#already turning tommy's place into a home

[apassingbird]

the mere thought of buck and tommy saying 'i love you' to each other is enough for me to know that actually hearing it will be the thing that finally kills me i'm not even kidding a little bit

[lovelybucky1]

Treat Me Wrong

Kinktober Day 16- Degradation Kink

warnings: AFAB!Reader, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, sex work, roleplay, spanking, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, 18+ minors DNI

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“I think we should break up,” you say.

Tommy’s face twists in anger and confusion. “Where’d you get that idea?” he asks.

This is exactly why you want to break up. He’s so dismissive and he doesn’t respect you. He’s sitting relaxed in his chair like you didn’t just suggest ending your relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to care about you?

“I’m not happy!” you say.

Tommy scoffs in response. “You live like a princess. What else could you possibly need?”

“Love and attention,” you huff.

“Christ,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you a child? Do you really need me to attend to you all day to be content?”

“Not all day, Tommy. Just sometimes. What's the point in even having a lover if you won't spend time with them?"

"You act like I have a lot of free time to waste. I'm a very busy man."

His way of having excuses for everything make you feel like you're going insane.

"You have enough time to spend with prostitutes," you say bitterly. This makes Tommy perk up. "I know you go to see them after work and lie to me when you get home late. Why do you bother stringing me along if you'd rather pay for your companionship?"

Tommy chuckles darkly. "That's what this is about, eh?"

"Why the fuck are you laughing, Tommy?"

He stands up from his chair and crosses the room to stand in front of you. He places one hand on your hip while the other holds his cigarette. The smoke swirls in front of your face, the pungent smell burning your nose.

"You're jealous of my whores?" he asks smugly.

"What do they have that I don't," you ask angrily.

"I have certain needs that they satisfy."

You scoff and push his hand off of you. "We're together, Tommy. You should come to me to satisfy your needs, not step out on me."

Tommy rolls his eyes and grabs ahold of your wrist. "What I need isn't appropriate for a high society woman like yourself."

You furrow your brows in confusion, but no matter what he's talking about, you want to be able to provide it for him. "You don't get to decide what's appropriate for me or not. Besides, you'd know that I'm very adventurous if you ever took the time to actually be intimate with me."

He blinks slowly at you and licks his lips, then smirks devilishly. "You want me to treat you like one of my whores?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Right." Tommy stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the side table, the turns his attention back to you. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding you firmly. "You promise not to get upset?"

"Why would I get upset?"

Tommy fights back a smirk. "Because I tend to be a bit... harsh."

"Harsh?" you ask.

"You said you want me to fuck you like a whore. A dirty, cheap, used up whore that's only good for taking cock. Is that right?" You hesitantly nod. "Then until I'm finished, that's exactly what you're going to be. I'm only going to stop if you tell me to, otherwise I'm going to have you just like I have them."

"Okay," you breathe.

Tommy steps away from you and sits back in his chair. "Take your dress off," he instructs.

You find it a bit odd that he's just watching instead of also getting undressed, but it does make you feel better that the prostitutes he visits don't get to see him naked.

You strip piece by piece until you're bare in front of him. He stands up again and looks over your body, occasionally prodding and groping you.

"Turn around," he says, voice low. You do as he says and you allow yourself to be moved over to the couch. Tommy pushes you so you're bent at the waist over the arm rest, bare ass on display.

Tommy continues to grope you; he slaps your cheeks, spreads and slaps them, and teases at your folds.

“Wet already? Didn’t think whores got off on their work,” he says.

Without much prep, he shoves two fingers into your cunt. Like a true whore, you take them easily. He opens you up by scissoring his fingers inside you. He's going quickly, not bothering to take his time and make it pleasurable for you. You suppose he pays for his own pleasure, not yours.

"Already loose too. How many others did you have today?" he asks. When you don't answer him, he delivers a slap to your ass.

"N-none," you whimper.

"Sounds like business is slow."

He pulls his fingers out of you and wipes your wetness on your thigh. He then moves to press his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge in his slacks. He grinds up against you shamelessly, making you feel even more humiliated now that he's simulating fucking you while he's fully dressed.

"Tell me you want my cock," he orders.

"I want your cock," you parrot with a whine in your voice.

"You can be more convincing than that," he says with a slap to your ass. "Be a good whore and beg me to fuck you."

You take a deep breath. "Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad... Mr. Shelby," you add for good measure.

That seems to please him, because he moves away from you far enough to pull his cock through his fly. He rubs the head through your folds, teasing your entrance with it.

"I'm not going to catch anything from fucking you raw, am I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"No, sir," you reply.

You're glad he bent you over like this, because that means he can't see your embarrassed face and you don't have to look into his intimidating eyes.

"Mm, good."

He pushes inside you, not gently but he doesn't aim to hurt you. Once he's fully seated inside, he begins to thrust before you're ready for it. You gasp in surprise, but you're helpless to do anything but take it.

"Didn't think pussy so cheap would take me so well," he groans. His hands grip tightly on your hips and he slams you back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock bumps against your cervix uncomfortably, but it feels best for him when you take it all the way, and that's the only thing that matters.

With each thrust, you make a punched out little moan. Tommy, however, is silent above you, save for a bit of heavy breathing. It isn't until you arch your back and really start putting on a show that he speaks up.

"Like a fuckin' professional, eh? I should come to you more often. Y'know, my woman's a real bitch sometimes. Never lets me fuck her like this. Thinks she's too good to get bent over. Has so many opinions, too. But you're a good woman; quiet, tight," he leans down, draping himself over your back to speak into your ear. "Obedient."

You can't help but moan at his filthy words, despite how degrading they are. You shouldn't find your lover talking badly about you so arousing, but you cant help it.

"She gets so mad I cheat on her but I think she'd understand if she felt this cunt for herself. 'm gonna marry her and fuck her full of babies to keep her busy while I give the real good stuff to you."

"Fuck," you whimper and immediately regret it.

"You like when I talk to you like a whore? You like getting fucked hard like I don't love you?"

It's rare that Tommy says he loves you. So rare, in fact, that you often doubt if it's true.

"Yes, yes," you gasp. "I love you."

"Mm," he hums. "Save it for when I'm not paying you."

[alchemistc]

He's at the kitchen sink rinsing dishes when the lock mechanism clicks in his front door. Something zings up his spine, that familiar little tingle that means he's about to be showered with affection and attention.

He doesn't turn, mostly because he's bound and determined to act normal just this fucking once (he's too in his head about the way money had exchanged hands the last time Tommy had met them all at the bar and he'd leapt from the table to greet him). The door sways open, almost silent except for the creak right at the end that no amount of WD40 seems to fix.

Buck rinses another dish.

Keys in the dish on the side board, the soft thump of Tommy's duffle on the bottom stair, the snick of the lock latching again, and the gentle pattern of work boots across the floor. Buck's a little surprised that Tommy doesn't say anything - he's nowhere near the same level of talkative as Buck but he's rarely solidly quiet.

Arms curl around his middle, thick wide hands shifting over the belly Buck's stopped worrying so much about keeping trim, since that two-week span he'd pinched a nerve and been told in no uncertain terms to take it fucking easy or risk mobility issues for the rest of his life and he'd decided to call them cheat weeks. Tommy's nose slides along his back, his lips shift over the knob of Buck's spine, two-day beard scratches at the exposed skin of Buck's neck and Tommy sighs, long and deep and tired.

"Hey," Buck says, a still damp hand curling over the bulk of Tommy's forearm, and Tommy hums against the back of his head.

Buck waits a beat while Tommy sort of slumps his weight into Buck's back.

And it's this - this bone deep calm that shivers over both of them at the end of a long day - this knowledge that they can finally unwind in each other's presence. That just like Tommy is happy to let Buck unload after a rough shift, Tommy is willing to take that same comfort from Buck. Buck never has to chase to figure out what he can do to help Tommy. He never has to guess at what Tommy needs to feel supported. Tommy will take - and when he's not sure, or it feels too much, he'll ask. No mixed signals, no needs unmet, no over the top gestures to overcompensate. Just.

"Hi," Tommy says, and presses a kiss to the dimple of Buck's skull. "Smells good in here."

There's a roast keeping warm in the oven, some simple thing Buck had asked Bobby's help in perfecting because Tommy "Meat and Potatoes" Kinard had finally admitted he hadn't had a good roast since his mother passed and he missed them. And Buck hadn't known Tommy'd had a shitty shift until well after he'd thrown the roast in but the terse, one word responses to Buck's texts and the lack of typical post-shower selfie had been a pretty good indication.

"Go sit. I'll grab you some wine. Dinner should be - ten-ish minutes?*

Tommy's arms tighten. One big hand presses into his stomach, just enough to tip Buck back into the cradle of Tommy's hips, just enough to make them flush from head to toe. "Gimme a minute, Buckley," Tommy murmurs, and Buck feels that buzz under his skin, can't help the shit eating grin that curls his lips. Tommy's nose digs into his curls. "Come home just for hugs and you tell me to sit down," he scoffs, and Buck doesn't waste any more time pretending to do dishes - he gets the faucet off and sways back into Tommy to make himself just enough room to spin, arms already coming up even as Tommy hooks a chin over his shoulder and digs into the meat of it.

Tommy's back is tense at Buck's first pass, but by the time he's rubbed up and down another two times he's sort of melted bonelessly into Buck's front, a few shuddering sighs drawing from somewhere deep inside his chest to make a home in Buck's collar bone.

He wants to stick Tommy in his pocket and take care of him, but barring any shrink ray technology he'll settle for being a safe place for Tommy to land.

"Love you," Buck murmurs into the hair curling over Tommy's ear - because he can, because the word had been so terrifyingly easy to say the first time and has only gotten better from there.

Tommy huffs against his cheek. "Trying to pepper me with words to get me off you? Not gonna work. Might just stay here all night now.*

*We'd get uncomfortable standing so long." Tommy hums. "We wouldn't be able to eat."

"Can't have that."

"I'll let you play footsie with me for dinner."

"I'm close to accepting your terms. You got a kicker?"

"There's cannoli in the fridge for after."

Tommy whistles, impressed and only a little mocking. "I get five spontaneous handholds, too," he negotiates, like Buck doesn't blush deep as a tomato every time Tommy snags his hand just to hold it.

"Are they still spontaneous if -."

"Yes."

"Shake on it?"

Tommy flicks his tongue against his teeth. Seems to contemplate it for a moment, and then licks a line up Buck's neck instead. "That binding enough for you?"

Buck doesn't bother to hide the way his dick twitches against the seam of his zipper. Tommy chuckles.

"That a yes?"

Buck only eyes up Tommy's neck for soot before he follows Tommy's example.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel is locked out of his house drunk and knocks on your door for help thinking your father is home.]

Smut

“What do you want me to say? That I can’t stop thinkin’ about how wet I made you-“ his words shocking you as he cornered you back against the wall.

It was Saturday night and as usual you stood home alone while your parents went out and about. It wasn’t too bad, you always found something to entertain yourself with but for some reason this Saturday was extra boring. Your neighbor Sarah and you would usually get together, two college girls who loved to take on the city on your free time but she happened to be out of town for the weekend.

Flipping through the channels you sighed when your doorbell suddenly rang.

“Who the hell?” You uttered to yourself as you peaked through the side window to see none other than Joel Miller at your door.

Once you did open the door you realized something seemed a bit off with him. His hand leaning on the wall beside your door as he looked up at you, you could already see it.

The man was drunk.

“Hi honey, your daddy home…?” The smell of whiskey coming into instant contact with you.

“Um no, sorry. He’s out for a few hours”

“Shit” he brushed his hand through his waves in frustration.

“Is there something I could do for you?” His hands placed on his hips he took a deep breath before stumbling to the side.

“You alright?” You took a step forward as he slowly looked up at you.

“I locked myself out of my damn house, wanted to see…if I could stay here till Tommy gets back but I don’t think your dad would appreciate me staying with you alone for a few hours.” The thought secretly exciting you. Everyone had a crush on Sarah’s dad.

“It’s alright…I’ll figure it out” he began to turn away until you stopped him.

“I dont think my dad would mind” you lied.

“I don’t know honey-“

“How long have we known you Joel?” You responded making him smirk.

“Besides, I’m sure Sarah is gonna get a good laugh out of this” you chuckled as you stepped aside to let him in before closing the door.

“Oh yeah, finally get a night to myself and lock my ass out” he followed you to the kitchen being careful not to run into anything.

“Well like she says, must be your age old man” you teased as you opened the fridge.

“Hey, I ain’t that old.” Joel stood on the other end of the island leaning forward watching as you searched your fridge till you pulled out a bottle of water.

“I’m not the one who said it” you turned to him with a playful look as you placed the water bottle before him. He squinted his eyes with a smile before taking a sip.

“So you don’t think I’m an old man?”

“Now why would I think that?” You crossed your arms leaning back against the fridge noticing his eyes quickly take in the view of your body. A satin pink robe tied around your waist with shorts and a tank top underneath which couldn’t really been seen with how tightly you had the robe wrapped around you.

“Don’t be fooled by the grey hairs, honey” he began to walk around the counter.

“Still got enough gas in my tank” he chuckled, his words making you laugh. Something about his Texas accent exciting you..

“Such an old man thing to say” you joked.

“Haha” he stopped before you a little closer than you expected him to.

“I’m just joking, you definitely look like you could put in work-I mean-“ you completely caught yourself off guard, Joel raised his brows with a grin as you stood in shock with what you blurt out.

“What I meant was-“

“I know what cha meant” his eyes danced as his tongue slid over his bottom lip. He took another step attempting to move forward but stumbled side ways making you gasp and grab his arm.

“Woah, you okay? Maybe you should sit down” he took a step forward towering over you. Usually the smell of liquor this strong would’ve grossed you out but something about the way he was staring down at you completely distracted you. You suddenly felt his hand gently on your chin making you look more directly at him with big curious eyes.

“Mr.Miller” you whispered. His eyes traced the shape of your lips as the urge inside him grew.

“Mr.Miller…you’re drunk” his gaze met yours as if he was just coming into realization with what he was doing yet he didn’t move his hand away. Instead his finger began to trace your bottom lip making excitement build up in the pit of your stomach.

“I ever tell you how….pretty I think you are..?” He spoke low. Slowly you shook your head as he went on to trace your top lip before looking into your eyes. You couldn’t believe what he was saying…what he was doing.

“Every afternoon, you walked in with Sarah and…I couldn’t help myself but just look at cha sometimes… you never noticed so focused on those papers you always worked on…such a good school girl..” he went on to slide his large finger in your mouth. You stood still allowing him to do as he pleased, apart of you shocked yet still you sucked on his finger making him moan deeply. Joel knew he couldn’t stop himself now, he already had gone too far but he didn’t care. Pulling his finger out he quickly grabbed your face and kissed you eagerly making you stumble back against the counter. Surely he was drunk but he knew damn well what he was doing.

“Turn around” he spoke as he physically turned you around. You gasped leaning over the counter feeling him reach underneath your robe and pull down your shorts.

“Wait-are you-“ you gasped as he began to unzip his pants.

“Are you sure we should-“ You asked panting looking back at him before he unexpectedly took your hand and made you feel his bare hard on.

“That seem sure enough to you, sweetheart?” he whispered. Feeling how hard he was you felt yourself become aroused. Joel went from stumbling one moment to holding you in place by your hips. His sober feelings being taken over by liquor courage making him do something he never would’ve thought to actually do. Spitting on his hand he lubricated his cock before angling himself behind you and slowly entering you.

“Oh fuck-“ he whispered to himself. You gasped feeling how full he made you feel. His hands tightening on your waist he pulled out and once again slid back inside you.

“Oh my god..” you whispered.

“Can you take that for me, baby?” He thrusted his hips once again, this time with more force making you cry out. His body moving at a rhythm that was building up pleasure inside you, you grabbed onto the counter and moaned. Joel had fantasized about this more times than he could admit, you felt better than he could’ve imagined.

“You’re so god damn wet” he squeezed your ass with his large hands as he moved faster.

Screwing your friend’s father was not on your bingo card for this summer but God did it feel like nothing you had ever experienced before. Joel picked up your leg holding it on the counter allowing him to go deeper. His ballsack slamming against your clit as you dripped onto him.

“Mr.Miller…” you moaned only making him move faster, he could feel you pulsating around him as you screamed in pleasure.

“What is it, baby? Talk to me” he panted pulling your body back against him.

“H-harder” you struggled to speak as he wrapped his hand around your throat and did just as you asked. The sound of your wet pussy being slammed into through out the kitchen, you held your breath before an orgasm took complete control of you. He couldn’t contain himself any longer feeling your body spasm against him, the urge he felt for you was so strong he was surprised he was able to pull out in time. Panting hard you felt him cum all over your ass, his hand squeezing your waist as more cum continued to drip out of him. You looked back and watched at how he watched himself cum on you, the sound of his moans making your pussy throb.

“Oh baby-“ he stumbled away into the living room as you stood up straight. Your legs feeling like jello you took a moment to balance yourself.

“Do you want some water?” You asked awkwardly as you adjusted your shorts.

There was no response.

Holding your robe shut with your arms crossed you walked into the living room to find him passed out on the couch. Your lips parted when you noticed he fell asleep with his cock completely out of his pants, still hard.

Slowly walking towards him you stared down at him awkwardly as if he hadn’t just had you bent over on the counter. It was just after midnight and you were concerned of your father walking in on him like this, you knew you needed to fix this as soon as possible. Quietly getting on your knees you hesitantly took hold of his thick cock. Placing both of your small hands around his shaft you were instantly reminded how full he made you feel. Oh what you would give to feel him inside you once more. Looking up to see him still asleep you gently pulled his underwear up over his cock and closed his pants when he suddenly moved but didn’t open his eyes. Joel was out cold just as your phone suddenly buzzed.

‘Won’t be back tonight, staying in the city with your mom. Be back in the afternoon, love you’

Of course your father now was leaving the house to yourself.

After falling asleep on the couch across from him, Joel began to wake up just before six in the morning to his phone buzzing.

Groaning with a headache he rubbed his head before reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Where the hell are you?” Tommy asked as Joel looked around confused realizing he wasn’t in his bed.

“Uh-“ his eyes suddenly found you lying asleep on your side.

“Shit”

“What?” Tommy asked.

“Nothin’” Joel responded quietly.

“I’ll be home soon, I’m fine, I’ll see ya in a bit” he flipped the phone shut before his brother could ask any more questions. Slowly pushing himself up he was careful not to wake you.

Joel couldn’t remember much of what had happened the night before, he didn’t even remember falling asleep. Looking over at you still fully clothed he wondered if anything had happened between the two of you when he felt the button to his pants open.

“Oh Jesus..” he whispered realizing what that meant.

“Shit, fuck me-“ he continued to mumble to himself as he looked around the house to make sure he had everything he needed when the sight of the kitchen counter brought back a sudden flashback. Your ass against him as he fucked you from behind, he froze for a moment, his cock twitching in his pants from the memory when you suddenly moaned in your sleep. Turning against the couch you sighed and stayed asleep. Joel slowly took silent steps back before he reached your door and went back to his house.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tommy asked with a chuckle.

“Long story” Joel paced past him.

“You know Sarah’s coming back in a couple hours right?” Joel looked up realizing what day and time it was.

“Shit, yeah, yeah..course I remember”

“I gotta get to work, Joel. Ya sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?” He responded defensively. Tommy shrugged and walked out the front door. Joel had no idea how he was suppose to face his daughter after what he had done.

Sarah had returned and Joel had freshened up in a shower attempting to act as normal as possible.

“Hey, baby girl how was your trip?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck as Sarah threw her backpack on the couch.

“Hey, dad. It was great. I’m calling y/n to come over and help me with a paper I forgot is due in a couple hours. That ok?” Her question catching Joel off guard. He expected to see you around but not so soon.

“Ya don’t think maybe she’s busy or somethin’” he crossed his arms hoping she’d change her mind. Joel hadn’t faced what he’d done nor the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about what he could remember.

“I’ll try, if not then I guess I’ll just figure it out. It’s just she’s really smart and is really good with this class” Sarah turned away as she looked through the contact list on her phone and called you.

“I bet she is” he mumbled to himself.

Waking up to your phone ringing you saw Sarah’s name making you gasp. Quickly looking up you had realized Joel was no longer across from you.

“Joel?” You called out to see no sign of him anywhere near. Picking up Sarah’s call you were surprised with her invite as you walked around the house to make sure Joel wasn’t anywhere until you heard his voice in the background over the phone. When you did, your heart slightly dropped..

Joel had left without saying a word, you felt like an idiot. Now dreading to go to her house you tried to find excuses as she begged you for your help.

“Please, I really need to pass this paper. I’ll never ask you again” she assured you. With a sigh you gave in and washed up ready to go.

Anxiously waiting for Sarah to open the door you took a deep breath until she greeted you with a smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back” you hugged her as Joel silently stepped out of the kitchen.

“I’m so happy to see you” she smiled as she turned to her father.

“Isn’t it good to see her? Feels like forever” Sarah laughed as you stood awkwardly staring at Joel. Of course you came to his house in a damn dress, his shoulders tense as he caught himself checking you out.

“Good morning, Mr.Miller” you whispered politely.

“Mornin’, anything I could get you girls?” He asked turning to Sarah as you quickly looked away. The way your heart was racing, you were surprised Sarah didn’t feel it with how tightly she hugged you.

“No it’s ok dad, I got us some bagels” Sarah walked into the kitchen as Joel stole a quick glance at you.

“Come on y/n, come sit with me” Sarah called out for you from the kitchen table.

“Right” you chuckled anxiously before walking towards Joel who stood at the doorway. His eyes never leaving yours as you squeezed by him face to face to enter the kitchen.

As you sat down Joel sat in the living room and turned on the tv. Your mind was so distracted you had no idea how you’d be able to work on this paper with Sarah. Her phone buzzing on the table made you both look up.

“Who is it now?” she sighed before picking up the call.

“Yes this is she” she responded before looking at you annoyed.

“This is gonna take a few minutes- sorry” she whispered quickly before running upstairs.

You nodded and quietly looked back down at the book before you when Joel unexpectedly walked into the kitchen thinking you had gone upstairs with her. You could tell by the hesitation in his step walking in he wasn’t expecting to see you there. Walking past you he opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle as you held yourself still. You waited for him to speak first…hoping he would.. but you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Look, I wasn’t expecting you to leave me a love letter but to leave without saying a word wasn’t cool” Joel took a sip of his water and walked back towards the door.

“So you’re just gonna ignore me?” He stopped in his tracks with his back to you mouthing a curse word to himself before turning to you.

“The hell do you want me to say?” He uttered low. You looked at him in disbelief, this man had known you for years and had nothing to say after having sex with you unexpectedly.

“Nothing” you stood up and slammed the book shut making him furrow his brows.

“What are you doin’?” He took a few steps forward.

“I’m leaving. You can barely look at me and-“

“Don’t leave-“ he looked back towards the stairs.

“She’ll suspect somethin’. Just stay and help her with that.”

“No, you can tell her I didn’t feel good or something-“ you began to shove your books in your bag.

“God dammit” he whispered in frustration.

“What the hell do ya want me to say huh?” He closed the distance between the two of you, the tone in his voice making you stop and look up.

“What do you want me to say? That I can’t stop thinkin’ about how wet I made you-“ his words shocking you as he cornered you back against the wall.

“That I can’t stop thinkin’ about the way you screamed for more” he whispered deeply, his eyes moving quickly between your eyes and lips. Fighting a fight within himself that he could no longer take he suddenly pulled you against him and kissed you aggressively. Your hands on his chest in shock but you allowed your tongue to dance with his. His lips finding their way down the side of your neck as he quickly unbuttoned his pants between you.

