, but a weeklong trip to visit your parents is not work, and it's not part of the schedule you both have grown familiar with, either.

To say you're both feeling each other's absence is an understatement. As dramatic as it may sound, you feel incomplete and out of place, like a compass that endlessly spins, never quite gaining a sense of direction.

Chan isn't much better off. Tossing and turning in your shared bed that he normally sleeps soundly in, hugging your pillow close in hopes of easing his restless mind. Instinctively making enough food for two, only to realize after the fact that you're not there to enjoy it with him.

As much as you're enjoying spending time with your parents, the days feel like they're dragging on, and you would be lying if you said you weren't counting down the days until you finally go home.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You hear your mom gently call out, bringing you out of your thoughts as you blink at her a few times.

"Oh, uh...I'm okay." You answer, giving her a nod of reassurance.

"You miss Chan, don't you?" She asks you knowingly, watching you nod in response as you sink further into the chair.

"This is the first time we've been separated in over a year, and...neither of us are taking the distance too well." You explain, feeling yourself choke up a little bit at the simple mention of being away from your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." She hums apologetically, gently squeezing at your dad's arm as she sits up, leaning forward before she speaks. "Next time you come around, bring him with you! He's always welcome, you know."

You smile at her words, nodding in response.

"I think he'd like that."

"I think he'd like anywhere as long as he's with you." She replies, winking at you as she reaches for the smore makings. "Now, who wants smores?"

You spent the next couple of hours sharing stories with your parent's, telling them about some of your favorite memories with Chan, as well as listening to each of your parents favorite memories of their time spent together as a couple. It made you cherish your relationship with Chan even more, hoping to one day have the opportunity to tell stories of your relationship with Chan to kids of your own.

It wasn't long before you all decided to turn in for the night, exhaustion setting in as you go your separate ways. You make your way to your childhood room, quickly showering before you crawl into bed.

You see a text from Chan, asking you to call him when you're free, and you smile at the notification before you call him.

"Hi, gorgeous." The sound of his voice makes your heart drum in your chest, and you beam at him as his face comes into frame.

"Hi, Channie, how was your day?"

He lets out a long sigh, falling back against his pillow before he speaks.

"It was alright, I just wish you were here." He tells you honestly.

"I know, baby," you sigh back, melting into your bed as sleep slowly takes over your form. "Tomorrow, Channie, and I'm all yours."

"You mean that?" He asks you with a smirk, watching a smile pull at your lips before you hum in response.

"Always."

He stays on the line with you until you fall asleep, reluctantly hanging up before he lets sleep embrace him as well.

The next morning you all but leap out of bed, getting ready for the day and hurriedly packing all your things before you part ways with your parents, assuring your mom you'll let her know when you're home safe.

The three-hour drive back to you and Chan's shared home feels like eternity. The remaining time on your GPS seemingly unmoving as your eyes continuously dart back to the estimated arrival time. You feel your heart rate quicken in pure anticipation when the arrival time finally reads five minutes.

You pull into your driveway, almost jumping out of your car as you make a beeline for your front door, letting it swing open to reveal Chan already standing there waiting for you with open arms. You fall into his embrace at record speed, tightly wrapping your arms around him as he carefully walks you backwards towards the front door, kicking it shut as he holds you close.

"God, I missed you so much." He breathes into your neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin right after.

"I missed you, too." You respond, your breathing slowly becoming ragged as Chan trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

"Channie-" you breathe out, melting into his touch as his hands sneak under your shirt to feel your bare skin. "I still have to get my stuff out of the car."

"That can wait, baby." He softly explains, walking you towards your kitchen table. "I'll even bring it all in for you, but only after we make up for lost time."

You almost chuckle at his words, but the sound dies in your throat when he hoists you up onto the kitchen table. He takes a step away from you to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it out of his way before he does the same with your own. Your hands are quick to lay flat against his chest, letting your fingertips trace along the muscles in his chest and torso as his hands find purchase on your waist.

He tugs you closer until you're sitting at the very edge of the table before he helps you lay flat against the surface. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down your legs in one swift motion before they join your previously discarded clothes. He lets out a moan at the sight of your bare core on full display in front him, his knees feeling weak at the thought of finally pushing inside you.

His shorts and briefs are the last articles of clothing to join the discard pile, carelessly kicking them to the side as he parts your thighs to stand between them. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his shaft presses between your folds.

He hurriedly slides his tip through your slit, gathering as much of your arousal as he can before he presses his tip to your hole.

"Missed you so much." He mumbles out, slowly pushing past your entrance as he speaks.

"Missed you, too." You answer, the sound of your voice already coming out broken and desperate as your back arches off the table.

Chan holds your waist securely in his hands, keeping you in place as he buries himself inside you to the hilt.

"Fuck, you're so big-" you mewl out, your hands gripping at his forearms.

"Did you forget that during the week you were away, baby?" He asks you breathlessly, still smirking down at you, nonetheless.

"M'not sure, jus' feels so good." You whine out, squirming in place as he slowly pulls out until just his tip is inside you.

"Let me remind you how much you love how big I am, hm?" His hips slam into yours right after the words leave his mouth, making your body jolt against the table as a choked scream tears from your throat.

He sets his pace, slow and rough as he watches your mouth fall open at the pleasure. Your grip on his forearms tightens with every thrust of his hips, your nails leaving crescents in his warm skin. Each of your pretty noises leaves your mouth in syllables, broken somewhere in the middle by the sheer force of Chan's thrusts.

You involuntarily clench around Chan's length when he lets out a low moan of your name, causing his pace to pick up in speed only slightly as he gets closer to his high. He rests one of his palms flat against your clit, watching you immediately grind against his palm as the need to cum clouds your brain and guides your movements.

You let out a choked sob when he brings his hips to a complete stop, his length still buried inside you as he pulls his hand away from your clit right after.

"Channie, no, please-" you whimper, bucking your hips for some sort of friction.

"Fuck, hold on, baby." You feel his hand press against your tummy, lightly at first before he increases the pressure. A loud, involuntary moan tears past your lips as your body trembles at the feeling. "You feel me here, baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?"

You can only nod as moans and whines spill past your lips, your thighs shaking against Chan's hips. You feel Chan gently grab your hand, placing it on your tummy before he presses down again, another loud moan slips past your lips and Chan bucks his hips involuntarily at the way your body reacts to his actions.

"Look, baby." He gently calls out, directing your attention to where both you and Chan's palms are pressed against your tummy. "Taking me so well, aren't you, pretty girl?"

You glance down, seeing the way your tummy bulges where Chan's length is buried inside you, and you let out another moan at the sight.

"Watch me fill you up, pretty." He breathes out, each of his breaths short and labored as he fights to restrain himself.

He draws his hips back, both of you watching the bulge disappear before he thrusts back into you, the bulge in your tummy reappearing when he bottoms out again. Your head falls back against the table with a thud, your eyes screw shut as your mouth falls agape, the knot in your stomach tightening again with every desperate thrust of Chan's hips.

Chan can't take his eyes off the bulge in your tummy, his head cloudy as he drowns in the pleasure, chasing his high as his hips speed up. Both of you are so close, desperate to reach your highs after a week of not seeing each other, and not having any kind of release. The table creaks with every thrust of Chan's hips, the noise falling on two pairs of deaf ears as you both come dangerously close to reaching your orgasms.

Chan presses his hand between your thighs again, rubbing the heel of his palm against your bundle of nerves as you jolt in his hold.

"Cum with me, baby, please." He moans out, feeling your walls throb around his cock.

His hips connect with yours a few more times before he stills inside you, his mouth falling open and his moans mixing with the sound of yours as he cums deep inside your cunt. Your entire body tenses before you tremble in his hold, your vision going white as you desperately cling to whatever part of him you can reach. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as you cream around his cock, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks as you moan out his name like a mantra.

The sound of moans and skin connecting repeatedly dies down, sounds of heavy panting and gasps filling the space instead. Eventually, your breathing evens out and you look up at Chan like he just gave you the world. He returns your gaze, looking at you like you just hung every star in the sky for him before he helps you sit up, pulling you into his chest a moment later. You hear his heartbeat, now calm and stable beneath your ear, smiling to yourself as you wrap your arms around his torso.

Maybe you'll get around to letting your mom know you made it home safe.

Maybe your stuff will eventually make it inside, too.

Right now, those are the least of your worries as your heartbeat settles, softly drumming in sync with Chan's as the comforting smell of his cologne invades your senses.

There's truly no place like home.

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

I am very fond of this day, it feels very comforting to me for some reason.

Might be because it's about Chan and that man is quite literally comfort personified, dunno

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©All rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 19th, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 3: High sex with Wade Wilson/Deadpool

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool X Fem!Reader Word Count: 1462 Warnings: recreational drug use, Shotgunning, P in V sex, These two are so soft I love it.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

It happened. You've died and gone to Heaven.

That's the only explanation for how perfect this day is.

It was another sesh day for you and Wade, and when you'd woken up that morning it was to the sound of soft pitter-patters as rain landed on your window, the sky dark and grey with the occasional break to let just enough light through to make the water droplets everywhere look like little diamonds.

The weed was hitting especially nicely, making your head feel light and drifty, your limbs both buzzing and leaden as you lounged back against Wade's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his steady breaths, his strong legs caging you in on either side.

There was a half-eaten bag of cheesy crackers on the table next to you, and in the back of your mind you remembered that there was a melty tuna casserole in the kitchen for later.

Wade himself was trailing his hand up and down your arm absentmindedly as he watched the T.V. playing some trashy daytime show. He had his mask on, still not quite ready to go without it around you, but you were happy to wait, as long as he was still there you were happy.

As you watched him, he turned and looked down at you. "Sup, Smiley?" He asked, poking your flushed cheek with a finger, which made you puff them out jokingly in response, pulling stoned giggles from both of you.

"Nothin', just really happy." You answered once you'd caught your breath, reaching up for the blunt hanging from the fingers of his other hand, plucking it from his hold and taking a long slow drag, holding the smoke for a moment before letting it curl slowly from between your lips.

You could feel Wade's gaze on you as your half lidden eyes watched the sunshine through the silver cloud moving slowly up, forming abstract shapes. "Well, ain't that a sight..." He murmured and you half expected there to be some dirty conclusion to that sentence, but there wasn't, he just kept watching you.

Tilting your head back you turned your gaze away from the smoke cloud to look up at him, a lazy smile warming your face. "Who? Me?" You asked coyly, suddenly feeling a different kind of buzz under your skin. "Can we do the thing?" You asked sweetly, knowing he couldn't say no to your cute face.

You could see his smile through the mask, and he nodded, plucking the joint from your fingers and holding away at a safe distance so you could change positions.

His free hand helped you stay steady as you shifted till you were straddling his lap, you could feel the press of the slowly forming erecting, not even at half-mast yet but already well on its way.

As you settled, his hands came to rest on your lower back, pulling you slowly closer, you naturally arched into his touch, pressing your chest to his as your faces hovered an inch from each other, desperate to press your lips to his but parted by his mask.

"Can I...?" You asked softly, voice thin as the smoke still floating in the air. He knew exactly what you were asking, and he felt his chest swell as he watched you wait for his answer, obviously itching to hear a yes, but so ready to accept a no.

"Yeah, Sweets. Go ahead." He said it lightly, like he didn't actually care that much, but you felt his heart skip a beat, you felt the hitch in his breath. It always made him a little nervous, even though he knew you didn’t care how he looked.

So, with that in mind, you moved slow as you lifted a hand, fingers slipping under the hem and brushing the soft scarred skin of his neck. His breath hitched again, but for a different reason as you felt the stirring pressed against your center.

You pulled the mask up to his nose, giving you just enough exposure to get to his lips.

He brought the blunt to his lips and took a slow drag, and you were sure he was watching you watch him, his lips pursing as he inhaled, face lit up slightly more by the cherry.

You were hypnotized by him.

The hit was held for half the time he normally would before his free hand took hold of your jaw, guiding your lips till they hovered so close you could feel his heat but somehow not touching.

