#Jean Nevada

[jmpphoto]

Star Trails by James Marvin Phelps Via Flickr: Star Trails Seven Magic Mountains Jean, Nevada January 2021

[zharizard666]

y'know, while I firmly believe in the fact you can like politically incorrect things and not endorse the morally wrong stuff depicted in media COUGH-SOUTHPARK-COUGH-COUGH and that edgyness for the sake of edgyness can be funny if executed well COUGH-JTHM-COUGH and that weird/cringy things have a right to be and exist without being taken too seriously COUGH-FNAFHS-COUGH-COUGH-COUGH

I do draw the line on the Nevada shirt.

He's hollywood now.

[evil-quartett]

The OC is Crystal

And Vlad, no this is not jealous ex-lovers club

[gunslinginggreasehound]

Wingfield Park, Reno, Nevada June 2023 DEBAUCH-a-ReNO

[rabbitcruiser]

Levi Strauss and Jacob Davis received a U.S. patent for blue jeans with copper rivets on May 20, 1873.  

[aigle-suisse]

Lucy looks left par Bob White Via Flickr : Just a girl on her board.

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸🍒💋🌸 @cerosjeans

[atomicami]

tattoo artist!abby hcs

modern!abby anderson x fem!reader

✰ content: no outbreak obviously, mentions of needles, tattoos/piercings, vegas living, mentions of anxiety from reader, a bit of homophobia, there are nsfw headcanons so minors and ageless blogs DNI!!, mentions of oral and strap usage (r!receiving), mirror play, scissoring, some picture taking, very inappropriate use of piercings 😀 different sex positions, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

✰ middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

these headcanons are inspired off a pic i saw on twitter the other day that literally had me going feral. like if that isn’t the most tattoo artist!abby coded shit then idk what is. so let’s talk about it!

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s been addicted to getting tattoos since the day she turned 18 and is so obsessed with the buzzing of the tattoo gun that she decided to dedicate her whole career on it

✰ tattoo artist!abby also canonically has her tongue pierced. you can’t tell me otherwise.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now in her mid 20s and owns a tattoo shop in las vegas, nevada, since the tattoo industry tends to pay pretty well there. what happens in vegas doesn’t always tend to stay there, right?

✰ tattoo artist!abby goes through lots of customers on a day to day basis, and personally she could care less whether they’re sober and just looking for some new ink or drunk with some impulsive decision making after a bottomless margarita from fat tuesday’s because she’s still making that bank regardless.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also keeps a black polaroid camera by her station and has a whole collection of photos hung up on the wall next to her desk. to cherish the moment, she’s always had the tradition to take a picture of her first time clients, along with any celebrities that have visited her shop as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who hears the shop’s bell chime and turns to see a group of girls coming their way towards reception for a walk in appointment.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who sees you shyly standing in the middle of your friend group, anxiously waiting while you look around her shop

✰ tattoo artist!abby is told by one of your friends that they’re celebrating their graduation season from UNLV and as a memory together they all wanted to get some cheap $10 matching tattoos that her shop offered to customers.

✰ tattoo artist!abby notices that you’re the only one in your friend group that doesn’t have any tattoos and secretly holds her excitement in when you tell her that it’s your first one, because she would love to be the first person to put some ink on that blank canvas of yours.

✰ tattoo artist!abby starts making stencils for your friend group’s matching tattoos. your friends impulsively chose to do matching tramp stamps and of course you reluctantly agree to do it with them.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who, once it’s your turn, tries to keep her cool when you position yourself on the chair, with your front facing with the front of the chair and your bare lower back peeking out of your low rise jeans to her face.

✰ tattoo artist!abby gently placing the stencil on your lower back and handing you a mirror for you to check and see if the placement looks good.

✰ tattoo artist!abby noticing you start to get anxious once she turns on the tattoo gun, and keeps her free hand placed by your hip, and tells you reassuringly “just squeeze my hand if it hurts or if you need a break, okay?”

✰ tattoo artist!abby praising you throughout the whole tattoo process, saying things like “you’re doing so good for me love, just stay still now…i promise we’re almost done.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby who pulls out her polaroid camera once everyone’s finished and takes a group photo of you with your friends to hang up on her client wall, before pulling you to the side to get a photo of just you with your first tat.

✰ tattoo artist!abby letting your first tattoo be on the house and not letting you pay for it, secretly telling you that it’s a special discount just for you since you’re the prettiest client she’s ever had

✰ tattoo artist!abby who runs into you at the grocery store a week later, and you couldn’t help but check her out in the gym outfit she was wearing: dark gray sweats and a tight black muscle tee that perfectly contoured her broad physique and showed off her arms, letting you see how her inked pieces hugged those defined muscles of hers. and her hands…you also couldn’t help but imagine what her tatted fingers would look like inside your cu—

“hey! long time no see…everything alright with the tattoo so far?”

“hm? oh yeah! the tattoo has been healing perfectly…i’ve been doing the aftercare routine you recommended me to do.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby takes advantage of the moment she has with you right now and asks you out on a date, to which you accept.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to a lovely restaurant by the strip, and tells you to order whatever you want because she’s been dying to spoil you since the moment you walked into her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby holding you close by her side as you walk down the strip with her. since she’s more familiar with vegas than you are, she knows how the strip can be dangerous at night and wants to keep you safe.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who safely drops you off back to your place in her black jeep wrangler, kissing you on the cheek goodbye with a second date already locked in.

✰ who knew that a second date with tattoo artist!abby would soon progress into something much more than that.

✧*.｡✰ ───

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now been your girlfriend for almost three years, to which i’m very well aware is equivalent to like a whole decade in wlw relationships but you both are still going strong today.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who manages to expand her tattoo shop, now being a small chain with a few other locations established across las vegas.

✰ tattoo artist!abby loves it when you visit her during your lunch hours, leaving whatever it is that she was doing to any of her other employees to finish so she can spend some time with you

✰ tattoo artist!abby who still has the polaroid she took of you from when you first came into her shop three years ago, placed inside a little red photo frame on her desk right next to her customer photo wall.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who now lives with you, and upgraded her studio apartment to a nice townhouse outside of the strip, since she knows you have a hard time sleeping at night with the overwhelming atmosphere it always carries.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who lets you color her tattoos with markers whenever you get really anxious, since she knows doing that helps you calm down.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s done just a few more pieces on you since the start of your relationship with her, but you always tell her to keep the tattoos minimalistic since that is the style you’ve preferred

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to eat for your three year anniversary at top of the world, a fancy revolving restaurant located inside the stratosphere hotel that has a panoramic view of the entire las vegas strip

✰ tattoo artist!abby who that same night, waits at the right moment for the hourly fountain show to start playing in front of the bellagio so she can get down on one knee and propose to you right there for everyone to see.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who goes all out for the wedding, booking it at a venue not in vegas, but all the way upstate in lake tahoe, so the two of you can get married with a beautiful lakeside view.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who successfully convinces her father to walk you down the aisle at her wedding after your parents found out that you were going to marry her and decided not to come. despite the fact that jerry wasn’t too fond of abby’s tattoo obsession and had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor like him, it didn’t stop him from unconditionally loving and supporting his only daughter. and he knew you were the perfect one to give that to her as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who doesn’t even let the officiant finish his final statement and wraps an arm around your waist, twirling you around the altar and giving you the most passionate kiss in front of everyone to tie the knot.

✰ but to really tie the knot, after the wedding ceremony you and abby end up tattooing each others first initial onto each others ring fingers inside her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who is so excited to spend the rest of her life married to an amazing and supportive woman like you.

NSFW HCS UNDER THE CUT

✰ tattoo artist!abby enjoys some good missionary, but then again who doesn’t? she mostly loves doing it to you because she knows you get that sense of protection from her in the bedroom with her prominent, muscular figure towering over yours when she pounds her strap deep inside you.