“Mr.Miller..” you whispered against his ear just as he suddenly picked you up against the wall. His pants already lowered, he reached beneath you under your dress for the feel of warmth between your legs. Your panties hot as he yanked them to the side and pushed himself inside you. You gasped with his lips against yours, his thrusts pushing your body up against the wall as you held onto him. Your nails digging into his back you moaned softly.

“Tell me you want me” he whispered roughly. Your heart racing with adrenaline as he fucked you in a way that you knew this was only for you and him to ever know of.

“I want you” you whispered.

“Please don’t stop-“ you panted.

“Oh honey, I wasn’t plannin’ on it” his thick Texas accent only making you more wet. He moved faster pushing in deeper as he caught you looking over his shoulder towards the stairs.

“Look at me” he demanded. He could see the excitement yet hesitation in your eyes, the disbelief that you were being fucked by your long time friend’s father…you didn’t want it to end.

“Hey, I’ll be right there in a minute alright?” Sarah called out from upstairs, your eyes widened as Joel silently comforted you with a kiss to your neck.

“You heard?” She called out again as Joel smirked at how nervous you became.

“Answer her, baby” he whispered in your ear.

“Y-yes, it’s fine!” You managed to say when you heard the door close.

“Mr.Miller-“ you cut yourself off as you felt a sensation begin to creep up on you.

“What is it, honey?” He teased as he thrusted faster, he watched the look on your face as an intense orgasm overcame you. Opening your mouth you almost screamed until he muffled your scream with a kiss.

“Oh my god…” you cried out in a whisper. Goosebumps throughout your body as waves of pleasure took your body on a high it had never been on before.

“Fuck, baby” he looked down to see his cock covered in your cum. The feel of you pulsating around him causing him to lose control and before he could get you back on your feet to pull out he accidentally came inside you.

“Fuck-“ he groaned against your ear, his hips jerked uncontrollably, your legs shaking as he held them up when you realized he was cumming.

“Wait, are you-“ he held himself still against you out of breath, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He couldn’t move.

“Oh my god…” you whispered.

Slowly Joel lifted his head up and looked down at you with defeat.

“I swear I ain’t mean to do that, baby” he slowly pulled out and let your legs down. Still holding you close you stared at his chest in shock when you both heard the door open. Joel quickly backed away lifting his pants up and left the kitchen, you fixed your hair the best you could when Sarah walked in.

“Sorry, it was a call about the classes I’m trying to switch this semester. A whole process” she sighed without looking at you, not noticing how awkward you looked.

“Why’d you put your stuff away?” She looked up and raised a brow.

“You ok?”

“Mhm” you lied as you felt Joel’s cum in your underwear.

“I’m gonna use the restroom” you quietly walked past her as she stared at you strangely.

Joel was nowhere to be found as you made your way to the bathroom. Locking the door shut you rinsed your face off with water and looked at yourself in the mirror. All these years you knew Joel and never expected anything like this to happen. Hell, your own father would kill him if he knew. You couldn’t believe what you had allowed, more so you couldn’t believe what you knew had only just begun…

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 11]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

everything in its place

cw: anxiety attack(s)

wc: 4k

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” 

Joseph stands at the center of the living room in plaid pajamas, an airplane themed blanket tossed over his shoulders, and a pout on his face. A bright red stains the waterline of his eyes as he rubs at them as if he can will his tiredness away. Hide it beneath the blanket he pulls tighter around him. Smother it until it vanishes, or is small enough to at least hide it from his mother. 

“I know you’re excited, big guy, but you gotta. Santa’s comin’ tonight, ‘member?” Beth coos. She’s kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders as if afraid he’ll lose balance and fall at any moment. The poor thing is dead on his feet, swaying as the silent lullaby of sleep beckons him to give in. “He can’t do his job if you’re awake, now can he? Besides, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner tomorrow will come.” 

Just as Joseph begins to yawn, Tommy swoops in behind him, arms wrapping around his small frame in a bear hug. He’s instantly swaddled, blanket pulled tight around him as if he were a mummy, leaving him no room to fight. Soporific giggles escape the boy’s chest as his father lifts him in the air, limp legs dangling and swaying as they begin to march off towards the back of the house. 

“C’mon,” he urges, playfully grunting as if the child’s weight is too heavy for him. “I’ll tuck ya in nice and tight. Gotta build up your energy for tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Joseph yawns back just as his mother joins in behind them. 

Everything is warm. Viridity shrouds your eyes with rose tinted glasses and the glow of the Christmas tree diffuses like little halos. You are elated — happily content being shoved against Simon’s side, legs curled underneath yourself on the couch, head resting against his shoulder. Something sordid still lurks there between the fibers of your muscles; the sinews that hold you together. A pestilential rot that refuses to wash clean, but for the moment at least, it’s nothing but a gentle vibration. A meaningless hum of your bones that doesn’t quite reach your brain. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” Simon asks. He doesn’t move — stays politely still as you blink the bleariness from your eyes. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a laugh. You lift your head from his shoulder, and the absence of him feels wrong. When you turn to look at him, you find Simon already staring at you. 

“Been a long day,” he agrees. Long legs stretch out in the empty space in front of him before he scoots away from you, standing. “C’mon, let’s get you settled. I’ll show you the room.” 

A weightlessness lifts you off the couch as you trudge after Simon, following in line behind him. Quiet giggles bleed through one of the doors you pass in the hallway, and you can’t help but chuckle as Joseph, once again, declares his excitement for tomorrow. His joy emanates from the door — that room is too small to hold back the cheer of a young soul. 

Simon leads you to the end of the hallway toward the very back of the house. A room sits tucked on the left side of the hall, just across from the bathroom, where a lamp illuminates a queen sized bed with argentine sheets. Barren walls close the room in, but you find that if you squint hard enough you can see old marks. Tiny holes from long gone tacks, perhaps used to hold up posters. It’s painted over; hardly even visible. A slight dent makes its home next to the door where the doorknob knocks against it. 

“Used to be my bedroom,” Simon informs, shoulder leaning against the doorway as you step in. “Well, mine ‘n Tommy’s, anyway.” 

Your thoughts are flooded as you picture Simon as a child. Small frame, smooth skin — or maybe he was always large. A heavy, broad boy who gave his parents trouble as he ran around the house causing mayhem. An imagined giggle echoes in your mind, a shrill squeal of unadulterated joy. You wonder how often the two of them played together here, the secrets they would whisper to one another at night, or the dreams they had. 

You’re only brought back into your body when you notice that his bag is sitting next to yours at the foot of the bed. 

A blink clears your vision, and it’s still there. Two bags. A single bed. The steady thudding of your heart jumps into your throat where it makes its new home. It’s impossible to swallow, to force it into submission, back into the cage where it belongs. Stiff joints refuse to work with you as you turn to face Simon. He looks around the room wistfully, yet with a tinge of something darker. Something haunted. 

“Are… are you and I sharing this room?” you ask timidly. 

He nods. “Mum’s got her bedroom upstairs, Tommy ‘n them got the old office, so we get the guest room.” He pauses, eyes scrutinizing your face before he pushes away from the door, heavy feet causing the floor beneath him to creak. “That alright?” 

Choking on your words, you stutter through a sheepish smile, though you’re not sure it’s enough to cover how mortified you are. Molten blood suffocates your veins, and you feel it coagulate and clot. Really, it shouldn’t mean anything; sharing a bed with someone. You and Row have shared beds plenty of times together with one another and it’s never meant a thing. 

Does it only feel terrifying because you want it to mean something? 

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. I just- I’ve never- uhm.” All you can do is spew nonsense. It worsens the heat building in your face, bleeding through your skin, antagonizing the tips of your ears — you wish you would just shut up but you always have to explain yourself in some way. 

“Hey,” he says, raising a hand to stop you. “If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine. Can always sleep on the floor. Or out in the livin’ room if you don’t want me here at all.” 

For a moment, your brain entertains the idea of him in both scenarios. A hardwood floor is hardly a proper surface to sleep on, and the thought of him shoving his large frame onto Mrs. Riley’s small loveseat nearly makes you cringe. 

“What? No, I can’t do that to you. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor in your own home. Or, at least your family’s home,” you retort earnestly. “I can take the couch.”

“Not happenin’ sweetheart,” Simon says, small smirk pulling at his lips. “Really think I’m lettin’ you sleep anywhere but a proper bed? If you’re comfortable with it, we’ll both take the bed, and if not, then I’ll take the floor, or you can kick me to the livin’ room. Those are your three options.” 

“But-”

“No. No nuances here.” It isn’t until his hand brushes against your arm that you realize just how close he is to you. His attention drifts, fingers picking at a piece of fuzz on your clothes before flicking it somewhere to be forgotten on the ground. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ve slept on worse before. And you’ll only hurt my feelings a little bit,” he teases. 

While your body freezes, your mind is nothing but a whirlwind of thought. Torturous, you feel trapped; unable to speak your mind or your thoughts. How do you tell him that you don’t think you can sleep next to him not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’ll crumble at his touch? Fade into nothing but soot and ash that would blow away at the mere huff of his mirth? You’d lay next to him, and like Icarus, you’d melt before you even get to brush against his warmth. 

And still — you refuse to let him sleep on the floor. 

“No. No, it’s fine, the bed is good,” you say with a nod. 

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Certain?” he pushes. 

“Certain,” you repeat. 

He stares at you for a moment too long and you feel your bones turn to jello. He’s giving you an out; the time to change your mind. Gelatin muscles and rubber tendons — you’d collapse if it weren’t for the panic constricting around your body. You swallow it down, willing it away just long enough to convince him you’ll be fine. 

“Alright,” he says as he takes a step back. He glances at your bags, still sitting neatly next to one another, before nodding. “I’ll step out. Let you change. Gotta grab presents out of the car anyway, so take your time.” 

After confirming the plans, Simon begins to back out of the room. Hand on the door, he begins to shut himself out, though he quickly pauses in order to point at the bed. “I get the side closest to the door, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod. 

You aren’t able to breathe properly until the door latches shut behind him, and your knees nearly give out. Stumbling back, you collapse onto the springy mattress and throw your face in your hands in an attempt to muffle your groan. How anyone can stand to be around you when you’re so graceless is beyond you. Your mother always told you that you would outgrow this awkwardness one day. Turns out, you’re just as small as you’ve always been — you haven’t outgrown a single thing. 

The only thing that calms your thoughts is a series of gentle, controlled respires. Anxiety sizzles then fizzles out, leaving your nerves scorched, but not completely useless. You rise. Dirty clothes shucked off and fresh pajamas holding you close. You stare at the bed, and it stares right back at you, just as confused. How the hell are you going to have any room on that mattress with Simon next to you? 

A problem for later. 

Simon is in the hallway when you open the door. He stands, hands shoved into his pockets as he faces the wall, eyes blankly staring at picture frames. Dozens of them sit in asymmetrical lines, haphazardly shoved together. A collage that had suddenly grown too large to fit properly. If he notices you — which you’re sure he does — he doesn’t say anything as you cautiously approach him, eyeing the glinting glass. 

Some of the pictures are old — much older than either you or Simon. Black and white film displaying young, happily married couples. They grow and morph. Love slowly decaying into contentment. There’s undersaturated photos with brutal lens flare burning the image, digital pictures with crisp quality. The younger the film becomes, the older the couple gets. The more their smiles fade. 

Swallowing, you stare at the man. There’s something familiar about him with his dark eyes and tight lips, but that recognition fades as he gets older. He becomes skinnier. Wasting until his flesh pulls at his bones like a skeleton with sunken eyes, gaunt face and sallow skin. His stomach distends, dark eyes dull with a benevolent contempt for anything within his gaze. He vanishes from the pictures eventually; replaced by kinder faces. 

“Who’s that?” you ask, curious finger pointing to the wasting man. 

Simon is silent for a moment before he responds. “My father.” 

“Oh,” you chirp meekly. A part of you had already guessed. You were curious as to the absence of such a presence at a family gathering, why only his mother is here, but you of all people already know how fickle family can be. 

“He’s dead,” he says, answering the question burning on your tongue. 

You swallow. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Huffing, Simon shakes his head. His weight shifts but his eyes stay glued to the pictures. It takes a moment to loosen up his jaw enough to respond. “I’m not. Glad he’s gone.” 

His reply catches you off guard. You don’t think you could ever be glad about either of your parents being dead. It’s… a strange thought to have. One you’re not sure you can hold against him. Never for a moment did you revel at either of their funerals. Really, you couldn’t stop crying. Then you think of sharp blades, gasping breaths, blood on linoleum — and you remember that some people’s parents don’t deserve to be mourned. 

“Well, that’s something we have in common at least. Dead dads, and all,” you attempt to humor. 

Much to your surprise, it works. A gentle titter reverberates in his throat as he finally tears his eyes away from that dead, wasted man and he looks at you. His eyes gleam in the pale living room light that bleeds into the hallway. A gentle burn that melts the darkness of his irises. He’d melt in the palm of your hands if you asked him to. 

Perhaps he already has. 

It isn’t long before you’re under freshly washed covers with your head on an unfamiliar pillow. The only thing that is familiar is Simon — the scent of him especially. That faint, smothered nicotine and fresh cotton. You wonder if he can feel the thud of your heart ring throughout the mattress. If its reverberations crawl up his spine like the heat of him crawls up yours. 

There is something strange about forcing yourself to be apart from him after being glued to his side for most of the evening. Like driving a wedge between two magnets. You feel his pull like you’re the earth and he’s the sun. Forever caught in the cosmic storm of one another, and yet something even stronger holds you back. 

It’s all consuming — this terrible obloquy that fluctuates in weight. One moment, it’s as light as a feather. A timid thing that can do no more harm than a single flake of snow. Other times, it’s a brutal storm. Unrelenting and frigid, tearing you apart. Perhaps it’s the bed. The connotation. The blood that has yet to soak the sheets and stain the mattress.

Your blood. Your tears. 

My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble.

Your heart trips. Stumbles on itself, skipping a beat and forcing your blood to run cold. No matter what, you always carry a piece of him with you. He shoved it inside of you like a blade, and you’ve been too terrified to pull it out. Afraid to see how much blood would come out with it. The rot that’s festered inside of you because of him. You’re choking. Breath caught in your throat like a windpipe between slender fingers. Eyes bulging. Ears ringing. Soft lips on skin hiding sharp teeth waiting to tear you apart.

You sit up like you are able to run from the feeling. It doesn’t help. It’s still there. Writhing beneath your skin. Burrowing in your bones. It’s always there. Will always be there. Dormant and waiting to erupt. To tear open the tender flesh only a monster craves. You have not belonged to yourself in years, and you fear that you never had to begin with. 

You never will again.

“What’s wrong?” 

Simon’s gentle susurrus hardly reaches you over the sound of the blood gushing through your ears. Your head snaps to look at him in the darkness and you see the fuzzy image of his frame laid flat on his back, one hand behind his head. You swallow, your throat dry and sticking to itself, and you try not to tremble.

“Can’t sleep.” It’s blunt. Quick. If you speak any further, you’ll deteriorate. 

Cautious fingers brush against your arm and you try not to flinch at his presence. He pauses, then moves slower, torso curling as he lifts himself off the bed to further his reach. His arm snakes around your back, and then to your other arm before he carefully pulls you back down to earth. 

“C’mere,” he says before leaning you back with him. 

Anxiety quells into confusion as Simon situates you on your side, head resting on his chest. His arm stays around you, supporting your head as his hand lays politely on your waist. Ragdolling, you go along with him as his free hand grabs yours. His thumb gently prods at your fingers, prompting your fist to relax and unfurl before he places it flat on his chest above his heart. His breaths come heavy and deep, chest expanding beneath your palm, prompting your own diaphragm to do the same. Slow, deep breaths that calm your heart and your nerves. 

Your eyes grow heavy. Everything grows heavy. Soon the ringing in your ears becomes drowned out by Simon’s steady pulse beneath you. 

Morning arrives with a childish squeal and dull sunlight. 

You’re still in Simon’s arms, curled into his side, face buried into the scent of him. His hand rests on top of yours where he taps at the space between your knuckles. There’s a quiet knowingness in his touch. A hushed relation he attempts to etch into your skin. You do not know why, but you think he might be the only person in the entire world who might somewhat understand your pain. At least, he’s been the only one that doesn’t try to instantly smother it away. 

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers

Smiling against his side, you sigh. “Merry Christmas, Simon.” 

Joseph hardly waits for you and Simon to enter the living room, disheveled and groggy, before ripping into his presents. Even Beth and Tommy are half awake, curled up on the couch next to one another as they grin and coo over their son. Mrs. Riley, however, is on the edge of her seat the entire time, helping to collect shredded wrapping paper and crinkled bows. Somehow, she looks even more excited than her grandson.

The windows nearly shatter with the shriek he lets out at Simon’s gift. That large box concealing the model plane he’s been begging his parents for sits in his wide stretched arms. Beaming blue eyes lock onto Simon as his feet happily stomp against the ground as he thanks his uncle for the present. You catch the look of relief Beth gives him out of the corner of your eye. 

As the morning speeds by, the Christmas tree looks more and more naked with each gift that’s opened. Barren and empty. It dwindles down to nothing but shiny ornaments and crooked tinsel, yet it still bears fruit. 

Simon retrieves one small, lone gift hidden within the folds of the tree skirt. 

“Here,” he prompts, holding it out for you. 

Blinking, you look back and forth between him and the object, fingers too timid to reach for it. Your name is written on a small tag in small, curt handwriting. “For me?”

“Go on. Open it.” 

Guilt clouds your mind as you gingerly take the box into your hands. It’s light. Hardly any bigger than the size of your palm, yet the bow on it is nearly twice as large. Expertly knotted, perfect loops, and long, curling ribbons. You purse your lips into a line as Simon leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, shoulder knocking against yours in the process. 

“But… You shouldn’t have. I… I didn’t get you anything,” you murmur. 

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Came all the way ‘ere with me. That’s more than enough.” 

At this point, you know better than to try to argue with Simon, so you carefully tug on the bow. Soft silk becomes undone and flutters into your lap as you pop the top off of the box to reveal a fluffy white mess. A miniature version of an arctic fox sits upon red velvet. It’s cartoonish, with an extra pointy nose and round, azure eyes, and is more akin to a stuffed animal with soft, faux fur. A short chain protrudes from the top of its head with a small clasp on the end — a keychain. 

“Mrs. Price helped me pick it out,” Simon concedes. 

“I love it,” you say, nearly choking on the word. You continue to stare at it for a moment, fingers brushing over its fluff before playfully poking its plastic nose. When you look back up at Simon, you find him already looking at you. Always looking at you. “Thank you.” 

A smile quietly pulls at the corner of his lip, scar tissue stretching and folding in on itself. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.” 

The butterflies that sentence plagues you with lingers all the way until dinner, and even then they still persist. They churn, twisting up a tempest within your stomach until your nerves jitter and jolt. You’re nearly knocking over your glass at the table as you try to conceal that new blaze inside of your chest. Douse out the flames with a simple sip of water. You wonder if the glowing embers left inside of you illuminate the soot covered bones of your ribs. Certainly they have to do something to get rid of that insatiable darkness. 

Mrs. Riley has prepared a lovely meal, largely in thanks to Joseph, of course, who had the very important task of helping his mother whisk the gravy for the mash. It’s the first homestyle meal you’ve had in ages. Honey coated ham, Yorkshire pudding, roast beef — you don’t think you’ve eaten so much in so long. When you first start, you can’t see the bottom of your plate, and when you finish, it’s practically sparkling clean. Might as well skip the wash and put it back in the cupboard. 

When dinner and dessert are finished, everyone helps clean up — like a well oiled machine, as Tommy says, to which Joseph quotes back clumsily as if it’s a mantra he hears often. There’s time for one quick Christmas movie before yawns begin to infect everyone and the hands of the old grandfather clock in the living room strikes ten. Dainty chimes echo quietly throughout the house. Soft and careful, as if not to wake anyone, further proving that you should’ve been asleep long ago. 

Everyone begins to migrate to their rightful place after that. There’s Mrs. Riley, who shuffles up the stairs to her room. There’s Tommy and Joseph, who giggle in the old office room to one another as they talk about the airplane they’ll have to paint together when they get home. There’s Beth, who’s taking a well deserved break away from her two rambunctious boys as she washes herself in the shower. 

Then, there’s you and Simon. 

A hazy penumbra obscures your vision as you lay next to him. There was no question about it when you both crawled into bed; there would be no separation between the two of you tonight. You curl beneath covers with his arm wrapped around you, an ear pressed against his chest as you listen to the proof of his existence. He is the most tangible thing you’ve ever had hold you, and despite his ruggedness and scars, he is also one of the softest. Something that can embrace you without pins and needles nettling your skin. 

Chest expanding, you breathe him in. You want to bottle up his scent and carry it around with you. It’s vague. Natural. 

You hate cologne. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me,” Simon speaks up, breaking the fragile silence hanging in the air. 

“Of course.” You pause, chewing on the tip of your tongue as you try to get the second half of your response out. “Thank you. For bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve… you know. Just- Thank you. I’m glad I came.” 

It’s impossible to tell if you’re hearing things wrong, but you swear Simon’s heart beats faster. Thumps in his chest like a war drum attempting to play a love song. It’s flimsy. Unpracticed with novice rhythm. Still, it only grows stronger as his head lifts from his pillow, neck curling forward as a strong arm holds you tight. 

His lips press against the crown of your head, lingering just long enough for your own pulse to drown his out. 

“Me too, sweetheart.”

[mydear-corinthian]

welcome to burlesque

synopsis - tommy attends to this new burlesque club and he didn't expect to see you there

pairing - tommy shelby x reader (dancer!)

warnings - SMUT +18, breeding kink, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex.

notes - rushed, this is my favourite song and movie ><, divider by saradika-graphics

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

After the first World War, the inner-city of Small Heath, Birmingham is not lively that it used to. Loads of soldiers coming home from the war were traumatized; only finding comfort in whores, cocaine, alcohol, and betting.

With lots of men now drinking and snorting on their snows, alcohol businesses, betting shops, and cocaine distributors are now on their peak of their business like the well-known gangster, the man himself, Thomas Shelby.

It was the usual day for the gangster. His family running their businesses and sorting out gangster fights. Tommy is miserable in a way that he has no one to talk to or engage something with. Sure, he has his family but all he can talk about to them is business. With women, he still cannot find the right women for him.

As Tommy walked on the bland streets of Small Heath, inhaling his cigarette, he was approached by his friend, Johnny Dogs and his other workers. As Johnny walked to catch up with Tommy, he placed his shoulders on the gangster's shoulders.

"What ya up to, Tom?" Johnny Dogs asked, a smile planted on his face.

"The usual, John, business," Tommy sighed before he replied, continuing to inhale the cancerous stick.

"You should go to this club, Tommy! There's a lot of women in there, I heard. Just recently opened," Curly joined the conversation.

Tommy's eyes began to look at them. Recently opened? A club? In Birmingham?

He began to be interested and curious at the same time.

"Curly's right, Tom." John said. "Maybe you'll find someone there, eh? Or maybe just loosen up."

"There's nothing new with that, Johnny. There's whores everywhere. What's so special about this club," the older Shelby replied.

"Heard the women there are.. unique. Dancers."

Strip clubs in Small Heath isn't new for Tommy. But it's a bit confusing for him to see why his friend is very invested in this club. Maybe there's something more and special about these women and dancers. He cannot help but think.

"What ya say, Tom?"

After a few minutes of deciding, he exhaled.