You had to remind yourself to inhale the smoke and not just stare at him as he exhaled slowly.

You tried to picture his expression under the mask, eyes half lidden and a little red and watery, pupils dilated as arousal started to trickle into his veins.

You were pretty sure he didn't have any hair, given that there hasn't been any to be found on the rest of his body, of it that you've seen in the light, so you were willing to bet he didn't have eyelashes, but your brain supplied you with the mental image of them fluttering as his eyes closed.

The faint brush of the smoke passing from him to you suddenly consumed all your attention, pulling it in to hold for but a moment, an ultimately useless moment given how high you already are, before tilting your head back, giving Wade a nice view of the collum of your neck.

If you were to ask Wade why he did what he did next, he'd probably hit you with a dirty quip or joke, but the truth is it was pure instinct for him to wrap his hand around your neck, hand curving around so his fingertips rested over your pulse points.

His skin was so hot against yours, the callouses on his fingers left a tingling sensation. If all he did was hold you like this, you'd have been happy, but instead he gave a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, finding the boundary of Just Right and Too Much.

And he knows he's found it when you're wiggling on his lap, your cunt grinding against his cock with the irritating barriers of your clothes.

Wade likes a good long tease before getting to the meat and potatoes of fucking, loves the sweet torture of getting edged a good few (dozen) times.

But right now, he wanted to bask in you. In how you made him feel high as much as the actual drug.

It was a slow and lazy process, getting both your pants off or pushed down enough to get the job done, hands moving slow, pawing gently at each other.

But once your leggings and panties are hanging from one of your ankles and his own sweats and boxers are shoved down, you're right back to grinding against him, coating his thick length in the abundant wetness that's accumulated between your thighs.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders for stability as you rocked against him. "Wade..." You breathed against his lips, skin brushing ever so slightly. You're not sure what you're trying to draw his attention to, or even if that's what you were doing at all. Maybe you were just saying his name to taste it.

"I gotcha, Sweets." He said softer than you've ever heard him be.

Suddenly you needed him inside you yesterday, so with a tilt of your hips and a guiding hand you sank down on his cock, a high whine escaping your lips at the full feeling.

You felt rather than heard the low moan that rumbled in Wade's chest as you settled all the way down, taking his full length. "Fucking fuck you feel incredible...Fuck..." He muttered against your neck as he trailed lips and teeth, undoubtedly leaving marks in his wake as he nipped and bit.

The slow rock of your hips was every bit as lazy as the removal of your clothes had been. As was the kiss you two shared, all slow messy tongues and playful teeth. Hands roamed, kneading and squeezing here and there as they went but never staying in one spot for long.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, and unlike the crashing waves of pleasure, it was more like a gentle lapping of heat in your belly.

The flutter of your pussy pulled a groan from Wade, but he never stopped moving. His own hips picking up where your left off as you rode out your orgasm. "That's it, Baby." He encouraged as one of his hands moved from where it had been gripping your hip down to rub slow lazy circles on your clit as he began to roll his hips up into your in earnest.

"I'm far from done with you."

God, you hoped so.

[bookyeom]

such a headache - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.9k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, seungkwan being unfairly cute summary: You have really bad migraines, and a great boyfriend.

A/N: This one's for us, @wheeboo.

You haven’t been dating Seungkwan for very long when the first migraine hits. 

It’s not your first migraine. It is the first migraine you’ve had since you started going out with Seungkwan, though, and you don’t know how he’s going to handle it. You should have known that telling him you have to cancel on a date because you’re sick wasn’t going to help, though. 

You hear the doorbell to your apartment ring. Once, twice, and then your phone is ringing, and you’re suddenly afraid that the noise might make you throw up. Your doorbell rings again, and you groan, forcing yourself up and to the door. You're not sure how you make it, but you do. 

“Hi,” your boyfriend says breathlessly when you open the door, and you wince at the brightness of the shitty apartment hallway lights. You do manage to vaguely register how cute he looks, though.

“Hey.” Your hand lifts to your forehead and you push in on it, an attempt to stave off the pain that’s beginning to increase, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“Are you okay?”

You forgot where you were for a second, your eyes peeking open to look at him again. He’s got a couple of grocery store bags in hand, and you wince. 

“Honestly, I feel awful right now.”

Seungkwan steps forward and you let him in, closing the door behind you. He sets his bags down and then he’s pulling you in for a hug. You rest your forehead against his chest, reveling in the warmth of it against the place where your impending migraine looms. You almost whine when he pulls away, hands on your biceps as he assesses you. 

“What’s wrong? Is it your stomach? Do you have a cold? I brought stuff for everything, just in case.”

“Headache.”

Seungkwan looks surprised, a hand lifting to press against your forehead. “Do you have a fever? Chills? Runny nose?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, leaning into the warmth of his palm. “Migraine, Seungkwan. I get really bad migraines.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Did you just apologize?” You shrug, and Seungkwan tsks. “Do you need Advil or Tylenol? I have both.” 

“Advil would be great.”

Seungkwan instructs you back into the darkness of your room. You have no idea what he’s going to do, but you willingly oblige, another apology on the tip of your tongue before you see the look on his face and decide against it. 

By the time your door cracks open, the pain has begun its increase. Seungkwan enters and you swallow the Advil he offers with a glass of water. He sits on the edge of your bed as you do, watching you, and you wince when your phone dings. He reaches for it immediately, switching it to silent.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I can’t really see straight right now.”

“What?”

You open one eye as you lean back against your headboard, finding him among the zig zags and blurry lines. “Everything’s a bit blurry at the moment.”

“Should I be concerned?”

You can’t help but smile at that, despite the fact that you feel so nauseous you could cry. “No,” you assure him. “I just need to wait it out. Fucking sucks.”

Seungkwan is quiet for a minute, and you let your eyes fall shut. You know he’s processing, and you wonder if he thinks you’re exaggerating like most people do. Then his hand finds your leg and he squeezes, and you think that maybe he’s not like most people. 

“Can I do anything else? Lights off, no noise, right?”

You nod, then realize he probably can’t see you very well in the dark. “Yeah.” You pause. “Could you…”

You hate asking for help. Seungkwan knows, and he squeezes your knee again. “I don’t mind,” he assures you.

“I need to eat something small. Maybe crackers? I don’t know if I have any, though.”

“I bought some.” 

He’s out the door and back in a flash. You thank him, forcing a couple of crackers down before you lie back down on the bed. You can’t think about much as the pain hits its peak. You want to cry, but you know that only makes it worse; you feel like you need to throw up, but you know you don’t actually have to. You just have to wait for the meds to kick in, and there’s nothing else to do about it. 

You’re about to apologize to Seungkwan again because you’re embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this, but he speaks before you can. 

“Do you want me to go? I want to stay,” he adds quickly, “but if I’m making it worse…”

All you can feel, above the pain and the nausea, is an overwhelming sense of affection. 

You are down so bad.

“Please stay.”

You wake up maybe an hour later and the pain is gone. You still feel weak, but better. The best part about waking up, though, is that your boyfriend is still there when you do. 

“Seungkwan?”

He looks away from his phone and over at you in surprise. “Hi! I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Mhm.”

“Feeling better?”

You nod. “A million times better.”

You register his arm under your head, his side pressed to yours, and you can’t help but snuggle in closer. You surge forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he lets out a sigh. 

“You just recovered and you want to jump me already?” He shakes his head. “Insatiable.” 

It’s him that kisses you full on the mouth right after, though. 

“Okay,” Seungkwan says suddenly, attempting to remove his arm from around you, but you whine in protest and cling to him even tighter. You absolutely refuse to move from his side. He snorts, offering an affectionate hair ruffle before his hands leave you completely. You pout but don’t complain as he sits up a bit, because his hands have now begun furiously typing on his screen, which can mean only one thing: your boyfriend means business. About what, you have no clue.

You wait, head resting against his chest. Your eyes are beginning to shut again now that your body is done fighting itself. You always have the best sleep after a migraine. 

“Do you get…” Seungkwan pauses, and you drowsily look up to find him squinting at his screen. “Auras? Do you get auras?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Do you get auras before a migraine?” 

You’d laugh at how serious he looks right now, but you think that would get you in trouble, so you stick to simply answering his question. “Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how bad it’s gonna be.”

“So an aura can kind of tell you how much pain you’ll be in later?”

You think about it. “Kind of? I couldn’t measure how much pain I’ll be in when it hits, but when I start to get blurry vision I know it’ll be a bad one.” 

Seungkwan simply nods, and begins to type something out again. You’re confused but amused nonetheless. You have no idea what he’s doing, but he’s got his thinking face on — and he looks hot as hell. You’re blatantly ogling him when he asks the next question.

“You said you get blurry vision sometimes. That happened today, right? Earlier?” You nod. “What about like, numbness anywhere?” He looks a bit concerned as he says the last bit, and you squeeze his side. 

“Only sometimes. That one is pretty rare for me. Usually, I’ll be in pain by then, so the numbness doesn’t freak me out because I know why it’s happening.”

He nods, much like a scientist when recording lab results, and you attempt to peer at his phone. He pulls it away easily and you pout, but he ignores you. 

“Do you get any warning signs before a migraine?”

You shake your head. “That part really sucks — I get the blurry vision before the pain comes, but I don’t notice anything before my vision starts to zigzag.”

Seungkwan hums. You’re incredibly endeared. “It says here that some people prefer ibuprofen, some prefer acetaminophen, and that some people need prescription painkillers. What about you? I remember that Advil is the only thing that works for your cramps, right? Is it the same for your migraines?”

You suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing. 

You can’t do anything but stare up at him as he finishes his sentence, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed with fondness for the man beside you that you think you might be sick. He glances down at you when you don’t respond, concern etched across his face.

“Are you Googling how migraines work right now?”

You watch as Seungkwan flushes pink, stammering a bit before he answers. “Maybe,” he mumbles, looking away from you, and you’re positive that you’ve never been more into anyone, ever. 

“Are you writing down what I tell you so you know how to help me when I have one?”

It’s quiet for a split second, and then Seungkwan is brushing you off of him, rolling onto his side and away from you. “Nope,” comes his muffled reply, and you feel so downright giddy that it makes your head spin. 

“Seungkwan,” you try, and you hold back a giggle when he simply huffs in response. You reach for him, hand sliding over his waist as you tuck yourself into his back. “Baby.”

You both seem to realize what you’ve just said at the same time. The pet name is new, but you can’t help that it slipped out when he’s being so cute. You worry that he hates it for a second when he tenses up, but then his body softens again and he rolls back to face you.

“I’m only looking at you because you just called me ‘baby’, and that’s almost as embarrassing as me making a note about your migraine symptoms and treatments.”

You want to make a comment about how you calling him ‘baby’ didn’t feel embarrassing at all — in fact it felt quite right — but you’ll address that later. “Thank you so much for your sacrifice,” you say sarcastically.

Seungkwan pouts at your teasing, but his tough exterior doesn’t last long. It never does with you. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in, both of his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. 

“Thanks, Kwanie.” Your words are a whisper against his neck, and he pulls back to look at you in surprise. 

“Thanks for what?”

Your finger traces the collar of his t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “Wanting to look after me like that. It means a lot.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your boyfriend is suddenly  on top of you, legs tangling with yours. You adapt quickly, a hand lifting to run your fingers through his hair, and you can feel it when he sighs against you. Then he nuzzles his face into your neck as he murmurs, “Having a migraine sounds so scary, babe. I’m sorry.”

Babe. 

You barely even flinch when he says it, trying it out for himself. You like the way it sounds coming from him. You like it a lot. 

“It is scary,” you admit. “But it helps when someone tries to understand.” 

Seungkwan nods, his head lifting from your neck to rest his chin on your chest. “I’ll continue to do my best, then.”

He looks at you, soft smile on his lips, and all you can do is smile back. When you mouth another “thank you”, he doesn’t say anything. The kiss you receive in return is his answer. 