✰ this one shouldn’t even have to be listed because we all know damn well that tattoo artist!abby eats it for her own pleasure. that woman will eat you out like its her final meal on death row. and with that metal tongue ring of hers rubbing against your clit and teasing your tight entrance, abby’s expert tongue alone will have you cumming into her mouth instantly.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also owns one of those vibrating tongue rings, but she’ll only use that on you after you’ve had AT LEAST three orgasms so you’re super overstimulated for it

✰ tattoo artist!abby definitely makes you look down in between your legs while she fingers you, so you can see how much your wetness is soaking up the healed ink on her fingers while she pumps them in and out of your needy cunt.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also doesn’t care how loud you end up getting while she fucks you, despite how embarrassed you get with startling the neighbors when it happens. if anything she encourages that so they can know how good she’s making you feel.

✰ tattoo artist!abby either uses a completely black strap OR a skin tone colored strap that she had custom made to look like it has tattoos on it, because if she was a dude she would definitely have her dick tatted too idc.

✰ tattoo artist!abby has definitely fucked you in her shop when no one else is around..like can you imagine taking her strap in the same chair that she tattoos her customers?? not to mention she’s got mirrors in that shop and she will definitely make you look at it and watch yourself take her strap like the good slut you are.

✰ in addition, tattoo artist!abby also installed a mirror on the ceiling above the chair. she always tells her customers it’s for them to see their backs better while getting a back piece done but you know damn well she put that in her own shop just for you to watch yourself better the next time she fucks you in that chair again

✰ and we certainly can’t forget about tattoo artist!abby’s iconic polaroid camera…she definitely is one for playing the photographer in the bedroom and keeps loads of nude polaroids of you tucked inside her wallet which are for her eyes only.

✰ tattoo artist!abby LOVES doing reverse cowgirl with you! mainly because she can see your whole back profile perfectly and admire the first piece of ink she put on you every time you ride her strap 🫶🏻

✰ i also feel like it’s not too common for tattoo artist!abby to do this but whenever she feels like doing something different she’ll for sure scissor you too. and it’ll definitely feel good on your end because…well…let’s just say that abby’s tongue isn’t the only part of her body that’s pierced 🫣

✰ and last but not least, tattoo artist!abby is 100% the queen of aftercare. she’ll treat your fucked out self the same way she would with a freshly done tattoo. she’ll draw you a nice warm bath to soothe your muscles, make you drink lots water for hydration, and curl up in the bed with her tatted sleeves wrapped around you as you drift off with her to sleep.

in conclusion, we need to give tattoo artist!abby the attention she deserves 🧎🏻‍♀️thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[slut4colbynchr1s]

VEGAS WHORE

In which… you take a trip to Vegas and meet famous you tuber colby brock at a bar…

a/n: one thing i would like to say is that i write for fun. so there will be errors.

warnings: p n v, smut smut smut,cream pie, nick names (sweetheart,baby,good girl etc) language

————————

“Im SO excited to go to VEGAS.” scarlet squealed, stepping out of the cab. “So am i” i smiled before walking over to the car truck getting my suitcase. taking a breath before walking into the airport and going through security so we could get to our gate.

︵‿୨♱୧‿︵

I got up from my seat grabbing my luggage from the storage above. after what felt like forever we got off the plane and walked out of the VEGAS airport. “Oh my fucking god” i looked around seeing palm trees and the smell of salty sea air with cigarettes mixed together. “cmon our cabs here” scarlet said tapping my arm to follow her.

we got in the cab and headed to our hotel we would be staying at for the week…… We both got out of the cab walking in and checking in at the front desk. “OMG Y/N LOOK AT THIS VIEW” scarlet walking over go the window looking down at the streets of Las Vegas,Nevada. “holy shit” i walked up to her. “i wanna try this bar its close,so we could maybe walk there tonight. its called Downtown bar.” scarlet said while clapping her hands together “ooo sounds good lets start getting ready then?” i shrugged grabbing my suitcase throwing it on the bed to pick out an outfit. I turned on “The Weekend” and began to get ready.

We spent the next hour doing makeup,picking outfits,and listening to music. after 30 minutes i finally picked out a jean shirt with jewels on it and some miss me jeans with crosses on the butt. doing some light makeup and my hair simple.

“im ready if you are?” i walked into the bathroom to find scarlet putting on some lip gloss “yes now i am!”she smiled “ok lets go!” i squealed checking myself out one more time before heading out the door with her. It was about a 15 minute walk from our hotel. When we finally made it the bouncer checked our IDs and let us in. We both headed straight to the bar leaning against the counter. “what can i get you two?” the bar tender came up to us “uhhh.. ill have a martini” scarlet smacked her lips. “make that 2”. The bar tender smiled at us and came back within minutes. we walked away from the bar sitting at a booth drinking and talking.

“no.fucking.way.” my jaw dropping “what?” scarlet looked confused looking around trying to see what i was looking at. “colby mother fucking brock is here” i looked at her “Oh my god. so is sam.” she gasped. Me and colby made eye contact. I watched as he bumped sam’s shoulder signaling to follow him. both walking straight to our booth “Mind if we join you two?” colby said looking deep onto my eyes. “i. yeah sure!” i scooted over as colby took a seat next to me putting his arm on my chair and sam sitting next to scarlet.

“im Y/N” introducing myself. he smiled “thats a pretty name, im colby.” i giggled and nodded “i watch your guys youtube im a huge fan of you.” i looked back at scarlet seeing her and sam laughing while i look back at colby him already looking at me “sorry. this is quick but your insanely gorgeous i cant help but stare” colby grinned. i felt my cheeks burn up,giggling “thank you colby.” he slid hid phone over “put your number in my phone princess” i took ahold of his phone typing in my number “here” i held it out for him.

All 4 of us ended up talking for hours. i looked at the time 2:30 “holy shit you guys the club closes in 30 minutes. we’ve been here for 5 hours” i laughed. “thats crazy” colby said grinning. it felt like i’ve known colby for years like he’s been my friend since birth. we clicked so fast and we had out little moments through the night like him touching my thigh and him making comments and me flirting back.

“im so tired” i rested my head in my hands. “and hung over.” colby laughed “want me and sam to take you and scarlet to your hotel or even our place?” i looked up at scarlet, she flicked her brows at me “your guys house” i groaned “alright lets go” colby got up from the booth as we all followed behind him. We got to the car all piling  in it. Sam drove us home because he only had 2 drinks. it was a 20 minute drive of laughter and small talk. We pulled into a driveway the house porch lights blinding us. Sam turned off the car and we all got out and headed straight to the door. “do you guys have any tylenol?” i looked at them “yeah. we do ill get you some” colby patted my shoulder before walking into the kitchen spilling the 2 pills out of the bottle into his hand and getting me a drink of water and walking back to me handing it to me “thank you colbs” not processing the nickname i had just gave him. And taking the pills. Sam and scarlet already headed to sam’s room and left us alone. “cmon princess lets go to my room” colby reached out for me wrapping his hand around my waist guiding me through the hallway. he opened the door to his room. “woahhh” i looked around. “you wanna shower pretty girl?” colby walked up to me grabbing my waist once again and i wrapped my hands around his neck. “please” i looked him in his eyes. i was sobering up. “mk.” colby grabbed a clean towel and one of his shirts for me to wear. “thank you” colby leading me to the bathroom.

—————

i took a nice long shower using the shampoo,conditioner, and body wash and soaking up the water. i finally got out of the shower drying myself off with the towel before throwing colbys shirt on and putting my hair up. it smelt like him. i left my clothes in his bathroom and walked out.

“how you feelin baby?” colby looked at me from the bed “much better” i smiled and walked to get into the bed. laying on my side looking up at him while he scrolled through his phone before throwing it to the side.

“fuck your so fucking gorgeous” colby said staring at me. i propped myself up on my arms “your not to bad yourself pretty boy.” there was a short pause before colby leaned in kissing me hungrily. “fuck. ive been waiting to kiss you” i smiled before sliding myself out from under the sheets straddling him. “s’fuckin pretty” colby grinned. i kissed him again grabbing his face on either side forcing my tongue into his mouth and his entering mine. Our lips fit perfectly together like a puzzle piece.