"8:00 PM."

The boys cheered and clapped, playfully hitting each other's shoulders with their elbows as they cheered. A huge smile were planted on their faces

• • •

It was finally 7 in the evening. Tommy Shelby was already dressed for the man's night. A velvet red tie decorated his grey suit. His long black trench coat keeping him warm. The golden pocket watch with the engraved 'Shelby' name on the back hanged on the small pocket of his charcoal vest.

"Where are you going, Tom?" Polly asked as he saw his nephew exiting the manor.

Tommy placed his newsboy hat on his head, styling it properly as he replied to his aunt,

"Night with me boys. We'll be back by morning."

"Hope you're not plotting something again, Thomas."

"Yeah, no, aunt Pol." he coldly replied before finally shutting the door.

• • •

The ride was a little long, especially how this club is in the Northern part of Birmingham. The Blinders have finally arrived. Getting off their cars and entering the club like they owned it. The entrance fee lady didn't even bother asking them to pay since, well, they're the Peaky Blinders. Other customers hurriedly gave way and emptied the tables for them.

The club was lit in a red color. Circular tables with lamps were placed everywhere in front of the medium sized stage. Renaissance paintings were hanged all over the walls of the club. Tommy was suprised by this new club, it shows how the owner definitely has a budget for this.

The gangsters finally sat on their chairs just near the stage, ordering up a few drinks before the lights turned off, only focusing on the stage.

"This club is a Burlesque?" Tommy asked as he sipped a glass of whiskey he ordered.

"Yeah. Can't you believe it? The first every Burlesque club after a decade!"

The small band on the side of the stage started to play a jazz-like original song. A woman with a black top hat decorated on her (h/c) hair, a combination of black and white colour painted her tight corset while a pair of black fishnet stockings kept her warm appeared on the stage with a few dancers.

As the song started, you began to sing. Swaying your body seductively to the melody of the song, you looked at the guests. There were a lot of people in the club making you nervous but you decided to brush the anxiety away.

Tommy was widened by the performance but it wasn't the first time that he witnessed it; it's just that he haven't seen this kind of performance in years. His baby blue eyes followed you as you sang, mesmerized by the shift looks on your face. He kept a close eye on your legs as they moved fluidly and elegantly to the music. His eyes lingered on the way the tight corset tightened in your curves and making your form seem more beautiful with each breath. He was lost in focus, taking in each detail of your performance.

You looked at the audience again and now your eyes caught him.

Thomas Shelby.

The man himself.

You felt your heart drop, you know that one day he will visit the club but you didn't expect that it will be today. It was like a faraway memory coming to life the first time you saw him since the war. You remembered the moment that ignited everything between you, helping him with his broken arm in that dark tunnel. You can still feel the warmth of that kiss you had under the sycamore tree, and the letters you wrote one other later that carried shards of your hearts. That gentle kiss represented the silent relationship that has become stronger with every written word and every memory exchanged.

The way he looked at you felt the same: soft and genuine.

Tom had already shown many signs of trauma during the war, but he always felt safe and well while he was with you in the medic tent or on walks. You ended the gazing exchange between you two by continuing to dance.

You got a lot of "woo" and "yeah" remarks from the crowd as you went on singing and dancing sensually with your girls.

Tom began to be curious. You seem so familiar to him but he's not sure where you guys met.

"Who's the singer, Charlie?" Tom began to ask, leaning, his mouth just behind Charlie's ear.

"Oh her? That's (Y/n) (L/n). I heard she served in the war as a medic. Lovely ain't she?"

Oh.

Now Tom can recall who you were.

It was you, the nurse, who saved his arm after a bullet struck him in that tunnel. His memories of the war flashed back, and for the first time he wasn't afraid. Rather, he was somewhat happy. He recalled how you carefully applied a white bandage on his arm with your soft, delicate hands. She asked about how he was while exchanging life stories with him. How you kissed each other beneath the sycamore tree.

"Welcome to Burlesque!" The dance finally ended. A huge smile plastered on your face as you bowed, the big curtains coming down the stage. Loads of men including Tom's gang stood up and cheered, their claps echoed the club.

As you went backstage and sat on your vanity, you cannot help but recall who you just saw. His eyes were still the same; his blue eyes shining as his eyes locked yours. Memories of you and him talking, kissing, walking together flashed on your mind, making you frown at the memory that you hope you can still experience it again.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself, telling his gang that he'll be visiting the backstage to talk to someone. They didn't interfere nor asked who and why.

Tom finally arrived at the backstage, seeing women changing to their next-performance clothes. The dancers gasp at the sight of the notorious gangster, immediately covering up their bodies with their clothes. He cleared his throat due to the awkward moment, starting to ask where you were. "

Where can I find (Y/n) (L/n)?" Tom asked.

"B-back room, Mr. Shelby."

As Tommy walked towards the wooden door of your own vanity room, his heart raced. He felt his muscle goes numb every step he took. He doesn't know how you will react if he saw you. Will you be mad for him leaving you all of a sudden after the war? Will you be sad? Will you be happy? He doesn't know and he cares about that.

Taking a deep breath, his pale palms twisted the door knob, opening the door. He finally saw you. Sitting on a circular chair in front of your well-lit vanity mirror, loads and loads of make-up scattered on your table. You were wearing your long black corset only.

As you noticed the door opening, you looked at who it was while trying to remove your earrings. Finally looking at the person, your heart instantly dropped. You finally saw him up close after years of having no contact.

"Thomas..?" You stood up, feeling every electricity in your body flinched.

"(Y/n)."

A part of you wants to run up to him and give him the tightest hug and another part of you wants to scream at him for leaving you just like that.

"Why are you here?" you answered coldly but your voice softy broke, trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he spoke up. "..for leaving you just like that. I didn't mean to. I-It's just that - I didn't knew what to do."

As a former medic, it's understandable due to his mental state during the war. But as his lover, you just wished he stayed.

"Where were you, Tommy.."

"I'm so sorry, my love," Tom apologized, slowly walking towards you, cupping your cheek with his palms, stroking your chin.

"I missed you, Tommy. I thought you were gone." you whispered, holding his palms that were cupping on your cheeks, a tear finally fell from your sad eyes.

You tried finding him during and after the war but you failed. You forced yourself to move on, thinking that it was just for his comfort that time and you mean nothing to him now.

Slowly, his lips met yours. Allowing himself to be reunite with you. Tom's hand gripped your side hip as the kiss began to deepen. And there it is, you felt the same feeling when the both of you kissed under that sycamore tree.

He gently pushed you on the door, continuing the make-out session as his fingers locked the doorknob.

"Fuck, I missed you.."

"..so much," Tommy whispered in between kisses.

Your spine tingled with electric shocks as he sucked and kissed your neck, causing you to gasp and sigh with a mixture of pleasure and excitement. With an ache that made it seem as though he hadn't tasted anything like this in years, his lips finally discovered that sweet spot he had been longing for.

Every kiss was intense, every suck a confession of his insatiable appetite, making you insanely addicted. You got caught up in the moment, losing yourself in the heat of the moment as your fingers became tangled in his hair and gripped harder with every pleasure pulse.

"You taste so sweet, my love," he said.

You began to undo your black corset, leaving you with your black lacey bra and underwear, and your fishnet stockings. Trying to undo the stockings, Tom interfered.

"Leave the stockings on."

Nodding, your lips and his met each other again. Tommy's lips were stained with your red lipstick. The two of you ran to the vanity table, your hands removing all the items and make-up that was placed there while Tom began to unbutton his trousers and then his underwear.

You felt so aroused as your black panties were soaked wet. Your hole aching for Tommy inside.

"So wet already?" his deep voice made you wetter.

"Please, Tom. I need you.."

His cock sprung free out of his boxers, revealing how hard he was. He pumped it first with his hand before he moved your panties to the side instead of fully taking it off, allowing him to enter you.

You gasped aloud as his long, thick length began to gently and deeply penetrate you, each inch sending waves of powerful pleasure through your entire body. Tom, at the same time, moaned lightly as he enjoyed the way your close warmth surrounded him, the closeness sparking a fire between you both. His movements had a steady, deliberate pace, and your bodies seemed to melt together as each thrust was delivered with delicate passion. Your in unison breathing and softly spoken confessions of love filled the room, each one increasing the sensual, romantic connection between you.

Your body faced the mirror so he was fucking behind you. After a few minutes of you adjusting to his length, he began to thrust slowly.

"Oh fuck," you moaned.

"You feel so good — fuck!"

Your breasts bounced in time to every thrust he made, and your moans got louder and stronger. Euphoria rushes over you, bringing you closer to the brink with each move. You realized how much you had missed his presence and the way he filled you up entirely because of the pace of that moment. The overwhelming happiness served as a clear reminder of the intense touch and need you had experienced while he was away.

Your head lowered and your palms gripped the side of the bright vanity table. Your head was messy, a few strands of hair covered your face.

You can hear the breathy moans that Tommy let out. His rough fingers gripping your waist as his lower body jerked up, his head rolled back.

As he noticed your head looking down, his right palm gripped your jaw, making you look up and look at the mirror forcely.

"Look at yourself while I'm fucking you, honey."

Nothing but your shared moans, grunts, and skin slapping echoed the whole room. You didn't care how loud you guys were, you just want to think of him and him alone.

Feeling your orgasm build up, you began to let out a louder series of moans and gripped his arm.

"Tom—fuck! I'm close.."

"Yeah? Go on, cum on my cock."

"Yes Tommy, yes! Oh my god!"

"I'm gonna fill you up, yeah? Put a baby inside you. Gonna be the mother of our children, mhm?" he whispered on your ear as his pace quickened.

Finally, your orgasm came, making a mess on his massive dick. After a few more thrusts from Tommy, he came inside you, filling your walls with his sticky white cum.

The both of you panted, catching your breaths. Tom finally pulled out, making your aching hole leak out your shared juices. He let out a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that was hot," he said, giving you a passionate kiss.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby."

"I love you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

[wandaslullaby]

idea

bestfriends mother!top! wanda x bottom!r

r's bestfriend and r go to a party where r's bsf hooks up with someone and r was making out with a random stranger. when its time to leave r's bestfriend tells r to go home and she'll join later (the bsf decides to hookup w the person)

r goes home pretty late to find wanda still up waiting for her daughter and r. when wanda sees r covered in light red hickeys, she can't help but feel possesive over the young woman.

I kinda of took a twist on it. I really hope you like it!

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

Test Track || Wanda Maximoff

summary: it's time Wanda made you aware that lurking in corridors and perving on her isn't nice at all.

warnings: 18+ please don't read if you are a minor. overstimualtion, fingering, dom!wanda, manipulation kink, mommy kink, dark wanda.

You wasn't exactly up for going to a party but, Tommy was adamant that it will do you some good. Things have been a little stressful especially with Henry, your boyfriend that was rumoured to be sleeping around with Cassie Lang. You didn't want to believe Billy but you knew that Billy wouldn't lie to you.

"I think I might stay put. I don't really want to see Henry." You mutter under your breath. Tommy was in the mits of debating whether he should wear some eyeliner or not. Putting down the brush, he turns over.

"He might not even be there. There's no way that judgemental prick will be at Peter's party."

"Cassie is best friend's with Kate. Kate is best friend's with Peter. Of course she will be there."

Tommy signed, "I mean you could just stay with my mum? She's just going to be watching I love Lucy and complain about Dad."

You never understood why Vision, Tommy and Billy's dad left Wanda stranded. Wanda was the definition of an god especially the way she was built. Her figure was mesmerising, she always knew how to flaunt her curves and embrace her body. She was a little different to the other mom's, which is why you always hang out here.

Wanda wasn't judgemental towards Tommy, she embraced his differences a long time ago. She was the reason why Tommy was so open about his sexuality, Wanda even admitted that she had a love affair in the 80s.

"Would you mind? I honestly feel like I'll just be bringing the mood down and I know you want to try and impress Flash."

Tommy shook his head, "I'd rather you be comfortable and yourself then being someone you aren't. You know that you shouldn't hide your emotions or fake a smile for anyone."

You charged off the bed and gave Tommy a massive hug. "I love you. Please be safe and wear protection."

"You know I do." He laughed. "I'll just go tell my mum that you are staying. Do you also want to stay over?"

A whole evening with Wanda and the possibilities that were swimming in your mind shouldn't ever be vocalised. You knew that there was something different about you, but you never really questioned the tingly feelings that your clit felt when Wanda wore a swimsuit that one summer's day.

You could still remember the shape of her tits bouncing as she played volleyball in the pool. The wetness that stained your bikini from just watching her made your cheek blush and how you remember how Wanda only had to battled her eyelashes to let a moan rip through your lips.

"Y/N?" Tommy said, waving his hand in your face. "You okay?"

You shivered, "Yes, sorry. I was just day dreaming. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you wanted to sleep over? The spare room is already made up and has pretty much all your stuff there already."

"Yeah I'll stay. I hope Wanda doesn't -"

You were cut off by the women herself, "I hope Wanda doesn't what?"

Frozen in place, the next sentence that left your mouth was definitely a clue that you were somewhat Infatuated by her.

"Y/N? Baby, are you okay?" Wanda giggled, watching you stutter over your words.

"All good, Miss Maximoff." you squealed out before slapping your hand over your mouth.

She just hummed at you, turning her focus to Tommy. "Are you ready to go?"

Tommy nodded, "Yeah. I think Billy is going to meet me there, I think he is going to pick up MJ and Ned."

Wanda frowned but her eyes sparkled with mischeif beneath deep-set eyebrows, "Aren't you going, sweetheart?"

You shook your head, "No. I was going to ask if I can stay here? I won't be a bother. I'll be here in Tommy's room watching reruns of Modern Family."

"Of course you can, baby. You are more than welcome to join me? I will only be alone otherwise."

"Yeah sure. I don't mind. We can watch I love Lucy." You say with too much excitement, causing Tommy to give you a weird look.

"Don't worry, baby. I've got plenty of activities we can do."

After a long, seductive minute Tommy excused himself. "I'm off. I'll see you all soon, please don't scare her away Mom."

"I think she will be just fine, Tommy. Go and have a great time. I'm sure when you are back, Y/N will be begging to never leave this house."

"If you say so." Tommy said, giving you one last hug before sprinting down the stairs. Once you both heard the door shut, Wanda left the room.

"If you know what's best, baby. You would follow and not sit there, with your mouth open." Wanda's voice trailed to your clit, making you jump.

You got up from Tommy's bed and followed Wanda's voice, you were slightly confused on Wanda's words and the fact that she has suddenly started to call you baby. Wanda has never called you that, she would only use that nickname to her own kids.

Once you made it down to the lounge, Wanda was already situated with your favourite snacks and drinks. It was like she knew you were going to stay.

"You aren't very well mannered are you? Lurking in doorways, staring at my tits and not to mention, the mess you made on my sun loungers last week? You are luckily that it smelt good, but disappointed that you didn't apologise to me."

You completely felt undone, beyond embarrassed at the humiliation you just receive from Wanda. Your legs began to wobble in fear, slightly mortified that she caught you red handed being a pervert.

"Nothing to say?" Wanda hummed. "You should probably start with getting your bum over here, and rest over my lap. Someone should treat you how to respect an older women."

You were too stunned to speak. Wanda's eyes began to glow in crimson red, a streak of light hit your head enabling you to walk towards her. You had no idea how you were walking towards Wanda, already bowing to her punishment she was about to give you.

"Now. This won't hurt as much as you think it would. I used to give both my boys this punishment when they were naughty, but since you haven't learnt anything that your lousey mother. It's time for you to really know what happens to bad girls that misbehave."

You obeyed her immediately, not quite knowing how your body was so obedient with Wanda's words but for the sake of your dignity, you laid across Wanda's lap clutching the blanket ready to accept fate.

Wanda began to admire your back, the way you arched was nearly as perfect as she wanted you to be. Your shorts began to detach from your body, feeling the cool air hit your bare bum. She bent down to give the back of your neck a gentle kiss before she slapped your bum with a paddle.

You winced at the pain, muffling your cries as Wanda repeated her action multiple times. The notes that were stuck between your lips were feeding Wanda into only punishing you more. She knew that moans were coming, the way your back arched for her was all the clarification she needed that you were just as she expected you to be, a curious little bunny.

"I'll only stop until you give me a moan, baby. I know you are getting a little agitated, the little patch of wetness forming on your panties is telling you that you should just admit. It's not good for silly girls to deny an orgasm." Wanda whispered, watching you squirm. "I really didn't want to punish you, baby but, how could I not?"

Wanda could hear the muffled cries, she knew that you were overstimulated already. But that only made her want to push you further, see how much she could unleash from you.

When you felt yourself being flipped over, tears were swimming in your eyes. Cheeks all red and puffy, Wanda favourite colour. She cooed you, stroking your cheek with her finger. "Oh my sweet baby. Is Wanda being a little too harsh on you? Is she not being fair?"

You nodded, sniffling as your eyes dropped to where her other hand was going. Words weren't coming out of your mouth, so Wanda assumed that her hand was good to roam. She was shocked by how bare you were, there was no hair in sight which made Wanda's mind burst into ideas.

As you were coming down, not letting yourself get into more of a state. Wanda made an 8 on your lower belly, humming a siren song that she learnt from a spell once. It was a simple tune that apparently lured young girls to give permission to anyone who sings the song access to their mind, soul and body. Wanda never believed in spells or supernatural until coming to Westview, a town that needed a little bit of colour.

"You have such a pretty pussy, baby. I can't believe that you are allowing me to admire it. What would Henry think? Watching how aroused you get from a 40 year old women? Such a naughty girl letting your best friend's mother touch you? Oh the looks you will get from your pupils when they learn that you perved over a mother. You wouldn't even last a day without getting called horrible names."

Wanda was purposely planting sick scenarios in your head, it was all part of the plan to secluded you from life, to only need Wanda. She wanted to fully feed horrible visions of your life if Tommy found out what you were doing. "What would Tommy think as I tell him how soaked you were for his mum? He only ever wanted a friend to have for his own but now, he can't. He would never forgive you for what you are about to let me do. You wouldn't want Tommy to find out would you?"

"N-Never... I won't tell him." You whispered, unsure on how you are allowing Wanda to get into your mind. It was like she was wiping away all the happy memories you had with Tommy replacing them with horrible memories of him hating you. "P-Please.. Don't take Tommy away from me. H-He is all I have..."

Wanda smiled, "That's a lie, bunny. You have me now. I'll be the one to make sure that your life isn't turned upside down."

"T-Thank you, Wanda."

"Let me just take your mind off all that for now? How about you just lay there, and let me take care of this embarrassing situation you've got yourself in."

You allowed yourself to let go, not letting any more happy memories fade as Wanda blew in your face. She waited until you were settled nicely, and slowly began to rub your clit. Wanda made sure that she wouldn't be to nasty, but to really work you to have the best orgasm of your life.

She began to lower her hand, cupping your pussy whilst using her thumb to rub against your clit. Circles were formulating rapidly as Wanda watched your eyes widen as she loosely slipped a finger barely inside, seeing how you would react. Taking her time with you, Wanda's finger wormed her way inside you. Taking in your walls as she explored further inside you, seeing how you would take not only her finger but her rising dildo that suddenly was rising.

Wanda pumped her finger heavy inside you, hearing the muffled moans from your lips as she accidentally let her another finger slip inside you. "You are doing so well, baby. I love how well you are taking my fingers, it's like your pussy was made for me."

You slightly moved your head up, watching Wanda's motions. You couldn't even blink before her fingers disappeared inside you. She continued to plump her fingers inside you, causing a heavy moan to escape your lips catching Wanda's stare.

"Do you want to see baby? Do you want to see how easily I can slide my third finger inside you?" Wanda cooed as she used her free hand to carefully caresses your neck. You watched as Wanda picked up the paste, continuously pumping her fingers inside you. You suddenly felt a nip that cause yourself to throw your head into Wanda's neck, you couldn't explain the sensation that was brewing inside you. It was as something was trying to escape but Wanda's fingers weren't acknowledging your need.

You clutched onto Wanda's hair, crying out for attention as Wanda went faster and harder inside you. The sensation was only building up, causing Wanda to hiss as you pulled her a chuck of hair out. You buried your face in her neck, moaning louder to see if Wanda can hear you but her eyes was so fixated on her fingers pumping you, that it took a loud scream to get Wanda to finally allow her fingers to hit your spot, and sink into the couch as she felt a monsoon of frustration flood her fingers. She felt your body let loose, and your hair slowly releasing her hair whilst you moaned into her chest.

"It's okay, baby." Wanda whispered, gently stroking your back. "Mommy's got you."

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

Sweet Summer | Pt. 1

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Trauma, Eventual Smut (in 2nd part), Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

"Are you sure it's okay?" You asked both of your friends as you stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Summer was here, and with it, Professor X decided to do some renovations to the Institute.

For most of the mutants, it changed nothing since they would go home for the summer, but for you, it meant two months in the streets - well not really since Xavier offered all students who couldn't go home to stay at a hotel with the resident teachers, an uncomfortable solution in your opinion that left you with a bad taste in your mouth, like you needed the charity (which you did) before going off to University. Lucky for you, your two best friends had offered you to stay with them. It took a bit of convincing, a lot of reassuring that it wouldn't bother their mother, but in the end Billy and Tommy managed to have you agree to come with them for the holidays.

"We're absolutely certain, stop worrying that much," Tommy said, speeding around to finish preparing his suitcase at the last minute. He disappeared from the room and Billy softly smiled at you.

"He's right. And mom already agreed. She always wants to meet our friends, so I'm sure she'd be disappointed if you changed your mind."

You wanted to ask him if he was telling you all that just to make you feel better, but you fought it off. It was a nasty habit you had to always feel like you were a burden and a bother. The twins always found a way to reassure you, so you knew better than to question them some more. You gave Billy a nod, and watched as Tommy disappeared from the room and came back a second later with more things to stuff in his suitcase. He threw everything in and closed it after fighting it for a few minutes.

"I'm ready!" He declared proudly in a hero pose. You rolled your eyes and looked at the time on your phone.

"Only ten minutes late, a new record," you teased him. The speedster was somehow always late with everything, which in turn made you and Billy late. It would drive the teachers crazy, since the three of you were a package deal. You had been since you were young mutants just joining the Institute, despite being older than them by two years - you were still in the same level classes as them. This proximity never translated during holidays when they were away, beyond staying in contact with your phones. It took you being forced out to finally agree to go to their place.

"We should go now," the more responsible Billy declared as he started to drag his suitcase after him with his powers. "Mom has been waiting for us."

Anxiousness filled you for a second, but you took a deep breath and you followed the twins. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you walked down the stairs, saying goodbye to the other people who were getting ready to leave. There were a few fist bumps and brief hugs as your classmates and teachers warmly returned the goodbyes. It was the last time you were going to see some of them as you were leaving for university at the end of the summer holidays. This left you feeling sad and nostalgic, but also happy that you were progressing in life despite everything that happened to you. Those feelings washed over you as you walked through the doors of the Institute into the sun. A bunch of parents were waiting there to take their kids home. You never got to join them until now, but you watched from afar plenty of time, never daring to step closer and meet your friends' parents.

Today, Ms. Maximoff was alone. A few years ago she divorced her husband and father of her children. It had been hard on Billy and Tommy, but eventually, and with some help from therapy, they got over it. They still saw him regularly, and you were going to meet him when they were going to spend a month at his place, taking you with them. Because there was no way you would spend a month alone with their mother.

