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darknight3904 · 2 months ago

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All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel get revenge for your beloved pet cat.

Warnings: Violence, guns, death, non-described torture, mentions of scars, pet death, language.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

May 2024

The pistol that was tucked into Red Laces’ pocket comes free easily. Joel turns to his right and shoots the one with bad breath first. He stands up, straightening to his full height, ready to kill Oliver but Brett has gotten there first.

His companion has straddled Louis’ killer and his currently beating him bloody. Joel leaves him to it and sets his sights on the other two remaining men. One of them is fumbling with his gun which appears to be jammed. The other has begun to flee the camp, he must know he’s fucked. Joel fires before the gun can be unjammed and then turns to shoot the running one down. It’s easy, pulling the trigger and watching a man fall into the dirt, covered in his own blood.

Joel could hear the leader cursing from that tent he’d disappeared into, surely he knew that his men were dead. He approaches the tent, his boots sinking into the mud as he goes.

“Stay the fuck back!” The man snarls.

If he were smart, he’d have a gun pointed at the tent flap, that's what Joel would do if he were him. Of course, Joel would never let his men die like dogs while he hid in a tent. What a fucking-

“Joel!”

Joel barely gets the chance to turn around before you’re slamming into him nearly knocking him off his feet like you’re some professional linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. Your Python is dropping to the ground with a thump as your arms wrap around his torso.

“You alright?” You bury your face into his shirt and mumble into his chest.

“Been better.” He motions to his still-bleeding shoulder, “Where the hell did you run off to this morning?”

You untangle yourself from him and fix your focus on his gunshot. Ignoring his question, your hands push his jacket off his shoulder and stare at the wounded flesh. It’s not bleeding so bad anymore, hurts like a bitch but the blood has trickled off into a thin stream.

“We should get you back to Jackson. Dr. Hill can fix you up.”

You take a step towards the tent and Joel catches you by the arm.

“Sweetheart, there’s somethin’ you need to know.” Joel starts, “That man you mentioned he’s…”

“He’s in the tent, Joel.” You say looking at the halfway unzipped flap, “That missing teeth, cat-killing motherfucker is going to die. Let me go.”

You must’ve been hiding somewhere, watching this camp, no wonder he’d conveniently been saved when Laces tried killing him. You rip your arm out of Joel’s hand and take another step to the tent.

“Alright, Alright,” Joel says, looking at Brett who has dragged an unconscious Oliver over, “Let us bring him out here.”

You watch as Joel and Brett disappear into the tent, the sound of a punch being delivered followed by a couple of grunts fills the air and before you know it, they’re back, dragging The Walrus out by his arms towards you. Joel tosses a hunting knife at your feet before he and Brett drop The Walrus face-first into the ground.

“Didn’t even have a gun. Guess he thought his men would do all the killing for him.”

It seems that The Walrus has gotten lazy, years ago when you were the one tied to a tree he always had a gun tucked into a holster on his side. He’s gotten complacent, this good-for-nothing sack of shit was seriously expecting his little group of 20-somethings would be able to protect him from you and your wrath.

You watch as he pulls himself up, sitting back on his knees it dawns on you that you don’t know this man’s name. He was responsible for the many scars that crisscrossed your back and sides, he haunted you in your dreams and you didn’t even know his fucking name.

“Listen. I can pay you. I got another man who will be back in a few days. There’s this settlement a few miles north, you three can have your pick of the supplies, food, women, whatever you want. Just let me live.”

He can’t be serious, trying to weasel his way out of death like this. Did he not recognize you? You’d know his face anywhere, even now covered in mud and a shaggier beard, you knew it was him.

You glance over at Brett whose eyes are fixed on that beaten bloody body he’d dragged over. You realize Louis is missing and come to the conclusion that Brett was staring at his friend’s now-deceased killer. Joel gives you a pointed look, his pistol is shoved into the back of The Walrus’ head, all it would take is one pull of the trigger and he’d be dead.

“You said you have another man?” You say, your voice devoid of any emotion

“Yes. He’s out scouting a community. We’re going down to Kansas and getting the rest of my men, then we’re taking it. Come with me, I’ll pay you all well.”

You scoff at this, a small laugh escapes your lips, what the fuck was wrong with this man. You knew he was a psychopath but seriously actually asking you to work with him? One of his men had killed Louis, another was about to shoot Joel, and for crying out loud he had four people tied up just 4 yards away. He must be delusional if he thought you, Joel, and Brett would want to work with him.

“What’s so funny, bitch?”

Joel smacks him in the back of the head with the butt on his gun, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what? Is she gonna order you to shoot me? That how you live your life? Dickless, commanded by some whore with big tits?”

You watch as Joel grabs The Walrus by a fistful of his greasy hair before slamming him into the ground so hard you’re pretty sure you heard the crunch of bone. Joel’s voice is deadly as he speaks directly into your captor's ear.

“You’ll hold your tongue around my woman or when she tells me to shoot ya’, I’ll make sure you’ll go out real slow.”

Joel hauls The Walrus back up into his previous position on his knees.

“S’ that we did to Adam isn’t it, sweetheart?”

The Walrus’ eyes flick to yours, trying to discern if Joel is lying. You nod suddenly feeling a bit small. Joel was good at this, intimidation. The man kneeling in front of you doesn’t give a shit what you do, it’s Joel he’s worried about.

“We got your second in command. See, in Jackson, we ain’t stupid the way you think we are. Caught him and that girl he was with right away.”

“You’re full of shit.” The Walrus says in disbelief that he’s truly alone, his allies thousands of miles away in Kansas.

Joel shakes his head, “You see, I wanted to draw it out some more, got some good hits in, even ran a knife across his skin. That sound familiar to you? Well, Adam, he cried a lot, pissed himself too, begging for his life in the dirt, “Joel raises his free hand, the one that's not holding his gun, and taps The Walrus on the forehead three times, “She put a bullet in his head with the same gun that's sitting there at her hip now.”

“Fuck you, man. You didn’t know him, he was a good guy.” The Walrus fires back

“See that’s where you’re wrong. Good men don’t rape women.” Joel says, “Another thing a good man doesn’t do is feed em’ their pets for fun.”

The Walrus’ eyes flick to yours, and a beat of recognition flashes. Now, he knows who you are.

“That was years ago…I shouldn’t have…”

You feel your voice returning, you want to speak to this man to listen to him grovel.

“But you did.” You say softly, “You made my only friend in the whole world into bowls of soup and a bag of jerky.”

The Walrus shakes his head like he doesn’t quite believe he did that.

“And then, whenever we were alone you cut me up for fun, just like my cat.” Your hands shake a bit as you push your long-sleeved shirt up off your right arm to the elbow. You point to the long scars that are nestled into your skin forever, “Remember these?”

“I-I’m sorry…” He says plainly, staring down at your arm

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it.” Joel snarls

Joel motions for Brett to take his gun before he takes a step to his left, scooping up a big roll of duct tape that’d been sitting on top of an open bag of one of the men. He walks to you and turns your focus to him,

“I’ll kill him for ya, sweetheart.” Joel, “Let me question him first though, Jackson needs to know about these men he's got down in Kansas.”