I felt colby grow under me touching my thigh before colby grabbed my neck pulling back and throwing me onto my stomach. i giggled “ass up” colby said slapping my ass, i raised my ass into the air arching. “i’ve been waiting all night colby.” i teased pushing my hips back against his clothed dick. “so have i” colby flipped me back onto my back. “take this off now” tugging on my shirt. I smiled and grabbed the hems of the shirt and ripped it off revealing my tits. “fuck” he said growling before taking one to his mouth swirling his tongue around my nipple, squeezing the other one. “fuck colby” i whined. “need you now” i whispered. colby began kissing me down my stomach, “can i?” he said playing with the hems of my panties. i nodded. before i could even take another breath they were ripped off thrown somewhere on the floor. he moved down even more,grabbing my thighs to push them open and kissing up them. “mm” i moaned quietly, “so fuckin wet” admiring me.He started sucking my cunt and licking me up and down. inserting his tongue in and out of me.

“taste s’fuckin good mama” colby whispered his hot breath against me, rubbing his fingers against my wet folds then slipping one into me. i gasped “fuck” throwing my head back and reaching for his hair to grip on. sucking my cunt and fingering me he inserted another stretching me out. “oh fuck colby” i felt my orgasm rushing to me. the not in my stomach growing faster than ever at his speed. his tongue lapped around my clit,kissing,sucking on it. “mm fuck.” my body jerked. “so close” i gripped his hair. “cum on my fingers baby” still doing his thing “SHIT” i whined. i felt my orgasm rush out of me onto colby’s hands. my body shaking as colby slowed down his fingers gathering my juices on his fingers. after a second or more he pulled out sucking on his fingers licking my juices off them.

grinning at me colby flipped me back onto my stomach pulling my waist up making me arch, standing up taking his sweats and boxers off. His cock springing free hitting his stomach. He grabbed his cock rubbing it against me to use my wetness as lube before teasingly pushing it in and pulling out quickly “Colby” i whined. “tell me what your want sweetheart” he slapped my ass. i moaned slightly. “you.i need you” He pushed in immediately thrusting into me not letting me get use to his size “f-uck” i threw my head back as he reached for my hair balling it into a ponytail and began going faster. “feels so fucking good.” colby huffed out in between thrusts. i cried out in pleasure his tip kissing my g spot and other spots i never knew i had.

“your my Vegas whore”

colby growled bending down to whisper into my ear. “my little slut” colby growled again. i couldn’t respond, the pleasure was paralyzing my mouth all i could do is whine. “whos pussy is this” colby pulling my head back by my hair “y-your. all fucking yours” i struggled to talk. my mouth hanging out. he slowed down before slapping my ass twice on each cheek and began going faster then ever. i gripped the sheets and put my face into the sheets to muffle my moans “FUCKING SHIT” i bit my lip, colby grabbing my hands cuffing them behind my back hitting more new spots “shit pretty girl feels so good” he smacked my ass. “im so fucking close baby” i whined once more. “so am i baby cum with me yeah?” colby bit his lip “mhm” i moaned. colby’s thrust became faster but sloppier “fuckk” he groaned i felt my orgasm knot up in my stomach “fuck fuck im cumming” with that i let myself go cumming all over colby’s cock “mm good girl” he kept thrusting then suddenly stopped and released thick white ropes of his seed into me filling me up. after a few seconds he pulled out of me with a wet pop.

he grabbed my ass squeezing it. “push baby” i pushed and his seed oozed out of me down my pussy. “mm so pretty” he admired for a minute or two before getting up and getting a towel whipping me up gently.

a/n 2: like i said i write for fun so im so sorry if this sycks n the smut isnt good😩 but feel free to leave requests!!

[vintagelasvegas]

Gold Strike Hotel & Gambling Hall and Nevada Landing, Interstate 15, Jean, NV.

“Last year, I explored the abandoned Terrible's Hotel & Casino (previously called Gold Strike) ... I found slides and printed photos inside, and brought them back to Australia to be digitized.” - The Telltale Traveler

Gold Strike Hotel & Gambling Hall opened Dec. 1987 right off Interstate 15, adjacent to Pop's Oasis. The owners of Gold Strike Inn, Boulder City – David Belding, Michael Ensign, and William Richardson – bought 200 acres from the family of "Pop" Simon and developed Gold Strike. After it proved a success a sister property Nevada Landing Hotel and Casino was built on the other side of the interstate and opened in ’89.

All of the interior photos below were taken at Nevada Landing.

The two properties became part of the Gold Strike Resorts, which was acquired in '95 by Circus Circus Enterprises, then MGM Mirage in 2005. They closed Nevada Landing in 2007, and sold Gold Strike to the Herbst family in 2015. Gold Strike's name was changed to Terrible’s Hotel & Casino. It closed during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 and never reopened. The property was sold to Tolles Development, who began demolition in 2023.

Video: Exploring Terrible's Hotel & Casino.

The first three photos were scanned from prints, showing real casino patrols; the last five photos below were posed with models, and scanned from slides.

[lets-try-some-writing]

what if optimus was a human teacher?

Well here is an interesting concept I am 100% going to go crazy with. This is a long one though so I'm going to break this up with a read more and a warning that this isn't going to go the way you might think.

Not So Normal Teacher

The Archivist in Optimus was bored.

Megatron had been quiet for over a year and not a spark had a thing to do until the Decepticons made a move. He had already reorganized the Autobot database three times and he couldn't exactly go wandering off with how much energon he used. He was stuck at base handling communications and mission assignment, and Primus, even the Matrix was antsy. He wanted something to do, anything really. And so after months of sitting around being driven half mad by lack of stimuli, he came up with an idea.

The Archivist in him wanted to teach, to preserve history, and to collect data. What better way to do all of that than by taking up a position as an educator? It was rather outlandish considering he was a Prime and from another world, but there was a school in the nearby human settlement hiring. He had no need for human currency nor was it particularly wise to go sign up as a teacher when the Decepticons could resurge at any moment. However he reasoned that if nothing else he would gain greater insight into human capability through his endeavors.

Ratchet was against his idea from the get-go but allowed Optimus to go through with it after he gave his reasoning and pointed out that he would actually use less energon if he kept his frame at base and worked elsewhere. Thus with Ratchet's begrudging assent, Optimus made himself a whole forged identity for his human holoform, plopped his real frame down in his berth, and got to work.

Orion Pax turned up to the interview looking his best, but despite his efforts there were still a few little things that set him apart. He was indeed professional in wearing a simple turtleneck sweater and jeans with a belt. However that was not what made the interviewer a little concerned, no it was fact that Optimus's hair looked like the American flag with the mixed red white and blue alongside the little markings on his face just under his eyes along with scars that had also transferred over. There was also the fact that his eyes were a little too bright, his movements a tad too stiff, and the way his voice seemed nearly melodic in nature.

However since Orion Pax managed to answer the interview questions perfectly, had a clean record, and was the embodiment of politeness and patience, he was accepted in short order. Thus Optimus got himself a job at Jasper Nevada Memorial High School as history teacher.

Orion Pax befriended the entirety of the teaching staff by the end of week one with his kind disposition, patience, and wisdom beyond his years. He assisted the math teacher in grading papers and even taught him a thing or two with all the patience in the world when the teacher began to struggle. He aided the English teacher by bringing her a cup of coffee and pointing out a small error in her class prep work. He helped the gym teacher get the court set up for the lesson that day and helped him organize the various equipment in record time. He stopped the science teacher from accidentally creating a deadly gas when the teacher passed out from exhaustion halfway through an experiment, leaving Pax to carefully clean up and then grade the teacher's papers for him. Then to top it all off, he assisted the music and arts teacher in her efforts to decorate her classroom for the school year.