Tags: @waldau @wqnwoos @eoieopda @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies

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[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[abbyromanoff]

Can I request Morticia Addams protecting you part 2? Maybe just fluff and how mortician and r raise a child together in a mafia family

ANOTHER?

PAIRINGS: Morticia Addams x reader

WORD COUNT: 885

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, overprotective!Morticia, talks of Mafia, some fear in Morticia, talks of having a baby, not spell checked, think that’s abt it :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Morticia, it’s not dangerous, I promise! We’ll never even let him out of our sight.” Your wife shook her head in a disapproving manner, sighing as she bit her lip and continued to chop the carrots. You groaned in petulance, only removing your hands from the tight hold against your chest when you heard your son crying out for you. Morticia instantly set down the knife, rushing behind you to catch an eye on the little boy. Apparently he was still hungry and was also upset that he knocked down her toy.

It was the toy his mama had gotten him and she took pride in knowing it was his absolute favorite toy. You would shoot her playful glares whenever she mentioned it, because the both of you knew deep down that Morticia would definitely be the most liked.

“Oh, Pugsley, you need to be more careful. I know you get your clumsiness from mommy, but I don’t need two of you being this identical.” You chuckled lowly and placed a small kiss to his forehead before allowing him a few animal shaped crackers before dinner.

“The giraffe has always been his favorite, I don’t understand why.”

“Well, they’re cute. And they’re tall, I bet he’ll be a tall little guy soon too.” He pointed out the animal with his small fingers, a smile adorning his face as he giggled and took a bite.

“They’re long-necked freaks, I don’t understand how anyone could like those things. Besides, he’s too little to be eating those, what if he chokes?”

“Baby, his teeth are nearly full grown and they’re the softer versions for babies, he’s going to be okay.” You admired his love for the crackers and came to a sudden realization that had you abstrused; he had never gone to the zoo. He had probably never even seen an animal besides when your bodyguard had brought around a watchdog who he adopted. He instantly fell in love with it, and he cried the moment you had to say goodbye.

“What if we take him to the zoo?” Your wife stopped in her retreat to the dinner she insisted on preparing and placed her arms at her side, glaring at the thought alone.

“Please tell me you are joking, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes and whined lowly, causing her to raise her eyebrows and quirk her lip upwards.

“Darling, do you realize how dangerous the zoo really is? There are hundreds upon thousands of people there every day, none of which we know and can trust. The animals are kept in their enclosures by glass only, what if they try to attack? Hm? What happens when our baby is in danger and we are too focused on those dang animals?”

“It’s not that serious! I get it’s dangerous with your position but he deserves to live, don’t you want our boy to experience the world?” You pleaded with your eyes that you knew she could fall for so instantly. She bit the inside of her cheek and took a small breath through her nose before finally falling out of her trance.

“You need to stop hypnotizing me with those things- you already gave them to our son and now he’s a spoiled little death bug.” She glanced towards him once more, and seeing him play happily with his food made her sigh softly.

“Mhm, and maybe that’s why you should let us take this cutie pie to the zoo.” You stood behind the little boy with pleading eyes and he seemed to follow your act without hesitation.

“Mama, will you please take me and mommy to the zoo? Oh, mama, I really want to go!” You impersonated, and your son's struggling voice came to play. He murmured her title and you knew that was the moment she’d agree. With a long term list that she forced you to listen to, she accepted your pleas and two days later you were holding your body as he giggled at the Lion’s acts.

Morticia had began with stalking your surroundings in order to keep Pugsley and her wife safe, but soon she felt her guard falling as she focused on the happiness you shared. She had never once in her life felt so much peace, she was finally calm. Bodyguards still followed you both for protection, but she felt as if you three were the only ones in the world.

“Where’s the giraffe enclosure?” Your wife asked, causing you to stop in your tracks and Pugsley’s face instantly lit up. You looked at the map and followed the direction instructed, and only a few minutes later did you stand in front of the awaited zone. He watched as the animal moved and admired the noises they made, along with the chewing of the leaves.

“You know, he could feed the lambs over there.” She nodded softly, giving her son a moment before expanding their journey.

“We should have more.”

“You think we can handle that?”

“I think I can handle anything as long as you’re with me.” You turned to face the woman, still keeping your eye on Pugsley as he fed the different breeds.

“Awh, is the grumpy old Morticia getting soft on me?”

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle the two of you.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

[calicomarie11]

WIP Wednesday

Tommy heard a knock at the door and frowned. He didn’t have any plans tonight. Originally, he and Evan were going to host a game night and after the break up he couldn’t bring himself to make alternate arrangements. His only plans for the night were demolishing a pizza and six-pack while watching whatever sporting event he could find on tv.

He opened the door and watched in confusion as Evan pushed past him, followed by Hen and Eddie. They were carrying cases of beer, bags clinking with bottles and rustling with chips. They flowed into the kitchen, chatting with each other and completely ignoring Tommy’s outraged huff.

He followed them, watching as they started putting the beer in the fridge, Evan pulling out serving bowls for the chips and Eddie being trusted to open the dips.

“What the hell do you think you all are doing?” Tommy spluttered out.

“Setting up for game night,” Evan answered with a cheeky grin.

“I assumed that was canceled, given the fact that we broke up,” Tommy said firmly.

“Except we didn’t break up and we were not about to give up on everyone being off tonight with a day off tomorrow. It took too long to get this scheduled to cancel it,” Evan said as he continued to arrange cheese, meat and crackers on Tommy’s charcuterie board. A board Tommy only had because Evan had brought it over the first time they hosted game night and had never taken it back.

“Buck, you can’t just invade my house like this,” Tommy protested. “I might have had plans.”

The look Evan shot him was equal parts unimpressed and sardonic. “Do you?”

“Well, no. But still…” Tommy trailed off.

“Then go change out of your sweats and make yourself pretty. The rest of the guests will be here any minute.” Evan shooed him out of his kitchen and Tommy went, confused and off balance.

He walked to his bedroom on auto-pilot and grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy Henley from his drawers. He changed and wandered out of his bedroom to the sound of laughter and chatting.

Entering his living room he saw that Lucy and Nick had arrived to complete the party. He was glad that Nick was there, as the person he counted on to be in his corner, and Lucy as his closest co-worker. Even if she did know the 118 from before, they had bonded when she started at Harbor.

Nick was the only one there he could count on to be wholly his friend. They had met when Tommy was newly out and trying to navigate the intense dynamics of the LA gay scene. They’d met through Grindr and Nick had clocked him right away as being new. To his credit, instead of shutting him down, he’d offered to help. In a lot of ways, Tommy had Nick to thank for helping him bridge the gap between knowing who he was and acting on it.

He can see from Nick’s quirked eyebrow that he has questions about the whole situation they’ve landed themselves in and as the only person there who knows the full story from Tommy’s side he really wants to sidebar with him as soon as possible.

Nick, to his credit, heads straight for him, but he is distracted by Evan clapping his hands as soon as he sees Tommy entering the room.

“Alright everyone. Thanks for joining us for game night,” Evan shouted, even though everyone had fallen silent as soon as he clapped. “The first game for tonight is Never Have I Ever.”

There was a mix of groans and cheers from the group.Lucy looked too excited by the announcement and Tommy frowned at her.

“Everyone grab a beer and a shot glass and head into the living room.” Evan moved to the fridge to start distributing beers while the rest of the group picked up the snacks and left to get settled. Tommy waited until they were alone before going up to Evan.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” Tommy asked, trying to sound stern but mostly sounding bewildered.

Evan looked at him and sighed. “After the Abby bombshell, I realized we had never really talked about our past relationships and experiences and we both might have some misconceptions about where the other is coming from.”

“And you thinking playing Never Have I Ever with our friends is going help with that?”

“Sure. They already know our deep dark secrets and most embarrassing stories and will keep us accountable.” Evan shrugged, like the prospect of admitting to the shit he’d gotten up in the past wasn’t terrifying.

Evan handed Tommy a can of his favorite IPA and grabbed a cider for himself. Shutting the fridge he reached down to circle Tommy’s wrist and tug him into the living room.

Tommy took his usual seat on the couch and Evan settled on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The rest of the group was distributed around the room.

Evan started talking again. “If it’s been a few years since you played, here are the rules. Each person will give a statement and if you have done the thing, then you take a drink. If you haven’t then you don’t get to drink. For the first round, we’re doing shots, but after that you can choose a shot or a sip.”

Evan filled six shot glasses with tequila and passed them out. “I’ll start. Never have I ever broken up with someone I could actually see a future with.”

Evan’s eyes bored into him after that statement and Tommy had a decision to make. Was he going to be honest going into this game, or was he going to keep hiding things from everyone.

Fuck it. If Evan wanted to play, they would play. He took his shot, only wincing a little as the tequila went down. From the corner of his eye he noticed Nick and Hen also taking their shots. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one with a habit of blowing up his life.

Lucy chimed in next and from the wicked glance she threw at Even, he knew this one was targeted. “Never have I ever cheated on a partner.”

Once again, Hen took a shot. Evan and Eddie clinked their shot glasses together before throwing them back. Evan turned to glare at Lucy and gestured at her. She just laughed and said “I wasn’t the one cheating, so I don’t have to do shit.”

“Rude,” Evan said, pouting.

Tommy’s eyes darted between Evan and Lucy, his brow furrowed. Lucy laughed as she smacked Evan on the shoulder.

“You never told him about that night at the bar?” she teased.

Evan glanced down at his lap as he muttered “Not my finest moment.”

Nick, who mainly knew Tommy and tangentially knew Lucy from a few nights out at the clubs went next. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Lucy was the only one to drink and Evan laughed as she exclaimed “Really! You all are so boring.”

Hen’s entry was “Never have I ever made out with someone in this room,” and Evan, Lucy, Nick and Tommy had to drink. Tommy didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes darted between him and Nick and then narrowed.

Eddie didn’t seem to understand the game, saying “Never have I ever knocked up my girlfriend,” before throwing back a shot.

Evan groaned. “Dude, you’re supposed to say things that other people have done.”

“But I wanted a shot,” Eddie whined back.

“Fine,” Evan rolled his eyes fondly.

And then it was Tommy’s turn. He’d been mulling over options as he watched his friends drink and joke, wondering how deep he wanted to go, what he really wanted to know about Evan’s past and what he wanted Evan to know about him.

He took a breath and then said “Never have I ever asked someone to move in with me.”

He watched as everyone but him took a shot, Eddie and Evan once again clinking their glasses together.

Evan grabbed the tequila bottle and refilled everyone’s glasses before he spoke up.

“Never have I ever lived with a romantic partner.” Everyone drank to that, and Evan seemed to relax a bit.

The game continued and Tommy lost track of who was asking what as he took his shots.

At one point Eddie grinned at Evan as he said “Never have I ever flirted with someone with the initials TK” and then made Evan take 3 shots.

Nick contributed “Never have I ever hooked up in a public bathroom,” and looked around in surprise when everyone else took a shot. “Eddie, I thought you’d be with me on this.”

Eddie shrugged even though he was blushing. “Shannon and I had a sneaking around phase,” he said.

“Y’all are nasty,” Nick said, throwing himself back in his seat.

When it was Tommy’s turn again he said, “Never have I ever been dumped.”

He sat back and watched as the rest of the room drank. Evan gave him a speculative look as he took his shot.

Then Hen chimed in with “Never have I ever stolen an LAFD vehicle to hook up,” and Evan protested “I didn’t steal the engine, I just borrowed it” before he took his shot.

Tommy took his shot too, and ignoring the looks from Eddie and Hen. “It wasn’t a 118 vehicle,” he clarified.

Lucy groaned and threw a waded up napkin at him. He met Evan’s eyes and quirked his eyebrow and they both started laughing. Which devolved into Eddie, Hen and Lucy throwing chips at the both of them as they ducked their heads.

All in all, it was fun and silly and nothing that Tommy deserved after dumping Evan.

It also left him wondering just how much he had missed or misread about their relationship. It was obvious that they hadn’t ever really talked about their experiences before, both of them trying so hard to be perfect for the other that they let all the buried trauma stay buried.