You nod and feel hot tears fill your waterline. Why were you crying? You should be jumping for joy that Joel was going to put him down. Joel takes a step back and tells Brett to tape The Walrus up and drag him off to another tree where he’ll meet his end. A warm hand comes up and Joel brushes a stray tear off your face and presses a warm kiss to your forehead before moving towards where Brett is dragging your tormenter off to.

“Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Make it hurt, okay?”

The screams go on for what seems like hours. You’ve tucked yourself away under the shade of a tree that's bigger than the rest. The four captives, sit a few feet away from you. You’d cut them all loose and let them devour the bits of food the men had stashed away in their bags. Now, they sit and listen to The Walrus beg for his life as Joel works his magic. You still don’t know his name but you don’t want to know it anyway.

Brett came back about twenty minutes ago and offered you a sandwich from his bag before plunking down beside you. You don’t know him well but you can tell he’s freaked out whether it was Joel or whatever had happened to Louis you knew Brett was scared.

“How long do you think it’s going to go on?” He asks quietly

Hopefully forever.

“I dunno.”

Another twenty minutes go by before Joel returns. He’s wiping at the blade of the knife he had initially tossed onto the ground for you to pick up.

“Let’s get goin’. We’ll send some people out to pick this stuff over later.”

Joel reaches down and offers you his hand, you take it and he pulls you to his feet with a grunt.

“I want to bury Louis,” Brett says as you leave the raider's camp behind

Doubled up on the horses Joel leads you and the newcomers back to where Louis’ dead body lies, an arrow in his face. Brett rigs something up to drag the body back to Jackson and you’re on your way again.

You press your cheek against Joel’s back and let your eyes flutter shut. Joel had insisted that you ride with him, giving Pepper’s reins to the mother and daughter you had freed. They’re a few feet behind you, the woman struggling a bit to keep Pepper walking straight.

By the time you reach the gates of Jackson, it’s late at night. The gates groan as they open and you let a woman named Joan take the horses and charge of the newcomers. You lead Joel off to the clinic and sit by his side while Dr. Hill works her magic on Joel’s shoulder.

You rest your head on Joel’s good shoulder, listening to the way his breath hitches a bit when the bullet finally comes out. It has to hurt yet he makes no move to cry out, always acting so tough.

A few stitches and clean gauze later, Joel is pulling what's left of his t-shirt back on while you try to focus on anything but the skin he’s got exposed to your greedy eyes. Shame on you for thinking like that right now. He’d just been shot and you were thinking about how his chest hair had started to gray.

“Can I stay at yours?”

Fuck, you hadn’t meant to blurt that out, god you were pathetic, not even wanting to sleep in your own home. You were 44 years old, not some toddler who needed coddling!

Joel lets out a warm hum, slipping his old tan coat under his arm for safekeeping,

“Course ya’ can sweetheart.”

Next Part

...And now we can commence the romance. Joel can you and Sweetheart just kiss already, gosh!!?

How I felt last night when Tiktok wouldn't work:

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul @snowlycanroc @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

@sarahhxx03 @loveisacowboyyy @amyispxnk @lou-la-lou @dancinglotusbud @superblyspeedydragon @heartpatch

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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tatiejosie · 9 months ago

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Look imma be real with you, Invincible fandom... I know that we were blessed with not just one or two, but three milfication of our favourite meow meows,, And I'm forever grateful for that

But,, I'm so sad about the charadesign for Cecil and Donald's female counterparts... They really went for the girly girl/north american type shit here

w h y ??

Bestie, the whole concept of a genderbend is that the character stays the same and just has the opposite sex - while Cecil could probably have a bit of a stylish thing going on, Donald is a soldier in a suit. Everything about that man's appearance is that he is as blank as can be.

He's supposed to blend in with his surroundings, to be easily forgotten about. His haircut is a practical, military-grade one. The lack of any accessories (outside of the glasses) is a practical decision as well. He was built in a way that makes him look like a disposable item to the GDA. He doesn't have a complex character design for a reason - because he's not his own person anymore, he's not meant to last. His blankness, both in attitude and in appearance, is a mirror to what he is - an asset to the GDA, and Cecil's shadow.

So why is his genderbend version wearing fucking jewerlly?? Why is she wearing a bright pink jacket???? Is fem!Donald not a cyborg? What is her past like? She seems as protective and jumpy as male!Donald, so I would assume that they're actual counterparts.

It's important to note that neither Cecil nor Donald have any kind of coquettish side to them. They dress for their job and don't care for their appearance, as long as it's professional and practical. So I don't understand why they just dumped that on their genderbends for no reason.

Donald is always up and ready to throw hands and he looks like he would do so - is that the case for his female counterpart? No. Her outfit is more of an inactive office-worker attire than a trained soldier. The jewellry would not be comfortable either, so would the hair (not even tied up) getting into her face.

,, All I'm offering is a soft butch Donna with a similarly short haircut. Maybe not a buzzcut because women of that age still want a little bit of feminity going on. NO jewerly outside of maybe a tiny, discreet tungsten earring.

I'm so sorry i'm 2AM i should go to sleep but i hadvd so much to say abt the potential of genderbending charadesign in media

one last thing: Cecil is a gender neutral name. diversity wins

#invincible #invincible show #invincible fanart #cecil stedman #donald ferguson #invincible s2e2 #genderbend #character design #you thought you were just having regular redesign of Donna as a soft butch. well tough shit. here goes some xanax-fueled ranting #Cecil is hard femme and Donna is soft butch send tweet

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nathanbatemanfucker · 8 months ago

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Mellow Embers: The Kindling

summary: takin’ our time, let the world turn.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS, eventual smut (in pt. ii), internal angst if you squint, impatient!reader, joel being a balm to the rushing soul & a lovely (modern but still a little traditional) southern man, unkmowingly insecure!joel, first date, kissing

wc: 2,604

an: a song based fic that inspired this concept! everyone say thank you kacey musgraves <3. perhaps…perhaps i am back. i hope to be, pls be patient with me.

misc. masterlist | the crescendo (pt. ii)

Quick, fast, and in a hurry.

That’s the mantra you always lived your life by, passed down from generation to generation. Raised in the most independent hoard of women, you were taught that you didn’t have a choice. You have to work hard, diligently, fast in order to get things done. There is no sulking, no thinking, no waiting. If you want something done, you’ll do it yourself and you’ll do it with a brisk ease. Everything in life is a task– even finding someone you want to spend your life with.

While you have some hesitancy about putting the petal to the metal when it comes to love–what with the failed marriages of your mother, and her mother and mother– you know no other way. You know no other way, until you met Joel Miller.

Joel trudges into your bar one night and you can’t take your eyes off of him. His eyes are a warm brown that rivals the shine of amber, his jacket a bit dusty, his hair a little wild. He’s moving a bit slowly, rubbing at his back when he takes a seat on the stool a couple strides down the bar from you. You wrap things up with the patron in front of you, sliding their food order down the bar to a runner before making your way to this mystery man.