The staff loved him, especially the school cleaners since Pax would always stay up late to help them clean despite their protests. He was the perfect co-worker, and quickly found himself as the most loved teacher once the school year started. His students were skeptical of the teacher who looked like he crawled out some sort of cosplaying event and had an American flag for hair, but they swiftly warmed up to him due to his manner of teaching.

Optimus hadn't actually done any real research on human methods of teaching, instead relying on his own experience. In a school as out of the way as Jasper Nevada High School, the regulations were not as strict and so long as students passed their exams, he was allowed to teach as he wished. He did have to adapt a few of his methods to account for human biological limits, but he quickly garnered the students interest with how he went about his teaching.

Using a holoprojector he adjusted to look more like a human one, Optimus, or rather Pax gave the children a more interactive experience. He was passionate as he showed them history in simulations and introduced them to old battles in complicated holographic maps. His classroom was covered in star charts and old documents, studies, and artwork. Every student was urged to find something historical that interested them and dive into it with all their passion and enthusiasm. No students were left unheeded and all their issues were accounted for. The social students were grouped together and given specific historical figures to study in a manner similar to what the archivists of Cybertron did. The less social were given special homework, being required to study a specific event and bring in all they had gathered.

Students with disabilities such as dyslexia and other reading or information processing impediments were personally tutored and grouped. Those who had issues reading were given a partner who would do the reading while they took notes and sectioned out data. Those who had trouble paying attention to certain subjects were given work in areas that had their interest. A child who found warfare to be of interest would be given to mission to look into the Art of War and compile an alternate battle plan for the assault on Rome. A child who preferred the more domestic texts was to come up with a whole biography that was time period accurate for a fictional character living in their chosen era.

Every student had their education specialized to suit them best alongside the general education Orion had them listen to.

Orion was not harsh, he didn't give homework in the manner of other teachers and instead gave the students one big project to complete over the year and smaller personal research projects to complete once a month. A good archivist doesn't rush his research, no, instead time and dedication is given to ensure everything is correct and proper. He did everything in his power to instill this into his students, never putting stern deadlines on anything and instead focusing on fostering interest and a desire for truth.

He wanted his students to love history, not despise it. He wanted them to learn from the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward. And most importantly he made sure to remind them to not be angry at the past and instead see it as an example of another time. For his efforts his students loved him.

It certainly helped that he tended to tell his students altered stories of Cybertron's history, changing bits and pieces to make it seem like a legitimate but long dead human civilization. His students were enraptured with his tales and the battles he made come to life with his projector. Even other teachers would come to listen if they had free time. However to keep his students on task, he only told them stories when the completed their other class's homework before his, thus leading to other teachers finding more success in their lessons too.

After particularly good performances from his students, he would quietly teach them pieces of his culture. He told himself it was just because it was something for them to do, but deep down he knew the real reason why he did this. He didn't want everything of his people to be lost if he were to lose the war. He didn't want everything his people did to be forgotten and washed away by the tests of time. If he was to fail... he wanted something to remain with his students.

Thus he taught them everything he could. He told the other teachers that it was from an ancient culture long forgotten that he was personally studying and come up with some forged documents to prove it. Then his students were introduced to the Ancient Cybertronian language and received extra credit for every work they submitted written in it. He altered the manner in which the glyphs could be processed and spoken while still keeping it as true as possible so that his students could speak it and read it. Then he offered them even more extra credit if they spoke the language in class.

It brought him no end of joy when one Rafael Esquivel made it his mission in life to learn and speak Ancient Cybertronian. If he wasn't long used to having to remain on task even while under increadible stress he would have devoted a great deal of his time to ensuring the boy understood everything perfectly. However he abstained and kept his focus, teaching all his students equally and making sure they were still learning their own history. If Rafael came to him after school to learn more, Optimus never rejected him and taught him happily, more than a little pleased when the boy's glyphs came out as perfectly as they could considering his biology when he spoke.

He also showed his students old dances from all across Cybertron. He altered them as much as he could and gave students different dances based on personality. Students got extra credit if they could perform a dance perfectly by the end of the school year. He never really expected any of them to do it, but by Primus he was surprised when Miko Nakadai turned up guns blazing and performed three different dances from different castes as perfectly as she could considering her biological restraints. She was a terrible study, but evidently her interest in dancing was increadible. Optimus may or may not have taught her a few more dances a little later just to see if she could do it, only to be shocked beyond words when she could indeed do it.

Lastly he introduced his students to Cybertronian art which had a heavy reliance on story telling. It was an end of the year project since his students managed to burn through the curriculum in less than six months and get mostly through the next year's work before the Principle asked Pax to slow down and teach them something else for a while. Optimus thought slowing his student's growth was ridiculous, but he complied and taught them how to engrave and paint in the manner of Cybertronians. It was shortly after he began teaching this that he was yet again surprised to find Jack Darby of all his students to be the one to perform best.

The boy was an excellent engraver, to the point where if Optimus were the kind of mech he might have even let Jack engrave his outer plating. He could get the glyphs nearly perfect every time and had a gift for painting that surpassed more than a few artists from Cybertron during the golden age. It shocked and awed Optimus more than he cared to admit, and much like with his two other exemplary students, he may have slid Jack over a printed copy of some other examples of Cybertronian art from the Autobot database.

He was a proud teacher, and a fragging good one too by any standard. But that was not all, he also cared deeply for his students and got to know all of them. Bonds were a serious thing on Cybertron, especially the ones found between mentor and student. Optimus took the time to understand every student he taught, to learn their likes, their dislikes, and what their situations were. By the end of his first year teaching he already saw his students as his little archivists. He stayed out of their personal lives as much as he could considering his place, but when needed he would answer a call for help.

A student who came in hurt would find their cast covered in loving little glyphs that spoke of wishes and prayers from Cybertron. A student who had a mental illness would be given plenty of small gifts and attention to help them look on the bright side. Students with body image problems were welcomed with love, always receiving a compliment when they entered. Every student was seen to and cared for, especially in the odd case where they came to him for help.

He said he wouldn't get involved, but he was a Prime, he couldn't leave anyone in need of aid. During the singular instance where a student called him in tears at the end of the school day weeping because of their abusive parent, Optimus didn't even hesitate. His holoform was reabsorbed and his real frame moved out. He transformed and drove as fast as he could until he reached the student's residence, at which point he remade his holoform, called authorities, and may or may not have busted down the door to get his student out of there before they could be hurt further.

Not a spark touched one of his little archivists. And while he did get a fine for trespassing and property damage, Optimus had no regrets. It certainly made him feel like his actions were justified when he found a small bundle of flowers on his desk a few days later from the student he saved.

The team slowly began to get a little worried for him when he began gushing about his students around base and keeping their little gifts. When questioned he had nothing but praise for his students and in the end the team just let him be. Optimus still did the work that was needed of him around base, so why argue with him when he was far happier than any of the team had seen him in centuries. Ratchet did warn Optimus not to get attached, but by that point it was far too late if the small pile of thank you gifts and other assorted thing piled on Optimus's workstation was any indicator.

His students didn't know, but he adored their gifts. Gifts were special on Cybertron, and so for every gift he received, he returned. His little archivists were in his own mind, the best. As such when Megatron made his reappearance two years later just as his first batch of students were graduating, Optimus was actually angry.

How dare the fragger turn up and put his little archivists in danger!? It was unforgivable, especially when because of Megatron's actions, three of his students turned up at base and Optimus had to try not to sputter. Jack, Miko, and Rafael, his three most invested students when it came to Cybertronian culture. What started as a harmless little subject quickly had the children connecting the dots when it came to the team.

They thought what Mr. Pax was teaching them was rooted from Cybertronian influence, perhaps from him unearthing something from Cybertron long ago. They didn't know that Optimus was the one teaching them and still turning up to classes part time every other day after Megatron returned. How was he supposed to not get attached even more when he lived two lives, one as Mr. Pax the history teacher and one as Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, both of which interacted with the children?