Until the trauma exploded into Tommy getting scared and pushing Evan away, telling himself it was for the best. Breaking his own heart before Evan could break it for him, like he always did.

He sat back and let the conversation wash over him as the game fizzled out and everyone started trying to one up each other with crazy sex stories. He was pleasantly buzzed and had some stories he could contribute but for now he wanted to soak in the atmosphere.

This was not at all how he envisioned this night going when he woke up alone in his bed. Evan was flushed and laughing, his friends were around him and he felt hope fluttering in his chest. No one had ever come back before.

[childrenofcain-if]

How would W react to an MC who is obsessed with them? Like they need help with a small thing? MC drop everything and run to the rescue. W doesn’t take care of themselves? Why bother when MC takes care of them.

W’s presence wasn’t always loud, but it was startling, an emotional thunderhead that you could feel rumbling in your ribs before it even fully cracked.

when the call came, their voice tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “i, uh, could use a hand with something.”

it didn’t matter what it was—something about a deadline they’d forgotten or a lamp they’d broken while pacing in frustration. you didn’t even ask. you dropped your coffee cup on the kitchenette counter, grabbed your jacket, and bolted out the door without thinking twice.

the quick walk to their suite was a blur and when you arrived, W was sitting cross-legged on the couch, their thin frame curled in on itself. they were wearing a mismatched pair of socks, one of them being yours—the blue one with the tiny stars that you’d lost weeks ago—and it was enough to make your heart ache.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, dropping your jacket at the door and crossing the room in three long strides.

W didn’t answer right away. their fingers were busy tracing invisible patterns on the edge of their sweater, which was so oversized it might as well have been a blanket. their silence stretched like a taut wire, and then, finally, they said, “i forgot to eat again.”

your chest tightened. not with anger, not even with frustration, but with the unbearable weight of love for someone who couldn’t always love themself. you didn’t say anything. you just walked into their kitchenette and started rummaging through cabinets and the refridgerator.

there wasn’t much to work with—a box of crackers, a bruised apple, a carton of almond milk. it didn’t matter. you threw together something small and easy and brought it back to W, sitting beside them on the couch.

they looked at the plate like it was a challenge, their fingers twitching toward it but never quite making contact.

“i’m sorry,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “you don’t have to apologize.”

“i do,” they insisted, their voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have to—”

“W,” you interrupted, your tone firmer than before. “i’m here because i want to be. because i love you. that’s it. that’s all there is to it.”

they looked at you then, their sapphire blue eyes watery and wide, and for a moment, you thought they might cry. instead, they reached for the plate and took a small bite of the apple. it wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start.

that night, after they’d eaten what they could and you’d cleaned up the remnants, you found yourself sitting together on the couch. W was curled against your side, their head resting on your shoulder, their fingers absently tracing shapes on your arm.

“you’re warm,” they murmured, their voice soft and sleepy. “and you smell nice. like fresh laundry.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to their temple. “and you’re wearing my missing sock.”

“it’s a good sock,” they said with a tired chuckle, tugging at the hem of it. “better than the pairs i own.”

“you could’ve just asked for it,” you said.

they tilted their head to look up at you, their expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a fond smile. “and where’s the fun in that?”

***

later, as the night deepened, W began to fidget. their fingers, which had been drawing lazy circles on your arm, began to scratch at their own thigh, leaving faint red marks in their wake.

“stop,” you said gently, catching their hand in yours.

they flinched but didn’t pull away. “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” you said, your voice kind. “just… tell me what’s wrong.”

they hesitated, their gaze fixed on the floor.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” they admitted. “like i’m… too much. or not enough. or both at the same time.”

your heart broke for the hundredth time that day. you pulled them closer, wrapping your arms around them like you could shield them from the weight of their own thoughts.

“you’re not too much,” you said. “and you’re not not enough. you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

they didn’t respond, but their body relaxed slightly against yours. after a moment, they said, “i love you so much, i can’t bear the pain.”

the words were so quiet you almost missed them, but when they sank in, they hit you like a freight train. you tightened your hold on them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head.

“i love you so much, i’ll bear it for you,” you whispered.

W looked up at you then, their eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you mean that?” they asked tentatively.

“every word,” you replied, leaving no room for doubt. W said nothing but their smile was brighter than the lights in the room.

after a while, W whispered in latin, “te amabo aeternum.”

you recognized the words instantly, even though W’s accent was softer, less confident. i will love you forever.

“amabo te in aeternum,” you corrected gently, your voice warm and teasing. the structure mattered less than the sentiment, but you couldn’t help it. W’s latin was too endearing to leave unpolished.

“of course you’d fix that,” they muttered with a faint smile, their tone holding no actual irritation. “you always seem to know everything, don’t you?”

“not everything,” you said, smiling softly as you ran your thumb along the back of their hand. “just the important parts. like how much you mean to me.”

W looked up at you then, their blue eyes catching the light and you leaned in closer, your nose brushing against theirs.

“et ego te amo.” and i love you, you said, soft but firm, as if the words themselves could shield them from everything clawing at their mind.

they sighed, a sound that carried equal parts relief and exhaustion, and melted against you. “thank you for everything, mein stern.”

***

as the night wore on, W continued murmuring fragments of latin into the quiet—“es somnium meum,” they said at one point, and it took you a moment to piece it together. you are my dream.

you tightened your hold on them. “tibi in somniis et re in aeternum pertinebo,” you whispered back. i will belong to you in your dreams and reality forever.

that earned a smile from W, small but real, and when they finally closed their eyes, you stayed awake, holding them close. you whispered one final phrase into the night, one you weren’t even sure they’d catch:

“in saecula saeculorum.” forever and ever.

they didn’t respond, but their breathing slowed, steady and even, their body curled against yours with all the trust and affection that they could ever afford to give back.

[hgfictionwriter]

Getaway

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's in her head about your friendship and if it can be something more. Can a vacation getaway change the trajectory of your connection?

A/N: Get ready for shy, sweet, awkward Jessie doing her best to not get in her own way and win over her girl. Someone requested fluff and while this isn't quite it - it's on its way lol. No warnings for this fic.

"Um, can I get you a refill?" Jessie asked as she spied the near empty glass in your hand. 

"Only if you're getting one," you responded with a nod to the cup Jessie was holding.  

Niamh and Zee had both retired for the night and it was now just Jessie and you around the firepit of the villa the four of you were renting. Jessie wasn't a night owl and she was actively fighting the weight of her heavy eyelids, but she wanted to stay up with you. And frankly, she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking as well. She was already feeling a bit of a buzz and wasn't entirely confident about having another drink. You noted her hesitation and smiled.  

"Doesn't have to be a boozy drink. I could go for a late night tea instead." 

Jessie smiled gratefully. You knew her so well.  

"Sure, let's do that," Jessie said. 

When Jessie returned a while later with two steaming mugs of tea, she also had a bag of crackers tucked under her arm and handed them to you. 

"Oh my gosh," you said as she sat up to receive the items. "How did you know I wanted a snack?" You blew on the hot beverage before taking a tentative sip. "And you remembered how I take my tea. Thank you." 

"Of course," Jessie said, hiding a pleased smile. An easy quiet fell over the two of you as you sipped your drinks. Jessie had to make a concerted effort to focus her gaze on the fire and to not stare at this beautiful woman across from her. She should really just enjoy the silence and your company, but an urge had been nagging her and her resolve was fading. 

"So, how are you liking it here so far?" She asked.  

"It's beautiful. Obviously," you responded with a light chuckle. "I'm loving it. Thank you again - to all of you - for letting me tag along on your unofficial team trip." 

"Oh, no need to thank me or any of us. We're all super glad you're here," Jessie said. She did her best to push down the awkward or self-criticizing feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of her. 

It's just Y/N, she had to remind herself so she wouldn't get caught up in analyzing her own words and actions. 

When Jessie first met you through Niamh over a year ago, you hit it off. At the time, Jessie made a point of not giving it too much headspace. It was just one meeting after all and it could have been a fluke. But when you saw each other again at another event, it became evident to Jessie that there was actually something there. Your chemistry was natural, banter was easy, and your conversation led to some deeper things and you ended up talking late into the night. Jessie was reserved, even shy, so warming up to someone so quickly and feeling comfortable wasn't the norm.  

Just as Jessie was working up the nerve to ask you for your number - an extreme rarity - it came to light that you had a girlfriend. That brought everything to a crashing halt. 

Jessie had been furious with herself for misreading your connection and for almost making a fool out of herself. She was even more upset with herself for how disappointed she felt by this turn of events. It had only been a couple of conversations and she shouldn't be so affected. Regardless, she most definitely didn't want to get caught up in any drama. So when you parted ways that night she dismissed the notion that it could've ever been anything more. She was committed to pushing you from her mind and that was the end of it. 

However, your paths kept crossing and that chemistry didn't go away. In fact, every time you talked, Jessie found that you lingered longer and longer in her mind and that feeling in her chest grew warmer and brighter.  

In time, Jessie convinced herself that being friends wouldn't be so bad. And, truthfully, it was mostly good. There were, regretfully too many, moments where Jessie had to do everything in her power to not reach out to hold your hand or to not let it show when mention of your girlfriend sent a dagger through her insides, but Jessie's life was undeniably better with you in it than even the thought of one without.  

Knowing that you'd never be anything more made things simple enough, not easy, but the lines were undebatable. However, since you and your girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago, things were different and Jessie was having more and more difficulty navigating your dynamic. The chemistry was still clear as day for Jessie, but did you feel the same? And even on the off-chance that you did feel the same, were you ready for a new relationship? And now that you'd been friends for so long, Jessie had to weigh the cost of risking your friendship. The thought of losing you terrified her.

All of the drama she'd been trying to avoid seemed to be closing in on her despite her efforts. She should really just let it all go, but it was proving harder and harder to. 

"Did you and [y/ex] ever talk about visiting here?" Jessie asked clumsily. She had to resist the urge to sigh in annoyance at herself. She watched your reaction carefully; if you were put-off or perplexed by the inquiry, you didn't let on. 

"No," you answered nonchalantly and shrugged. "She wasn't really big on travel. So, it never really came up. I've always wanted to come here though, so this is perfect." 

"Oh yeah, me too," Jessie said quickly - too quickly. She fought off the wince that threatened to cross her face. She cleared her throat inaudibly and redirected. "Um, I haven't really checked in in a while. Uh, so, how are you? You know…since the break-up." 

It seemed that no matter how many times she’d rehearsed these conversations, they just never really came out the way she wanted them to. Maybe it was a good thing she had a bit of a buzz, because otherwise she'd probably be sinking into her chair and praying to disappear at how clunky she was approaching this. 

"You're sweet," you responded with a small smile. Again, if you were thrown off by any of this, you weren't letting it be known. "I'm doing well. Honestly." Jessie didn't fill the silence that formed and you went on, dropping eye-contact and swirling your tea distractedly. "It was the right decision." 

"That's good," Jessie affirmed with a nod. "I mean, if you're not in love, no point in dragging things on."  

"Exactly. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us. And truthfully, it was a long time coming," you said returning a nod. You let out a quick exhale and sat back in your chair, a faint smirk now forming on your face. "And what about you? Anyone on the horizon for you?" 

A deep blush immediately began to burn on Jessie's cheeks. She forced what she hoped was an easy laugh. "Nothing on the horizon." 

You shot her a discerning look. "No one? The entire time I’ve known you you’ve never been remotely interested in anyone. So still no one?” 

"What?" Jessie defended, her voice rising in pitch. Her cheeks were on fire as she frowned at you. "I'm too busy. I'm gone like every other week, and sometimes for weeks at a time. That's not exactly the best foundation for a relationship." 

Great. Just go ahead and tell her all the reasons why you'd make a crappy partner, Jessie thought disparagingly. 

To Jessie's surprise, you smiled. 