You lean over the bar with a cheeky grin, pushing your cleavage together, “What can I get you? It's on the house.”

“Whiskey, a double. It ain’t good manners not to pay,” He murmurs, throwing down a couple bills.

Your interest is further piqued. What’s a southern man like him doing in a place up so north? You wonder where he’s from, what his life was like before coming to live in a city such as this one.

“Isn’t it rude to refuse good hospitality?”

He shrugs, the tiniest smile on his face, “I personally like to take my flirtin’ a little slower.”

You tilt your head, raising a brow at him, “But not your conclusion jumping? Who says I was flirting?”

“You’re not very good at being discreet about your stare, sweetheart.”

Your face grows extremely hot, and for a moment you open your mouth to give him a rebuttal but soon close it once you realize you don’t have one. Instead, you murmur something about his drink and turn away to fetch a glass and a bottle of whiskey. When you return, your pour is fast. You’d been eager to talk to him and now you couldn’t be more eager to get away.

The man leans across the bar, as he takes the drink from your hand, careful not to touch you. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. Can I get you anything else?” The words fly out of your mouth, almost slurring together with how quickly you say them.

“You just can’t slow down, can you there, honey?” His tone isn't unkind or condescending, just observant. You find yourself growing defensive anyway.

“It's a bar, it comes with the territory.”

“So does the quick flirtin’?”

“I know what I want and I go after it. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Doesn’t give you much time to appreciate things,” He says thoughtfully.

“Right.”

“I’m interested, darlin’. I am. But let’s take our feet off the gas. I’m Joel,” He introduces himself, holding a hand out to you.

You take it, unable to look away from his warm, inviting eyes despite his hesitancy. And that was the simple, slow start of you and Joel.

Syrupy slow. Thick as molasses.

—

It takes weeks for Joel to ask you on a proper date. He’s said he was interested, and clearly was by how often he frequented the bar you work at. He’d order the same double, sit at your end of the bar, and then the two of you would chat between patrons. He’s charming and hilarious, and so godly fucking slow at dating. If it wasn’t endearing, if he wasn’t so handsome you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

It’s nearing the end of the third week you two have done this but it’s Friday, and tonight Joel stays until your shift is over so he can walk you to your car. He even helps you clean once all the other patrons are out, wiping down the bar for you as you finish loading glasses in the dishwasher.

The summer air is a little chilly once you two exit the bar, and Joel notices the way you shiver in your tiny little top— the one that shows cleavage that he tries to be conscious of, that he tries not to look at. He’s successful…most of the time.

“S’a little dusty, but here,” He murmurs, shrugging out of the jacket he’s wearing, gently draping it around your shoulder.

It’s shit like this that keeps your heart so tender for a man you haven’t even held hands with. You’ve wondered if it’s just his southern charm, or if someone before you had hurt him and made him more mindful of the way he pursues women.

His gesture has your heart fluttering, palms growing slick like you’re back in high school, having your first date with Nathan from second period. Sometimes you think about what your family might say about Joel. That he’s too traditional, that he probably wants you barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen, a ring on your hand. But, you don’t get that vibe from him. You think that maybe he just wants to treat you well, and maybe you finally think you deserve something like that. Even if it’s moving much slower than you would prefer.

“Thank you, Joel,” You say, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

Something about Joel and his soft, slow intensity is different than anything you've ever had before. Once to your car, you start to slip out of his jacket but he shakes his head.

“Keep it, darlin’. I’ll come get it tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Wondered if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow since you're off.”

“Finally,” You huff playfully, grinning at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Joel blushes, scratching the nape of his neck. “Alright, alright, don't you start now.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know we could do breakfast instead— or lunch,” You suggest, feeling a little impatient. Did you really want to wait the entire day to see him?

“Dinner,” He repeats, a knowing grin on his face. “Be patient, girl.”

“Fine, fine. Dinner, I’ll just twiddle my thumbs all day.”

“We both know you’ll be runnin’ around like a chicken with its head cut off by 10 a.m.”

It feels good that he knows you. You laugh, nodding begrudgingly. He’s right— it might even be earlier than that.

“Just make sure you pace yourself on the coffee.��

“I make no promises. Goodnight, Joel.”

For the first time since your handshake, Joel touches you. He takes your hand into his, helping you into your car, and before shutting the door behind you, he presses a chaste kiss to your skin. Warmth spreads slowly through your hand, creeping up your arm and neck, into your cheeks.

“Goodnight, honey.”

—

Joel doesn’t touch you again the entire night. He’s careful when you return his jacket, careful when he’s guiding you, only letting his hand ghost behind you as you walk. It’s driving you nuts. You wore a silk dress, floral and clingy in all the right places— even wore a flower in your hair to match, and still there was nothing. Well, he had called you beautiful, so beautiful to be exact, when you answered the door.

During dinner, he told you about his daughters, Sarah and Ellie. Things sort of clicked, of course, he would want to take things slow when there are children involved. He doesn’t speak ill of Sarah’s mother when he mentions that they co-parent, explains that Ellie is sort of a stray he ended up taking in. It’s impossible to miss the way he lights up when speaking about his girls. He says that Sarah welcomed Ellie with open arms, that they’re nearly inseparable and do nothing but give him a hard time together.

You don’t say it, but you hope that one day you’ll get to meet them. With your disposition, you wouldn’t be opposed to meeting them right now. But that’s now how this works, especially not with Joel in the driver’s seat.

You respect it. You respect him. It doesn’t stop you from being a little forward when he walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in?”

Joel gives you a shy smile, shaking his head. “You know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

You nod, pouting a little. Joel thinks it’s adorable, and wants to reach out and run a thumb over the swell of your bottom lip to push away. But he knows you, and the moment he laid his hands on you, you’d bounce on him. He’s not sure he’d be able to resist, even with his reservations.

“Well, there was no harm in me trying,” You say salaciously, raising a brow at him.

“I appreciate your eagerness, but we’re still takin’ this slow.”

“I know, I respect it, Joel. It’s just not something I’m used to.”

He doesn’t like the way you deflate a little, as if you’re feeling some sort of shame. He’d never want you to feel that way.

He takes a step forward, cupping your cheek gently, “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with taking things fast, honey. But, I think this is good for the both of us. How does it feel?”

How does it feel? When you get beyond the initial impatience, the clumsiness of not always flirting and immediately getting physical, it feels…certainly different, and maybe good. Really good. To know his interests, and intentions, his values, and pieces of his life before diving in head first. Yeah, it feels good. Because there is no making things work as they come at you— Joel is slowly showing you what you get with him, proving as time inches forward that you two fit together just fine.

You don’t have to rush into it to make him stay. He just will.

That restless energy you feel like you were born with settles as you try to formulate your answer. How could you tell him all of that without seeming like you were rushing into things feeling perfectly right?

You decide to keep it vague, feeling a little nervous for once. “It feels good. Nice. Different…not what I’m used to, but nice.”