Optimus: Jack, have you turned in your school work for the week yet?

Jack: No... I've been having some trouble with glyphs.

Optimus: Oh? What are you learning?

Jack: My history teacher Mr. Pax has been teaching up about a long dead civilization that seems to have been influenced by you bots. He's been teaching us the language they used.

Ratchet: *glaring at Optimus* Oh really? I would love to hear more about it.

Miko: Yeah! The glyphs are boring, but Mr. Pax also taught us dances! See, look! *proceeds to perform a dance from central Iacon*

Bulkhead: Wait, isn't that a dance used by the-

Optimus: *holding a servo over Bulkhead's mouth* The ancient civilization I assume?

Miko: Yep! Its super fun!

Rafael: Mr. Pax also taught us how to speak the old language. I think I am fairly proficient. *proceeds to speak fluent ancient cybertronian*

Arcee: What the frag!?

Ratchet: I do believe we need to have a talk Optimus.

[bvtbxtch]

You Don't Scare Me | Eddie Munson

Day Fourteen of Kinktober

Summary: Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Haunted House in the old Starcourt Mall. He's determined to make you squirm after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him.

Pairings: Scare Actor!Eddie x Grumpy!Fem!Reader

wc: ~2.8k

Warnings: This is porn with some fluff so as always 18+!!! MDNI!! Sexual themes, fooling around with a stranger, fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex acts, choking and domination (if you squint)

Thank you all for sticking with me, it is literally almost the end of November, so I am thankful that y'all are still around to read! And to my lovely friend @darknesseddiem for inspiring me!

You hated Halloween more than anything. You couldn’t understand your peers' desperation to get black out drunk in someone’s basement, dressed up in the smallest garments of clothing they could find (and excuse it as some sort of costume). But, you were new to town, so when the girl you met through the Hawkin’s high journalism club, Nancy, you remembered her name to be, invited you to the haunted house that went up on the edge of town, you hesitantly agreed to join her and her group of friends. This might be your way to meet some new people. If opportunity knocks, you suppose you better answer. 

-

A nervous shiver trickled down your spine as you and Nancy leaned against the Wheeler station wagon, engaging in small talk about your move from Nevada, and about the new friends you were about to meet. You were told of a girl your age with short strawberry blonde hair, and a personality almost as eclectic as her fashion sense. And of a boy that people called the hair, a charmer in all ways women, but that he had been warned not to pursue you. You flashed Nancy a devilish smile.

“What if I want him to pursue me, Nance?”

“He’s a serial dater, Y/N. And I can say from experience, a much better friend than a conquest.” If Nancy’s response wasn’t enough to deter you, her history with Steve Harrington was. You presumed fucking around with your only friend’s ex isn’t a great way to stay friends. 

You formed your group with warm smiles and welcomes; you absorbed the three of your new friends’ banter. You felt out of the loop, but not unwelcome. The addition to Robin and Steve made you feel hopeful for the future of your friendships.

The four of you made your way through the painted asphalt of the abandoned Starcourt mall that hosted the Halloween festivities. The once shiny new sliding doors were pried open and painted black to welcome the bravest teens into the makeshift haunted house in the west wing of the mall. Robin and Nancy had already jumped at the few scare actors positioned around the entrance, Steve flinching every so often. You stood stone cold, unphased by the kids that were paid far too little money and wore far too much fake blood for their own good.

You bravely volunteered to go through the foggy entrance first; Steve followed behind you with Robin and Nancy hiding into each other’s shoulders. The fog opened up to a desolate looking carnival with old rusted rides festooned around the large room. You sauntered around the space, taking awestruck gazes at the crumpled metal and grim lights looming over you. You found the narrow corridor that led you to the next room. 

Suddenly, a tall figure popped out in front of you, eliciting shrill shrieks from your party behind you. You felt your heart jump into your chest, but not out of fear.

The figure that stood in front of you donned a ripped striped shirt and tight black jeans. You had a perfect view of his long arms and the tattoos that danced across them. You looked up to the figure’s face and were met with beautiful brown eyes glinting with an unreadable shine. His pale skin had been made even paler with white face paint, and his eyes were bracketed around black smudged triangles. You could tell how plump the boy’s lips were even when camouflaged under a black painted frown. His visage was framed with dark curls. He looked more majestic than frightening. But as much as your heart thumped, you weren’t scared, so you pretended not to be impressed with the person blocking your path. He put his muscular arm up on the wall, further blocking you in. As your friends panicked behind you, you simply flashed your bright eyes up at him and you slipped under his outstretched arm. You continued on without giving so much as a slight glance back, encouraging Steve to do the same to pass the stranger. The man dropped his hand from the wall and pressed himself back into the hallway, his eyes never leaving your figure. 

You were going to be the death of him, he could tell already.

“Holy fuck, Y/N! That was kind of badass!” Robin exclaimed, her and Nancy trotting back to rejoin you and Steve. “That fucking freaked me out.”

“What is so scary about a guy in clown makeup?” You shrugged. Little did you know the very person that you were talking about, the guy that had made your heart jump to your throat, was following closely behind you, separated only by the prop walls he had helped build days earlier. 

-

“Eddie, you can’t abandon your spot!” His skeevy boss yelled to him when he caught him trawling through the small walkways. “You gotta be the first scare, man! There’s nothing else in that corridor!” Eddie didn’t look back at the pudgy man with the combover shaking his fist. 

“Fuck off, Brad. I gotta do something” Eddie murmured. He needed to find you. He was willing to give up this shitty side gig and go back to solely dealing again. 

Eddie was overwhelmed with confusion. He was enchanted by you, but your lack of reaction in a haunted house of all things… But the way you looked at him. There was something different in your eyes. You were bored. But you looked at him with an invitation to cause trouble. You terrified the hell out of Eddie Munson, but he couldn’t get enough. 

-

You wandered aimlessly through the shabby makeshift walls. Eddie watched as you stood stoic scare after scare that normally made anyone jump. His eyes trained on your figure. Eddie needed to see more of you. The boy tapped a small boy dressed up like a gremlin waiting to pop out of the corridor you were walking through. 

“What are you doing, Eddie?” the boy hissed. 

“Just move, man. I need your spot” Eddie used his hidden strength to move the boy. His eyes stayed peeled, waiting to see your curly hair to come into his vision. 

-

You strolled through the crowded corridor, giggling quietly at Steve and Robin’s third argument of the night.

“I’m telling you, Buckley. You couldn’t be a scare actor because you would literally scare yourself.”

“Umm, says the guy who literally jumped into my arms when that demon animatronic went off back there. And like, aren’t you scared of clowns? You were made for beauty pageants, Steve.”

“Let me tell you someth-”

Steve’s words were stolen from his mouth as Eddie dashed out of his hiding spot. His sleek form lunged towards you, pushing you back towards the back wall. His hands caged your head, leaving you nowhere to look but his hypnotizing eyes. They looked aflame with passion and frustration. For the first time of the night, your breath hitched. Your chest heaved softly, waiting, wondering, hoping for what the boy was going to do (to you) next.

A small smile flashed across the curly haired boy’s painted face. He slammed his hands against the wall beside you, eliciting a short gasp from your plump lips. You didn’t ignore the glance that Eddie took at your lips before he pushed himself away from you, and onto the wall across from you. He bowed and gestured your friends foreward, leaving you to the back. You could barely peel your eyes away from the figure in front of you, but you pulled yourself from the wall and his punishing stare. You shook him out of your thoughts as you strode towards your friends, now far down the hallway. You felt a hand on your wrist and you were pulled away and into the darkness. 

Suddenly, you were met face to face with the mystery that had been following you, crammed into a small corridor. His body loomed over yours, too close, but somehow not close enough. His breath fanned over you and you couldn’t help but feel faint. He was even more beautiful now that you had all the time in the world to examine him. He licked his lips and you couldn’t help but mirror him with a gulp.