The twins spotted her first and waved at her from afar. You turned your head to have a good look at her and almost stopped on the spot when you did. She was gorgeous. Her wavy light brown hair, piercing green eyes, small nose, and lips were working all together to give her this unique charming look. But most of all, her smile was radiant. As you kept looking at her, you missed a step in the stairs and almost fell. Luckily, Tommy got you and straightened you up. You could feel all eyes on you for a brief instant, making you blush profusely but briefly as you kept walking, looking where you were going this time. Only when the twins stopped did you stop too and looked up. And there she was, right in front of you, in a white with sunflowers sundress and an open red hoodie. You couldn't help but gawk again while Billy gave her a hug. Tommy noticed and smiled proudly.

"Never seen an Avenger up close before?" He asked, so sure that it was the reason why, and you weren't about to contradict him.

"No, never." Especially not one so utterly beautiful. You shook your head and got a hold of yourself while Ms. Maximoff was hugging Tommy and finally stepped closer to her to extend your hand. "I'm glad to finally meet you Ms. Maximoff."

You barely had time to get those words out before she took your hand and pulled you in a strong hug. You were immediately overwhelmed by her scent and her warmth. You were paralyzed.

"Thank you for looking over Tommy and Billy. And please, call me Wanda."

"Oh, huh, sure, I can do that," you answered before she let you go, her hands still on your shoulders.

For a moment, your eyes met and you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks burn up before she let go for good. It was like there was a current going through the air and into your body, something you both shared. Your heart skipped a beat. You took a deep breath.

"Let's get going, put your packs in the trunk of the car."

And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. To be fair, you probably just imagined the connection going on between you and Wanda, so you tried to ignore the way you felt and simply put your bag in the trunk of the car. It gave you enough time to recover before you slid in the back of the car with Billy, after the twins fought for the place at the front.

There was a lively conversation between the twins and their mom, and music, and as you watched the scenery go by the window you found yourself smiling. That was until you arrived in front of a colonial revival style house in the suburbs. It was painted white, with two stories, and a large balcony on the right. A tree in the front yard hid most of the left side of the house, and the lawn was well kept. You followed everyone inside and a smile graced your lips when you saw how homey the place was. It would have completely relaxed you if not for that gnarly feeling of intruding on the family. It was like vines growing alongside your heart, preparing to crush it at any sign that this was true. That thought was interrupted when Wanda addressed you.

"Y/n? Come, I'll show you to your room." She spoke softly and grabbed you by the wrist to direct you towards the stairs. Her hand was soft and warm, and the simple contact elicited a tingling sensation up your arm. "This is Tommy's room, and here is Billy's. This is the bathroom. Here is my room, and here is yours."

She opened the door to the guest bedroom. It was simple, impersonal, with a king sized bed, a dresser, and a full length mirror. Close to the bed there was a door leading to the big balcony, and you guessed by the way things were in the house that Wanda had that same access. She entered the room and went to the door to the balcony to open it.

"I aired the room a few times in preparation of you coming but it still feels a bit stuffy," she pointed out as she looked outside. You shook your head and put down your bag on the bed, offering your host a smile.

"It's no worries, that room is great!"

"I'm glad you think so." She turned around and looked at you, examining your features for an instant. You tried not to squirm under her gaze, before her next words shocked you to your core. "Are you going out with Tommy?"

Your eyes went big like saucers, you opened your mouth once or twice before finally your shock settled and a laugh came out of you. It quickly grew bigger and bigger until you had tears in your eyes. Wanda frowned in confusion until you calmed down enough to answer her.

"No, we're not… I'm not interested in him like that. Actually I'm not interested in men like that," you confessed. You knew Billy was gay and came out years ago to his parents, so Wanda shouldn't have any trouble with this. There was still some brief silence before she smiled at you.

"Good." Her smile got more mysterious and you tilted your head, unsure of what it meant. You took it as a good sign, that she simply was glad that she didn't have to worry about Tommy dating you. "Okay, I'm going to let you organize your stuff. I have some work this afternoon, so have fun with the boys."

"Thank you. And thank you again for letting me stay."

"They talk so much about you, it's my pleasure to finally get to meet you."

You nodded, and Wanda left the room. You followed her movements with your eyes, looking her up and down before catching yourself.

"She's your best friends' mom, come on," you muttered to yourself before starting to take care of your bag.

*

It had been a week since you arrived at the Maximoff's household, and you had been having fun so far. You enjoyed the pool the most, having fun with Tommy and Billy while Wanda was away most of the time on Avenger business. There had been a few touches between the both of you, a hand on your shoulder while she was passing you, lingering close to you when bringing food on the table. You were sure that you were reading too much into it, but at the same time your heart would skip a beat every time it happened, your skin lighting on fire just by her simple presence. You tried your best to ignore it, of course, and so far it was working. With any chance it was going to pass soon enough and you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in the process.

"Hey, Y/n. I just received a message from a childhood friend, he's having a party, you wanna go?"

"Thanks for asking Tommy," Billy said with a roll of his eyes, sitting in an inflatable donut in the pool.

"I already know you'll go, dummy. So, Y/n?"

You laughed at the twins' antiques and approached the edge of the pool. A party would be nice, and it would take you out of the house. Maybe even make you think of something else than Wanda and her mesmerizing green eyes. There were no reasons for you not to go.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"Great! It's in a week so we should go buy some clothes for it!" Tommy exclaimed before he answered the text from his friend.

"I already have clothes," You groaned before pulling yourself out of the water. It's not that you didn't like getting new clothes, if you were honest, it was that you didn't have the money for it. Something that you had no intention to reveal to your friends.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

You rolled your eyes, but you knew there was no way out of this. You put your hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, we can go all together, you big baby," you smirked as Tommy frowned and put down his phone. He sped at you and pushed you in the water in retaliation, before he jumped in turn to start attacking you. You fought back, ending up climbing on his back like a spider, when Wanda approached the pool with a raised eyebrow. She was wearing a smart casual business outfit. You didn't notice her immediately, not before Billy got to explain what was happening.

"Why don't I come with you? I have an outing soon," Wanda offered as she looked at you and Tommy with an amused grin, now that you noticed her, stopping your playfight. Her eyes were boring into you, waiting for you to answer the question more than anyone else.

"Sure. Yeah, that would be nice." You scratched the back of your neck, a smile on your face as you looked back at her.

The moment was interrupted when Billy's inflatable bumped into you. You all discussed the details and decided to go tomorrow morning, when there would be less people than usual. It meant waking up early, but it wouldn't be a problem for you; you usually slept very little.

*

When morning came, you prepared yourself and went downstairs to surprise everyone with breakfast. You started with eggs and bacon, then pancakes. You were preparing coffee when footsteps came from the stairs.

"It smells delicious," Wanda said before you could even see her. When she finally turned the corner to the kitchen, you smiled at her. She was wearing her hair up in a loose bun, a large gray sweater, and some black sweatpants. Even just in her relaxed state she was gorgeous, and you almost burned a pancake looking at her.

"Thank you. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you your breakfast." She nodded and went to sit down at the table in the sunroom under the balcony, crossing her arms on it. You prepared a plate and brought it to her.

"What's the occasion?" She asked when you were putting down the plate.

"No occasion, I just want to pull my weight around here." You cleaned the traces of fingers on the plate with a dishcloth while turning the plate properly. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I feel like I'm at one of Tony's fancy brunch."

"Never been to one of those, but it sure sounds like the food would be good."

"It was." For a fraction of a second, her smile turned sad. "It was one of the first things I experienced after coming to the States. I couldn't enjoy the food properly, but having everyone with me… it was special. Especially after…" she cut herself, her eyes lost somewhere away. She came back quickly and turned to you.

"Thank you so much." She put her hand on yours briefly as she thanked you, and your heart skipped a beat. You grinned proudly.

"Of course."

With that you went back to the kitchen, feeling rejuvenated by the simple contact and closer to Wanda after the short conversation, despite being worried about what she decided to hide. You knew you could probably just do some research on her history and come to your own conclusions based on context, but it felt intrusive, so you decided against it. Once you were back behind the stove, Billy then Tommy appeared one after the other, in different states of awakening. With them finally present, you also sat down to enjoy breakfast, then everyone left to go get ready for the day. 

You were quick to arrive at the clothing store and grab whatever caught your fancy. You knew you weren't going to buy anything but it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy trying on nice clothes. There was a leather jacket that caught your attention and you put it on your arm to try it later as you kept going around the store. You looked at some things with Wanda while the boys were in the other section of the store.

"What do you think of this dress?" Wanda asked you as she held a nice black and white garment with a bit of a vintage style in front of herself. You tried to imagine her in it, and if you were honest to yourself you thought she'd probably even look good in a potato bag.

"I think it'd look great!" The woman smiled at you and added it to the small pile of clothes she had collected so far. Now you knew where Tommy's sense of style came from at least.

With that in mind, you joined back with the boys to try on what you had found in the store. Like you, Billy only had a few items, so you went first to try the clothes, putting on a mini show. You really liked the leather jacket, the twins and Wanda complimenting you on it, and you thought for a second that maybe you should buy it. But upon seeing the price again you grimaced and decided to put it with the rest of the clothes you couldn't buy anyway.

After you, Wanda and Tommy started their own mini show of trying their clothes. It was the occasion for you to admire the woman some more without feeling like a creep. You were right in your earlier assessment; Wanda could wear anything and look gorgeous. As both Tommy and Wanda went back into the fitting room, Billy decided to wander back into the store, leaving you alone on the bench where you waited for the rest of the show.

"Billy? Can you come help me with the zipper of my dress?" Wanda called, and you looked around. With your friend gone, you hesitantly approached the fitting room curtain.

"He went back into the store," you simply said to her. A few floating seconds passed.

"Can you help me then?"

You hesitated. On one hand, being in such a small space with her not technically fully dressed seemed like a bad idea for the blooming crush you had on her, and on the other hand, it's not like she was naked or like it was anything more than innocent. In the end, you got a hold of yourself.

"Yes. Yes I can." You entered the fitting room quickly so as to not expose her. There she was, her back turned on you, her back in full view while she was holding the dress up to cover the rest of her body. Your mouth felt dry when you came closer to her.

"I can't catch the zipper, so if you could just…" she trailed off but you understood clearly what she needed.

"Okay, let me just…"

You chased a few strands of hair away from her back to go with the rest, the soft texture burning on your fingers. You noticed a few goosebumps on her skin at this point, and you wanted nothing more than to trace along them on her back. It was easy to imagine the silky skin under your fingertips, the warmth of it against your lips, and the taste between your teeth. There was a dull ache inside of you, like a deep resonance that called to you. But you controlled yourself. With as much delicacy as you could manage, you took the zipper between your fingers and brought it up carefully until it hit the top of the dress.

"There you go," you almost whispered before looking up. Your eyes met in the mirror and you could swear you saw the same hunger as yours deep inside her green irises.

"Thank you," she told you, and you saw her neck bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard. Electricity ran through you and your hand raised, ready to meet hers so you could turn her around and get more than you did the past week.

"Where is everyone?" You heard Tommy ask. You stopped in your tracks, back to reality. After blinking a few times, you took a step back and came out of the fitting room trying to look casual.

"Sorry, I was helping Wanda with something."

She actually came out in turn and showed the dress to Tommy. She looked like nothing had happened - and technically nothing had - but you could still feel the blood filling your ears like the single most important decision of your life had been taken away from you. You contained a sigh and went back to sit while the rest of the time spent in the store flew by.

*

A few days went by, during which you tried to control your growing feelings. You quickly realized it was a futile endeavor the one day Wanda joined you to swim in the morning. Seeing her in her swimming suit, you couldn't help but appreciate the display of skin and how utterly beautiful she looked - leftover traces of pregnancy and all. She caught you looking at her a few times, and without ever missing a beat she smiled at you. It was a simple moment that cemented your attraction to her and whatever else you weren't ready to admit you were feeling. But despite that simple interaction, the peace that came with her small reciprocation didn't last.

You were playing on the PS5 with Billy, while Tommy was outside working on his tan. This day had been slow, until now when Wanda started getting ready for her outing.

"I'm almost ready to leave," Wanda said as she adjusted her long hair over her shoulder, then her carmine dress. She put on her heels and looked herself over in the mirror. "I left you with enough money for whatever you want to order, don't break the house, I'll be back late so be in bed before I come back."

"You hear that Tommy?" Billy relayed.

"No, sorry, the sun is blocking my ears!"

You paused the game and stood up with Billy to see her out when you noticed the luxurious car waiting in front of the house. A man stood up next to it, dressed in a relaxed suit. You frowned slightly as you looked back at Wanda, and it hit you. This 'outing' was definitely a date. Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach.

"Have fun, mom," Billy said as he gave his mother a hug. Meanwhile you stayed standing in the hallway, frozen as every little sign you thought you saw her give to you came to your mind. Had you been imagining it? Your focus came back on Wanda when you felt her gaze on you, very briefly. You took a deep breath to ground yourself.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," she said before she disappeared through the door. Without another word, Billy taped you in the shoulder on his way to the console. It was enough to get you to automatically join him, your mind lost in speculations.

You spent the rest of the evening coming in and out of your thoughts, unable to share them with anyone, even when the conversation veered towards Wanda's date as you were eating your pizza.

"So, what did the guy look like?" Tommy asked his brother, who shrugged.

"He was a bit far so I didn't get to see well enough but he looked okay."

"What about you, Y/n, saw anything?"

You went back to the moment you saw the man in your head, only the feeling of hating the man for no reason. "There was nothing special besides his cool car."

Tommy groaned at your answer, looking at his pizza with distaste.

"You guys suck at gossiping, I swear."

You laughed lightly, and Billy pushed the last slice of pizza towards you as he spoke very wisely.

"Mom doesn't want us to meet the guy, we shouldn't force it. It's only their second date, there is really no reason to push."

You took the pizza slice, listening intently as you ate.

"I just wish she'd date someone fun or something," Tommy pouted.

"You can't think only of yourself." Billy had a point there, and his brother knew it, but it also hit you. You had to consider them in the equation of whatever you were feeling, whether Wanda liked you back or not. You couldn't just keep thirsting over their mom like that. With that new revelation in mind, you all watched a movie and went to bed. 

The shadows around you were your only company, until you heard someone open the door downstairs. By the sounds she made, it had to be Wanda who was trying to be discreet as she was coming up the stairs. You followed her tracks around the house with your hearing, until she was finally in her bedroom. You closed your eyes, thinking she was going to go to bed but instead she opened the door to the balcony and took one of the chairs to sit on it. You frowned slightly, trying to visualize what she was doing but there was no point, you couldn't hear a thing anymore. You stayed in bed some more time until the curiosity was killing you, then you stood up and joined Wanda on the balcony. She was leaning against the railing, back in comfortable clothes, and looking at the sky hanging so far away from her. There was a glass and a bottle of wine sitting next to her. It was clear that she was lost in thoughts and didn't notice you.

"How was your date?" You asked rather bluntly, surprising her. She turned around quickly, wisps of red at her fingertips that vanished when she saw it was only you.

"Why aren't you asleep?" She returned on the defensive, her accent coming through for once. You approached and leaned against the railing like she did earlier.

"I just couldn't find sleep. Your turn now."

Wanda let out a sigh and resumed her position, not looking at you as she answered.

"I don't think I'm going to see him again." That answer made you feel conflicted. Your heart was making jumps and bounds at that, but her voice was so dejected that you couldn't help but feel bad for her. She grabbed her glass of wine and drank a sip. "Honestly I don't even know why I accepted a second date to begin with."

"That bad?" You tried in support to allow her to empty her mind.

"He just loved talking about himself, would try to order in my stead, and he had questionable opinions. To the point where I wondered why he would go on a date with me, a lowly woman with powers." You frowned at that last bit. Clearly the man was an idiot with an inflated ego.

"If he was that bad, why did you give him a second chance?" There was no blame in your voice, just pure curiosity. She took some time before she answered you, drinking a few more sips of wine.

"Part of it is loneliness, I suppose. Another part is…" she trailed off, her head briefly turning to look at you. "It doesn't really matter."

You hummed, half catching on to what she wasn't telling you. That you were part of the equation, even if she hadn't known you for long. But you had had your epiphany that night, so knowing that didn't matter anymore, you couldn't betray the twins.

"Loneliness sure sucks," you simply agreed. You took the glass of wine from her hand to take a sip while looking at her. Even in the dark you could see a small blush on her cheeks. "Makes us do dumb stuff."

"Aren't you a little bit young for that?" She arched an eyebrow at you and you smirked in return.

"I mean… yes," you admitted. "But not by much. Plus, it's not the first time I drink."

You winked at her and took one more sip before you put down the glass. She took it in turn and drank some more, then refilled it. There was peaceful, comfortable silence between the both of you as you shared the glass.

"Can I ask you something?" Wanda finally asked you, turning more towards you with a concerned but curious look. You shrugged slightly.

"Go ahead."

"How come… where…" she fiddled with her fingers and changed the leg she was most leaning against. "Where are your parents?"

You looked at her, no surprise on your face that she would ask that. It made sense after all that she would worry about it considering that you were invading her place for most of the summer. You linked your hands in front of you and looked away.

"I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. They're monsters." Memories started to surface as your eyes darkened. Visions of a dark basement and blood, of horrible words and terrible faith. When her hand landed on your shoulder, it took you out of those moments and anchored you to the now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before her arms linked around you in a tentative hug. Her warmth and smell enveloped you like a reassuring blanket and you found yourself melting against her. Your vision became blurry; a few tears trailed down your cheeks. It took you some time, but eventually you calmed down enough to start enjoying the contact with Wanda.

You took a deep breath as you nudged your face closer to her neck and enjoyed the smell of cinnamon, sandalwood, and wine coming off of her. One of her hands made small circles on your back and you relaxed some more, until you emerged from the embrace and your gazes locked. The iridescent greens of her eyes were dancing under the moonlight like otherworldly flames ready to engulf you in its fire. It would have been so easy in this instant to lean closer and capture her lips, caress her rosy cheeks, and make her yours. And she did lean closer, her eyes fluttering shut, as you yourself started to initiate a kiss. But as you felt her breath on your lips, and could almost taste her supple mouth, a small voice in your head stopped you.

"I… I can't," you said, and she straightened up, looking red in shame.

"Oh. It's… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she hid her face behind her hand and turned around, her back to you. Your lips formed a line and you took a step back.

"No, it's not you. I just… now… it's not a good time."

"No, you're right. We can't."

"I'm sorry," you said last before you fled to your bedroom, leaving Wanda alone on the balcony.

*

The dark basement had been your home for the last two years. At first, it wasn't that bad. You were in chains, but you got three meals a day and your parents would come and see you, trying to understand what happened, and encourage you to lose your powers somehow. And you tried, but you could always feel them in you, lurking in each shadow that you could see.

Then came the torture. New ways to deprive you of your 'gift from Satan'. First the exorcisms, then the cold of winter, then the electroshocks, then, then, then. One day, they simply didn't show up. No food and no water were brought to you. But no torture either. At first it happened maybe one time a week, they would forget you. It quickly became a habit. Two days a week, three days a week, five days a week. They would make sure you stayed alive, but it was like they had forgotten you. You were getting weaker and weaker, until one day you heard it.

Your doom.

A baby crying upstairs.

And at that moment you could feel in your guts what was their next step, what they needed to do to make sure that baby would be blessed by a life in the light of God. You almost accepted it. You felt so weak, ready to depart that torturous world that had been so unfair to you. So when the steps came down, you did nothing. When you saw the hammer, you did nothing. You laid there like a lamb waiting for slaughter.

He sat down next to you on your makeshift bed and caressed your hair with a tenderness you hadn't known the past two years. He told you it was going to be okay, that your suffering was over. You wanted it to be. Until you saw his smile amidst the tears, the happiness of finally getting rid of you overtaking him. It made you sick. He brought his hammer up. And then there was blood. Not yours, but his, as you held up a dagger made out of shadows. You stabbed him a second time. A third time. Almost went for a fourth but you couldn't see anything anymore. Everything was blurred by your tears and his screams.

She must have heard him, because she came downstairs. You threatened her for the key, and once the chains were down, you ran. You were no lamb. You were alive.

[runnning-outof-time]

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[kinardbuckleys]

the first time Buck says 'I love you' to Tommy, it's because he walks into his loft after a long and arduous shift under Gerrard, feeling dead on his feet and already mentally flicking through the takeout menus he keeps next to the fridge. but when he opens the door, he's hit by the smell of garlic bread and marinara. he walks in, and when his tired mind registers that Tommy's standing by stove with one of his apron's tied around him, he drops his duffle on the ground with a heavy 'thud.'

Tommy turns around at the sound and gives him a soft, close mouthed smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, you," he says, and his eyes scan Buck from head to toe in a careful, silent assessment. "Welcome home. I'd come kiss you hello, but I don't want the sauce to burn."

Buck makes a low, wordless sound deep in his throat and closes the door before crossing to the kitchen and slipping in behind Tommy, nose pressed to the place where his neck and shoulders meet, and his hands fitting themselves to the broad expanse of Tommy's waist. He takes a moment to breathe it all in: the butter and garlic, the bubbling tomato sauce in all its herbaceous glory, the smell of his own shampoo in Tommy's hair, the faint tang of salt and sweat.

Tommy uses his free hand to cover one of Buck's own and squeeze, tilting his head enough that he can see him out of the corner of his eye. "You okay?" he murmurs, and Buck shrugs against his back.

"Better now," he says, digging his chin into Tommy's trapezius muscle. Tommy hums and presses his nose into Buck's hair - still curly from his hurried shower at the firehouse - before brushing a kiss there as well.

Buck leans into it, eyes closing. Inside of him, a familiar warmth rises up. It's one he's been feeling for a while now, simmering inside of him at all times, even if it's only been recently that he's put a name to it. It fills his chest, his throat, and makes his tongue buzz until he can no longer keep the words inside.

"I love you," he says into the hinge of Tommy's jaw, and feels more than he sees the way Tommy takes a sharply indrawn breath. The wooden spoon he's been using to meticulously stir the marinara hits the side of the pot with a muted 'clang,' and Tommy turns around in his arms.

Two large, warm hands fit themselves against Buck's jaw and tilt his head into a kiss. Tommy's mouth is soft and trembling, moving so carefully against his own that it makes Buck feel a little misty eyed. Tommy pulls away, eyes closed, and runs the line of his nose against his own. His thumbs are a gentle sweep against the scrape of Buck's stubble.

"I love you, Evan," Tommy says, in a voice more quiet than Buck has ever heard him use. He sounds awed, a little choked up, like maybe he never thought he could have this, and Buck has no choice but to sink into another kiss.

(The sauce burns, but only a little. It's still the best meal Buck's ever had.)

CAROLINE!!

[five-bi-five-mind]

New Addition

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Words: 5.5k+

Genre: Fluff & Smutt

Summary: After things get serious with Wanda, she's finally ready to let you meet the twins. When everything just clicks with all of you, Wanda is even more smitten and so are you. So much so, that she might be getting a little ahead of herself...

Warnings: fingering (r receiving); biting, strap-on use (r receiving); magic strap; mommy kink; praise; pet-names; cum-filled strap; top!Wanda, bottom!r; breeding kink (maybe?); let me know if I forgot things...

A/N: So this was a request I received on another Wanda fic of mine posted to AO3... figured I'd run with it. Also kinda hate both the name and the gif I came up with for this fic but oh well... anyways, yay 1k celebrationnnnn

Another New Addition (Part 2)

“You did so good with them,” Wanda said with a soft smile. Her back pressed against the door as you walked further into her bedroom. “They absolutely loved you.” 

“I loved them too.” You returned her smile before turning around and taking in her room. Never had you stepped foot in here. You were honestly giddy just being in her home and taking in her surroundings, but now to finally be in her bedroom, a place that was so private and intimate to her… Well, you were over the moon.