Joel’s thumb slowly skates across your cheek, trying to soothe you. His voice is a soft gravelly hum. “Feels good for me too, sweetheart.”

He’s making your head foggy, with his gently dominant disposition. Unable to stop yourself, you lean further into his palm, enjoying the callousness here and there. His eyes don’t leave yours, as if they’re looking into you and not just at you. His presence is overwhelming, a single glance from him consuming you. You find yourself trembling slightly despite the dreadfully warm air tonight.

Joel bends slightly, his nose just an inch away from ghosting yours. “I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”

You make a soft, affirmative sound, the ability to find your voice escaping you.

It’s so slow. So Joel. It feels like the slow drip of caramelized sugar. Like a snail making its way across the pavement. Your brain slips away further there's nothing but warmth and happiness and pleasure as Joel kisses you on your porch. He presses his mouth to yours, guiding your head back with the hand that still cups your cheek. He takes your hand, bringing it up so that you mirror his actions. Once your hand is there his drops away, taking your other hand and guiding it to his chest.

He wants you to feel. To take this moment to stop time and not get lost in it, not drift away like you were before. He wants you to stay present, to savor every languid stroke of his tongue against yours.

And as if you can feel him saying that through the simple connection of lips, you become sharply aware of what the sensation of kissing Joel Miller feels like.

How his lips are as soft as they look, his tongue tasting of the dark ale he drank at dinner. How the shadow of a beard that trails his jaw tickles at your palm. How firm and solid and warm his chest feels beneath your fingertips. More than that— both of his hands now cup your face with a gentle intimacy you’ve never experienced, not even with others who have seen and touched much more of your body than he has.

Despite sinking into him and his patience, there’s a hunger inside of you that you can’t ignore. You give into your urges and instruments. It’s as if this was the calm before the storm— the storm being you, starting to clutch him closer, kiss him deeper, frantically so.

Joel chuckles into your mouth when he feels the way you start to pillage him; there’s no other word for it. Your message is as clear as his: you want more and you want it now.

“Down, girl,” He slurs into your mouth, getting a grip on your hands and gently prying them from the fabric of his flannel.

“Sorry,” You whisper, completely breathless. You take a step back towards the door, your expression apologetic. “Sometimes— most of the time, I get a little carried away. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

“You didn’t cross a line— at least not one I don’t eventually intend to cross,” He assures you softly, taking a step forward to maintain proximity to you.

It makes butterflies flutter in your tummy even as you laugh, nodding in understanding. He was being genuine despite moving slower than molasses. He’s worth the wait. At least that confirms the worst of your worries. He’d said from the day you met he was interested but there was a silly part of you— insecure and swirly, you try not to engage with it much— that thought that maybe he was just being a gentleman. Taking pity on you, giving you the time of day to boost your confidence and spare your feelings.

“What do think about say to us doin’ this again next week, sweetheart?”

“I think…I would really like that, Joel.”

“Great. Now hold your horses and let me kiss you again.”

He does that thing again like he did last night, his voice infused with honey, low and delicious as he crowds you up against your door. The combination is threatening to make your legs give out and you brace yourself by the doorknob, looking up at him with eager eyes.

Joel kisses you breathless once more, taking both of your wrists in his grasp if only to keep you at bay, and maybe to feel soft your skin is under his palms…how you let him take the lead despite it being a new concept. The thought has his cock stirring and he pulls away, knowing that he’s pressed his luck enough with you tonight.

He raises his eyebrows, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight, Joel,” You murmur, feeling tingly all over.

You let yourself in and watch Joel walk to his car through the screendoor. And when he pulls off, he gives you a cute little wave, one that you return, warmth blooming in your chest.

Joel and his sweet southern charm, sweeping you off your feet.

joel taglist: @honeybrowne, @campingwiththecharmings, @lesbianhotch

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #arson writes #not sfw #Spotify

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twola · 2 years ago

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Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤��❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

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skinskisurf · 1 year ago

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american-denim-parano · 1 year ago

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bluegalaxygirl · 2 years ago

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Don't get lost P2 (Zosan x Reader)

Zoro x sanji x reader, polly relationship, reader is GN.

plot: Zoro gets lost and its up to sanji and reader to find him and bring him back but there's one problem.

warning: strong language, violence, making out, angst and fluff

Part 1

The north side of the island wasn't that busy so it should be easy to spot zoro around, unfortunately this part of town had the most dead ends but you knew that since you did chose the north side for yourself. As you walked around looking at everyone and everything trying to see if your green haired lover was there you looked down at the map trying to see a place he might be until you hear a voice "Oi" you perked up at the sound seeing none other than Zoro walking towards you. Before, you thought you would be so mad at him and give him a good telling off but now that the dreaded anxiety and worry has vanished you couldn't help but run at him and wrap your arms around his thick muscular body not caring at the cry of shock from Zoro. "You had me so worried" you say with your face in his shoulder afraid of letting go, the swards man relaxed at your words realizing that he worried you "hay i would have found my way back" He states and now the anger come, you grab him by the ear pulling him down slightly so your face to face, "You cant be serious? you get lost easily and this place is like a maze, you may have never found your way out. how lets go" you say still holding into his ear as you walk south. "Ow ow ow, ok ok just let go" Zoro protests grabbing your wrist, you stop in your tracks and turn to face him letting go of his ear, he on the other hand doesn't let go of your wrist instead he being your wrist up to his mouth and kisses it "im sorry for worrying you" he whispers slightly hoping you didn't hear him but you did and smile at his apology "lets go back to the ship" you say starting to walk south.

A few minutes of walking later you hit a dead end and have to look at the map again making zoro let go of your wrist. your fixated on the map trying to work out where you went wrong and then, you see it you took the second turn not the third, you turn to relay this to zoro only to find him gone. Panic sets in and you run the way you came looking around for him yelling his name but there was no answer and no sign of him. Great he's lost again and this time your the one who lost him.

Sanji walks around the west side of the island trying not to get distracted by any food or women around, it was hard to do so though, some of the girls here were beautiful, he tried to keep his head down and move on going down street after street until he hit a dead end. He sighs and take a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it trying to calm himself, after a few puffs he feels calm enough to start walking again and heads back the way he came only to bump into some one coming around the corner "Hay watch it" they both yell out before staring at each other, Sanji found Zoro and now he was pissed. While chewing angrily on his cigarette he grabs zoro's kimono and pulls it towards him making sure their face to face as he yells "Where the hell have you been? We told you not to leave the ship but you can't follow one simple order" Zoro's eye squint's as his anger boils grabbing the cook's shirt collar and pulling it closer getting in the man's face even more "If you haven't noticed your not the captain, i dont take orders form you" a growl leaves Sanji's lips before connecting their foreheads "Well if you had listened to me or Y/N then we wouldn't be out here looking for you." It's lucky no one is around to see this argument take place but even if their were the two wouldn't care and would most likely tell anyone who interrupts to fuck off. "Well for your information curly brows, i already saw Y/N and they seemed pretty happy to see me unlike you." Zoro yells shoving the cook away from him and fixing his kimono.