“Why aren’t you scared of me, doll?” his low voice rasped. You couldn’t speak, your throat closing. You tried your best to open your mouth, but Eddie’s thumb running across your lower lip shut it. You mustered up all of your energy.

“I’m not one to scare easily,” you sighed. You felt small underneath him, like he could devour you whole.

“You seem scared now, sweetheart. Do I scare you?” Eddie stepped closer to you, his hand finding his way to your hip. His eyes were dark, but there was a tenderness there. He silently told you that you could leave at any point and he would still thank you. “Or, do you feel exactly what I’m feeling?” Eddie didn’t need to wait for a response, your eyes were glowing with want-need. 

Eddie pressed his painted lips to yours, pressing his chest against yours. His hand ran up your side, and to your neck. His skin burned against yours and you wished you could wear his hand like a locket for the rest of time. You kissed him back feverishly, hoping that with every move of your lips, Eddie fell more enchanted with you, like you had with him. Lucky for you, Eddie had jumped off the deep end and was ready to drown in everything that is you.

Eddie pulled away and let out a small giggle. A sound that made your heart stop. 

“You have paint all over your face now.”

“I don’t give a fuck” you breathed as you pulled Eddie’s face to yours. The kisses grew from explorative to heated. Your hands snaked up to wrap around the nape of the beautiful boy’s neck. His tongue traced your bottom lip in a desperate plea to explore your mouth further. You opened your mouth in permission and his tongue met yours with a moan. Eddie slotted his jean clad thigh between your legs and pushed into you further. You felt the heat radiating off of your core between both of your jean clad bodies. You huffed into Eddie’s mouth, begging for more. 

“You want more, darling? You don’t even know me.” Eddie teased. “Plus… I’m at work! What would my boss think?” you wouldn’t let the boy’s words get to you. You couldn’t think about your situation too much. 

“Well, seeing as you’re the one that pulled me in here, it sounds like this whole ‘stranger’ and ‘at your job’ are your problems not mine… plus, I could go, if you want me to?” You attempted to push Eddie off you, but his grip on your neck and hip became desperate. You smirked at his reaction.

Eddie let go of you in favor of fiddling with your jeans. He let out a low chuckle that rumbled through your whole body. 

“So, you’re a brat, hey? I should have fucking known. Too bad for you, I’m too curious to see what you sound like when you fall apart under me.” You moaned at his words and you pulled him back into a searing kiss. His hands found their way through your jeans and panties. You let out another breathy moan into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s hands and mouth paused and he detached his lips from yours.

“But, you gotta be quiet doll. Can’t have anyone find us, and someone’s gonna be back here in like 5 minutes to kick my ass so…”

His slender fingers slipped through your folds, you can’t help but shudder. Eddie bit his lip to suppress his baritone moans. “So wet already… and just for me?” he praised, making your pussy flutter.  He pushed one finger into your waiting entrance, leaving you no time to adjust. Your knees buckled in sheer pleasure. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress any moans threatening to spill out. Your hands moved up from Eddie’s neck to his luscious locks and you pulled on them to bring his mouth back to yours. He braced against you with a small ‘tsk’.

“I wanna watch you, doll. I wanna see how good you look when I finger fuck you.” His hand flew to your mouth to prevent the groan that was paired with your eyes rolling back. 

Eddie was talented. His pace was unrelenting and he knew the right angle to bully your quivering cunt at. He spread you open further by adding another finger. You shook, feeling so satisfied, so full. You could barely keep your cool that you had been desperately clinging to. The waves of heat flooding your system.

“P-please-”

“Eddie”

“Eddie.please.” You cried.

“Hmmm, I love it when you say my name.” The boy cooed. His words hurled you closer and closer to your climax. Your legs began to shake around Eddie’s hand. A frustrated gasp wracked your body as Eddie removed his fingers from your desperate pussy. 

“Eddie-” You were hushed by the tall boy’s frame dipping down so his head was at your waist. You looked into his beautiful brown eyes quizzically, and he returned your look with a mischievous smile. He pulled your jeans and soaked panties to your knees and pulled his face into you. 

“I need to taste you, please?” You were on the edge, overstimulated and desperate to cum. You shook your head violently and without a second to lose, Eddie’s mouth was on your sensitive core. You yelped at the sensation of his perfect lips sucking against your clit. A large hand snaked from your wait to your mouth. The lack of air sent lightning bolts through your body. Eddie hummed into you and you collapsed over him. 

“Taste so good-”

“Y/N” You answered for him. He hummed into you again, sending shock waves through your legs. Your breath hitched and Eddie could feel you tense around where his fingers once were. He stared up at you as he gave one last suck onto your sensitive bud. 

You saw white, your head felt like it was full of cotton. The waves of pleasure were too much for you to comprehend. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you cried into Eddie’s hand. You could feel the vibrations of him moaning as he licked up your essence. He expertly worked you through your climax, to the point where you were deliciously overstimulated. He waited for you to pull him off of you, licking you clean in the process.

You couldn’t help but giggle when his presence loomed over you again, a large spot around his mouth and chin bare of face paint. He wiped his mouth and you could finally see the plump pink lips grinning back at you. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”  You couldn’t help the blush that grew across your cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.” 

Eddie picked up the bottom hem of his shirt and wiped your mouth clean of the black smudges of paint. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“Can I maybe get your number, so I can eat- I mean take you out on a proper date?”

You smiled up at the gorgeous boy. He had rooted through his back pocket and held a sharpie in his hand triumphantly. You took it from him, and wrote your phone number on your arm in your neat writing. You blew on his arm, sending goosebumps straight through his heart. 

“You better call me after that, Eddie. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you didn’t” 

“Well, lucky for you, I have no intention of leaving you alone.”

With a smile, Eddie grabbed your hand and led you through the back corridors and gave you a sweet peck. He pushed you through a small entrance so you were back by Robin’s side. 

-

With a scream,  you reunited with Robin.

“Holy fuck! Where the hell did you go?!”

“I got lost. I took some wrong turns and ended up in the back corridors somehow.” You were thankful that the room was dark so you were able to hide your red hot cheeks. Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad… and you might just have a change of heart about Hawkins after all.

-

Eddie sauntered back through the narrow maze of staff hallways, a shit eating grin plastered on his smudged face. It faltered slightly as he entered the male dressing rooms. Brad stood to greet the teen. His sweaty brow furrowed and his fatty chin wobbled in anger.

“Munson you’re-”

“Fired.. Yeah, I got it.” the metalhead chuckled. 

Eddie grabbed his bag with a smile and a bow to the chubby man, who was now furiously flattening his greasy comb over. He wiped his face with an old bandana tucked into his back pocket. He slammed out the shabby doors that lead to the abandoned mall, blowing carefully on his newest tattoo that you had given him. If it were up to him, he would drive himself to his friend’s tattoo parlor and get it inked permanently on his arm, like you had been tattooed on his heart.

taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @@filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass If you would like to be on my taglist, please consider following and fill out this form!

[gingiesworld]

Fatal Attraction

Chapter Three

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/Wanda Maximoff x Jarvis Stark

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic

18+ MINORS DNI

The first week had passed by pretty swiftly, Wanda had learned everything that there was, she even shadowed Y/N to a few meetings too, taking the notes that were necessary and more just in case Y/N had missed anything.

She could truly say that she admired Y/N and how they worked with their employees and clients. They weren't hostile or agitated, they would listen to the needs of the other person and would reassure them.

"I want to see this little one when he is born." They told Jean as she packed her things with their help.

"You will." Jean smiled as Y/N picked up the box.

"Is Scott picking you up?" They asked her as they walked with her towards the elevator.

"He is waiting downstairs for me." She told them before Y/N turned to Wanda.

"Would you like me to pick you up a coffee Ms Maximoff?" They asked her with a gentle smile.

"Please." She nodded before she went back to work, she felt at home working here. It was easy and stress free, although she wishes her marriage would be stress free.