In fact, you could probably say that you were glowing. In the six months that you had been with Wanda, you both decided to take things relatively slow. Any nights alone with her were spent at your apartment, not hers. You were totally okay with that. With Wanda having two boys, you knew what a big step it was to introduce you to them. That was always the plan though. Wanda had discussed it with you in detail. Once things got serious, if they got serious, you’d be slowly and gently integrated into their family dynamic. 

And of course, things got serious. What with Wanda blurting out how much she loved you within the first three months of your relationship and you immediately returning that sentiment with teary eyes. Still, you spent three months adjusting to that new development before you even thought about meeting her kids.

But then it finally came time to see them. Wanda approached you with a smile on her face, the one she got whenever she wanted something, and you willingly listened to her plea. Maybe the idea of meeting them utterly terrified you, but only because you knew how important it was for you to bond with them. You prepared yourself for some awkwardness, maybe even a little rejection from them at first. Lucky for you, you didn’t even need to worry at all. 

They were hesitant at first, but so were you. Wanda nudged the three of you along for maybe the first hour of meeting each other, but then it was like everything fell into place. It helped that deep inside you were kind of a big nerd. When they talked about their interests you immediately jumped in. That led Tommy to immediately beg for you to see all their stuff and Billy to tug you through the house until you reached their room. They then proceeded to give you a tour of what was quite possibly all of the items they ever owned. You nodded excitedly as they each took turns explaining just about everything in their possession and that just added to their excitement too. It felt like maybe minutes went by, but in reality over an hour had passed. 

Wanda, the whole time, just stood back and watched with the brightest smile glued to her face. The amount of pride and love she had for her boys was so evident in everything she did, but you didn’t have to see to know that. The way she would talk about them for hours with so much happiness in her voice had already told you as much, and you loved to listen to her talk about her family. Anytime she did, you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about being added to their dynamic. It didn’t help that her love for you was also just as evident, making it easier for you to rationalize how easily you could fit in with the three of them. And as Wanda watched with delight at how fast you all clicked, she was filled with those same daydreams you often had. 

When it was rounding on three hours of you and the boys just spending time together, she finally broke the three of you out of your moment. It was probably important for all of you to eat even if you were just as disappointed as the twins when the three of you were torn from their extra detailed room tour. Wanda had to bite her lip to hold back a cheeky grin when she saw you following the boys out of their room with a matching pout. 

What really won you points with them was your insistence on pizza instead of Wanda putting in even more effort to orchestrate this perfect night with a fancy home-cooked dinner. She already worked so hard, she didn’t need to prepare some sort of three course meal too. Plus, the boys were over the moon for the idea of pizza and even more so when you said your favorite toppings were the same as theirs.

After full stomachs and more exciting conversation over just about everything the twins loved, you all settled with a movie. The movie was probably the hardest thing to pay attention to. The boys curled up on one side of the room, their eyes glued to whatever action scenes were unfolding on the screen. You weren’t really sure what the plot was and you didn’t even remember the movie title, not when Wanda had you wrapped up in her arms. 

It was all honestly very innocent. You leaned back on Wanda and she pulled a blanket over you both. Her fingers were innocently running up and down your arms as the movie went on, and while it was nothing inappropriate, it still made your heart race at the intimacy of it all. How could you pay attention to the movie when you were wrapped in the arms of the woman you loved and felt like you were instantly accepted into her family? You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. 

As the movie continued, you looked across the room at her two boys who were slowly falling asleep while trying and failing to remain focused on the screen. There was a soft smile on your lips that had practically never left since the moment Wanda got comfy with you on the couch. As silly as it might be, you couldn’t help but think that you could get used to this. Your mind wandered to the idea of having weekly evenings like this, quietly spending time with Wanda and her family until they all finally saw you as their family too. Never had you wanted something more strongly than for this night to become a regular occurrence. Maybe it was too fast. After all, you just met the boys and you’ve been dating Wanda for less than a year, but something inside you just said that all of this was right. It was a gut feeling that told you this is exactly where you were supposed to be. With Wanda, helping raise the boys if she’d let you, and spending every day of the rest of your life loving the three of them with everything you had.

You rubbed at your eyes, feeling a little sappy for the tears that welled there from the realization of just how perfect everything was. Wanda took your movement as a sign that maybe you were just as sleepy as the boys, whispering in your ear if maybe the four of you should finish the movie another night. Wanda didn’t buy it when you shook your head and tried to convince her you weren’t that sleepy. 

Of course, no matter how convincing you were, the boys really were not. They were struggling to keep their eyes open, their little heads nodding back onto the couch every few minutes before they jostled themselves awake. While they weren’t in love with the idea of calling the night early, Wanda was so good with them and convincing that they eventually agreed. What really got to you, in a good way, was that Wanda promised you’d be back for another night like this and that’s what finally eased their minds enough to agree to tuck in for bed. 

After she had them all tucked in, they were both in a deep sleep within minutes. You hung back while Wanda got them ready for bed, but you heard the way she cooed at them and cared for them as they settled into bed. While she was doing that, you were sitting alone, waiting for her to guide you to her bedroom. It was at this point in the night that anxiousness crept back in. Both of you had talked about it and planned for this to also be the first time you were to sleep over at her house too. There had been plenty of times where Wanda had got a sitter overnight and stayed with you, but this still felt very new. It was a big deal, and you were getting a little in your head about it.

Eventually, Wanda returned to you, slipping her hand in yours and pulling you towards her bedroom. Her soft smile matched the one you had worn earlier and you tried to match it, but nerves were getting the best of you. If Wanda noticed, she didn’t say much. She just introduced you to her room and motioned for you to walk in before she followed behind you.

And now, here you both were. Her smile was large as she praised you for the day and your nerves had momentarily left your body as you beamed proudly back at her.

They really did seem to get along well with you and it was so important for both you and Wanda that that happened. It was like a dream come true honestly, to be so quickly accepted by her kids and to so quickly accept them too. You were excited about what the future could bring, if the four of you could truly be one big happy family like you hoped. It had been one evening, but suddenly you found yourself wanting that future more than anything else you’ve ever wanted in your entire life. As Wanda smiled back at you, you thought maybe you could confidently guess that she wanted the exact same. 

“Was it too presumptuous of me to promise the boys another family night?” Wanda looked at you with the most hopeful eyes as she spoke.

Family Night. Those words made your heart flutter. It really did seem like Wanda felt what you were feeling about the whole evening. It was like this meant-to-be connection between all of you. You knew Wanda was the one for you the moment you two met, and Wanda had hinted that the feeling was mutual too. Now, since you’ve met her family, that same gut feeling was even stronger. It felt like, not only was Wanda meant to be your person, but the three of them were meant to be your family too. 

“No, no, no.” You were maybe too eager to convince Wanda you were more than happy with that. “It wasn’t too presumptuous.”

Wanda pushed herself off from where she was leaning on her bedroom door. In a few steps, she was suddenly in front of you, her arms wrapped around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Really?” She smiled and you nodded enthusiastically. Her lips pressed to yours in a gentle, but brief kiss. 

“I’d love to do it again,” you said against her lips, leaning back in for more. “And again…” you kissed her once. “And again…” you kissed her once more. “And again.”

Wanda pulled back to look at you, her smile so contagious it made you forget all about your nervousness that you had just moments ago. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” Wanda pressed her forehead to yours as she spoke. She placed her hands on either of your cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into her touch. “I’ve been picturing this since the day I met you and it was all so perfect. You’re perfect.”

You closed your eyes as she spoke such sweet words to you. It was all making you so incredibly happy that you were at a loss for words. Your hands came up to cover Wanda’s and you turned your head to kiss the palm of one of her hands. She hummed softly to herself for a second, her forehead still pressed to yours.

You both stayed like that for a moment, basking in how happy and in love both of you were. One of the biggest things about tonight, other than being accepted by the two most important people in Wanda’s life, was that all of this just made your love for her even stronger. Wanda, of course, felt the exact same way. 

As she watched you, she was in awe of how good you were with them. It was almost like you slipped into a role she had never seen from you, but had hoped was there or would develop over time. As the boys talked to you about their interests and their lives, you showed this almost maternal side; one that knew how to respond to even the silliest of things they said to you. And then you also had this goofy, friendly side to you that matched her boys’ energy so perfectly, it was like a match made in heaven. As Wanda watched you throughout the night, she couldn’t imagine a better partner to integrate into her family dynamic. 

When the movie was playing, Wanda was filled with daydreams of what making you a permanent part of her family would look like. The evenings you’d spend with her and the twins, the adventures you’d all go on, the fun and love you’d share. To Wanda, those daydreams felt very possible to actualize and she planned to do so. Wanda knew, when she first met you, that you would be someone good for her boys, and she felt even more validated as the evening went on.

As Wanda was promising the boys that you would be back, she was consumed with thoughts of how fast she really could convince you to take more steps into a bigger commitment with her. There were quick little thoughts that popped into her mind about proposing, asking you to move in, talking to you about future building in a more real and permanent sense. She had a small worry that she was moving too fast. Not in a way that she thought things between the two of you would go bad, but just that she didn’t want to bombard you with so much so quickly. Except, these little thoughts about a future with you got bigger and louder as she pulled you to her bedroom. In the short walk it took to drag you through her halls, she started having ideas about even expanding the family with you. Seeing you not only become a co-parent to her twins, but carrying and being a mother to another child of hers. 

That last idea was even stronger when she finally had her arms around you in the privacy of her own bedroom. She was getting ahead of herself with all of these images of you becoming her wife and her coming home to you, her boys, and possibly a new addition to her family. The thought of you and her creating a new life together was starting to intrigue her. Maybe a little too much… 

Wanda leaned into you again, placing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kind that had you leaning forward for more when she pulled away. She let out a soft laugh at your actions, but continued to deny you another kiss to your lips. Instead, she pressed hers to your cheek and then your other, showering you with soft kisses all over your face and enjoying the warmth she felt rise on your skin from her actions. 

You couldn’t stop your smile from growing as she treated you with such tenderness. Your heart raced as she moved her lips to jaw and then cupped your chin to tilt your head and press her lips to your pulse point. She trailed her lips down your neck then, with feather light kisses as she went. Her hands moved down to encircle your waist again and press the two of you even closer together. Your head swam at the feeling of her lips on you and being engulfed in her warmth. She really was perfect for you. It was like she knew exactly how to make you melt in the palm of her hand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Wanda murmured against your neck, her teeth lightly nibbling at the skin there. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her lips on your neck and you hummed an incoherent response. “I love you so much,” Wanda continued, her lips moving back up to your own before placing another kiss to them.

“And I love you,” You whispered into the kiss. Wanda kissed you again at that, but this time a little harder. The kiss was slow, but she was moving her lips against yours in such a way that had you already feeling drunk on them alone. Your lips parted and Wanda’s tongue peeked out, running against yours ever so slightly, but just enough to cause you to shiver. And then, all too soon she pulled away, leaving you breathless in her wake. 

“I’ve been working on something I want to try…” Wanda’s voice was quiet as she pulled back slightly. You’ve seen a lot of sides of Wanda, but this one was a little new. It almost seemed like she was shy, nervous even, for whatever she had in mind. 

You met her eyes, giving her a gentle smile while you waited for her to continue. The arms around you moved, hands slipping underneath your shirt to press flat to your back. She ran her hands up slowly as she nibbled on her lip, you could tell she was hesitant about what she would say next. 

“Wanda,” you urged. “What is it?” You let out a soft, nervous giggle. Whatever she had in mind had you excited already, but the way she was being so withholding about it made waiting for the reveal a little anxiety inducing. 

“Do you trust me?” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned back in. 

“Of course,” you said breathlessly, waiting for her lips to press against yours once more. This time when they did, her hands pressed your body fully against her own when your lips met. The way she kissed you had your head spinning. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle. It was hungry.

When you parted your lips for her, she licked into your mouth and you couldn’t help the soft moan that broke free. This only egged Wanda on further, moving her hands until she was pulling your shirt up and then completely off. In the moment that her actions broke the kiss you took a deep breath before Wanda’s lips smashed back into yours. Your hands tangled in her hair and you pressed yourself against her as if any minuscule amount of space was too much for you. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda mumbled against your lips, but you were too lost in hers to respond. 

Wanda pulled her head back and chuckled at the pout that followed after. “Baby, are you sure?” Wanda asked again, to which you fervently nodded. “Will you let me try something, then?”

“Anything,” you mumbled.

“Good…” Wanda trailed off before pushing you to walk backwards until your legs hit the foot of the bed. “Sit back for me, pretty girl.” You did as you were told, your face flushed a darker shade of pink from her use of pet names. 

Wanda leaned down over you as you scooted yourself onto the bed, hooking her hands into your belt loops. You knew what she wanted and one hand quickly went to unbutton your jeans before she gave them a hard yank towards her. With some awkward maneuvering, you helped her get them all the way off your body, along with your panties, and then looked up expectantly at her. 

Her clothes met yours on her bedroom floor. Both of you stood still for second, each taking in the other’s naked form. Wanda was gorgeous, standing there in nothing in front of you and she thought the same as you sat propped up on her bed. 

After a moment, Wanda lifted her hand up and you watched as she briefly flicked her fingers. Then, when her eyes moved down her own body, yours followed and your eyes practically bugged out of your head. Okay, this was something new. 

Between her legs, attached with straps, was a dark red dildo. It wasn’t small, but you didn’t think it was necessarily too big either. It wasn’t like you weren’t interested in trying this with Wanda, it was just that you two hadn’t even talked about introducing toys in the bedroom yet and suddenly, with a literal snap of her fingers, it was there in front of you. 

Wanda looked back up at you, a subtle swirl of red shining in her eyes. “Is this okay?” Wanda flicked her eyes back down to the toy between her legs before looking up at you again. 

Your mouth went dry, trying to find the words to tell her yes; it was more than okay. But you were also nervous with anticipation for her to finally touch you and use it. You swallowed hard. “Y-yeah,” you struggled, “it is.”

Wanda’s smile turned a little predatory as she took a step towards the bed again. She felt so proud of you, seeing how willing you were to do this with her. You were nervous, Wanda could tell, but she had a feeling once you both tried this it would soon become a favorite for both of you. 

She crawled onto the bed, her naked form hovering over yours and you gulped at the proximity. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been like this with Wanda before, it’s just that there was never the addition of what was in between her legs in the mix. 

Wanda kissed your lips again, long and lingering, before she moved to kiss down your chest. Her hands ran from your chest, fingers dancing across your nipples, until they moved further down. She brushed the tips of her fingers across your skin with such gentleness, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until finally she reached between your legs. Her fingers met your wetness already, the kisses she gave mixed with the perfection that is her body had you already in need of her touch. When the tips of her fingers brushed your clit, a shiver ran through your body, and when they repeated their feather light touch, Wanda reveled in the fact that your body reacted so easily to her. 

Lips kissed back up to your neck and a hand pressed to your sternum until you were finally fully laying back on the bed. Your head tilted back to let Wanda run her tongue down the most sensitive parts of the flesh there. By this time, Wanda had started to steadily circle your clit with her fingers, causing soft, breathy sighs to fall from your lips. 

The excitement of all of this was getting to her. To say it was hard to wait, was an understatement. Wanda was so floored by your reactions and couldn’t wait to try what she had planned for you. If you were already this worked up from light touches, she could only anticipate how you’d react when she was inside you in a way she hadn’t been before. But still, she needed to go slow, prepare you. She didn’t want to break you after all. 

Her fingers ran down your folds, tracing your entrance before slowly dipping two in. You let out a gasp that was only made louder by the way Wanda moved to your chest and took a nipple into her mouth. Her tongue ran over your nipples, switching between the two, as she pumped her fingers into you at a leisurely pace. Whines were filling the room and she knew you were frustrated with how slow she was touching you. It seemed you both were excited for the main event. 

When your hips started to move with her fingers, Wanda could tell this was your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum. Her free hand went straight to your hip, her grip a bit harsh as she forced your body to still on the mattress. “Shhh, baby, not yet,” she purred. “You’re not going to cum on my fingers tonight.”

You huffed in frustration and Wanda pulled her fingers all the way out. That had you really whiny. Wanda bit her lip to try to hide the smug smile that tugged on her lips, half considering to tease you for awhile before she really started to fuck you. But then again, she was too excited to wait any longer. 

Sitting back on the bed, Wanda moved your legs until she was between them with either of them hooked over her hips. She sat there for a moment, admiring the sight before her. She knew you were wet from how she was already touching you, but to see your pussy drip with your wetness made her mouth water. 

“Wanda…” you pleaded after a moment passed and Wanda continued to just hungrily stare. 

She snapped out of it with your plea, her hand moving to wrap around the deep red toy before lining it up with your entrance. “This isn’t just a toy. It’s magic,” Wanda said, her body still with the tip of it barely pushing into you. “I’ll be able to feel you.” 

It took you a moment to register what she meant, but she didn’t really give you a moment. Her hips pressed forward and you felt her enter you completely. “Oh!” You moaned as you felt your walls stretch around her. 

Wanda groaned as she entered you, her eyes squeezing shut. She was trying to take in deep breaths, trying to restrain herself, but dear god the feeling of you was intoxicating. 

Your head fell back down onto the pillow as Wanda rolled her hips, her cock hitting deep inside you. She had a hold of your hips as your legs were still propped on hers, it gave her the best angle to hit deeper. The way she could feel every inch of the toy inside your pussy had her head swimming.

Wanda tried to start at a slow pace, she really did, but with each pump of her hips you let out an adorable whimper and she felt your pussy practically twitch around her. It was all too much. With your legs still hooked to her, Wanda fell forward onto the mattress, your bodies pressed together, with her hands barely holding her up. With this position, your legs hooked over her waist, Wanda could fuck you deeper and all her restraint broke.

“Holy shi-“ Wanda cut herself off with a low moan. The way her body was moving against yours had your head spinning, her pace increasing more and more. “I knew- fuck- I knew it would feel good, but not this fucking good.” 

Wanda’s hips were rolling into you in such a way that your whole body rocked back with the power of her thrusts. One hand grabbed onto the forearm by your head. Your nails dug into her skin as she kept pulling her cock almost all the way out of you just to slam it back in. She definitely wasn’t being gentle with you anymore and you couldn’t begin to care. The force of her cock pumping into you had your whole body deliciously shaking.

Wanda was barely holding herself up as it is, but when your pussy started tightening around her cock she couldn’t keep it up. She was fully pressed against you, quite literally fucking you into the mattress. Her face was tucked into the side of your neck as her hands flew back to your hips, moving your body into hers so she could grind you onto her cock while she fucked you. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, balled in a fist. Your teeth dug into your knuckles to try to muffle any sounds that were coming out of you, while Wanda hid her groans of pleasure into your neck. “You feel so fucking good,” Wanda growled in your ear as the force of her thrusts increased. “You’re gonna cum on mommy’s cock, okay princess?”

The way she was talking was also new, but it just added to your building orgasm. You nodded desperately, helpless to do anything but let her continue to fuck into you with abandon. 

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” she groaned. “Wouldn’t you like that? Let mommy cum inside you, paint your pretty pussy with my cum. Tell me you want my cum.”

“Y-yes please,” you stammered. 

Her movements were becoming more erratic and as you were approaching your edge, you knew she was too. The way your pussy was squeezing her tight, mixed with the way you struggled to stay quiet was too much for her. Wanda came and she came hard, her teeth digging into your neck to muffle her moans. 

The second she came you felt her cum hit your walls. A gasp was barely muffled when your own orgasm hit you. The surprising feeling of her warm cum inside you mixed with the sting of her bite had your body quake and tears well in your eyes at the sheer power of your orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Wanda groaned into your neck, her hips continuing to move and fuck her cum into you. The way she felt your orgasm had her cum again, filling your pussy up and prolonging your own orgasm. 

When you finally came down your body slumped onto the bed, your eyes shut tight as you tried to catch your breath. Wanda pressed her head to your chest, listening to your racing heartbeat as she tried to calm down from her own orgasms. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered in wonder. That was intense. She drew from you what was probably the most powerful orgasm of your life. 

“Yeah, oh my god.” Wanda let out a breathless laugh. Wanda pulled out of you after a moment, a shiver running through your body as she did. 

She sat back up, her cum dripping from your entrance. You continued to lay on the bed, still utterly spent as Wanda trailed her fingers down your thighs. “You look so pretty with my cum dripping down your thighs,” she whispered to herself more than to you. You just hummed, your eyes still shut as you tried to calm your breathing.  “Wonder how many times until it takes…”

You perked up at that, your eyes opening to glance at Wanda. “What do you mean?” You were more curious than worried about her odd remark. 

“I said it was magic…” Wanda trailed off, her fingers continuing to idly trace across your skin. “You’d look so beautiful carrying my child.”

“Wanda…” You sat up fully at this. The look you gave her told her you were feeling hesitant now, but Wanda just met your eyes with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry.” Her fingers stilled as she spoke. “I’m still figuring it out, nothing should happen this time. It took me a while just to conjure up something I could feel. To create life with it intentionally will take work. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

There was a lot of interesting wording in that, but you chose to ignore it. After all, it wasn’t even a couple hours ago that you were thinking similar thoughts about being a part of and maybe even expanding Wanda’s family. If she was really worried about that sort of risk she would’ve told you up front. At least, you hoped so. 

In truth, Wanda really wasn’t sure. She thought, as far as she knew, what she was saying was true. If she was being honest with herself, she probably should’ve given more thought to the whole ordeal and what consequences might come after, but when Wanda had this idea in her mind she was just too excited to postpone it. The sheer need to feel you as she fucked you and to be able to actually cum inside you was too overwhelming. She didn’t want to wait another minute after tonight, so threw caution to the wind. 

If there are results that come after this night, while she seriously doubted it, she did technically tell you it was magic before you two started. Hopefully, you had some understanding of the unpredictability of things like that. Although, the two of you were already on the same page. Neither of you would mind these repercussions, despite the short time you’ve been together. Wanda knew you were meant to be hers, meant to be in this family, so why not solidify it?

“Can we…” You bit your lip for a moment, a blush creeping to your cheeks again as Wanda waited for you to continue. “Can we try it again?”

Wanda’s grin was dazzling as she happily agreed.

Repercussions be damned. 

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II ║ Threads

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part I: Seams | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: When Joel revisits Main Street Outfitters two weeks later, he finds you on your knees. Again.

Warnings: Very spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: This crept up on me and happened just as I was finishing up edits. I am so grateful, and I hope Threads is a fitting thank you gift to you all 😘 I’m thinking about doing a sleepover celebration, we shall see!

Joel and Pin are back ❤️ They're back because you guys have been so generous with your love, sending me so many ideas and hyping me up - I can't thank you all enough! This chapter is all thanks to Singer machine anon who bravely (affectionate 😉) shared their story of getting stuck under a sewing machine table. I hope you enjoy this one!

A treadle sewing machine is powered mechanically by a foot pedal that is pushed back and forth by the operator's foot. 

If you're not familiar, here is a classic Singer treadle cabinet, which is no way big enough for the purposes of this story, so please exercise your imagination 😉

Joel hovers outside the Jackson Grocer’s, arms crossed, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible in front of the leafy display of butter lettuce heads.

It’s been a few months since he’s settled in, but sometimes he can’t get over how fucking nuts this place is. Looking at the shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables outside, canned food and home goods inside, he could easily be standing outside the 24/7 mart in his old neighbourhood. There are even shopping baskets, for crying out loud - stacked neatly one on top of the other by the door.

A voice pipes up from his left. ‘Didn’t know you ate greens.’