Sanji signs and fixes his jacket readjusting the cigarette in his mouth "Don't get me wrong i am happy to see you. I just don't want you getting lost again. If you've seen Y/N than that means you lost them on the way back to the ship" he states finishing off his cigarette and stamping out on the ground. Zoro watches and runs a hand over his head, looking away to hide the slight blush on his face "Actually they lost me", Sanji raises an eyebrow at the comment before braking out in laughter "What's so funny?" The swards man yells in shock redness now covering his cheeks as Sanji wipe away a tear and starts to calm down. "Damn you moss head" The cook whispers under his breath approaching Zoro and wrapping his around around his neck pulling the green haired man in for a hug. it doesn't take long for zoro to hug back "im sorry" Zoro mutters before pulling away the redness fading form his face "so how do we get back?".

After checking out the map and making sure Zoro doesn't wonder off sanji checks his watch "Oh shit" he lets out gaining the sward man's attention "its almost 1, I should have been back by 12" clinging onto zoro's arm sanji rushes threw the streets trying to get back to the ship as quickly as he can, Zoro not understanding the rush is getting pulled along, He was going to ask what the rush was for but the look on the cook's face said all he needed to know. they were both in trouble.

After not finding Zoro again you made your way back to the ship finding chopper waiting, the little reindeer perked up at seeing you but it soon faded into a frown when he realized Zoro wasn't with you "I did find him but i lost him again. I should have held onto him" you say before sitting down on the side of the ship, Chopper joined you hopping up on the railing beside you. As the minutes went buy you started to tense, Sanji wasn't back yet. After half an hour you couldn't take it any more and got up only being stopped by chopper grabbing onto the sleeve of your jacket "Don't if you get lost too then..... I'm sure he'll be back, maybe he found Zoro on the way back and that's what's taking so long" The Doctor didn't want anyone else to leave, the others hadn't come back for lunch yet so they'ed have to wait to send out a search part. You take a breath trying to clam yourself, worry and sadness fills your heart, you know that if you don't calm down now a panic attack will hit you. Chopper seems to notice the change of breath and heart beat sending him into Doctor mode "Sit down, I'll get some stuff for you. i'll be back" The reindeer jumps and runs off as fast as he can, you only just sit down on the deck your back to the railing of the ship when Chopper run's back, blanket in his arms and some kind of bottle.

The doctor wraps you up in the blanket and hands you the bottle "Its a smelling salt i found on our last island It should help to calm you down" he says undoing the cap for you, a sweet smell fill's your senses with a mixture of cinnamon, lavender and Coconut, a strange combination but it worked to calm you down, your shoulders relaxed and the knot in your stomach fading away. Chopper joined you under the blanket cuddling into you, the fluffiness of his fur also helps to calm you down. "Thank you Dr. Chopper" you whisper to him, the doctor looks up at you with a big smile "Calling me Doctor doesn't make me happy or anything you idiot".

Half an hour goes by and the sound of voices hit's your ears. You get up from the floor leaving a now sleeping chopper in the blanket. Honestly you expected to see some of the crew coming back for lunch only to see Sanji and Zoro coming up the dock. You'r heart fills with joy at seeing the two but tears start to sting your eyes threatening to fill them and flow down your face. Your legs move before you can tell them too, running off the ship and down to them spreading your arms out to crash into them both pulling them into you. The relief you feel at the contact knowing both of them are safe and back makes you break. Tears stream down you face letting out little sobs. Both boys hold you tight to them "Hay hay love its ok, don't cry where here now" Sanji says panicking that he made you cry. Zoro manages to pull you away enough to look at him. he places a hand on your tear stained cheek running his thumb under your eye to wipe away the tears. Words dont need to be said, you can tell he's sorry. "There we go my love, no more tears" Sanji says seeing the tears stop falling all togeather, your attention turns to Sanji who has a small smile on his face "What took you so long? i was worried you got lost too" you state, your throat slightly dry form the crying and the sting of salt form the tears that fell over your lips. "I lost track of time, im sorry but at least i found our love" The cook reply's placing a thumb over your lips and wiping the salty tear stains away from them.

The moment was cut short by a surprised shout from behind you, Chopper came running up behind you and ran to Zoro hugging his leg and crying his poor little heart out, apologizing over and over again. Zoro reaches down and pets the doctors head before waking back to the ship Sanji still clinging onto his arm, poor chopper holding onto Zoro's leg all the way along while You take zoro's other hand and walk back to the ship heading to the kitchen. On the way you pick up the blanket and the bottle from before taking it with you. It takes a while for zoro to get chopper off of his leg and to stop crying with no help from you or Sanji, honestly there would be no point in helping, Chopper was only focused on the swordsman no one else. The Doctor soon relaxed and sat in the seat next to Zoro feeling tired from all the crying, wanting to repay choppers kindness from before you place the blanket on the reindeer and the bottle on the table hoping it will make him feel batter. The tired reindeer pulls the blanket closer and closes his eyes to take a nap, soon little snores leaving his mouth. Sanji was preparing dinner as quickly as he can since it was later than it should be. "The others aren't back yet Sanji so dont worry, luffy's not gonna be bothering you" you say seeming to make the cook relax a bit, as much as you all love your captain he can be a big handful when it comes to meal times.

You walk over to Zoro who is leaning back in his chair and you take the perfect opportunity to climb onto his lap straddling his hips and wrapping your arms around his neck burying your face in his neck. He immediately wraps one arm around you waist and the other hand runs threw your hair "you really missed me, hu?" You can feel his cocky smile near your ear "I hate you some times...... Don't leave me again" you whisper into his neck, the swards man lets out a sigh placing his hand on you cheek and moving your head to face him his nose brushing against yours. "I'll try but you know me" he says with a wink before placing his lips on yours, the kiss was sweet at first before he shoves his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, the taste of salt from your past tears being replaced by him, just him. he explores your mouth with a slight hum running his hand threw your hair. unfortunately air is needed and you both pull away leaving you both panting for breath. A giggle of sorts comes form behind you too seeing Sanji standing there with drinks in hand "You want some too cook?" Zoro asks leaning his head back to look up at Sanji who places the drinks down on the table. "How can i refuse?" Sanji states before bending down to kiss the swards man. Zoro again deepening the kiss buy shoving his tongue into the cooks mouth humming slightly at how easy it was for him to do so. Sanji try's to pull away after a little bit but Zoro grabs his tie pulling him back down. you giggle at the two as they brake apart "I have to get back to cooking" Sanji states with a slight pout but not stopping Zoro from pulling on his tie. "Just a few more minutes" The sward man whispers giving both of you a cocky smile.

Your both so happy to have your moss head back.

Thank you so much for reading i hope you like. please tell me what you think. i have more on the way with this ship and Zolu x reader.