"So, how many meetings have I got today?" Y/N asked as they placed her coffee on her desk, Wanda moved to pick up a few files.

"You have three meetings, one this morning with Hammer Industries about the project, two this afternoon, Ms Bishop and Mr Stark." She told them as she handed them the files.

"You can sit out of the one with Mr Stark." They told her as she gave them an unsure look. "He is your father in law and I assume your husband doesn't know you work here because you still work here." They smirked as Wanda chuckled lightly at them.

"Yes, Jarvis doesn't know." Wanda told them as she leaned back in her chair. "But he doesn't really have a say on where or who I work for." She countered as Y/N smiled proudly at her.

"I like you." They smiled as they took the first file from her. "It's a pity it's only temporary." She smiled as she watched them walk into their office to read up on the first meeting.

Just 30 minutes later, Y/N and Wanda made their way to the meeting room. It was a room which had a large table in the center, chairs lining on either side and one at the head. Y/N took their seat at the head as Wanda took the one beside them.

"Do you need a drink?" Wanda asked Y/N before the room filled up.

"No thank you." They smiled as soon as Justin Hammer walked in, the two shook hands before he took the seat across from Wanda.

"So, we have the stats on the project." Y/N grabbed the file and laid it in front of them. "Some of the materials have been hard to come by because of the radiation content but we have managed to get it through a trusted friend of mine."

"So, it's almost ready?" He questioned as Y/N sat back.

"Not quite yet." They informed him. "We still need to test it out and Mr Osborn has trusted me to lead the testing, so we have plans in the next few weeks to take it to Nevada, near Area 51 to test."

"Is it possible for myself or my assistant to accompany you?" He questioned as Y/N licked their teeth.

"I'm afraid not, it's purely for insurance purposes." They told him. "But Wanda here will take notes and maybe we can also record footage of the testing for you too." The rest of the meeting went by smoothly as Y/N shook hands as Justin was led outside of the room, leaving just Y/N and Wanda.

"When were you going to tell me about the trip?" She questioned as she closed the door before they could leave. They smirked as they watched her, seeing how she stood with her hand on her hip and the other on the closed door.

"When I had the details finalised." They told her as they stood up, gathering the files as she moved closer to them.

"You still should have told me." She told them firmly as she gazed at them intensely.

"I should have, yes." They told her as they straightened up, towering over her as she visibly gulped. "But either way, the dates are not set in stone as the project isn't near completion." Wanda tried to remain confident but she felt strange as they towered her, their eyes boring into her own had her feeling a way it shouldn't. "My apologies Ms Maximoff."

"Why do you insist on calling me Ms Maximoff?" She questioned as she followed them out of the room.

"Well, that is your respected name, no?" They raised their brow as they entered the elevator.

"You know what I mean." She stated as the elevator stopped. Wanda watched as Y/N pressed the stop button, turning to face her.

"I call you Ms Maximoff because I respect you." They told her as she backed up against the wall. "Also, the more I call you Wanda makes me want to say it in a more unprofessional manner and I can't do that because you are my employee, and there are boundaries I will not cross." They stood toe to toe as their hand rested on the wall beside her head. "Is that ok Ms Maximoff?" They questioned with a raised brow.

"It is." She whispered as she never turned away from their burning gaze.

"Perfect." They moved away and started the elevator again as Wanda tried to regain her composure, although her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as her mind raced with many inappropriate thoughts.

Since the moment in the elevator, Wanda found herself observing them more and more. She watched how their forearms looked when they removed their jacket, sleeves folded up neatly as they moved around their office, speaking on the phone. They soon beckoned for Wanda to enter the office before finishing up their phone call.

"It appears that we have been asked to attend a charity ball." They informed her. "I am to bring a date and I usually take Jean but as you can see that is impossible."

"So, you want me to be your date?" She questioned as they sighed, a tight lipped smile on their face.

"I don't want to put you into an uncomfortable position but I usually prefer to take someone I know and trust." They told her.

"You've only known me for a little over a week." She reminded them as they nodded.

"And I do trust you Wanda." They told her as they reached for two glasses and a decanter, pouring the golden liquid into the glasses. "I am not pressuring you into saying yes, it is entirely your choice and you can say no."

"I don't know." She whispered as she took the glass from them. "If you have been invited, then maybe my father in law and husband may have been invited."

"Well, just let me know." They told her as they finished their drink. "I can take Gwen if need be."

"I don't think I can." Wanda whispered as Y/N nodded in understanding. "Working here and lying about it is already affecting my marriage."

"It's ok Ms Maximoff." They told her softly. "Don't worry about it." They took her own empty glass and took it to the small bar they had. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off."

"I can't do that." She whispered as they gave her a soft smile.

"Yes you can. Take it, you won't lose any wages." They told her. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." They helped her stand as she nodded, mumbling a quiet thank you before she absentmindedly gathered her belongings and left the office. Picking up some food on her way home, just in time for Jarvis to return home.

"Wanda, what are you doing here?" He asked her as he wasn't used to her being home early.

"I had the afternoon off." She told him as he did something on his phone before scoffing at her.

"And you didn't tell me?" He questioned her.

"I didn't know I had to tell you." She countered as he shook his head. "Besides, why are you home?" She asked as she looked at the time, it was only 3pm as he just glared at her.

"I live here." He told her. "And also, we have a charity ball coming up." He told her. "So you need to buy a new dress, not any of the old ones you have in the closet. You know what, I'll just send Pepper's stylist your measurements and I'm sure they'll pick something nice for you." With that he left, leaving Wanda in the kitchen alone. She still sometimes hoped that the man she fell in love with was still inside him somewhere. Hoping that this marriage wasn't entirely a waste of time.

[dustydaddyyy]

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter. 

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.   

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you. 

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk. 

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny," 

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. 

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.  

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace. 

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese," 

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless. 

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit," 

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.  

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?" 

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why," 

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter.  "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.  

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.  

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.    

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.  

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.  

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"  

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him. 

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends," 

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly. 

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off.  She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual," 

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"  

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch. 

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face. 

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"   

[rabbitcruiser]

Levi Strauss Day

They’re comfy. They last for years and years. They don’t require dry-cleaning or any other kind of special treatment. They’re perfect for a number of occasions, from a trip to the grocery store, to a walk in the park, to an evening at the pub, to a number of even semi-formal social occasions. They’re incredibly versatile, meaning they look good with pretty much everything, from t-shirts to smart blazers. In fact, you can’t imagine life without them at all.

What are we talking about? Jeans, of course! This iconic garment is more than deserving of it own holiday, as is Mr. Levi Strauss, a man without whom jeans as we know them might not exist at all.

“In the old days, people used to risk their lives in India or in the Americas in order to bring back products which now seem to us to have been of comically little worth” – Levi Strauss.

The History of Levi Strauss Day

Levi Strauss was a German-American businessman born in Bavaria on February 26th, 1829, who came to the United States with his family the mid-1800s when he was 18 years old. Strauss began as a dry goods wholesaler in San Francisco, California, where he sold various items such as clothing, bedding, bags and handkerchiefs to settlers, many of whom had arrived in California to take part in the gold rush. Needless to say, the hard physical labor required of the miners of the day and those building new railroads made it difficult for them to find clothing that would last for more than a few months without falling apart at the seams. One day in 1870, one of Strauss’ clients, a tailor named Jacob W. Davis was approached by a woman who needed a pair of exceptionally strong working pants for her husband, a woodcutter. Her request prompted Davis to make a pair of pants from the denim he’d bought at Strauss’ shop that he then strengthened with copper rivets to reinforce the stitching. Word of the new article of clothing and its endurance spread fast, and soon Davis was not able to keep up with the demand for his invention, nor did he have the resources to open a larger tailor shop or obtain a patent. Falling further and further behind and afraid someone else would steal his idea, Davis decided to ask for Strauss’ financial backing in the filing of a patent application. Strauss agreed, the patent was issued, the two men became business partners, and Levi Strauss & Co was born.