Joel scowls. ‘I don’t.’

‘Why are you loiterin’, then?’ asks Tommy, picking up a couple of apples and examining them with exaggerated care.

‘I’m not loiterin’,’ he spits out the last word as if he’s above it, turning his gaze to the high street. 

Tommy tosses him a cocky grin, head tilted at a knowing angle. ‘Yeah, you are. And now you’re makin’ eyes at Bob. It’s disturbin’.’

Glancing across the main thoroughfare at the welder’s shop, where the said proprietor is cutting up wooden planks on the porch, Joel grumbles sarcastically, ‘That’s right. Bob is just my type.’

At that very moment, right next to Bob's, the door of Main Street Outfitters creaks open, and Joel recognises Lucy instantly as she sneaks out on tiptoes. She skips down the stairs and wanders up the street in what appears to be another impromptu work break.

Joel’s already taken two steps towards the shop before he remembers that he’s not alone. Braking abruptly and bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his neck, he feels Tommy’s eyes on him.

He half-turns, and snaps, ‘What?’

The younger Miller brother shrugs, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘Why are you going to the Outfitters again? Didn’t you just get those new jeans a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Thought I’d get a new shirt for your stupid baby shower.’

‘Joel -’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He throws his hands up in capitulation. ‘Baby showers are not stupid. Especially in the middle of an apocalypse.’

Taking another two steps forward, a thought stops him dead in his tracks again. He can practically feel Tommy smiling smugly at his back.

For fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t turn around this time, jamming his hands into his pockets and asks, ‘Can I bring someone? To the party?’

‘We know Ellie’s comin’.’

Whipping around, he growls, ‘Tommy -’

He laughs. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Joel Miller makin’ friends in town? Maria’s right - you’re fittin’ right in, big brother.’

Rolling his eyes, Joel flips him off and stomps his way across the street.

Tommy calls out at his retreating back. ‘Say hello to Pin and tell her we’d love to have her come over on Sunday!’

When he steps inside, the shop is as empty as it was a fortnight ago. Joel shuts the door firmly, making sure the bell jingles, so his entry doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your voice, though muffled, comes promptly. ‘Lucy! Is that you?’

He heads towards the doorway that leads to the workshop. ‘It’s Joel, actually.’

‘Oh, shit!’

His eyebrows reach for his hairline - you don’t seem to be the type to curse. Concerned, he asks, ‘You alright back there?’

There’s a touch of panic in your reply, ‘Don’t come back here. Did Lucy sneak out again?’

On your instruction, Joel hesitates in the middle of the room, talking to air. ‘Yeah, saw her leave a couple of minutes ago.’

‘Goddamnit, Lucy!’

He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, you sure you’re ok? Should I come back later?’

There’s a resigned sigh, then a pause. ‘Promise you won’t laugh.’

One end of his lips tugs upwards in a smile. ‘Why would I?’

‘Promise.’

At your insistence, he humours you, ‘Alright, I promise, sweetheart.’

‘Come on back.’

When he steps into the workshop, he doesn’t spot you immediately. The space is seemingly empty, everything standing still and in order. He sweeps his eyes across the room, starting with the shelving unit and the desk along the near wall, then trailing over the large timber work table in the middle, where a stack of folded shirts stands neatly.

His throat isn’t the only thing that tightens when he glances at the rug under the skylight -

‘Joel?’

Your voice draws his attention to the far corner of the room, where a sewing station is tucked into a little alcove.

Joel doesn’t know much about sewing machines, but he can recognise a vintage Singer anywhere even without the name blazoned across its elegant body. His grandmother had one in her drawing room by a sunny bay window, and he used to watch her work on it when he visited every other weekend. For a disorienting second, he can almost smell homemade cinnamon rolls and black tea.

Little did he know that things were about to get a lot more disorienting than a pleasant childhood memory.

As he steps around the work table, the rest of the sewing station comes into view, fronted by a big window, the light streaming through the glass glancing off the black sewing machine on top of a classic treadle cabinet. What looks like a half-finished dress lies on the wooden work surface, which stands on quintessential wrought metal legs, and between them - his throat constricts with a slow swallow when he realises what - or rather, who - he’s looking at.

The words barely come out, as if his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, as he makes his presence known. ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’

To be fair, you’re not making things easy by any means. All he can see is your backside hovering in mid-air, the rest of you out of sight under the desk. It has built-in cabinets on each end, the right side of it backed up against the far wall, and a chair is pushed to the side.

Joel stops two measured paces away, staring down at the curve of your ass and the way your top rides up, baring the small of your back. His eyes linger on the soft skin between the shirt’s hem and the waistband of your very tight jeans.

Jesus Christ. Do you always have to be on your fucking knees in this workshop?

Your small voice jolts him from his daze. ‘Well, at least you’re not laughing.’

He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from scoffing. If only you knew how laughing is the furthest thing on his mind right now. ‘What happened?’

‘A spool rolled off and I went down to get it, but I fell on the treadle accidentally - I think my shirt is snagged in the band wheel. I can’t move at all, and this Singer is an antique - I can't risk breaking it.’

Unfamiliar with what you’re talking about, he probes, ‘And where’s the band wheel?’

‘Under the table, on my right.’

You wriggle your hips, perhaps to help him locate where you’re stuck, unaware that you’re not helping. At all. 

He swallows thickly and implores you, ‘Stay still, sweetheart. I’ll take a look.’

It’s been two whole weeks since Joel Miller came into the shop. You’ve caught glimpses of him in between - Jackson is tiny, after all. He catches your eye as he ambles down the high street with Ellie, his gruff Southern accent carrying even in the mid-afternoon bustle, too preoccupied arguing with the teenager to notice you on the other side of the road. He’s in the cafeteria a couple of times when you arrive for a late dinner, nodding at you from a few tables over, while you work up the nerve to smile back.

Every time, he’s wearing the jeans you handpicked for him, which makes your chest swell and constrict at the same time with something like - pride.

You picked out the pair for him. You assured him that he looks good. And by the way he’s wearing his confidence on his sleeve, he’s certainly taken your words to heart. 

Whenever you see other women eyeing him as he struts about town - which is entirely too often - it awakens an ugly possessiveness in you, one that twists your insides into grotesque balloon animals.

Fourteen damn days. Even in the privacy of your workshop, you can’t escape that man. The simple touch of denim provokes a visceral reaction from you, heat chases beneath your skin every time you pick up the tailor’s scissors. It doesn’t help that most of your daily tasks are not exactly cerebral, which gives this man all the more leeway to lay claim to your subconscious.

If you believed in magic, you would've thought you summoned him with the sheer energy you’ve spent thinking about him. But what kind of witchcraft conjured him up at the precise moment you get trapped like the bumbling idiot that you are?

One minute you’re reaching for the stupid thread, the next thing you know, you’re stuck, unable to move without the mechanisms of the antique Singer groaning ominously at your attempts to free yourself.

But maybe, it’s still better than Lucy finding you. She’d take a hammer to the sewing machine to get you out, no question - patience is not her strong suit - and she’d be laughing at you for days.

You hear the floorboards give behind you as Joel moves into the space, which isn’t much - when you’re sat down at the treadle cabinet, the wall is barely two steps behind.

The wooden table creaks above you as he braces one hand on the surface, and you startle at what sounds like the vicious crack of a vertebra.

‘Um - you okay?’

Joel grunts. ‘I’ll live.’

So you wait, thinking absent-mindedly how your elbows are starting to get numb. There’s a scruff of boots and what sounds like a brief struggle, before Joel sighs. ‘Back’s too stiff ‘mfraid. Gotta get on the floor to see underneath.’

Before you can squeak out a reply, there’s a boney click of what you presume is his knees as he crouches down, and an unexpected brush of denim on your left ankle surprises you. Forgetting where you are, you jump in reflex, hitting the underside of the table so hard that you screech in pain.

‘Shit!’ Joel cusses behind you, one warm hand landing on the side of your hip to steady you. ‘You ok?’

Up until this point, you’ve been too consumed with embarrassment by your predicament to even think about the position Joel found you in. But once the warm imprint of his palm registers through the denim, it hits you like one of those interstate trucks that you used to see out of your window.

You’re leaning on your forearms, ass in the air, and now - he’s behind you, getting onto his knees. You can’t decide if the back of your head or your pussy is throbbing harder as you stutter, ‘I’m fine, just - get me out, please.’

‘Alright, hang on, sweetheart.’

You swallow the childish urge to stamp your foot. He has no right going around dropping sweethearts all over the place.

There’s a throaty exhale as Joel lowers himself onto the floor, his knees bracketing yours to shift closer to you. You know he feels the shudder that chases down your spine when soft flannel grazes your bare back, heat spilling from his solid frame as he looms over you.

‘You say you’re stuck in the band wheel?’

Somehow, you manage to answer, ‘Yeah, to my right.’

He clears his throat. ‘I - uh - I’ll have to lean down pretty close to you to take a look, is that ok?’

You feel all the air leave your body, which is probably why your reply comes out far breathier than you intend it to. ‘Yes, Joel.’

And with those two words, Joel has a problem with his jeans. Again.

They’re too tight. Again.

There’s nothing he can do as his mouth goes dry and his cock hardens with a vengeance, his self-control slipping like sand between his fingers.

He was doing so good - well, he was more or less holding it together, as much as he could be expected to while kneeling behind you. And of course, his damn knees hurt, but so does his bottom lip which is caught in his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing when his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. 

He already has one hand on you, and goddamnit, it’s taking him all he’s got to hold back from gripping you with his other, to grasp the swell of your ass between his palms, to trace your curves up to the dip of your exposed waist, to bow his head and run his tongue along the arc of your spine -

And the jeans you’re wearing - fuck, they’re tight. He wonders idly if you wore them for him. His eyes follow the seam that runs down the cleft of your ass, the way the pockets stretch over your backside has his fingers twitching, thinking about how well you will fill his hands, and how the slow rub of denim will burn his skin.

He wants to hook his thumbs into the belt loops and pull you flush against the zipper of his jeans, where his cock is straining against - rub himself on you, grind on you, his thighs plastered to the back of yours -

‘Joel?’

Fuck.

He sways as he snaps out of his stupor, dangerously close to knocking into you, light-headed from the lack of blood to his brain. He chokes out, ‘Yeah, I got you, sweetheart.’

Get it together, you dirty bastard.

He’s careful to leave a couple of inches between his front and your ass when he bends his elbows and ducks so he can peer beneath the desk. His chest pressed flat against your lower back, he can see the bunched fabric of your shirt where it’s caught.

‘Yup, you’re right, your shirt is snagged tight in there.’

‘Can you untangle it?’

‘Think so, but I’ll need both hands.’ He pauses. ‘I’d better get on my back under you.’

You swear you’re going to black out.

‘Pin?’ he prompts when you’ve been quiet a beat too long.

‘I - um, what do you mean by going under me?’

‘If I’m on my back, I can use both my hands, like a mechanic under a car,’ he explains. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I can find another way -’

‘No!’ you blurt out, wincing at the desperation in your tone. ‘I mean - whatever is easiest for you. You’re the one doing me a favour here.’

‘Alright,’ he says, placated by your reassurance. ‘On your hands and knees then, sweetheart.’

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. Oh, come on. Can he hear himself?

Scraping together your last vestiges of control, you push up on your palms to make space underneath you. You have to consciously lock your elbows - your joints suddenly feel like barely set pudding. 

‘Move as far to your right as possible so I can slide in.’

Shuffling on your hands and knees until you’re pressed up against the band wheel, you hear the brush of fabric on wood - must be his back against the floorboards as he slides in. To say it’s a squeeze is an understatement. His broad shoulders brush the front of your thighs as he inches in, and then, his face appears under yours, head between your hands.

His lips quirk. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’

Your breath hitches at his proximity, your wrists brushing the soft red flannel he’s wearing today. ‘Hi.’

‘You ok?’ he asks.

You’re this close to pouting. What does he think? There’s a telltale stickiness between your legs that you’re frantically trying to push to the back of your mind while you mmhmm noncommittally, hoping that he doesn’t smell your want in the tiny, claustrophobic space you’re now both caught in.

You can only assume that he’s none the wiser, since the next thing that comes of his mouth is - 

‘Climb on top of me so I can slide in closer to the band wheel.’

Someone might as well say your last rites. This is the end.

You’re taken aback when your limbs start to move on autopilot, because your faculties have well and truly abandoned ship. One trembling leg attempts to swing itself over the solid breadth of his body, but it wobbles like jelly, and your knee ends up connecting firmly with his stomach instead of landing clear on his other side.

At his grunted oomph, you panic and bang your head on the underside of the table again, which sends your whole weight sprawling onto his front with a yelp.

Joel cradles the back of your scalp with one hand. ‘Shit, you ok, sweetheart?’

The seams of your lashes sting, your head smarting with the impact, and you blink drily as your gaze focuses on Joel under you. He’s so close that you can see flecks of gold in his brown eyes, his breath hitting your face in warm puffs. Your glance at his lips, and with that one little motion, all goes quiet.

He watches you back, neither of you breathing, and in the stillness you realise that you’re fully straddling him, your palms pressing into the hard floor on either side of his ears. Your tits are crushed up against his ribs, his soft tummy warmly cushioned under you. Lower still, where your hips are nestled into the spread of his thick thighs, something stiff and long and insistent presses into you -

Your jaw goes slack when it dawns on you. 

Oh god.

He’s hard.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Joel breaks the silence, a pained frown on his brow as he shakes his head. ‘This is embarrassin’. Couldn’t fuckin’ help it, seein’ you in those jeans -’

Tongue-tied, you can only stare at him, wishing you were brave enough to say something. Tell him that you pulled extra shifts to buy this particular pair of jeans, knowing that they flatter your figure. That you’ve worn them almost every day these two weeks, hoping that he’d swing by again. 

But you can’t. 

So you pray that he can see what you can’t say by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your heart races wildly in your ribcage against his chest.

His voice cracks. ‘I understand if you want me to go -’

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cut in, ‘Don’t.’

His warm eyes widen, something like hopefulness in the way he looks up at you. ‘You don’t want me to go?’

You press your body closer into his, filling in the gaps. ‘No. Please don’t, Joel.’

He leans forward, so close that you can feel the phantom burn of his silvered beard, his palms finding the meat of your legs, blunt nails biting into the denim.

He really should be ashamed of himself, at the way his cock pulses unabashedly, nudged right between your thighs as you stare down at him, lips parted. He’s hard enough that he worries if there’s a wet spot of precum on the front of his jeans - he can feel himself leaking through his boxers. 

The wicked tip of your tongue traces a wet trail on your bottom lip, and he almost chokes on a half-buried groan deep in his chest. He knows that you don’t even know you’re doing it - and in turn, what that does to him.

It would be easy to close the two-inch gap between you. To kiss you, taste you, lick into your sweet mouth. All he needs to do is to cup the back of your head and pull you down, or crane his neck and press his lips to yours -

And Joel is someone who always follows the path of least resistance. 

But - he wants to do right by you. He knows you deserve more than a quick fumble under a table.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Joel steels himself and brushes a chaste thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Let’s get you out of here, and then we can talk, ok?’

It’s almost perverse the way his chest warms at the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you give a reluctant nod, ‘Ok. Please be careful, the Singer’s really delicate.’

It’s hard to focus - his attention keeps drifting to how snugly you fit into his chest, between his arms, and it’s not a stretch to imagine a soft mattress underneath his back. It's funny how quickly his body has adjusted to creature comforts after months of sleeping on the cold winter ground.

Joel’s mindful that an antique sewing machine will be a pain in the ass to repair without the requisite parts, so he moves carefully, gently coaxing the band wheel back and forth to see how he can extract you. It doesn’t take long to loosen the grip of the metal teeth on your shirt, but he has to reach up and untangle the threads snagged into the mechanisms one by one.

He muses idly that this is not his method. These hands of his, with crooked knuckles that never healed right, where many a dagger, knife, gun, rifle have found a home - they break things, people.

When was the last time someone asked gentleness of him? 

He wants to scoff. That’s not what he’s good for.

Despite himself, his throat rumbles with a hum of satisfaction when the band wheel finally lets go of your shirt, the Singer whirring to life as it spins freely. He gives you a lopsided smile. ‘There you go, sweetheart.’

You smile, but don’t seem to be in a hurry to move, which pleases him. He likes looking at you from this angle, relishing in your weight on him. He takes his time running his eyes over your face, his palms coming to rest on your knees.

You duck your head prettily. ‘Thank you, Joel.'

He gives you a playful shrug. ‘Well, I owed you one for these jeans.’

You roll your eyes in good humour. ‘Actually, I told you specifically that you didn’t.’

Joel basks in the lighthearted turn in the conversation, egging you on, ‘Well, in that case, you owe me one for this instead.’

‘That’s hardly fair -’ you chide him, punching him in the shoulder in a half-hearted rebuke.

Taking the opportunity, he grabs you by the wrist, the contact prompting a bodily shudder from you that he doesn’t miss. He smirks, ‘M’fraid I don’t play fair, sweetheart.’

You glare at him in mock sternness, bold enough to demand, ‘Fine - what do you want then, Joel Miller?’

For a split second, he hesitates, woefully out of practice at whatever it is that he’s about to do. Swallowing his self-doubt, he asks, ‘Tommy and Maria are throwing a baby shower on Sunday at their house - do you want to come?’

Your shoulders stiffen. Now, that you were not expecting. Your social anxiety bubbles between your ribs and looms over you like a spector. You sputter, ‘Um, I -’

You start when his fingers draw soothing circles on the top of your knees, as if seeing straight through the source of your apprehension. He reassures you, ‘Lucy is welcome to join too. The more the merrier.’

Your eyes soften. ‘Ok. I’d love to.’

The endearing way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles has you swaying towards him, his nose just brushing the side of yours - when the doorbell rings, cutting through the loaded silence. 

In your haste to sit up, you knock your head against the table for a third time. 

‘Ow!’ you cry. Even Joel flinches at the hard hit.

Lucy calls out, sounding dangerously close. ‘Pin? You ok, hon?’

‘Shit!’ You start scrambling backwards, bent over awkwardly, convinced that you’re one more blow away from a concussion. You’ve barely scrambled onto your feet when Lucy steps into the workshop, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as blood rushes to your brain. 

She watches in amusement as Joel drags himself from under the sewing station, head cocked to one side. ‘Hi again, stranger. You really like our shop, don’t you?’

His shirt is rumpled from where you sat on him, bits of his curls sticking up. He rubs the back of his neck, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I just swung by to, uh, invite you and Pin to the baby shower. Tommy and Maria’s. This Sunday.’

Lucy crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. ‘And it’s a tradition where you’re from to talk about weekend plans under a table?’

You narrow your eyes at her. ‘Luce -’

She winks. ‘You know what? I don’t need to know the gory details - but I’m in. See you Sunday, Miller!’

Joel huffs a chuckle as Lucy disappears into the front of the shop, leaving you two alone. You smile, suddenly shy for no reason, twining your fingers to stop from fidgeting. ‘Thanks again, Joel.’

He shrugs it off, a touch of boldness in the way he stands, hands in pockets, hips cocked. ‘Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.’

Instead of heading in the direction of the door, he takes two long strides towards you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, ‘Wear those jeans for me again on Sunday?’

Stunned, you gape at him as he turns with a crooked grin and walks off, dispatching a two-fingered salute at Lucy as he goes. Pausing by the threshold, Joel gives you one last wink that has your breath stuttering - but you only allow yourself to sag against the wall when the door closes behind him, your knees giving.

Lucy wastes no time skipping back into the workshop, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. ‘Alright, time to raid the party clothes rack, girl!’

You laugh - Sunday can’t come fast enough.

Notes: I had the best time writing this chapter - it was fun to flip the tables on Pin, not that Joel comes out completely unscathed!

I definitely have ✨ideas✨ for these two, but I'm enjoying keeping things loose, so I have no plans to turn this into a full-blown series just yet. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments/reblogs/asks are so so appreciated as always ❤️

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PART ONE

Unchained Melody (Part Two)

Summary: Thrown back into the life you abandoned, you are left to find your own way in your former home as Tommy's refusal to say what needs to be said leaves a heavy tension between you both. With your husband's avoidance and unwillingness to talk, you quickly learn for yourself the many things that have changed in Arrow House, and of the Governess you believe has taken your place. Do your worries hold any weight? Or are they simply the fears of a woman trying to recover who she once was?

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 4359

"Your wife?..."The Governess laughed, a scoff catching in her throat as her eyes darted to Tommy and away from the disgusted look she was giving you when her smirk suddenly dropped at the unamused glare your husband was sending her. It took mere minutes for the news of your shock return to make its way around the vast estate of Arrow House, each and every worker peering into the foyer of your former stately home to get a glimpse of the woman that had returned from the dead. You could feel every stare, hear every whisper. And as your eyes cast down to your muddy shoes and those of the pristinely dressed woman in front of you, shame engulfed you and your legs slowly buckled. The only thing keeping you up, being that of your husband's tightening grip, warning you not to create any further commotion.

"Tommy?" the woman looked to him, her brow furrowed, the tone in her voice abruptly changing from one of disbelief to irritation. "Mr Shelby" she corrected herself when Tommy cocked a brow in response to her lapse in formalities, formalities that had already been blurred in your long absence. For just as shame and regret engulfed you whilst you stood there leaning into your husband's hold, Tommy found himself scrambling for some form of professionalism with the Governess he had hired, as his own guilt quickly weighed heavy on his already burdened shoulders.

"Mr Shel.." she voiced again as Tommy walked you forward, a grunt shuddering past her lips as your husband's shoulder crashed into hers in passing, unwilling to answer questions from anyone, questions he himself did not yet have the answers for.

" Move" he commanded, pushing you forward to follow behind Frances and your sleeping son cradled warmly in her arms as she made her way up the long staircase, every step followed by the piercing stare of the Governess as she slowly turned around and watched you from below in the foyer.

" Get back to work!" She barked at the employees of Arrow House, glaring at each and every one of them as she stormed through the entrance heading for the library, the loud echoing of her heels resonating through the walls of the grand home coming to an abrupt stop when she slammed the door of the study firmly behind her.

" Quiet now William" Frances gently hushed your son's movements from the sudden noise briefly awakening him from his deep slumber, your husband's insistent grip tightening once again as his irritation with everyone's reaction continued to be taken out on your already sore arm.

" No. You stay with me" Tommy said when you went to follow William and Frances into the nursery, a surge of panic quickly engulfing you seconds later when he pulled your trembling body to the bedroom you once shared and William left your line of sight.

Letting go, Tommy stretched the strain from his fingers as he watched you kneed circles into your bruised flesh. Had he hurt you? He silently asked himself as he clenched and loosened his fist from the throbbing pain shooting through his bones. Why didn't you say anything? He thought to himself as he watched you with a furrowed brow, troubled as to why you didn't tell him to stop, why the woman stood before him hated herself so much that she had surrendered to the acceptance of pain without once flinching, nor uttering a word. Did you think you deserved it?

"Everything...everything is as you left it" Tommy sighed as his fingers came up to pinch his brow and the frustration growing within him for how he had behaved, everything but how he imagined he would've reacted in the lonely nights he had spent without you. What the fuck was wrong with him? He cursed himself once again. Never once had he laid a finger on you, never once had he wished you harm, and yet in the space of a few minutes he had done just that.

Willfully pushing down his anger through gritted teeth, Tommy watched you as you looked around the room, your fingers gliding over the satin bedsheets, your hands gingerly reaching out for your once cherished possessions carefully arranged like a shrine in your wake. He wanted to shout, he wanted to show you the depths of the darkness your absence had plunged him into. But instead, for the briefest of moments, Tommy found himself gazing at you, lost in your movements as the fading sun over the grounds of Arrow house cast a dusky orange glow around your body through the netted curtains.