#one piece imagine #one piece #sanji x zoro #zoro x sanji #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #polly relationship #Zoro x sanji x reader #Zosan x reader #Zosan

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sliceofcake-cupoftea · 2 years ago

Text

The Tanuki Yokai

Request: @edenshiba Hi! I saw that your request is open so, can i request hyuga x Rocky's little sister oneshot? Like, she sneaks out from their house and ended up at daruma's territory and hyuga meet her at his casino? It would be great if you get this message and create this. Thank you for reading

Character(s): Hyuga (x reader), Rocky

Plot Line: Your elder brother had always been protective of you. Always. Especially with how sickly and ill you often got. However, Rocky wasn't here to help you, not this time.

Warnings: Suicide, Attempted murder, violence, bullying, nudity, mature content

You understood your brother’s worries. You really did.

Afterall you couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him to see you all that way. Your mother and elder sister hanging by their necks in the living room while you laid there unmoving on the couch; an empty bottle of pills your mother had crushed into your food on the coffee table.

It was a miracle you survived. An absolute miracle the doctors said.

So, it was no wonder Rocky was so protective of you.

Especially as the miracle didn’t help your fragile health from the aftermath of the attempted suicide. The pills had damaged your stomach and liver causing you to have an intolerance for many foods. Even the slightest change or new thing from your usual diet could make you sick to the point you even threw up blood.

However, the foods you ate could hardly count as nutritional. Your biggest challenge right now was getting enough Vitamin C, the acidic foods too much for your stomach lining. It made you frail. So much so it causes you to catch illnesses quite often or to be just straight malnutrition.

It made sense for your brother to worry.

Especially in a time like this one.

You shouldn't have listened to those girls you met in your college lecture when they offered to hang out with you this weekend. You should have been able to tell something was off by the giggles they made under their breaths as they spoke. But, you couldn’t do anything about it now.

Not when you were stuck in the rain in a forest south of Rascals territory. The girls having run off with your jacket and phone. Leaving you in just your thin sundress and purse, both dripping wet. You hadn’t really dressed for the weather, thinking you would be inside at a mall.

Another cough rips through you as you continue to trudge through the forest, hoping the dirt path you were following was heading north back to civilization. Especially as your coughs kept getting more and more painful. Your throat feeling as if it was on fire as tears stung at your eyes.

“What the hell…?” As you bring a hand up to cover another cough that rips through you, you turn your blurry gaze up from the path. Seeing a group of men and women staring at you, confused yet disgusted looks on their faces. All of them dressed up in fancy jewels and clothes. A stark contrast to your muddy and soaked white dress that stuck to you like a second skin.

“Fricking weirdo,” One of the male’s murmurs, flicking his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, “Let’s just get inside.”

Attempting to catch your breath, you lean against the bark of a tree, watching as the group seems to follow a much larger gravel path leading up to an old shrine temple. Though, as you continued to stare at the shrine, you knew it was likely nothing of the sort. The iconic red and white jackets of the men guarding the front of it are a dead giveaway of what it truly was.

The Daruma Ikka Base.

Shit.

An horrendous cough spills out of you, nearly bringing up to your knees as your legs shake. The cold chill of the wind rattling your bones, making them ache with every millimeter of movement. Though, it is on the last one, that you knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Through tear covered lashes, you pull your hand away from your mouth to see the ever so slight scarlet stain on your palm. While not huge or panic worthy, it was a sign your body was not reacting well with your extended exposure with the elements. If you continued like this, you would surely fall ill.

“Isn’t that…?”

You understood it was a terrible decision–an absolutely god awful one–but you really had no other choice. You knew from the stares of the Daruma members out front as you passed them that they had an inkling of an idea of who you were. At least a suspicion you were associated with the White Rascals. But you had to continue on.

You had to.

Especially as you take a shivering sigh of relief when the door of the base shuts behind you, enveloping you in the warmth of the building. While the high amount of smoke causes a few coughs to rip their way through you, causing guests and members alike to stare at you as you pass, you ignore it. Afterall your soaked and shivering form was a sight to see for the people of Daruma Ikka.

Honestly, it would only be a matter of time before–

“Rocky would have a heart attack if he could see you right now.”

There he was. You knew that voice. Of course, you did.

“Hyuga…” You murmur, seeing the leader of Daruma Ikka in front of you. Likely having just gotten off his throne to see what had caused Rocky’s precious younger sister to show up at his gambling den like this.

“You’re in awful shape, Bake-danuki.” While your eyebrows furrow at the strange nickname, you knew better than to question the crazy leader of Daruma. Instead letting him do as he pleases as he brings a hand up to grab your chin. While he was not harsh, he was also not gentle in his method of tilting your face up to look at him, “Very awful shape.”

You watch as his eyes seem to trail across your face–almost as if he was examining you with those hazy eyes of his–before stopping at your lips. His hand shifts, bringing up a thumb to touch your lips and you nearly freeze as he rubs across the surface of them.

What was he doing?

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long to know as Hyuga pulls his hand away, his thumb covered in scarlet from the crimson liquid that stained your lips. You wince as he pops the finger into his mouth, seeming to hum as he confirmed that it was what he thought it was.

“Well…” Hyuga starts as he finally takes his thumb out of his mouth, looking at you in a lazy manner, “as much as I would love to brawl with your brother today…”

He stretches, walking away suddenly to one of the members. Without even asking, Hyuga pulls the jacket off of their shoulders and makes his way back. You watch with uneasy eyes as he places the stolen jacket around your shoulder, patiently fixing it so that it fully envelopes your figure. Even pulling the fabric forward and folding it over your shivering hands that you held clutched to your chest before continuing, “I just opened this gambling den today and I would rather not have those Rascals destroying my gang’s months of hard work. At least, not on opening day.”

A smirk envelopes his lips as grabs a fist full of the jacket in the front, “Perhaps another day.”

Without another word, Hyuga begins to walk, almost dragging your figure along by the front of your jacket as he leads you. Thankfully for your shaking and aching form, the young man seems to be a rather slow walker; in practically no rush to get you to wherever he was leading you.

As you enter another room, seeming to be someone’s bedroom, Hyuga calls out one more order before disappearing from sight, “Oi, sit on the futon over there after taking off your shoes. Don’t go anywhere.”

What a strange man, you can’t help but think as you follow Hyuga’s order. Kicking off your muddy shoes and peeling off your socks, you slowly make your way to the futon bed. It doesn’t take you long to realize whose it likely was. From the empty can of beer and Kiseru by the side, you had no doubt this was Hyuga’s.

“Oi,” Turning your head around at the call, you see Hyuga had reentered the room. In his hands he carried a bucket of water, seeming hot by the steam wafting from it, and a handful of towels, “I thought I told you to sit.”

“I–” You start, contemplating whether or not to argue with him, “I didn’t want to get your bed… dirty.”

Your voice trails off at the end as Hyuga lazily walks over, plopping down the bucket on the ground allowing some of the water to spill over onto the bed and wooden floor. Why were you even surprised at this point?

With a sigh, you take a seat on the bed as Hyuga sits across from you cross legged on the ground. One of his knees grazing against your own as he places the towels into the bucket. Allowing them to soak for a moment.

“Hey,” Hyuga suddenly says, his voice losing that usual sharp edge of it, “Do you think you could clean yourself?”