"That right there tells me you'd be a good partner. It's very thoughtful. I mean, from what I've seen, there are a lot of others who don't afford partners - if you can call them that sometimes - the same kind of care and consideration," you relayed. "That said, life is short. Even if your schedule is crazy, if she's the right one for you, you'll make it work. And if you're the right one for her, she won't mind that your schedule is crazy. It'll make the moments that you're together that much sweeter." 

If Jessie's blush was about to fade, that last part had the opposite effect on her. All she could do was offer a tight smile. 

"I suppose that's true." 

She cleared her throat, building herself up to shift the focus of the conversation back to you.  

“Uh, you mentioned your break up was a long time coming - what did that mean?” She tried to make it sound casual, but she feared the chances of that were quite low. She added quickly, “You obviously don’t need to tell me anything. You just never really said why you broke up and I just-” 

“It’s okay. Really.” You mercifully interjected. You settled further into your chair with a heavy sigh, your gaze drawn back to the drink in your hands. You took a few moments to formulate your response. “I think it just became apparent to me that my feelings for her weren’t what they should be. She deserved more. And I do, too.”  

“That’s very mature. And takes a lot of self-awareness,” Jessie offered.  

“Thanks,” you said simply with a faint smile and a shrug.  

Jessie waited a beat to see if you would elaborate more, but you didn’t. Jessie contemplated what to say next and although she didn’t fully trust where her instincts were taking her, she went with it nonetheless.  

“Um, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but is there anyone on the horizon for you? Like, are you looking to date again?” Once more, she did her damnedest to make it sound like idle curiosity. She watched you carefully while you considered your response.  

“Mm, I’m taking my time, I suppose,” you eventually replied. “But, with the right person, I’d be all for it.” 

Jessie nodded as she continued to map out how to navigate this discussion. She wanted to push, but fear around jeopardizing your friendship confined her in a lot of ways. She had to be careful.

“And I guess you know better now what you want versus what you don’t want,” she said. You nodded as you peered over your mug at Jessie.  

“Yes, that’s true. I do.” 

Jessie was about to ask what you were looking for when your phone buzzed and the screen lit up, distracting you both.  

Jessie felt an irrational, yet thankfully fleeting, wave of jealousy come over her as she imagined the text was from your ex, as unlikely as that would be. Regardless, she studied your expression as you read the text, noting the discerning frown on your normally gentle features.  

“Everything okay?” Jessie asked.  

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, your frown dissipating as you locked your phone. “My sister’s just making some questionable decisions. Nothing serious,” you assured with a chuckle, “but she felt compelled to tell me.” You drained your drink, setting it down on the table. “It's 1:30.” You announced as you held up your phone to show the time. No wonder Jessie was so tired. "What time did we want to head out tomorrow?" 

"About 9," Jessie replied, now suddenly struggling to stifle a yawn.   

"Okay, shit. Sorry - I kept you up. I know you normally go to bed a lot earlier than this," you apologized. Jessie was quick to dismiss the notion. 

"Not at all. Well, yeah, I go to bed earlier normally, but we're on vacation. I didn't even realize it was so late," she said, hesitating for a moment before going on. "And I always enjoy our conversations." 

"Me too." 

Jessie could've beamed. It wasn’t much, but it made her happy nonetheless. She smiled, but tried to tamper it.

“I guess we should try to get some sleep though, hey?” You proposed. Jessie hoped that she was right in hearing a hint of regret in your tone. Even though Jessie didn’t want the night to end, morning was going to come quickly.

She stood and began gathering up the glasses and other items.  

"Hey, I can take mine. Don't worry." You protested, but Jessie was already walking to the kitchen with all of the dishes in hand. "Gosh," you complained lightly as you followed her in, "you never let me take care of anything. I'm still not over you carrying my luggage in for me. And Niamh's never going to let me live that down. Or maybe even you, for that matter." 

Jessie was glad she was hunched over loading items into the dishwasher otherwise you would've caught a new blush forming across her cheeks.  

"You're an 'acts of service', aren't you?" You proposed as you leaned an elbow on the table to prop up your chin.  

"Huh?" Jessie asked as she closed the dishwasher door and straightened up. 

"Love language," you elaborated. Jessie started to stumble over her words when you interjected. "It can be for anything - not just romance. Friendships too. It's just how you show you care." 

"Oh, yeah I guess, then," Jessie conceded. "Um, what are you?" 

"'Words of affirmation', for the most part. 'Quality time' is pretty high too, though," she answered.  

"Oh, so we're not that compatible.” Jessie risked the joke before she could stop herself, ensuring to tack on a teasing smirk to alleviate as much weight as possible given she broached your compatibility. 

"Excuse me?" You protested with a laugh. "That's not necessarily true. I enjoy receiving acts of service. So there's compatibility there. Do you like receiving words of affirmation or do you like quality time, I guess that's the question." 

Jessie subconsciously started scratching the back of her head and averted her gaze.  

"Um, I don't particularly like compliments, but I guess it depends on context, I don't know," she trailed off. "And I'm an introvert and I need time alone, but, if I like someone I do like spending time with them." 

"Well, it's not just strictly compliments," you corrected, drawing Jessie's eyes back. "It's like," you paused briefly, seeming to contemplate something before going on, "if I say, "Jessie, even though I didn't need you to carry my luggage in, I appreciated you doing so. It made me feel welcome and cared for. You are one of the most thoughtful and sweet people I know - you are important to me and I feel lucky to have you in my life." 

Jessie's cheeks began to burn yet again. Her heart was racing and the eye contact you held quickly became too much. She tried to distract with a roll of her eyes and an amused laugh.  

"Right," she said.

Thoughts clamored in her head and no single one stood out as the right thing to say. She was aware of how too much space was starting to fill your conversation.  

"Well, I should let you get to sleep," you said softly, relieving Jessie of the task of finishing her thoughts. Jessie cursed inwardly.  

"Oh yeah, sure," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Um, well I'll walk you to your room." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She couldn't stand how awkward she was sometimes. 

"Okay." Despite the odd proposal, you accepted with a gentle smile.  

You chatted quietly as you walked upstairs, past Jessie's room and further down the hall. You should've said goodnight right away, but instead Jessie found herself drawing out your goodbye. It didn't seem like you were in a rush, so Jessie cast aside the doubt that was crawling up inside of her. 

When you finally said 'good night', Jessie wrestled with the act of hugging you or not. She debated it heavily and was outrageously close to initiating it, but when the moment came she ended up turning on her heel and giving a small wave instead. She had to resist the urge to slam her bedroom door when she got inside over how frustrated she was with herself. 

When she finally turned off the light and got under the covers to sleep, she was wide awake. The way sleep had been pulling at her prior was now fully replaced with reflections of the night and irritation with herself. She sighed and let her arms fall heavily at her sides as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. More thoughts swirled inside her head and she screwed her eyes shut before forcing herself to breathe and trying to relax.  

Despite her best efforts, she tossed and turned for a while before finally admitting defeat and pulling out her phone to pass the time. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it was after 2:30 when she pulled up her conversation with you and sent a text with a screenshot of the test she just did.  

"Confirmed. Acts of Service. And I actually do like Words of Affirmation." 

To her surprise, three dots appeared in the bottom left of your conversation. Jessie's breath caught in her throat and she remained motionless watching the dots fade in and out. 

"I knew it. So what I'm hearing is, we are compatible lol." 

Another breath caught in Jessie's throat as she read your reply. Her chest was burning and she was grateful for the fact that this was over text. She actually had the chance to think about what she wanted to say. 

"Definitely. Though I'm not surprised." 

"Tell me more." 

Jessie fidgeted as her mind churned with possibilities. This was a moment where things could change - a moment she told herself for more than a year that she didn't want or need. You were friends. Good friends. What if she misread things again - she had before. What if she ruined everything just because she couldn't control herself. 

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" 

She chickened out. 

"I couldn't sleep." 

"Apparently, neither could you." 

Jessie exhaled shakily.  

"True." 

"Well, it's silly that we're texting. Why don't you just come over." 

Jessie's brow furrowed in deep confusion as she read your text. She reread it just to be sure.  

"We have to be up early. I don’t want to keep you up." 

She was such a coward. A heavy feeling fell over her chest making it harder to breathe. She let the phone fall against her. It buzzed. 

"Okay. Well, if you change your mind, come on over. I'm not tired, so I won't be falling asleep soon anyway." 

Jessie locked her phone and set it down on the bedside table. She rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. 

The tight, heavy feeling in her chest kept growing and nagging at her despite how she was trying to breathe and decompress. Of course she shouldn't go to your room. She should just go to sleep. And of course your offer didn't mean anything. Why would it? You were friends. Always just friends.  

What was she doing?  

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she sat up in her bed. She didn't even really realize she was doing it until she was straight up and staring at the wall ahead of her. She swallowed heavily and her heart began to beat loudly in her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the hardwood. She took a steadying breath before she stood and crept over to the door, opening it a crack. She peered down the hall and saw the faintest glow coming from your room. Was your door open? 

Jessie swallowed her trepidation and began to softly pad down the hall, mindful to make as little noise as possible. As she neared your room, she confirmed that your door was ajar. Jessie's heartbeat was loud in her head now as she slowly approached the door. She knocked very faintly before pushing it open a few inches to peek inside. 

The tension that was holding Jessie's shoulders high towards her ears suddenly fell from her and she exhaled silently upon seeing you casually laying in bed under the glow of your phone and waving her in. 

"I told you I wasn't tired," you whispered as you sat up.  

"I couldn't sleep either," Jessie told you as she quietly closed the door behind her.  

A belated self-consciousness swept over Jessie at the realization that she was standing here in her pajamas, a t-shirt and shorts. She subconsciously tugged down the hem of her shorts.  

She sees you in a t-shirt and shorts every game. Calm down, she chided internally.  

Jessie quickly took in her surroundings, now suddenly unsure of what to do. Her eyes settled upon a chair at the desk in the corner of the room. She walked over there and began turning it so she could sit.  

"Jessie, don't be silly. Just sit over here," you said as you scooted over and patted the spot next to you on the bed. 

Jessie hesitated, but didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so she nodded and came over and daintily took a seat on the far edge of the bed. Her ears burned hot as she felt you shooting her a look, coupled with a soft laugh.  

"It's okay, Jessie. Relax. It's just me." Your voice was warm and reassuring and Jessie felt tension leaving her body once again. 

Conversation started up once more and you talked further into the night. Jessie had no idea what time it was anymore, but it didn't matter, she was happy where she was and didn't want it to end. Eventually, you laid down onto your side and propped the pillow up under your head with a yawn. Jessie was about to offer to leave when you gestured to the spot next to you. 

"Lay down. Make yourself at home," you said.  

Jessie didn't want to get too in her head about this. She did this kind of thing with teammates and it didn't mean a thing. Did it mean something now? Or was it just like with her teammates - nothing. She cast the thoughts from her head and laid down on the covers. When you told her she could get under the covers, she dismissed it and even though she was chilled, she insisted she wasn't cold.  

"So, tell me," you said when a small lull formed in your conversation later on.  

"Tell you what?" Jessie asked, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  

"Tell me why you're not surprised that we're compatible," you responded lightly. 

"Oh," Jessie said, her mind suddenly sharpening at the twist in your conversation. Her previous nervousness returned, but this time a certain calm surrounded it. "Well, I mean, we've always gotten along really well. Friendship-wise.”

Old habits died hard.  

“Hm. That’s true,” you said quietly with a nod of acceptance. A couple of moments passed. “In terms of compatibility - love languages aside. What are you looking for? Not friendship-wise. You never say.” 

It was true. Jessie was very tight lipped about it, even with friends she wasn’t in love with. She endured relentless teasing about it, but she just didn’t like putting herself out there like that. However, right now, in the dark, lying next to you, things felt different.  