As the memory of your last night shared together came hurtling back to him, tormenting him with time lost and moments stained, Tommy quickly span around, swallowing his mounting emotions and forcing them back from whence they came." Frances..." He said clearing his throat as he stood firmly with his back to you, adamant on you not seeing any more of the pain he had kept locked away for almost two years. "... Frances will run you a bath and burn those rags in the fire" he said sniffing back his tears, reaching for the door handle as his spite quickly returned.

" Tommy I..." Your voice drifted to him, cutting yourself off as you watched his firm grip on the brass knob tighten, feeling as if you were overstepping a line into his broken heart.

" Just tell me one thing Y/N. Was it because of me? Was I the reason you left?" He asked, his voice quiet, uncertainty and worry laced in every word, his restless thoughts as to what had you leave still fogged in a cloud of confusion and self-blame.

" Tommy no, of course not..." You assured as you hurried to him, abruptly recalling as you came face to face with the solemn heaviness weighing down his tired features and the loose tears pooled under his lashes. Had he really thought that? All this time? You asked yourself as you stood there in horror that he would believe such a thing, that you had let him believe such a thing. " Tommy wait, please!" You pleaded as he swiftly opened the door and slammed it behind him, leaving you in your own pool of tears as you sank down onto the bed.

Steadying himself with clenched fists around the landing banister, Tommy chocked out a cry as a sudden release of weight lifted off his shoulders. " Fuck..." he breathed heavily, resting his forearms over the wooden staircase as his fingers laced through the top of his hair, his body draining of the blame he had condemned himself with as your sobs echoed through the halls of Arrow house.

Thundering down the stairs and away from the sound of your cries luring him back, Tommy headed for his office, stubbornly enclosing himself away from the desperation of wanting to hold you and the will to let the fortress he had built around his heart come tumbling down. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way. And what Tommy would soon learn, the wrong way.

" Thank you, Frances" you said handing her the last of your clothes as you dipped your foot into the heated bath whilst she lovingly folded them one by one into a neat pile, ignoring Tommy's orders to have them thrown on the fire he had already lit in the master bedroom.

" Everything is here for you Mam, fresh towe.." Frances said when your frustrated sobs caught her attention.

" Fuck sake" you began to cry as you tried to pull the comb through your knotted hair, surrendering to ever recovering your luscious locks as you then began to frantically scrub the dirt from your skin until your flesh turned bloody.

" Mrs Shelby! You'll scrub the skin of your bones" Frances hurried to you, gently taking the sponge from your trembling hands as you reached for her arm, clutching it in desperation.

" He's disgusted by me, with what I did, how I look.I...I cant...I can't get the knots out" your panicked voice tried to make sense of your hectic thoughts as you looked down at your marked skin.

" Would you like me to stay, Mam? And help?" She said taking your shaky hands within hers as her gentle smile looked down at you. Nodding, you let go of her arm as she pulled a wooden stool to the side of the bath and began to brush through your hair, gently loosening your matted locks. " Always did have such a beautiful crown of hair" she said combing through each section as you bit your trembling bottom lip.

" You don't have to be nice to me, Frances" you said as your hands flew to your face, hiding the barrage of emotions that was seconds away from flooding down your cheeks.

" And why ever not?" She said with a furrowed brow as she came to a stop.

" It's ok, I deserve it. You can say it. Everyone is thinking it" you cried, pushing your tears away as your chest filled with a shattering pain, and you began to sob into your hands.

" Mrs Shelby..." she sighed, her own eyes filling with tears for the sweet woman that had always treated her and everyone else who worked in the manor with the upmost respect and care. "Every worker here on the grounds of Arrow House has nothing but fond things to say about you. And not one judges you for the torment we all saw you battle through"

" You're very kind Frances, but...but I'm afraid my husband doesn't share those sentiments. He hates me " you cried looking down at your ring finger, the indent from where your wedding band once sat still visible to this day, a reminder of the abandonment you had committed and the marriage you had left behind.

" He blamed himself Mam, as men often do when their heart is breaking" she said as she returned to combing your hair and you listened intently to one of the few people close enough to have seen your husband's turmoil after the regretful night you had left. " Do you know why William calls you Mummy, Mrs Shelby?" Frances said, changing the subject to one that might uplift your spirits rather than dampen them anymore than they already were.

"No. Please, please tell me" you replied clutching to the side of the bath, clutching onto every word Frances said as the shock and confusion from hearing your son utter the one word you never thought would grace your ears earlier that day.

"Every night before putting little William to bed, Mr Shelby would sit with him and show him your picture. Not one night did he forget. He'd insist the poor mite stayed awake until his eyes were heavy as he hurried home from the city to tell him all about his Mummy. So that when he did fall asleep, his dreams would be of you" she said moving to the last knot in your hair as your heart tugged in your chest and the tender gesture Tommy fulfilled every night in your absence ." Does that not sound like a man who still loves his wife?" She asked as you turned to face her, nodding your head as tears wetted your cheeks. " Many things have changed since you left Mam. But there were many Mr Shelby could not part with. So they stayed. You stayed"

Sat alone on the edge of the bed dressed in your former clothes, your hair perfectly coiffed, your nails immaculately manicured, you waited in silence, not knowing what was expected of you now you had been thrown back into the life you once left, thrown into trying to find the woman you once was within the space of a few hours.

Tommy hadn't returned to you since slamming the door to your shared bedroom earlier that day, slamming out what needed to be discussed and the built up emotions that needed to be released. And with William being taken care of by the watchful eyes of a plethora of nannies, all under the command of who you could only assume was the Governess you had met hours earlier, you were left restless, awaiting the next moment you would be confronted by your husband again. Deciding not to prolong the inevitable, you gingerly opened the door to the bedroom and made your way down the long staircase, briefly coming to a halt at the sound of William's joyous giggles as he played in the nursery mere meters away. Tommy was keeping him from you. You were certain of it. And could you blame him? What right did you have to insert yourself back into his world when you had already given up the most cherished gift your life could have blessed you with. Motherhood. You thought to yourself as you came to the bottom of the stairs to see Tommy standing in the archway of the front door talking to the stable hand.

"Mrs Shelby" the older man beamed upon seeing you standing before him, the most sincere of smiles gracing his face as Tommy turned to look your way.

And there it was. Capturing him once again in the briefest of moments as time warped and he watched you step towards him, rid of the ragged clothes and muddied skin that hid your radiating beauty he could only gaze at through your cherished photos and portraits. Were you still his? He sheepishly thought to himself as he quickly glanced up from the floor to see you desperately holding out on his every move, his every word. As the question of your remaining love weighed heavy on his thoughts, melancholy feelings returned and Tommy did what he does best. He left. Snatching away his hunger to wrap his arms around you, he fled for a second time, leaving you with words unspoken and a heart heavy with shame.

" Not the welcome you were expecting, Mrs Shelby? Do I even call you that?" a voice approached you as an overpowering powdery smell of roses and soap filled your senses. " Left not only a troubled man but a difficult child in your wake" she said as you turned to face the Governess staring down at you. Judging you, once again." Over indulged and unable to soothe himself back to sleep. He should have left the breast after a month" she remarked flatly, as the only thing you thought you had done right by your child was cruelly snatched away from you within seconds. " The lower class, and poverty-stricken nurse their children. What a burden you must have put on Mr Shelby with the restless night's your refusal to do as any woman of your previous statue would do" she said belittling you once again as you turned to leave, feeling your frame shrink with each step at the insignificance this woman had made you feel without no mercy or regard to your feelings." What kind of mother, what kind of wife would do what you did?" She said as you came to a sudden halt. Brushing your tears from your cheeks, a sense of composure overcame you in response to the woman who was but a mere stranger to you, with judgmental words not even your husband had uttered to you. You were still Tommy's wife. William, still your son. And as you turned to face the bitterness and disregard she had for you and everything you once were, you corrected her not on her assumptions of you or the words you felt you were due, but on one thing.

" Mrs Shelby. You refer to me as Mrs Shelby"

As night fell, and a blanket of stars covered the skies of Arrow House, you lay in bed tossing and turning to the sound of William loudly wailing in the room adjacent to yours, as Tommy, you could only assume, was sleeping elsewhere, avoiding you once again. Why wasn't anyone going to him? You thought to yourself as you threw the covers off you and made your way to his door. Were they expecting you to go? Now you was back? You nervously pondered as you hovered by the door slowly opening it to see your son stood in his cot, his checks reddened from his restless cries.

" Mummy..." he wept loudly upon seeing you, his arms reaching out for you as you stood back and watched, your hands sweaty your face heated in panic.

" Shh William, it's ok" you said gingerly approaching him as he furiously strained his arms above his head for you to pick him up. " William, I...I don't think I'm allowed" you said nervously looking back to the door, every part of you wanting to sweep up your child and cradle him tightly in your arms. " I'm here William" you said giving in to every motherly instinct you possessed as you went to lift him out of his bed when the door creaked opened.

" Oh, Mrs Shelby! You gave me a fright" Frances said as her hand flew to her chest.

" Im sorry. He was crying. No...nobody came. I...I was only...please don't tell my husband" you panicked as you took a step back, scared your actions would see you cast from Arrow house. Never to see your child again.

" Enough of that. Take him, he's your child" she reassured you, gently guiding you forward. Lifting William from within his cot, you wrapped your hands around his small frame as his arms hung over your shoulders, and he gently sobbed into your chest. Overwhelmed with love, tears streaked your cheeks as you cradled the side of his head in your palm and placed a longing kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in the sweet smell of his hair as a surge of peace overcame you. " There we go" Frances smiled, watching Williams eyes get droopy with sleep as you rocked him back and forth in your arms, the sudden quietness quickly alerting Tommy who was sat on the steps outside the house, smoking himself through a packet of cigarettes like he did every night as he waited for the tormenting sound of his child's cries to settle.

"Why didn't anyone go to him?" you asked as William's body went heavy with sleep and his hiccuping sobs slowly started to fade into gentle breaths.

" The Governess has insisted on him self soothing. But William is a sensitive soul, and I've learnt over the years that one method doesn't work for all" she said stepping closer as she brushed the hair from his face. " You'll find any one of the staff up here on any given night, trying to get him back to sleep. Even our cook, Mr Giles on occasion, if the Governess is not standing guard" she said as Tommy approached the nursery, looking through the crack of the door to see you standing with his son in your arms, fast asleep.

" Frances..." you said turning to face her. "...Will he ever forgive me?" You asked as you rested your cheek on William's head, holding him as close as you could to your broken heart, hoping the severed bond would mend, and you could regain the years you had lost.

" I think he already does. That's the beautiful thing about children. They have only love in their hearts" she replied giving your arm a gentle squeeze.

" And Tommy?" You asked, yearning for your husband's forgiveness as you sought reassurance from Frances for a second time.

" When the storm has passed and the clouds have parted, he will be wanting the warmth of the sun back in his life. That i don't doubt" she replied as Tommy turned to leave for the four walls of his office and the bottle of whisky calling his name, ready to drown himself in the hurt he couldn't yet part with. "Hold your son Mrs Shelby. Don't ever let him go" she said, her parting words leaving a profound sentiment within you as you slowly walked to the rocking chair, turning it away from where you once sat and to the soft silver glow of the moon casting dreamy shadows onto the nursery floor.

"Oh I do like to be beside the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang caressing William's face, looking down at his lips puckered together as his head weighed heavy on your chest and the gentle sound of his breathing played a calming melody to your ears " Forgive me William. I wasn't myself" you said as a tear streaked down your cheek and you brought his hand clutched tightly around your thumb to your lips, placing a tender kiss to his fingers" Sleep my sweet boy, sleep"

Standing by the fireplace in one of the many guest rooms of Arrow House, Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette into the flames, welcoming the radiating burn from the orange glow under his calloused skin. He too had become accustomed to pain in your wake. Inviting it in like an old friend to feel something, anything that would make him feel alive again and not the emptiness that had encompassed him.

" Do you think she knows?" A voice alerted him as the door opened and Tommy lifted his head.

" What do you want?" Tommy huffed, turning his eyes back to the roaring fire and away from the Governess who was now slowly approaching him undoing the buttons of her ivory blouse.

" Do you think she knows about, us?" She asked again, running her hands up the front of his shirt as she leaned in to place her ruby lips to his when Tommy raised his cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the fumes in her face. With Tommy's blatant annoyance with her unwelcome presence going amiss, she continued her endeavor, sweeping her hands over his torso and down to his belt. " You seem stressed" she said biting her bottom lip, unbuckling the clasp and sliding her hand into his briefs as a scoff left Tommy's lips and he shook his head in disbelief at the sheer brazenness of her actions. " Come on Tommy, let me make you feel good" she said as she stroked his softened cock up and down in her hand, her brow scrunching together in annoyance when her efforts were left in vain, leaving an unenthusiastic, unaroused Tommy smirking down at her. " Fine, have it your way" she smiled kneeling before him as she pulled his briefs down when Tommy's patience grew thin, and he suddenly grabbed her by the chin.

" My wife, the mother of my child, sleeps in the next room" he said clenching his jaw, his anger rapidly rising in response to her blatant disrespect for your presence and the day's events.

" Your wife" she scoffed, grabbing hold of his wrist as his grip tightened. " Is that what you call the woman who couldn't even look after the son she clearly never wanted?"

" Don't you dare fucking speak of her like that again, do you hear me?!" Tommy snapped, pushing her face away, causing her to stumble backwards onto the hardwood floors.

" Just like that then. She comes back and it's all over? " she said standing up, trying to compose herself from the embarrassment of Tommy's rejection.

" Just like that" Tommy replied, throwing his hand out and the burnt cigarette into the fire as he stormed past her heading for the door when she grabbed his arm.

" It was me who kept you company all the nights she abandoned you because she couldn't, cope. Me alone" she seethed, mocking you of the torment you had endured.

" What?..." Tommy laughed shaking his head as he looked down at her in disgust. " You thought you could replace my wife, eh?" Tommy said as he closed the gap between them, now inches from her face. " Sweetheart, you were just a fuck" he whispered in her ear as the Governess face twisted in fury, and she pushed past him storming to the door. " Don't think I don't know what your poisonous mind wants. You've long outstayed your welcome. Pack your things and be gone by the morning" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as the Governess span back around to confront him once again. He needed to be rid of her and quick, before you, his wife found out about his lapse in judgment with the most unsavory of women.

" You seem to have forgotten Tommy" she said as her lips curled into a triumphant smile. " I signed a contract written by you that's deadline doesn't end for another six months. And If the terms of that clause are not met. Well..." she said smirking as she crossed her arms, ready to deliver what she felt would have Tommy suddenly change his mind. " I'll go to the police, and spill all your little secrets"

" I own the fucking police love" Tommy laughed taking a drag of his cigarette, her threats but a mere annoying natter in his ear than anything worthy of his attention.

" Oh yes, you're very protected aren't you Tommy? Your dealings go as far up as Winston Churchill himself. What would the papers make of that? A man of government working with a razor gang?" she said with a giggle as Tommy's head snapped to her. "You really should have kept your correspondences out of sight while you had me bent over your desk, fucking your grief away" she spat opening the door as Tommy followed suit, furious his dealings and the business associates he wished to keep in tact, and away from prying eyes were now in jeopardy of falling apart over a few quick shags.

" Mrs Shelby, good evening" the Governess smirked, doing the buttons of her blouse up as you shut the nursery door behind you and she sauntered past.

"Y/N..." Tommy said as he came to an abrupt stop whilst you stood there in silence, yours eyes darting from his unbuckled belt to the sheepish look in his eyes not even he, the master of deception could mask.

Frances was right. Many things had changed in Arrow House. Many things.

PART THREE

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[atomicladytimetravel]

Quiet Type

Summary: Joel Miller doesn’t really care for small talk and he finally meets someone who respects that. Slow burn romance and PWP. Jackson era Joel, no mention of Ellie. Cannon game places mentioned but it’s HBO Joel.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MDNI. Smut. Oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, light choking, pet names, some rough sex. Joel is really sweet.

I’m actually really proud of this one, I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 5,444

Joel Miller doesn’t really like people. With the exception of his brother Tommy and his wife Maria, Joel keeps to himself. He does his patrol, eats his meals (mostly alone) at the Tipsy Bison and goes home to his empty house. He likes it this way - or at least he likes to think he does.

Everything starts to change when you show up in Jackson. You were wounded, on the run from a group of raiders that ransacked your camp and took out half your group. The surviving half got split up as you fled the area, just trying to get out alive. You had run straight into Jackson’s patrol unit, hands in the air and begging for help.

“Stay right there, do not come any closer.”

It had come from who you would later find out to be Tommy Miller. You stopped where you were and plead your case with the group of people that had their guns trained on you.

“Please, I’m not sick. Just wounded. Raiders attacked my camp and I lost my group.”

Tommy instructed the dog at his side to sniff and you stood as still as possible as it circled you, smelling for signs of the cordycep infection. The dog returned to Tommy’s side, having found no trace of the illness.

“She’s fine, lower your guns.”

Your wound was nothing too serious; you had been grazed in the shoulder as you fled the camp, but you escaped otherwise unscathed. After a quick recovery, Tommy and Maria asked if you’d be willing to take patrol shifts. This is where you would meet Joel Miller for the first time.

After getting up at the ass crack of dawn, you get dressed and sling a pack with food and water over your shoulder. You meet Tommy at the stables and you see him talking with another man. He’s a little older, his hair a little more silver, but you can see a family resemblance - a brother, maybe a first cousin. You can’t deny that he’s ruggedly handsome, the kind of guy you would probably go for under different circumstances. He doesn’t look nearly as relaxed as Tommy.

“Ah, here she comes,” Tommy says as you approach the two. “This is my brother, Joel. He’ll be your patrol partner today.”

Joel nods in your direction, but says nothing. You’re pretty decent at reading people and, judging by Joel’s stiff body language and silent greeting, he’s not a people person. You nod in return, figuring that actually speaking would be a waste of time anyway. Tommy shows you which horse to take (his name is Toast) and you’re already up on the saddle when he turns to ask if you know how to ride.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I took lessons before the world went to shit.”

After making sure you know the rules, Tommy leaves you and Joel to it. You let Joel take the lead and the two of you ride out of Jackson silently. As a matter of fact, you do everything silently, save for when Joel is barking instructions at you. When you return, Tommy asks Joel how you did when he thinks you’re out of earshot.

“Fine,” Joel replies. “She didn’t get us killed and she doesn’t talk my fuckin’ ear off.”

Tommy laughs and claps his brother on the back. The corner of your lip twitches upward into a half smile as you walk away from the barn and to your house.

You end up being on patrol with Joel more often than not. You suspect it’s because you leave him alone and speak to him only when necessary. You don’t seek him out when off duty and if you do happen to see him, a curt nod is the most that’s ever exchanged. He likes it this way - or at least he likes to think he does.

——————

Joel might be a quiet man, but he is still a man with (mostly) working eyes. He takes notice of your shape, the way your ass moves when you walk and the way your smile lights up whatever room you’re in. He never gets to see that smile unless he happens to see you talking to other people. He likes to see you smile and, even though he would rather die than admit this to himself or anyone else, he wishes you would smile at him. Sometimes he wonders why you talk to everyone but him, but then he reminds himself that he doesn’t care because he likes it this way.

One morning, after a couple of months of silent patrols and nodded greetings, Joel actually speaks to you when you enter the stables.

“Hey,” he grunts, and that’s all he says. But it’s one word more than what’s usually spoken.

“Hey,” you reply, making brief eye contact. You’re a little surprised, but you don’t let him see. Much like a stray dog you might try to coax into letting you pet it, you don’t want to scare him off by getting too close too soon. Eventually, “hey” evolves into “mornin’”, but nothing past the initial greeting is ever said. You don’t push him, figuring if he ever wants to talk, he’ll say something.

One day, he does. His voice makes you jump just a little, not expecting him to be speaking in the moment. You’re walking through the Mountain View ski lodge and you’ve gotten to the point on patrol where Joel doesn’t need to instruct you anymore.

“You’re, uh…pretty quiet, huh?”

“Sorry?” You’re a little caught off guard by the question.

“You don’t talk much,” he clarifies. Your eyebrows knit together in a confused expression.

“That’s because you don’t seem like the kind of guy that likes to talk,” you shrug.

“I don’t.”

“Alright then. If you’re not interested in talking, I’m not gonna force you to Joel.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said his name out loud in front of him. He curses himself mentally because he likes the way it sounds coming out of your mouth. He just looks at you, his turn to wear the confused expression. He’s not exactly used to people actually picking up on the fact that he doesn’t care for small talk.

“I’m pretty good at reading people,” you explain. “Your body language screams ‘leave me alone’. So I leave you alone.”

“Hmph…wish other people could pick up on that.”

You let out a short laugh through your nose, and that is the end of the first conversation you ever have with Joel Miller.

——————

One night, you find yourself dreaming of him. In the dream, you’re patrolling the ski lodge. Once you’ve cleared the place and there are no signs of danger, Joel holsters his gun and turns to you.

“C’mere,” he says, beckoning to you with his hand. You walk up to him and he grabs you by the waist, pulling you the rest of the way in. His eyes are dark with lust and he kisses you with those soft, supple looking lips. Things quickly get explicit and you wake up with a throbbing cunt, arousal pooling in your panties. You’re perplexed, never having experienced any feelings for Joel other than your initial recognition that he’s a handsome man. You chalk it up to being around him so often and brush it off, going about your morning as usual.

When you meet Joel in the stables, your stomach flutters momentarily when you lay eyes on him. You take a deep breath and shake the memory of the dream out of your head and you go in to saddle up Toast. You’re pleasantly surprised when Joel speaks as the horses trot off toward Teton County.

“So…uh…where you from?”

“You mean recently or before?”

“Before. I heard you tell Tommy you took riding lessons before.”

That was months ago. You’re honestly shocked he remembered that.

“Oh yeah. I’m from Dallas.”

“No shit,” he says, sounding surprised. “Me and Tommy are from Austin.”

“Well shit, what a small world.”

You smile at him and a tiny piece of the icy wall around his heart melts.

——————

“So Tommy, I hear you’re from Texas. Me too - Dallas.”

You’re sitting across from him and Maria at dinner. He looks up from his plate, confusion evident on his face.

“Where’d ya hear that?”

“Your brother told me,” you shrug, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Joel just volunteered that information, huh?” he asks sarcastically.

“Not really. He asked me where I’m from. When I told him Dallas, he said y’all are from Austin.”

Tommy and Maria are both looking at you like you’d grown a second head. They glance at each other suspiciously and then back at you.

“Joel…asked you where you’re from?” Tommy asks incredulously. You grin and stab a piece of meat with your fork.

“Turns out if you just leave him alone, he gets curious.”

“What are you, some sort of witch?” he jokes, to which you laugh loudly.

“I just have good people skills.”

——————

Everything you and Joel learn about each other comes in increments through the micro conversations you have on patrol. You let him control when the conversation begins and when it ends. He doesn’t tell you, but he appreciates that. You never ask for more than what he volunteers and vice versa. It’s gotten to the point where he’ll talk to you at least once during patrol. He asks questions about what life was like before the outbreak and before you got to Jackson and he tells you a little about himself in return.

You know he was a contractor in Austin and that he, too, likes horses. He doesn’t like to talk much about how he lived after the outbreak before Jackson; he only says he’s not proud of some of the things he did to survive. He did tell you about how he and Tommy went their separate ways and it was years before Joel finally found him in Jackson.