You contemplate his question for a moment. Bringing out one of your hands that were still shaking furiously and attempting to move your fingers. You wince at the aching feeling in them and slowly lock eyes with Hyuga, the young male watching you through lidded eyes, before shaking your head.

He sighs for a moment and brings his neck back to stretch it as curses slip out underneath his breath.

“Well… then I’m going to need you…” He takes a moment to wet his lips as he looks at you, “…to take off your dress.”

“Oh.” A pause resounds throughout the room as Hyuga waits, his eyes still piercing into your own, which had long drifted to the ground, “...Okay.”

It was surprisingly anti-climatic if you were going to be honest. For the fact no one had seen you naked except for your mother, you expected this big, insane, moment to happen. Especially as your mind went wild with ideas. True, your heart was practically beating out of your chest and you jumped slightly every time Hyuga’s hand accidentally touched your skin whenever he dragged the cloth against your body. But, it wasn’t as if he stared or touched you. Even with your bare breasts right out in the open for him to look at, his gaze never drifted too far from his objective of cleaning the mud and rain from your skin.

“Don’t worry,” Hyuga suddenly says, breaking the silence that was thick between you two since he started. An ever so slight chuckle escaping him, “I won’t tell your brother.”

“That’s…That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“I know.” Hyuga seems to finally finish his cleaning as he tosses the dirty towel back into the bucket, “But, you have nothing to worry about it. You're not like one of the Oiran outside, I’m not going to touch you like that.”

Perhaps it was because you were delirious. Perhaps it was because you were straight ignorant. But, the words tumble out of your mouth before you can even contemplate their meaning.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did—”

Thankfully you caught yourself at the last moment, realizing what you had just asked of Hyuga, but the damage had already been done. A wide smirk seeming to catch on Hyuga’s lips as he throws his head back, this time louder curses leaving his lips as he attempts to ground himself. As he swings his head back around, his smirk grows wider at your bashful expression.

“Mischievous, Bake-danuki,” Hyuga teases, bringing up a hand to pull at your nose. The action causing you to squeak as you quickly escape and bring a hand up to cover your nose in disbelief, “Almost as bad as the Kitsune. I wish I knew of this side sooner or I wouldn’t have sent someone to grab that brother of yours. Shit.”

He brings a hand up to run over the scrub of his facial hair, stretching his jaw as he sighs. This time his eyes fully traveling your body as he pleased, seeming to soak in what he saw.

“Shit.” He curses once more, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You can’t help but giggle as Hyuga lounges lazily on his side and lets out a heavy sigh. His mischievous smirk returns, this time a promise attached with it.

“Maybe next time I rumble with the Tanuki, I’ll kidnap their precious Bake-danuki. That will be a great prize.”

His eyes trail up to look into yours,

“You free tomorrow to get kidnapped?”

#high and low fic #high and low x reader #high & low #high and low #h&l #high&low #high and low hyuga #high&low hyuga #high&low x reader

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shieldofiron · 1 year ago

Text

Nuevo Paraíso

For @discodeviant Happy Valentine's Day My Dude! Here's a RDR Au that's mostly an excuse for Cowboys Kissing.

Billy sat down in the dirt with a hard groan.

“Rough riding, friend?” Harrington asked, raising his dented flask.

“Don’t I know it,” Billy rubbed his lower back, “That stallion’s a nasty piece of work. Any chance you want to trade.”

“Not on your life,” Harrington shook his head, heels dragging slightly in the dirt as he looked over at Billy. That pretty head of hair had never looked so messy, nor so beautiful. “But don’t you worry. Maybe next town over you can find a horse to trade. Or one to steal.”

“Love hearin’ you tell me to steal in that fancy accent, Pretty Boy,” Billy nudged Harrington with his elbow. “Say another.”

“Boston isn’t fancy,” Harrington rolled his eyes, tucking his flask away without ever even offering Billy any. Selfish.

Billy didn’t know where they’d turned up this guy. He sure didn’t seem like an outlaw, with his graceful movements and pretty golden tongue. Pretty everything, actually. Not that Billy would let on. Even the rough scar that marred Harrington’s brow didn’t detract from his pretty face, only added to it.

“Fancier than Lenora Hills,” Billy shrugged, pushing away the thoughts. Harrington was too fine, too pretty to be real. He’d seen Harrington flirt with the birds of paradise, flashing those bambi brown eyes, pumping them for information and more. Harrington had made his choice and showed it plainly, so Billy wouldn’t try to kid himself.

Of course it happened sometimes. Don’t think Billy didn’t notice the glances between Marston and Morgan. He’d seen more than one cowboy ride in the saddle with another, though people might pretend it was just for lack of women. But Billy knew, there was always a choice. And Harrington was straighter than an arrow.

“Is that where you’re from?”

Harrington’s eyes sparkled with genuine interest, setting off a battle of the butterflies in Billy’s stomach.

Billy turned his head and spit, “Yep. California. Ain’t north or south or nothing, just dead in the center.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to California,” Harrington rested back on his elbows, his dusty blue jacket pulling taut across his biceps. Billy just looked away, leaning back to match Harrington but keeping his eyes trained on the fire.

“Used to dream of riding out there with a wagon and a wife…” Harrington continued, “Drive out hard and make my way to the golden shore.”

Billy snorted, “I assume that’s not the way you came out west. Unless your wife is a real forgiving type.”

It took so long for Harrington to answer, Billy was forced to look his way. Harrington was looking up at the stars, his long neck bared, pretty eyes aglow. His expression flickered between happiness and sadness.

“No,” Harrington smiled ruefully. “No. It wasn’t like that.”

Billy blinked at the smoke blowing their way, but said nothing, just seeing how long he could get away with looking before Harrington called him on it.

“There was this girl. Nancy. She was in trouble, needed help. So I just… kind of… ignored the law,” Harrington hedged, as if he was being interrogated. “By the time we got back, there were lawmen on my trail, and Nancy… Nancy’d gotten engaged.”

“After you-”

“He’s a nice fellow. I can’t say a bad thing about either of them,” Harrington shrugged, and turned the full focus of his piercing gaze on Billy. “Wish I could, sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pretty Boy. Plenty of tail to chase out here,” Billy’s voice wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t. “Lotsa fillies would kill for a ride with you.”

Harrington didn’t answer, just looked at Billy like he was a bug under a glass, and then slid down, resting his head on his bedroll.

“The west does have something on Boston,” Harrington laughed, “Well. Many things.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“All these stars,” Harrington’s pretty mouth turned up into a smile, and he finally released Billy from his thrall, sweeping his gaze over the night sky. “It's difficult to see the big dipper through the city smog.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Billy glanced back at the camp. The other men were huddled around a larger fire, eyes mostly on their business though Billy could see Marston and Morgan talking heatedly out by the horses. They were just two silhouettes, close enough to kill. Or kiss.

Harrington laughed, the deep rich sound echoing through the night, drawing Billy’s attention back to him.

“You don’t like the stars?” Harrington asked.

“I’m a little more concerned with what’s happening here on earth,” Billy smirked.