“I…,” she trailed off momentarily before finding her resolve and her voice. “I want someone who I can be myself with. Someone who will be my person. Who I can talk to about anything and everything. Who I can be vulnerable with – I have to be at my best all the time and for so many people, so to be able to let my guard down means a lot. But, just as easily, I want to be able to have silly and goofy moments together. Someone where doing something as simple as grocery shopping or cooking together can feel like an adventure. I don't know – just that one person who can be my anchor when I'm constantly on the move and trying to live up to others expectations, and I want to be that for them as well, even if I'm 1,000 miles away. No pressure for me – or her – to be anything other than who we are." 

“That’s beautiful. Truly. And you deserve that and more,” you said. Your gaze lingered for a moment before you went on. “Whoever you choose in the end is going to be a very lucky person.” 

“Thanks.” Jessie had to force herself not to protest. And I want it to be you, she thought. Instead, she said, “I mean, same with you.” 

Even in the dark, Jessie spied the small smile you gave her.  

“You’re too nice to me,” you said with a soft chuckle as you nestled into your pillow further. “Thank you, though.” 

“What do you mean?” Jessie asked. A shy smile formed on her face as she went on. “I mean, words of affirmation here, you deserve it. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And, yeah, I feel really lucky to have you in my life. And, um, whoever you choose to be with next…you deserve to be spoiled by them. They should take care of you,” she began to stammer, “well, not like take care of, cause you’re totally independent, which is awesome, but you know, Acts of Service.” She winced and did her best to rally and finish strong. “What I mean is they should make you feel, every day, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them. And that there’s no one else in this world for them.” 

“Wow. See? You’re amazing, Jessie. Honestly. Thank you. That means so much to me.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” Jessie quickly dismissed with a light laugh.  

Neither of you spoke for several moments and the tension became too much for Jessie, causing her to quickly change subjects.  

She wasn’t sure how much longer you talked, because the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and you were fast asleep next to her. A rush of panic went through her momentarily before she just allowed herself to relax. She debated getting up and leaving, but she indulged herself instead. It was too comfortable laying here with you and, truthfully, she may never get this opportunity again. She took in your sleeping form and before she knew it she was asleep again.  

The next time Jessie woke up, the veil of relaxation and drowsiness quickly dissipated as she looked down to see that you were cuddled into her arm. Jessie lay still as she processed the situation, but couldn’t ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. After a few moments, she steeled herself and began to carefully disentangle herself from you. Though she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take advantage.

She took one last glance at you. The first breaks of dawn started to filter into the room, casting you in warm light. A lump formed in Jessie’s throat, the feelings inside of her threatening to overflow. Jessie turned and retreated to her own room to try to catch a couple more hours of sleep. She was positive that if she managed to find sleep, she’d dream of nothing but you.

[adnauseum11]

Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse. 

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry. 

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features. 

“Good to know you want me around, darling.” 

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown. 

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat. 

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards. 

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat. 

“Fuckin’ hell love” 

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body. 

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face. 

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm. 

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling. 

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left. 

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh. 

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

[freesia-writes]

Ch 40: Beach Date #2

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.6k

Song: “Time After Time” by Iron and Wine

Had to re-use the beautiful fanart by @amalthiaph!!

.

“Well look at you,” Hunter rumbled in appreciation as Lyra pulled the cover off of a snack platter, setting it on the blanket next to a round tray with some sparkling wine and two fancy glasses. They were settled on the beach for an evening picnic atop a thick, soft blanket spread across the sand. Her platter was heaped with fresh fruit that glistened enticingly, a variety of cheeses, some salted meats in neat piles, and a plethora of crackers, nuts, and olives. He was salivating immediately. 

“I got a little caught up in it all,” she chuckled, producing one more bowl from the large bag she’d brought. As she uncovered that one, a little huff escaped her lips, and she held it out for him to see, clapping her other hand to her forehead in embarrassment. “They all melted.” He peered inside, seeing what appeared to have been an assortment of chocolates, now a mushy mess. 

“Still good,” he encouraged, swiping a bit with a single finger and licking it off unceremoniously. He kept his face carefully neutral, sensing the wave of autonomic response as Lyra looked away quickly. 

“You can feel this stuff, can’t you…” she muttered as though dreading his response. “I can’t hide anything…”

“Do you want to hide anything?” he deflected, fixing her with a mockingly stern stare. 

“No!” she answered quickly, squinting back at him suspiciously. 

“Too soon?” he asked with a grin, and she shook her head, mirroring his expression. 

“I’ve shared it all,” she confirmed. “It feels fantastic. You’re the one holding out on me, I think.”

“Not really,” he said, scooting over to sit beside her, slightly behind to offer a place for her to lean. He loved it when she took him up on that, and his chest swelled a bit as she nestled into him. “The war stories can pretty much all be summed up the same way. We had a plan. It changed about eight times. We still finished the mission. And repeat.”

“I doubt that’s all there was to it,” she teased, leaning forward slightly to pour two glasses of the sparkling wine and offering one to him. He took a sip, enjoying its effervescent sweetness, and gazed past her head at the shimmering water that formed the horizon. The sound of the birds calling overhead, the steady crash of the waves, and the quiet beat of her heart all lulled him into contentment, and he took a deep, happy breath.

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time for stories,” he said, meaning just that night, but realizing there was a much greater intent behind his words. He left it at that, however, and shifted around her to graze on the copious amount of food she’d brought. She sliced a few pieces off one of the soft cheese, smearing them on some crackers and offering him one. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, tingles dancing along his arm at the simple touch. 

“I hope so,” she said quietly, adding a neatly-folded piece of meat atop her cheese and, after some consideration, popped the entire thing into her mouth. “Fewer crumbs that way,” she explained after she’d chewed and swallowed, and he chuckled in agreement. 

It was a balmy afternoon, the sun still fairly high in the sky as they basked in its rays. It had been particularly hot lately, and Hunter loosened another button on his shirt, then rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to cool down. But the breeze had stilled, and the warm air lingered. Lyra pulled her hair up into a messy bun atop her head, and with a sheepish giggle in his direction, flapped her skirt “to get some air circulation”, as she put it. 

“Let’s go in,” he invited, tipping his head toward the water. They’d talked about swimming, but both had been so satisfied by simply sitting and snacking with each other that it hadn’t been a very pressing item on the agenda. The ocean beckoned to him now, though, and he stood up, moving away from the blanket to brush off the grains of sand that had gathered on his swim trunks and loose button-up shirt. Lyra followed suit, but moved awkwardly as she pulled her blouse over her head, glancing self-consciously at the top of her swimsuit. She took a breath, then pushed her skirt down, tossing both clothing items onto the blanket.

“I haven’t actually been in the water in a long time,” she admitted, crossing her arms across her front, then adjusting the suit over her hips, then looking up at him sheepishly. Hunter found it disproportionately adorable. The one-piece suit had a cream-colored gingham pattern, and the tan lines from her usual clothing revealed the parts of her pear-shaped body that rarely saw the sun.

“There’s a fun little spot over here, if you want,” he said, gesturing toward the nearby cliff that marked the end of the flat stretch of beach. 

“Fun for what?” she asked apprehensively, glancing up at its steep, rocky face. 

“Want to find out?” His roguish grin was infectious, and she temporarily forgot about her discomfort as she followed. He led them along a narrow path that began further inland and worked its way along the side of the cliff to a little overhang above the ocean that provided a natural diving board for the adventurous. He ventured to the edge, glancing at the satisfactorily deep water below. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Lyra’s quavering voice belied her anxiety, and he smiled at her, frozen behind him as she pressed herself against the rock wall as much as she could, looking down for a split second before jerking her eyes back to him. 

“It looks farther than it is,” he encouraged, moving to the edge of the precipice and reaching out a hand, pulling her to stand beside him as they took in the creamy colors of the horizon again. 

“I’m a weenie, Hunter,” she reminded him, holding onto him tightly. 

“Same time?” 

She met his eyes, their rich brown depths full of affection, reassurance, and confidence, and her face softened immediately. 

“I don’t think I need to use words for you to know how nervous I am.”

“No,” he smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t want to; we can go back the way we came.” But she looked at the steps they’d taken along the thin, crumbly patches of flat rock. It looked more dangerous than where she now stood. She took a deep, shaky breath, lowering her chin with a new resolve, and nodded, fixing her eyes on a distant point in the sea. 

“Let’s do it.” 

He held her hand loosely, stepping a bit closer to the edge and beckoning for her to do the same. 

“Wait!” she said suddenly. “Your shirt!”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’ll dry.” His eyes were shifty, and now it was she who noticed the unease in his demeanor. 

“Since when are you one to cover up that bangin’ body?” she attempted, snorting at her own ridiculous humor. He grinned. 

“Not important.”

“No, you’re hiding something,” she pressed, smiling broadly now as his raised eyebrows and slack jaw confirmed her theory. “What is it?”

“Alright, it’s…” Without warning, he leapt over the edge, pulling her with him. He heard her scream as she fell beside him, and they crashed into the water a split second later. He resurfaced, treading water as she burst out with a splash, and she immediately stared at him with shock and indignation, hair pressed against the sides of her head. 

“Hunter!!” she laughed, clapping a wave toward him and further soaking his hair. 

“We would have been standing there all night,” he reasoned, and she scoffed as she turned to swim to shore. He followed suit, staying close beside her until they were in shallower water, then grabbed her ankle and tugged her back toward him. He didn’t consider the timing, however, and accidentally dragged her beneath the next wave that passed by, cringing guiltily as he heard her splutter. She floundered for a second before finding her feet, standing right in front of him until she finished her coughing fit. 

“You’re gonna–” More coughing. “You’re gonna pay for that,” she threatened, eyes blazing. 

“Sorry,” he confessed, “I didn’t see the wave coming. I was just trying to–” She swept a foot behind both of his, knocking his legs out from under him, but he dropped just a few inches since she apparently forgot the concept of buoyancy. 

“Kriff,” she laughed, palming her face for a moment before giving him a mischievous look. “I didn’t think that one through.”

“No you didn’t,” he growled, slipping his arms around her waist and lifting her above him. She squealed in utter shock, clutching at his shoulders as she watched the next wave swelling behind him. He tensed, ready to toss her headfirst into it, but something about the mix of panic and delight on her face gave him pause, and the crest passed them both as he slowly lowered her. The way her body slid down his front made his mouth go dry, and when she found her feet again, he still held her close. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she finally lightened her grip on the outsides of his arms, enraptured by the sudden intensity of his gaze.

“Very merciful of you,” she teased, cheeks flushed. The water amplified every sensation, and her soft skin against his own, paired with the steady thump of her heart, brought a wave of tingles up from his core. His own cheeks were hurting, and he realized he hadn’t smiled so long or so hard in quite a while. Thoughts spun like a tornado through his mind, and yet every fiber of his being was focused on her in that moment: the dark hair scattered across her shoulders, the smile lines on her face, and more than anything else, the softness in her brown eyes as she made no effort to hide the thrill of adoration she had for him. 

“Can’t attack a soldier and expect not to pay for it,” he taunted, distracting himself from the ferocity of his own feelings. 

“Fair enough,” she said quietly, reeling a bit herself from his gaze and touch. He released her, taking a step back as the water danced around his waist, and ran his fingers through his hair, his shirt floating around him. They waded back to the shore, coming out into the summer heat with dripping limbs and dumb grins. The gritty sand massaged their feet as they stood, brushing off water droplets and wringing out hair. Hunter twisted the ends of his shirt, attempting to rid it of as much water as possible, but was suddenly distracted as Lyra sidled up, a coy look in her eyes that floored him immediately. 

She reached forward, toying with one of his buttons, and slipped it through its hole with nimble fingers. His words caught in his throat, unable to tear his gaze from hers, and she softly caressed her hand down his side before reaching for the next button. It was bliss and torture at the same time, and as the warm air tickled his front, she reached the last button, twisting it sideways to free it. 

“Wait a minute,” he growled in sudden realization, grabbing her hand as she startled. “I’m onto you,” he smirked, and the immediate redness blossoming across her cheeks confirmed his suspicions. 

“I’m dying to know!” she laughed, backing away with guilt written all over her. There was nothing but a thin sliver of his torso visible between the hems of his shirt, and she squinted theatrically, trying to catch a glimpse. 