How to Celebrate Levi Strauss Day

Levi Strauss’ story is considered to be the quintessence of the “American Dream”, a belief that all men and women were created equal and that hard work, ambition and creativity are all that is needed to become successful, both financially and otherwise. Levi Strauss’ family was anything but wealthy, with his father making just enough money as a peddler to keep the family afloat until he died of tuberculosis, a tragedy that plunged the Strauss family into poverty. Regardless of any and all setbacks, however, Levi Strauss managed to make an enormous amount of money. Strauss was not the stereotype of a stingy, rich miser, however–far from it. Throughout his life, he made numerous donations to various orphanages and other charity organizations. That’s why a great way to celebrate this day would be to read the biography of Levi Strauss or any other man or woman who has achieved success through hard work and dedication, and then used his or her money and influences to help others.

Source

[bignaz8]

ARIZONA INTERESTING FACTS:

1. Arizona has 3,928 mountain peaks and summits, more mountains than any one of the other Mountain States (Colorado, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming).

2. All New England, plus the state of Pennsylvania would fit inside Arizona.

3. Arizona became the 48th state and last of the contiguous states on February 14, 1912, Valentine’s Day.

4. Arizona's disparate climate can yield both the highest temperature across the nation and the lowest temperature across the nation in the same day.

5. There are more wilderness areas in Arizona than in the entire Midwest. Arizona alone has 90 wilderness areas, while the Midwest has 50.

6. Arizona has 26 peaks that are more than 10,000 feet in elevation.

7. Arizona has the largest contiguous stand of Ponderosa pines in the world stretching from near Flagstaff along the Mogollon Rim to the White Mountains region.

8. Yuma, Arizona is the country's highest producer of winter vegetables, especially lettuce.

9. Arizona is the 6th largest state in the nation, covering 113,909 square miles.

10. Out of all the states in the U.S., Arizona has the largest percentage of its land designated as Indian lands.

11. The Five C's of Arizona's economy are: Cattle, Copper, Citrus, Cotton, and Climate.

12. More copper is mined in Arizona than all the other states combined The Morenci Mine is the largest copper producer in all of North America.

13. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, two of the most prominent movie stars of Hollywood's Golden Age, were married on March 18, 1939, in Kingman, Arizona.

14. Covering 18,608 sq. miles, Coconino County is the second largest county by land area in the 48 contiguous United States.(San Bernardino County in California is the largest).

15. The world's largest solar telescope is located at Kitt Peak National Observatory in Sells, Arizona.

16. Bisbee, Arizona is known as the Queen of the Copper Mines because during its mining heyday it produced nearly 25 percent of the world's copper. It was the largest city in the Southwest between Saint Louis and San Francisco.

17. Billy the Kid killed his first man, Windy Cahill, in Bonita, Arizona.

18. Arizona grows enough cotton each year to make more than one pair of jeans for every person in the United States.

19. Famous labor leader and activist Cesar Chavez was born in Yuma.

20. In 1912, President William Howard Taft was ready to make Arizona a state on February 12, but it was Lincoln's birthday.

The next day, the 13th, was considered bad luck so they waited until the following day. That's how Arizona became known as the Valentine State.

21. When England's famous London Bridge was replaced in the 1960s, the original was purchased, dismantled, shipped stone by stone and reconstructed in Lake Havasu City, Arizona, where it still stands today.

22. Mount Lemmon, Tucson, in the Santa Catalina Mountains, is the southernmost ski resort in the United States.

23. Rooster Cogburn Ostrich Ranch in Picacho, Arizona is the largest privately-owned ostrich ranch in the world outside South Africa.

24. If you cut down a protected species of cactus in Arizona, you could spend more than a year in prison.

25. The world's largest to-scale collection of miniature airplane models is housed at the library at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Prescott, Arizona.

26. The only place in the country where mail is delivered by mule is the village of Supai, located at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

27. Located on Arizona's western border, Parker Dam is the deepest dam in the world at 320 feet.

28. South Mountain Park/Preserve in Phoenix is the largest municipal park in the country.

29. Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station, located about 55 miles west of Phoenix, generates more electricity than any other U.S. power plant.

30. Oraibi, a Hopi village located in Navajo County, Arizona, dates back to before A.D. 1200 and is reputed to be the oldest continuously inhabited community in America.

31. Built by Del Webb in 1960, Sun City, Arizona was the first 55-plus active adult retirement community in the country.

32. Petrified wood is the official state fossil. The Petrified Forest in northeastern Arizona contains America's largest deposits of petrified wood.

33. Many of the founders of San Francisco in 1776 were Spanish colonists from Tubac, Arizona.

34. Phoenix originated in 1866 as a hay camp to supply military post Camp McDowell.

35. Rainfall averages for Arizona range from less than three inches in the deserts to more than 30 inches per year in the mountains.

36. Rising to a height of 12,643 feet, Humphreys Peak north of Flagstaff is the state's highest mountain.

37. Roadrunners are not just in cartoons! In Arizona, you'll see them running up to 17-mph away from their enemies.

38. The Saguaro cactus is the largest cactus found in the U.S. It can grow as high as a five-story building and is native to the Sonoran Desert, which stretches across southern Arizona.

39. Sandra Day O'Connor, the first woman appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court, grew up on a large family ranch near Duncan, Arizona.

40. The best-preserved meteor crater in the world is located near Winslow, Arizona.

41. The average state elevation is 4,000 feet.

42. The Navajo Nation spans 27,000 square miles across the states of Utah, Arizona and New Mexico, but its capital is seated in Window Rock, Arizona.

43. The amount of copper utilized to make the copper dome atop Arizona's Capitol building is equivalent to the amount used in 4.8 million pennies.

44. Near Yuma, the Colorado River's elevation dips to 70 feet above sea level, making it the lowest point in the state.

45. The geographic center of Arizona is 55 miles southeast of Prescott near the community of Mayer.

46. You could pile four 1,300-foot skyscrapers on top of each other and they still would not reach the rim of the Grand Canyon.

47. The hottest temperature recorded in Arizona was 128 degrees at Lake Havasu City on June 29, 1994.

48. The coldest temperature recorded in Arizona was 40 degrees below zero at Hawley Lake on January 7, 1971.

49. A saguaro cactus can store up to nine tons of water.

50. The state of Massachusetts could fit inside Maricopa County (9,922 sq. miles).

51. The westernmost battle of the Civil War was fought at Picacho Pass on April 15, 1862 near Picacho Peak in Pinal County.

52. There are 11.2 million acres of National Forest in Arizona, and one-fourth of the state forested.

53. Wyatt Earp was neither the town marshal nor the sheriff in Tombstone at the time of the shoot-out at the O..K. Corral. His brother Virgil was the town marshal.

54. On June 6, 1936, the first barrel of tequila produced in the United States rolled off the production line in Nogales, Arizona.

55. The Sonoran Desert is the most biologically diverse desert in North America.

56. Bisbee is the Nation's Southernmost mile-high city.

57. The two largest man-made lakes in the U.S. are Lake Mead and Lake Powell, both located in Arizona.

58. The longest remaining intact section of Route 66 can be found in Arizona and runs from Seligman to Topock, a total of 157 unbroken miles.

59. The 13 stripes on the Arizona flag represent the 13 original colonies of the United States.

60. The negotiations for Geronimo's final surrender took place in Skeleton Canyon, near present day Douglas, Arizona, in 1886.

61. Prescott, Arizona is home to the world's oldest rodeo, and Payson, Arizona is home to the world's oldest continuous rodeo, both of which date back to the 1880's.

62. Kartchner Caverns, near Benson, Arizona, is a massive limestone cave with 13,000 feet of passages, two rooms as long as football fields, and one of the world's longest soda straw stalactites: measuring 21 feet 3 inches.

63. You can carry a loaded firearm on your person, no permit required.

64. Arizona has one of the lowest crime rates in the U.S.A.