“Indulge me, Hargrove,” Harrington’s knee fell a little, nudging Billy’s. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Billy looked away, pulling a hand rolled cigarette from his pocket and a packet of matches, that he struck off his beard with shaky hands, before he could bring himself to answer.

“And what do you think is worth my while, Harrington?” Billy said roughly.

“Me,” There was no tease to his voice, just bold honesty.

Billy sucked on the cigarette, not sure how to play it. This could just be a trick, a way to make Billy admit that he was… that he sometimes…

“Very funny, Harrington,” Billy said dryly.

“Who’s laughing, Billy?” Harrington’s smile was easy. Soft. “Lay down with me.”

Billy just stared down at him.

“For the stars. At least, for now.”

It was just stargazing. Like they were a couple of moon eyed school girls instead of hardened outlaws. It should mean nothing. Probably did mean nothing. Maybe Harrington didn’t know he sounded like a Mary, didn’t know that Billy would even imagine it that way.

Still, Billy kept his trigger hand ready as he lay back in the dirt, tugging Harrington’s camp roll from under his pretty little head. Harrington only laughed, propping himself up on his arm.

“I used to know them all,” Harrington’s voice was soft, almost boyish as he looked up at the stars. “But down there, almost at the horizon there, that’s ursa major. And ursa minor, above it, the little cup.”

“Big bear and little bear,” Billy shrugged, his shoulders making an embarrassing scraping sound in the dirt.

Harrington chuckled, “And you call me fancy. You know Latin?”

“Just from church stuff,” Billy huffed.

Harrington paused, and then shifted in the dirt, every noise making Billy’s overactive nerves prickle with fear. He settled down closer to Billy, brushing their pinkies together in the dirt.

“You big into… church, Hargrove?”

Billy wasn’t sure what he was being asked, especially not when Harrington was twisting his fingers into Billy’s stiff palm.

“Not really, Billy said gruffly.

“Me either,” Harrington said. “I prefer other forms of worship.”

Billy cleared his throat, “You know any more? Constellations, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Harrington’s hand feels cool and dry, callouses rasping against Billy’s palm, “Above and to… kinda the left. That’s Hercules.”

“Strong man,” Billy said softly.

“Yes,” Harrington scooted closer in the dirt. Warm breath danced across Billy’s cheek. Harrington wasn’t looking at the stars at all.

Billy felt like he’d wandered into a trap. He could still feel his father’s voice in the back of his soul, telling him it wasn’t right, that Billy wasn’t right. Somehow, a long time ago he’d misunderstood something, and he was still trying to go back and get it right.

“Did I read you wrong?” Harrington said lightly. “I thought…”

Billy sat up quickly, jerking his hand back, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s okay,” Harrington sat up, “Hey, Hargrove, it’s-”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Harrington.”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” Harrington leaned forward and laid a finger over Billy’s lips, taking in Billy’s flinch with wide eyes. “I just… like you. I thought if I made some kind of overture you would finally get out of your head about the whole thing.”

“What?” Billy’s voice just came out as a cracked whisper.

“I’ve been hinting,” Harrington raised one scarred brow. “You thought I asked to share the watch with you for what? My health?”

Billy let out a shuddery breath.

“I like you, Hargrove. Thought we could watch the stars until these jackasses go to sleep, and then…” Harrington grinned, the glow of the firelight making him look almost devilish, “At least give me a kiss. Unless you really don’t want to, Sugar. But I think you do…”

It was the same tone as he used on the pretty fillies in town and by God, was it working on Billy.

“Sugar? Ain’t nothing sweet about me, Harrington,” Billy stalled.

Harrington had the nerve to glow, his pretty face lighting up as he licked his lips, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Billy glanced back at the rest of the camp.

“We’re just lookin’ at the stars right now, Sugar. Nothing to see,” Harrington teased. “Come sit down for a while with me.”

He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Actually might be the worst idea he’d ever had.

But there’s never been so fine a thing as Harrington in his grasp. Not with those mooney eyes, that pretty face. His fine way of talking and his cool hand.

He could always sneak off before Harrington had a chance to tell anyone. He spoke Spanish better than any of them, so they’d be stuck holding their dicks while he made his way up North.

So he sat down in the dirt again, and let Harrington take his hand.

Harrington’s eyes were like a cattle brand on the side of his face, but he kept his eyes on the stars.

“My mama used to tell me that the stars were always the same, somethin’ constant. She knew all the names for ‘em,” Billy said, his voice gravel rough. “But… I don’t know.”

“You like constant things, Hargrove.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“So do I.”

Billy stared up until he felt like his eyes were blurring. Or maybe it was just the smoke from the fire.

“My father’s a powerful man,” Harrington said slowly, “Houses in Boston, Philadelphia, and he’s got a big parcel of land up near Bozeman, just waiting on a big old house to be built.”

“Huh.”

“He had designs on retiring, moving out west. Don’t know why, he’s about the most lily-livered man in all of Massachusetts,” Harrington’s voice wavered, “But he told me when I left, I ruined that because he can’t retire now. Not with no son to inherit.”

Billy frowned, blinking up at the sky, “Where are you going with this, Harrington?”

Harrington sighed, “I’m just sayin’. There’s a big parcel of land in the name of Steven Yancey Harrington, Senior, up in Montana. I just gotta get the money to head up there. Build myself a little place. Something constant in this fucked up world.”

Billy’s eyes prickled.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything but fish all day. Maybe get a chicken or two, sell eggs in the city. Hell, if I got enough money I’d say the hell with my father and build wherever I can find. Head out to the golden shores of California.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s gonna be. But it would be nicer with someone there. Maybe someone who knows a little latin, for when I’m a little slow on the uptake,” Harrington laughed.

“You’re not slow,” He searched the skies, wishing they could say what Harrington meant, because he wasn’t sure if he knew. “I feel slow. I hardly know what you’re talking about half the time, Harrington.”

“I’m talking about you and me finding a little slice of constant with each other, Hargrove,” Harrington’s hand tightened a little.

Billy turned towards him at last and Harrington quickly glanced up at the rest of the camp before resting his hand on Billy’s cheek. “I hear there’s an awful lot of stars out in Montana. Man could get lost in a sky so blue. Among other things.”

Billy’s breath stilled in his lungs.

“I like you, Billy.”

“I like you too, Harrington.” It was more air than sound, half carried away by smoke.

Harrington’s breath brushed Billy’s lips, “See, I told you. You’re so sweet. Sweet on me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“Make me, Sugar.”

It was a cool night out in the plains, just north of Nuevo Paraíso. Their boots made scraping noises in the dirt when they knocked together, hands grasping, tongues tangling. Billy didn’t lose his head but it was a close thing.

Billy never really knew much about the stars. He only cared about what was on earth, what he could hold and grasp. Constant things, like Harrington’s heartbeat under his palm, his sweet taste on Billy’s tongue.

But when he finally pulled back, trying to get his head on right… Harrington had stars in those big brown eyes.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #cowboy au #valentines day fic exchange

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