“Since when are you so thirsty?” he snickered, and her remorse quickly shifted into affront. But things were shifting between them, and she made her best attempt at a flirty face. It was so bad that he couldn’t help but fully laugh.

“First of all, rude.” She jabbed an accusing finger into his chest, which he snatched with his other hand. “Second of all… I can’t listen to the office chatter about how hot you are for months on end without starting to notice it a bit myself,” she said playfully, and every moment of increasing flirtation and authenticity was delighting him more and more. 

“Oh really,” he said, entwining fingers on both hands with hers as they hung loosely at his sides. She giggled, still plagued by waves of self-consciousness or insecurity. “Please, go on. What horrors have you been subjected to?”

“I’m sure you’d love to hear all about it,” she needled, absolutely beaming at his lightheartedness and affection. “But deception is afoot and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” He couldn’t deny that she was thoroughly resolute, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to escape this one. With a sigh of defeat, he took a step back, letting go of her hands regretfully.

“There’s no turning back,” he warned, a glimmer in his dark eyes that was quickly matched by the uncharacteristic smolder in hers. 

“Don’t plan to,” she murmured, equal parts snarky and sheepish. 

He finally caved, wiggling the wet fabric down his shoulders and off his arms, tossing it aside onto the sand. He’d deal with that later. In the meantime, her eyes raked over his toned body, and she couldn’t help her sharp inhale at the sight. 

“Maker above, Hunter. You got ripped,” she laughed, biting her lip suddenly as though holding back any further thoughts. 

“Yeah, Luci was kinda obsessed with working out,” he admitted, cringing at the mention of her. But Lyra was unaffected, fingers on one hand twitching at her side as her eyes followed the curve of his chest and the grooves above his hips. Every chemical in her body was betraying her complete enrapturement, and her cheeks were growing increasingly red. Fortunately, it was then that she saw it.

“Oh my gosh,” she grinned, taking a step closer and leaning down to see. “What is that?!” Her eyebrows climbed far up her forehead as she looked at him incredulously, mouth open in dumbfounded glee. “Hunter! What is that?!” She laughed, clapping a hand over it immediately after as she took it all in. 

“Listen,” he began, cut off by her release of giggles. 

“It’s… Wow…” Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she radiated sheer astonishment as she couldn’t resist reaching out a few fingers to trace the outline of the half-butterfly-half-skeleton tattoo on his ribcage. His muscles tensed at her touch, electricity coursing through his veins, and she backed off as she noticed. 

“Sorry, I just… That is… That is something.” Her face was flushed with delight as she looked back up at him fondly. “Never would have predicted that one!”

“It was a… rough phase…” he admitted with an amused look of his own. 

“Yeah, Breslin told me about your new hobby of swimming in fountains.”

“Breslin?” he asked, bewildered.

“Omega told her,” she grinned. “I guess they’ve been spending more time together.”

“Not sure how I feel about them conspiring against me like that.”

“Okay, well you can be the one to tell them not to hang out anymore, then.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled.

.

In case you needed a reminder... 😂 Masterpiece by @clownbloody

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[kissingkiszka]

Choosing The Road - GVF x Reader

Words:1.8k+

Summary: Reader goes on a roadtrip with her lifelong best friends, and they are all after her heart.

CW: MDNI, 18+, fluff, drinking, cursing, can be viewed as both platonic &/or romantic, flirting i guess?, traveling idrk! Love triangle but all 4 of the boys are after reader (love pentagon?) not proofread

This is a bit of a short one I wasn’t actually going to post but here we are! I wrote this one on the way to my Starcatcher show :)

I may do a part 2 to this where reader ends up with one of them so lmk if you’d like to see that and who she’d end up with!

—————————————————————

It was your second day on the road, and it was anything but boring, especially being with the guys. They had been your best friends for years now and a roadtrip with them was something you had always wanted to do, and now was the chance.

Everyone had pitched in a little bit to cover the cost of a rental RV, and everyone took turns driving, except you. You were more than happy to, however the boys wanted you to sit back and enjoy the ride. Sam even decided to bring Rosie with him, which led to even more fun.

Even though you had just gotten on the road yesterday, there were already countless trips to truck stops that had been made. It was always the same routine, too. Sam would get out to stretch his legs, play with Rosie, and photograph the surrounding area. Josh would hop out, take a short walk in the surrounding patches of grass and pick up any flowers, rocks, or sticks he had found nearby. He was really good at journaling and the pieces of nature he had found made for excellent journaling supplies. Danny always made a trip to the bathroom and made sure everyone had their snacks and enough water to last them to the next truck stop. Jake had recently taken up the hobby of writing poetry, so he would sit outside and take in as much scenery as possible to later write about. And for you, well you would join each of them in their respective activities depending on your mood.

“Let the good times roll!” Sam announced, putting the camper in reverse. He had just taken over for Jake as driver.

“Who wants to listen to some blues?” Jake asked, taking out his phone.

“You. Only you do, Jake.” Josh spat.

Jake plopped himself down in between you and Danny. Without a word, Danny handed him a water bottle and a small bag of crackers.

“Thanks bud.” Jake said, opening the bag.

Danny was definitely the mom friend, which made you laugh. The Kiszka boys always had a somewhat childish side. Although they were some of the most responsible and respectful men you knew, they always brought out your inner child, which was one of the reasons you were such great friends with them.

“This road trip is so fun. I can’t wait to make some more lifelong memories with my lifelong friends.” Danny smiled, picking his head up from the book he had been reading.

“I can’t wait to see where the road will take us. Bajabule!” Josh cheered, taking a beer can out of the mini fridge in the corner. “So many good vibes around us.”

This trip was so spontaneous, you didn’t even have a planned destination. You guys just wanted to drive around the country until you felt like going back to Nashville.

“Jake, could you hand me my water, please?” You ask sweetly.

“Of course, love.” He smiles before turning around to get your pink metal water bottle. Before he could grab it, Danny scoops it up and delivers it to you.

“Here you are, m'lady.” Danny says as you graciously accept the water.

“I was going to get it for her-” Jake begins.

“You snooze, you lose, buddy.” Danny lovingly pats him on the shoulder.

The various sights you had seen eventually turned into mountain tops that looked identical to one another.

After a few hours of driving straight, Sam finally pulled into a parking lot. You lifted your head out of a book you were reading to take in the new location.

“A truck stop? Another one?” Josh stands up with his hands on his hips.

“I have to pee!” Sam argued. “Plus, I don’t want Rosie pooping on the floor, or we might have to pay extra for that.”

“Good call.” Jake nodded, standing up.

“I need to stretch my legs anyways.” Danny added, walking towards the door.

Sam got Rosie on her leash and then made his way out of the RV, and everyone followed after him.

“You want any snacks?” Josh leaned in, asking you.

“Me? Uh, maybe a coffee would do me some good.” You smile.

“You got it.” He reciprocated the warm smile and went inside to get snacks.

You followed him at a distance, going to quickly use the restroom.

After you used the restroom, you wandered around the truckstop for a bit. You walked over to a huge map on the wall, examining it carefully.

You quickly grabbed a pamphlet that read ‘Arkansas’ across the top in big blue lettering. You were planning on making a scrapbook of the road trip and figured you would be collecting any sorts of materials for it.

Even though you had been on the road for the past day, and you had no idea where you were, it was good to find out that you had at least made it out of Tennessee.

“Arkansas? Huh.” Danny came up behind you and rested a firm hand on your shoulder.

You jump back, startled. You let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I was worried we’d still be in Tennessee.”

“Don’t worry about that, Y/N.” Danny laughed. “I think we’re coming pretty close to Oklahoma by now. Maybe if Josh could drive better, we’d be there by now.”

You nodded with a giggle.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a quick snack. You want anything?”

“No thanks, Josh is already getting me something.” You smiled. “I’m gonna get some fresh air for a bit.”

You left the truck stop, heading over to the RV. Sam was now outside with Rose. You headed over to them, bending down and greeting Rose with a few pets.

“She loves you.” Sam smiled as he watched you play with his beloved pet. “But who doesn’t? You're easy to love.”

“I could say the same for you, Sam.” You look up at him and go to stand.

“Yeah, right.” He chuckles, giving Rose a treat.

“You are.”

“Really?” He asks, his eyes going wide.

“Duh. You’re my best friend. Everybody loves you.”

“Awh.” He sighs and smiles to himself. You even catch a glimpse of him blushing, but he turns away before you can point it out.

You turn around, making your way back to the camper and notice Jake stepping inside.

When you get inside, you notice Jake sitting down on one side of the couch. He pats the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him on the couch.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“Hey.” You reply, sitting down.

He has his leather bound journal placed open in his lap. You take notice of the many words accompanying the pages.

He notices you looking at the pages as he looks down. “I've been busy.”

“Looks like it.” You nod. “What are you writing?”

“I’ve been working on some stuff. Some concepts for a new album. Some poetry. Y’know.” He admits.

“I see you’ve gotten a lot done?”

He laughs and glances down at the journal once more. “You can say that.”

You lean in a bit closer, getting more interested in hearing his ideas. “Does sight seeing give you inspiration? Is that why you’re always writing stuff down?”

“Well, I actually get a lot of my inspiration from you. Believe it or not.” He gives you a sweet smile.

“Jake,” you grin. “That’s so nice. Can I-”

“I don’t want you to see it yet. Only when it’s perfect.” He softly closes his journal and moves it to the side. “I only want you to see my top notch work.”

“Jake, I think all your work is top notch.”

“Thank you, Darl-”

As he finishes his sentence, Josh comes sauntering back into the vehicle.

“Your coffee, madam.” He dramatically puts his hand out, you take the coffee from him. “And I also threw in a bag of chips for you.”

“Thank you, Joshy.” You accept the snacks with a cheeky smile.

“No need to thank me,” He sits himself down on the couch across from you and Jake. “Especially over a small bag of chips and a coffee. I’d do anything for you.”

You giggle before Danny and Sam come piling back onto the RV, with Rose following closely behind on her leash.

“Alright, so who’s driving now?” Sam claps his hands together.

“I’ll drive.” Danny stands up. “Haven’t driven for a bit now.”

“I know there's a rest stop in about…50 miles.” Jake told him.

“Maybe we stop there for the night? Get some rest?” You inquired.

“Yes ma’am.” Danny nodded, sitting down behind the wheel.

“Getting rest at the rest stop!” Josh chimed in.

…

That night, the RV was parked at a rest stop next to a huge pond. It was off the highway and very peaceful. The RV bunks were anything but comfortable. You had been tossing and turning, not able to get any sleep. You thought for a minute before deciding on reading your book. That always helped you fall asleep easier. As you walk into the sitting area to retrieve your book, you see Josh’s silhouette on one of the couches.

“Josh?” You ask in a whisper, blinking back your lack of sleep.

“Oh!” he jumped back, startled. “What’re you doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. How ‘bout you?”

“That makes two of us.”

“Have you seen my book?” You ask, squinting in the darkness trying to find it.

He shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Dammit.” You sigh under your breath.

“Why so sad? Come join me outside.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Just feel like it. A night underneath the stars…?” He says unsurely.

You oblige and follow him outside.

He finds a nearby picnic table and lays down on top of it, looking up at the night sky.

“Lay with me.”

“Lay with you?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” He pats the spot next to you.

You lay next to him and stare at the sky as well. It’s silent for a few moments, as both of you are just admiring the sky and wondering what to talk about.

“So many stars out tonight. They’re all so bright too.”

“You’re the brightest star, though.”

“Says you.” You chuckle, your cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. “You’re literally the brightest star out there.”

“So I’m the sun?” He asks.

“The sun is still a star.” You nod matter of factly.

“You know what? if you asked me to, I would go up there, and catch all the stars…I’d bring them back down for you.” He admits, laying his hands against his chest.

“That’d be one big feat.”

He chuckles. “For you, it’d be nothing.”

“Thanks Josh…”

“You know, I’d do anything for you. I’m sure all of us would. We love you so much.” He sits there for a minute before sitting up with wide eyes. “Oh my god. That’d make for a good album name.” He smiles to himself before looking over at you, who’s long asleep by now.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village.  Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter.  Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter.  The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic.  Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.  

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span.  Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together.  It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous.  Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece.  A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot.  And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.  

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust.  It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around.  Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year.  Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet.  They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had.  This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry.  It just didn’t feel right.  It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.  

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick.  You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings.  Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo.  To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky.  You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort.  Not as much as you’d hoped anyway.  It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart.  It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples.  No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being.  You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room.  There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone.  You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.  

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right?  It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself.  You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s.  You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair.  Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible.  How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor.  Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board.  You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.  

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time.  You set it aside and pressed on.  It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips.  Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter.  Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life.  Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear.  Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.  

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling.  The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness.  Something well deserved.  You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts.  That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen.  There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now.  It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud.  There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies.  At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks.  They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.  

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face.  You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place.  Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit.  The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm.  His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting.  Do you act concerned and start begging the questions:  Did something happen?  Who’s injured?  Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state?  It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.”  He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you.  You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine.  Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.  

“Help?”  You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur.  “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.”  He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”  

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze.  He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather.  It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.”  You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”  

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut.  The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy.  Disoriented.  

“Come inside.”  You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process.  “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out.  Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl.  The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes.  They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.”  He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading.  You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you.  He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes.  And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.”  You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep.  He looked so lost.  “Eddie, it’s okay.”  You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.”  He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking.  “I don’t know why I even tried.”  He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”  

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper.  His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger.  He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours.  Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.”  He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes.  He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm.  Not meanly.  Never meanly.  More concerned.  Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help.  Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage.  You’d never know you committed such a crime.  And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate.  All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this.  If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.”  Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread.  Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish.  The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt.  Scattered.  

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”  

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response.  Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables.  It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them.  Instead–”  You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom.  “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows.  Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player.  And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him.  He had his own collection now, sure.  But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched.  It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-”  He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle.  “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face.  You don’t ask them.  An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music.  As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.”  You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can.  “And Sugary Apple Goo.”  A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie.  “Kind of a…weird duo.  Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”  

“Apple pie.  The apple pie.  At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.”  You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.”  He repeats.  A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.”  You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl.  Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state.  Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense.  Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress.  Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously.  Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue.  It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself.  How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.”  You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to.  Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks.  Not when you’re this kind.  Not when you’re you.  

“Okay.”  He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.”  You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving.  But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay.  And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish.  Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags.  Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?”  Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat.  His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.”  A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish.  So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans.  He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss.  In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.”  You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight.  It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of.  Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.”  He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open.  And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!”  Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room.  She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates.  Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected.  In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.  

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard.  The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo.  Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything.  Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately.  Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter.  Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.”  She advises.  “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance.  They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets.  When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him.  There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish:  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got?  Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.”  Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.”  He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat.  Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?”  You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.  

“Oh, c’mon Eddie!  You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.”  Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder.  “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven.  Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”  

“Sure.”  You mumble.  “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.”  She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen.  “But don’t go too crazy.”  She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?”  You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no.  I’m good.”  A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being.  Prying wasn’t going to help.  “”M gonna get a beer.”  He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare.  Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine.  The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.  

And then-they were all over him.  Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features.  It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed.  His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent.  It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!”  One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!”  Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.”  A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room.  You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.”  Donnie interjects.  “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!”  She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.”  You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.”  Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral.  Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing.  Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.”  Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.”  You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.”  He jokes, taking a swig of his beer.  “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!”  You defend.  “We were a hot mess.”  You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.”  Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him.  “What-”

“That’s okay.”  You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best.  Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.  

“Actually-it’s not.”  You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment.  Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.  

“What?”  Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.”  You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?”  Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation.  The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”  You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason.  It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality.  You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar.  And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless.  Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him.  But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation?  His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations.  You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now.  It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.”  He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words.  Only an expectant look.  Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel.  And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself.  The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving.  To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it.  A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan.  He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi.  Stop following me around.”  He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips.  There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface.  You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh.  It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter.  A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!”  Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation.  “I don’t have a jacket for you this time.  Learn how to dress for the cold.”  He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.  

“I don’t!”  You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world.  Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him.  You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation.  You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.”  A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail.  His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you.  Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.”  You chirp.  “We’ll taste all the wines.  C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry.  Drunk eating is the best.”  You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now.  He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood.  Let’s go.”  

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know.  But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown.  Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house.  The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home.  You think someone else could give you a ride back?”  The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.  

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth.  But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him.  A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way.  No one wanted him in that way.

“What?”  You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for.  “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow.  He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that.  And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity.  If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth.  Trailer trash.  A nobody.  That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi.  You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you.  You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!”  You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is.  “Can’t figure me out.  What about you?!  You’re the one no one can figure out!”  

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense.  Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”  He states simply, monotone.  It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough.  If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah?  Because you don’t wanna let people in?!”  Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften.  “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals!  How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?!  What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!”  He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity.  “No, seriously!  I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying!  I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!”  He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest.  It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up.  Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.  

“I wanted to.  I want to.”  Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out.  He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in.  You refuse to let him.  

“Yes.  Eddie–look at me!”  You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him.  He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears.  You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that.  Please.”  You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent.  The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth.  Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in.  Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.”  He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what?  You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you.  And for what?  It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you.  You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged.  And that is not something you wanted.  You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it.  No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever.  Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!”  Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any.  That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!”  You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse.  “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone.  Not on Thanksgiving.”  Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face.  He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving.  You’re staying here.”  He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him.  The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.  

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over.  Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low.  Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand.  If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck.  Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar.  His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open.  Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe.  You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move.  As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.  

“Stay.”  You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred.  He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him.  Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much.  You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.”   You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw.  His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat.  With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck.  A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly.  The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime.  If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold.  Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up.  And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire.  Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone.  And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would.  Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson.  It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him.  He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you.  And if you both got sick, so be it.  A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated.  His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so.  His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features.  Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it. 

“Can I–can I kiss you?”  He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place.  But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.  

“Please.”  You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.  

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours.  He’s slow with it, taking his time.  As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.  

“I can’t stop.”  He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.”  You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him.  Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.”  His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.”  You protest against your better judgment.  It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house.  A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him.  Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose?  Snotty?”  He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

[oneshotnewbie]

hi could you possibly do a maya and carina x reader where reader is maybe drunk and stubborn and it is them taking care of her and just complete fluff 🫶

ᕚ---ᕘ

You staggered around the room, completely losing your balance. You got drunk into oblivion on your best friend's birthday and your two girlfriends had to pick you up from the restaurant. As soon as Maya and Carina arrived, they quickly rushed to a private room at the other end of the building to come to your aid. "Bella, are you okay?" The brunette asked worriedly as they saw you leaning against a wall, your cheeks burning red and your eyes bloodshot and glassy.

Maya had immediately jumped to your side, hooking your arm over her shoulder so that she could catch your body and hold it upright before you stumbled and fell unhappily. "Sure thing, pretty. I'm awesome! I swear I can walk straight!" You muttered in an unintelligible slur and started to giggle, but all you got was serious faces, eyes looking at each other in incomprehension.

Using their combined efforts, they tried to gently lower your heavily intoxicated body onto one of the wooden chairs. “Y/n, darling, how much did you drink?” she requested, reaching out physically to lift your head and catch your gaze. You, however, looked back at your fingers, tried to count the shots on them, but failed miserably as they blurred and wavered in front of your eyes. "Um, I think a few more than I should? But hey, you suddenly have four eyes that I can look into, and all of them are beautiful!"

The blonde's hand fell to her forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed on it as she bit her lip. She looked up at Carina, who couldn't resist a gentle chuckle. Maya scuffled her hair and asked herself what you had gotten yourself into. Normally you were never the drinker. “Let’s get you home,” she sighed out loudly and rose from her kneeling position in front of you.

Both Carina and Maya helped you get up and carefully brought you into the car to take you home. During the journey it became quiet around the two of them. While Carina tried to keep the car straight and not swerve too much, it was Maya who turned around every minute to check on you. However, you were caught up in your own daydream, humming shrilly to the tune on the radio as you traced the tears of rain on the window. "Why didn't you call us and let us know? We could have picked you up beforehand. Then maybe you wouldn't have drank so much."

You looked at her with wide eyes, your pupils greatly dilated from drinking alcohol. You tried to remain serious, tried to think of a clever answer for your friend but failed and started laughing instead. "But then I would have denied you this wonderful trip!" This time, Maya and Carina couldn't help but laugh at your rambling, although they remained worried about your condition.

Both women were happy when they unlocked the door to their shared apartment and you were finally back in your own four walls. Up the stairs to the second floor with you in their luggage, the two of them were completely exhausted. While the blonde struggled to get you onto the couch, the brunette grabbed coffee and a blanket to help you get over the alcohol rush and keep you warm.

When she came back with the things, she also got salty crackers to balance your blood sugar levels and avoid side effects. Maya gratefully took the warm drink, handed it to you and supported the glass with one of her hands to avoid any accidents. "Here, drink some of this. It will help."

You nodded perfusively, pulled the glass closer to your face and sniffed it. You immediately wrinkled your nose, grimaced and pulled your head to the side to stop the smell from lingering in your nasal cavities. "That smells like burnt hope and Monday morning! Speaking of which, what kind of day is today?"

"Saturday morning," Carina laughed once more and moved back towards the kitchen while Maya stayed behind with you for a moment. When the Italian woman came with another glass, this time she put it to your lips and let you take a few sips. "This is water, maybe it will help you a little better."

"This tastes like the opposite and not as good as what I had before. Ugh!"

Maya shook her head miserably and began to take off the jacket she was still wearing, all the while standing next to you and making sure you didn't suddenly tip over to the side or fall forward onto the floor. "Maybe we should go easy on your taste buds? I think they've already experienced enough today."

You nodded in agreement, knowing she might be right. There was a short silence in which the two of them joined you on the couch. Carina took your legs on her lap and pulled them close to her middle, hoping that you would slowly relax and become calmer. But suddenly you started singing loudly, the words barely understandable, startling the two women who were tired and just waiting for you to fall asleep.

Shocked at the sudden noise and shrill tones that left your throat, they both looked at each other with wide eyes. The brunette held a hand over her mouth and looked away for a moment before she burst out laughing and couldn't stop herself. With this she also drew Maya under the pure spell of laughter. "Babe, is this your take on karaoke?" The blonde asked, holding her now aching stomach, but you didn't listen to her, got even louder and held your hand to your heart. You swayed on the couch, Carina holding your hand as you tried to sit straight on your shins and sang a tune that resembled the national anthem. "Bambina, I think you could make a new hit out of it if you sang the words a little more clearly!"

You laughed yourself at the incomprehensibility and the mood of the two women became increasingly relaxed. There was barely a shred of concern in their hearts, more happiness that you were doing well and that despite the poison in your blood, you generally made a good impression. "You know, you're probably the most entertaining drunk I know. And I've seen my entire fire team drunk."

Grinning widely, you bowed your upper body to her and punched your chest a few times before kissing the palm of your hand and holding it up in the air. "I take that as a compliment, my wonderful and beautiful Maya Bishop!"

The three of you sat together for a while until you noticed that you were getting more tired and slowly falling asleep. The blonde carefully covered you more tightly with the blanket and spoke to you gently to show you that you were cared for and safe. After the two were sure you had fallen into a deep sleep, they stayed close to you to continue to provide attention and support until you were stable again. Meanwhile, Maya and Carina kept exchanging amused looks.

"Hopefully she learns from this," Maya whispers in a gentle tone and squeezes herself next to Carina, wrapping her in a deep hug. The brunette leaned back, letting herself fall and trying to let the tiredness take its place. "Yes hopefully."

They stayed vigilant through the night to make sure you slept peacefully and didn't fall into a nightmare before deciding to seek some peace near you as well. They clearly deserved it.