Joel secretly looks forward to your little conversations. He finds that he actually likes being around you. He likes that you don’t prod and ask too many questions. He likes that you seem to be able to gauge when he’s ready to stop talking. He likes it when you walk ahead of him because the man in him can’t deny you have a fine ass. Truth be told, he just likes you, but that’s a feeling he’s not ready to deal with yet. He can’t deny his physical attraction to you, though. More often than not, he finds himself fucking his fist imagining it’s you wrapped around him instead of his hand.

You like him, too. You perk up when he speaks and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy to know you’re one of the few people he talks to. You can’t help but think about him when you’re lying in bed. You fantasize about him fucking you; you imagine he’s a little rough, a little dominant. You make yourself cum thinking about him whispering filthy things in your ear.

Sometimes you think you can feel the sexual tension between you two as you’re walking side by side on patrol. You’re certain you can feel his eyes on you when you take the lead. Part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might like you. You don’t say anything for fear of losing what you already have.

——————

You fuck everything up on patrol one day. You’re in the library in Teton Village quietly weaving through the book cases while Joel does the same on the opposite side. You hear the telltale clicking and see an infected coming at Joel from his right side, but Joel doesn’t seem to hear it. He sees it right as it tackles him to the ground and he gets into a wrestling match with it.

“Hey!” you shout, turning the attention of the clicker on you. It leaps off of Joel and barrels in your direction, but you’re quick on the draw and you’re able to shoot it before it makes it to you. You rush over to Joel to make sure he isn’t hurt.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” he growls angrily, hoisting himself up off the ground.

“Umm, you’re fuckin’ welcome,” you respond, crossing your arms defiantly.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he seethes.

“I stopped you from getting killed! If that thing had bitten you, I would’ve had to shoot you, too,” you argued. “Besides, it’s dead, and we’re not. Isn’t that why we go in pairs?”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Just don’t do stupid shit like that again.”

——————

He doesn’t talk to you for almost a week - no little bursts of conversation throughout patrol, not even a greeting when you meet in the stables. You don’t know what you did that was so wrong, you had only been trying to help. You’re riding through Teton Village again and you relive the moment when you pass the library. Your anger at him for his outburst reignites, the fact that he won’t even speak to you fueling your rage. He senses your shift in mood and you’re about to open your mouth to tell him off when he speaks.

“I’m…sorry.”

You close your mouth and look at him. He sees that, not only are you angry, but there’s a little bit of hurt hiding in your eyes. Now he’s mad at himself.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I definitely shouldn’t have called you stupid. You probably saved my life and I need to thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome Joel. And thank you for the apology,” you say. Then you do something you wouldn’t normally do - you prod. “Why the hell did you get so pissed?”

He’s silent for a long while and you’re afraid you’ve fucked up again. You’re relieved when he speaks again, but the response you receive isn’t one you would have ever expected.

“You…scared me,” he admits. “I saw the clicker running towards you and I was afraid you were gonna get hurt while I was fuckin’ layin’ on the ground.”

“I was scared, too. It was coming right for you and you didn’t seem to hear it and it was too late for me to say anything before it attacked. I figured I had a better chance at killing it than you did.”

“You did the right thing,” he assures you. “I would’ve done the same for you.”

And he means it. He would face a room full of the things to save you. Having acknowledged that fact, he makes the decision to open up to you then.

“I’m mostly deaf in my right ear. That’s why I didn’t hear it.”

“Oh. Well that makes sense.”

You’re not really sure what else to say, other than to ask him what happened, but you don’t want to push him. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you. And he does.

“I tried to take myself out right after the outbreak. My daughter died on outbreak day and it destroyed me.”

You gasp softly and a hand goes to your mouth in shock, partially because he’s telling you something so personal and partially because you feel so bad for him.

“Joel, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He waves the apology off and continues.

“I missed somehow - obviously, because I’m still here - but it fucked up my hearing.”

You’re quiet for a little bit. You’re in disbelief that Joel willingly shared such an intimate detail about himself. In a soft voice, you finally say, “I’m glad you missed.”

He gives you a little smile and you fall back into a comfortable silence for quiet a while. On the way back to Jackson, he surprises you again.

“Hey…wanna eat dinner with me tonight?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” you say with a grin.

You don’t ask him if it’s a date for the fear of him taking it back. It took almost a year and a brush with death for him to ask you to do anything besides patrol with him and you weren’t about to risk messing it up.

When you walk into the Tipsy Bison, you see him sitting at his usual table in the corner, eyes flitting around the room nervously. You’re glad you decided to dress up a little, throwing on a skirt and one of the nicer tops you have; he’s dressed in a button up flannel and clean jeans, his hair slicked back. Your cunt throbs just looking at him.

“Oh god,” you think to yourself, “I didn’t think he could get any hotter, but damn.”

Tommy catches sight of you and calls your name, waving you to his table. You wave at him but continue walking towards Joel.

“Sorry Tommy, I have plans.”

He watches you take a seat across from Joel and pauses mid bite as his brother actually smiles at another human being. Maria nudges him and he looks away quickly.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you sit down. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

“You look really pretty,” he says. You feel your cheeks heat up and you hear Tommy loudly whisper, “did he just say she looks really pretty??”

You and Joel glare at Tommy simultaneously and the younger Miller puts his hands up in surrender. You giggle when Maria chastises him and Joel doesn’t know when he’s ever heard a prettier sound.

“I really like your hair like that,” you say, turning your attention back to Joel. “You look really nice.”

It’s his turn to blush now. You think it’s absolutely adorable.

“Thanks. I uh, I wasn’t too sure what to wear either.”

He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, the material of his flannel tightening around his bicep. You have to will yourself not to drool over the muscle flexing underneath. He’s trying to shake his nerves. It’s been…fuck, it’s been over twenty years since he’s been on a date, back when restaurants and movie theaters were still a thing. Wait, did he ever clarify that this is a date? Before he can say anything, you speak up.

“Can I ask you a question Joel?”

“Go ahead sweetheart.”

He doesn’t know where he got the confidence to say that. It makes your heart skip a beat and your stomach do a backflip.

“Is this a date?”

He chuckles heartily.

“Yes darlin’, this is a date.”

——————

Your first date with Joel goes exceptionally well. You both relax and you have a full blown conversation, laughing and joking with each other and acting like nobody was staring at the two of you. Nobody in Jackson had seen Joel happy, probably ever. You leave the Tipsy Bison together and you both ignore how everyone’s heads turn to watch you leave. He walks you to your front door like a true southern gentleman.

You stare at each other for a long moment, and then you both move in for a kiss at the same time. You grab the front of his shirt and reach behind you to turn the door knob; you pull him into your house without breaking the kiss. You push him onto your couch and he looks up at you with admiration as you straddle his lap.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asks between kisses.

“I’ve been sure since I walked into the Tipsy Bison and saw how fuckin’ hot you look.”

He growls, deep and throaty, and it rumbles through his chest; he palms your ass underneath your skirt, squeezing roughly. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair, ruining the slicked back style. His lips move to your jaw bone, then to your neck where he sucks harshly. There’s going to be a mark there for sure, but neither of you care. You both want the whole town to know Joel Miller marked you as his.

“I think about you all the fuckin’ time,” he confesses into your skin, his breath against your neck making you tingle. “Not just about this. In general.”

His words are sweet and they make you feel as though you could explode with joy. You smooth your hand down the back of his hair as he buries his face into your cleavage, kissing the exposed tops of your breasts.

“I think about you, too. I really like you, Joel.”

He looks up at you and smiles, his hand coming up to cradle your face. He uses his thumb to rub your cheekbone and he kisses you softly.

“I really like you, too.”

You smile and put your hand over his. You remove it from your face and kiss his palm before placing it over one of your breasts.

“Do you ever think about me like this?” you ask as you begin to grind your hips on him. His breath hitches but he recovers quickly, kneading your breast over your shirt while his other hand squeezes your hip.

“How could I not? Got a gorgeous fuckin’ thing like you ridin’ next to me almost every day, shakin’ your ass when you walk in front of me.”

You giggle, your hands moving to his chest to unbutton his flannel.

“I had a dream about you once,” you tell him as your fingers slowly work his buttons. “We were in the ski lodge. You kissed me and then you laid me down and fucked me on one of the couches. I was so wet when I woke up.”

“Baby girl,” he groans. “So fuckin’ hot. Do you touch yourself thinkin’ about me, hmm?”

You’re finished unbuttoning his shirt now and you push it off his arms, revealing his toned biceps.

“All the time,” you respond, dragging your nails lightly down his bare chest. His lips crash against yours again in a needy, desperate kiss. He breaks it just long enough to pull your shirt over your head and then he wraps his arms around you, his touch cool against your burning skin.

“Let’s see if I can still do this,” he says, his mouth moving against yours.

He grabs the clasp of your bra with one hand and, with one flick of his fingers, your bra unclasps and hangs loosely off your shoulders.

“Damn, that was impressive. And very hot.”

He chuckles and slides your bra off your arms, tossing it carelessly to the side. He does this without breaking eye contact and he presses another kiss to your lips before admiring your naked breasts.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he says, cupping them in his hands. He rolls your nipples between his fingers and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your throat.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, yeah?” he suggests, his nose brushing your exposed throat. He stands with you still on his lap and you wrap your legs around him.

“Mmm, a big strong man,” you tease, squeezing his biceps. He laughs through his nose and carries you to your room, tossing you gently on the bed. You giggle softly when your back hits the mattress. You sit up on your elbows and watch with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as he comes out of his jeans. His cock is perfect. It’s big, but not big enough to be intimidating, and it’s rock hard.

He gets to his knees on the mattress and tugs your skirt off your hips, your panties going with it. You’re now completely on display for each other and neither of you can stop staring. He’s fit but a little soft around the middle; it drives you absolutely wild. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“You are so god damn beautiful,” he says softly. You smile up at him.

“Come kiss me, you gorgeous fuckin’ man.”

He does, his tongue licking inside your mouth. He sucks on your tongue and you moan into the kiss. Your hips rise to meet his, your cunt desperate for some kind of contact.

“Patience baby girl,” he coos, pushing your hips back down. “I wanna take my time with you. Been dreamin’ about this for a while.”

He kisses your neck again, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He presses open mouthed kisses to your chest before sucking your nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardening bud. You’re absolutely soaking now and you can feel arousal sliding down your thigh.

“Joel…my god…please,” you breathe.

“Shhhh, let me play baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

He switches to your other breast and you’re sure you’re going to explode before he touches you. Your clit is throbbing and you’re desperate for his touch. He takes his time, finding the most sensitive parts of your body and kissing, sucking, biting. You feel like you’re being worshipped.

“Does this turn you on?” you ask breathlessly. “Because, fuck, it turns me on.”

“What, touching your beautiful fuckin’ body like this? Absolutely,” he assures you. “My cock’s hard enough to cut glass right now.”

You both laugh a little bit and you’re reassured that he’s enjoying himself. He spreads your legs into the butterfly position and settles onto his stomach, his head between your legs. He kisses your pubic mound and then spreads you open with two fingers.

“Mmm, look at this pretty pussy. She’s jus’ fuckin’ soaked baby. You’re dripping onto the fuckin’ sheets. Can I taste it?”

“Please,” you manage to squeak out.

He kisses your clit and you gasp. He blows softly on the area and you moan, your hole clenching around nothing.

“Oh, she likes that,” he teases. He massages your clit with the tip of his tongue and a high pitched, breathy moan falls from your lips. Finally, some relief. His tongue feels so good, swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves. All you can do is pant and moan as he buries his tongue into you.

“God, you got the sweetest fuckin’ pussy.”

He wastes no time diving back in, moving his head from side to side. He laps at your cunt and you can feel the buildup of pleasure getting ready to release.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna cum,” you warn. This only spurs him on and he sucks hard at your clit. That pushes you over the edge and your hips rise as your orgasm hits. You let out a long whine of his name and he only stops when your hips meet the mattress again.

“Good job sweet girl,” he praises. “Let’s see if you can take another.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he’s between your legs again, alternating between licking and sucking your clit. Your hand is in his hair, keeping his face between your legs because you’ll take whatever this man decides to give you. You notice that his hips are rutting into the mattress; he’s just as desperate for release as you are but his priority is you. You feel your impending release and you’re cumming before you can properly voice it.

“Oh god…I’m…f-fuck - cumming, I’m cumming,” you wail. He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down and the feeling of overstimulation makes you scoot back from his mouth. He wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you back to him.

“C’mere baby, give me another. You can do it.”

You breathe in deeply and exhale through your nose and you relax into his touch again. This time, he slides two fingers into your hole, pumping in and out as he laps at your clit. He hooks his fingers and your eyes fly open as his hits that spongy spot in your walls.

“O-oh god don’t stop,” you pant. He pumps his fingers faster, curling them with every thrust.

“Oh yeah baby, you’re so close. I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Listen to you making those pretty sounds. Let go for me pretty thing. Cum for me.”

A few more strokes of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You cry out his name, gripping the sheets until your fingers hurt. He kisses the insides of your thighs softly.

“That’s it baby, you did so good f’me.”

He sits up on his knees and takes his cock in his hand. You watch as he strokes it, the sight stoking the fire in your belly once more. You need him, need to be full of him.

“You want my cock, pretty girl?” he asks, as though reading your mind.

“Please…,” you utter pleadingly. He settles himself between your legs and drags his cock through your folds. You both moan as he slides in slowly, pushing all the way to the hilt.

“God, I jus’ wanna fuckin’ rail you,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy. Gotta go slow though.”

“No, rail me. I can take it.”

“Baby if I rail you right now I won’t last. Let me go slow for a minute and then I’ll destroy this little fuckin’ pussy, yeah?”

“Oh god, yes,” you mewl. He takes his time, sliding in and out of you slowly. He enjoys watching how you suck him back in, your arousal making his cock shine.

“She’s so wet for me baby,” he whimpers, and you think it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. “Oh fuck, your pussy feels so good.”

He picks up speed a little and you wrap your legs around him. He rests his hands on either side of you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tip hits your g-spot with every thrust and you moan and whimper pathetically.

“Joel, just - fuck, just like that. Gonna make me cum so hard.”

“Fuckin’ cum for me baby girl,” he groans. He reaches between you and rubs your clit with his thumb. The extra stimulation sends you reeling and you’re clawing at his back, babbling about how hard he’s making you cum.

He pulls out and flips you into your stomach, pulling you back by your hips. He slams back into you all the way. He thrusts into you over and over, railing you just like he promised. At this point, you’re certain you can be heard by anyone outside but you’re beyond caring. All you can do is cry out for Joel as he continues slamming into you.

“Yeah, keep clenching around my cock, dirty fuckin’ girl. So tight f’me baby, fuck.”

He lands a smack on your ass cheek and it makes you cum again without warning, eyes rolling back.

“‘m cumming Joel,” you mumble. Your body quakes with pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“God fuckin’ damn baby girl, you take this fuckin’ cock. Take it like my good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s lost in the way you feel, hips slamming into you so hard you’re actually moving forward on the bed. Deep, guttural growls rumble from his chest.

“One more time baby,” he pants. “Need you to cum o-one more time.”

He pulls you up so that your back is against his chest. He puts his lips to your ear and kisses the shell of it, his hand cuffing your throat.

“You’re gonna cum again for me baby, then I’m gonna fuckin’ paint you with my cum.” His voice is low in your ear and he applies light pressure to your throat. His free hand reaches down to rub your clit. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours baby. All yours,” you whisper.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Mine. Cum for me baby, I wanna feel you.”

With a few more thrusts, you cum around him one last time, the cry you let out slightly strangled by his hand around your throat. He pulls out and jerks himself a few times before you feel ropes of cum splash against your back and ass. He rests his head on your shoulder as he catches his breath and you reach around to run your fingers through his hair.

“Holy hell woman. That was…”

“…fucking incredible,” you finish for him. He breaths put a “yeah” in agreement and kisses your shoulder. “Stay here, let me clean you up.”

He finds a wash cloth and wets it in the bathroom sink. He comes back and gently cleans his spend off you. He lays down with you and spoons you, kissing any part of you he can reach.

“Was that really okay? Was I too rough?” he asks.

“It was way more than okay. That was amazing - and I like it a little rough. Definitely do more of the choking.”

“Noted,” he chuckles softly.

“Will you stay?” you ask, and he doesn’t even have to consider his answer.

“Of course.”

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 8. restrained

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Patrick gets released from jail. You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, threats of violence, jealousy, possessiveness, destruction of property, DV is an underlying theme but not explicitly discussed, reminiscing of smut, emotional abuse, reader being called degrading terms for women (not by Joel), infidelity

WC: 8.1K

Series Masterlist

Helen greeted him when he walked through the front doors of the station and he nodded to her in return, just like always. As he walked through the bullpen and a few of his men said good morning or hey, boss, he replied in turn. Everybody was looking at him and treating him like it was any other day. But it wasn't just any other day. He surely must have been walking differently, or maybe his eyes shone a little brighter. Something had to be different because he didn't feel normal anymore. He felt like a brand new man. How was it not obvious? Wasn't it painted across his chest in red? Couldn't they see?

Joel had driven home early from your apartment that morning, the sun barely hanging in the sky in the hopes of avoiding prying eyes this time. At least he had the good sense to park a couple streets over, learning his lesson from the last time he visited you at night.

He had all but given up hope that you would be his one day. Especially after hearing your heart wrenching story, he thought you certainly wouldn't want anything to do with him. With anybody. How would it be possible for someone who had been through what you had been through to trust anyone ever again?

He wouldn't have even blamed you. But somehow, miraculously, you did trust again. And you chose to trust him. You let him into your life, into your heart, into your bed.

Leaving you that morning was the hardest thing he ever did. He was minutes away from calling into work sick, but you insisted he shouldn't, that you would be fine, that you would see him later. He struggled with it, guilt washing over him yet again, not knowing what to do. You were so used to putting up a facade, lying and pretending that everything was okay that you had become frighteningly good at it, sometimes making you difficult to read. The sun peeking over the tops of the trees and the reassurance that Patrick was still in jail, if only for a few more hours, made him finally decide to leave. But the moment he stepped out your front door and fresh air hit his lungs instead of your intoxicating scent, he knew he was done for. He already missed you.

As he pulled into his driveway, he began worrying about later that night. Even with a restraining order, he didn't trust Patrick. He wanted to be with you. But Sarah needed him, too. He had already left her with Tommy the night before and he'd never done that two days in a row.

When he walked into his quiet house, his first instinct was to follow his normal morning routine: shower, dress, coffee, but he stopped himself as he was picking out a fresh set of clothes for the day. He pinched his shirt away from his chest and took a sniff, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before letting it go.

He smelled like you.

Deciding to skip the shower, he begrudgingly changed his clothes, hoping that your scent would linger on his skin all day.

He jogged down the stairs as he blindly finished knotting his tie. Heading into the kitchen, he flicked on the coffee pot and grabbed his favorite mug before glancing around the room. He wasn't usually one for breakfast, but he had a feeling it would be a long day, so he swung open the fridge to see what was inside. His eyes immediately landed on an unfamiliar styrofoam box. With a frown, he picked it up and placed it on the counter, then flipped it open to reveal his favorite sandwich from Tommy's diner, completely untouched with a note written on the inside lid.

Weren't at the station, thought I would find you here but I guess I missed you. -T

So, Tommy already knew he wasn't working late and he wasn't home. Shit. It had only been a few hours and he already slipped up.

Carol's voice echoed through his head as he drove to work. A warning veiled as friendly advice to keep things separate. As much as it pained him, he knew he had to be careful. This town was too small and gossip travelled too quickly and he couldn't risk fucking up your case against Patrick all because he couldn't control himself and keep his dick in his pants.

He should have thought about that before he left. He should have talked to you about keeping your relationship a secret, although you seemed to come to that conclusion on your own, having urged him to leave before the town woke.

Hell, he didn't even talk to you about the nature of your relationship at all.

As he walked into the break room and poured his second cup of coffee, he mentally scolded himself for being so stupid. He needed to get his head on straight. Maybe he could lie to Tommy and convince him he went on a walk to clear his head when he had stopped by, when in actuality your thighs were probably trembling over his shoulders while he buried his nose and tongue deep inside your sweet, little -

"Shit!" Joel grumbled, shaking his hand to flick the drops of scalding coffee off his skin before running his fingers under some cool water for relief.

Yeah, he really needed to get his head on straight.

"Hey boss, got a minute?"

Joel glanced up from his computer at Bobby standing in the doorway to his office with his hands on his hips. Shockingly, he had actually managed to get into a groove and gotten some work done. It was probably the longest he'd gone without thinking about you in a while, but he would find his mind wrapping itself back around you in a moment because his deputy was coming to talk to him about the last person on earth he wanted to hear about.

"The asshole's lawyer's here insistin' we let 'em go."

Joel knew he would have to do it today. Patrick posted bail and, legally, Joel was only allowed to hold him for a certain amount of time. But it still made his blood run cold.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand up, snatching his keys and rounding the desk.

"I'll take care of it."

As Joel made his way to the back of the station, his eye caught a younger man in an expensive looking suit waiting next to Bobby's desk. He was furiously tapping out something on his phone, but when he noticed Joel, he pocketed the device and picked up his leather briefcase from the stack of precariously placed files on the desk.

"Sheriff?" he asked, jogging to catch up with Joel's long strides.

"That's me," he replied gruffly.

"Beckett Kennedy," the man said, stretching out his hand. Joel came to a sudden stop, making Beckett stumble a bit in surprise.

"Joel," he replied, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. His eyes raked over the man's dark, slicked back hair as he tried to ignore his overpowering, and no doubt over-priced, cologne. "Joel Miller."

"Good to meet you. I'm representing -"

"I know, my deputy told me. I'm lettin' him out right now, heard he posted bail. Sorry, been a busy mornin'," Joel replied, turning on his heel to unlock the door that led to the holding cells.

"Much appreciated, Sheriff," Beckett said, trailing after Joel. The man looked very young. Joel was beginning to wonder if maybe Patrick hired a rookie, but when they rounded the corner and Beckett laid eyes on Patrick's bruised and swollen face, Joel quickly realized the lawyer was smarter than he seemed.

"The hell did you do to my client?" Beckett asked, his pleasant demeanor long gone.

"Didn't do anythin'," Joel said calmly as he sifted through the keys in his hand, trying to locate the right one.

"Bullshit. He fucking attacked me in a bar," Patrick said, standing up and gripping the metal bars. Beckett swiveled around to glare at Joel, who was still taking his time finding the key.

"You assaulted my client, Sheriff?"

"Didn't assault anyone," Joel said, finally finding the key and turning it in the lock. He swung the door open and leaned against it, rolling his eyes as Patrick made a big show about limping out of the cell. "Believe you lawyers call it self-defense. Your client swung on me when I was tryin' to have a calm conversation with him 'bout his alcohol consumption that night. Or don't you remember?" Joel asked, turning on Patrick now. "Maybe you had somethin' else in your system besides whiskey that's makin' it hard to recall."

Patrick was about to reply, anger flaring in his eyes, when Beckett held out his hand.

"Don't say a word," he muttered, and Joel grinned when Patrick ruefully clamped his mouth shut. "I don't like what you're insinuating, Sheriff, and all these charges against him are over the line. Two counts aggravated assault, aggravated sexual assault, public intoxication, assaulting an officer-"

"That one's considered a hate crime down here, by the way."

Patrick glared at him and it took everything Joel had not to bash his skull into the iron bars.

Beckett sighed as he scrolled on his phone, reading down the rest of the list of charges silently before glancing back up at the two men and saying your name questioningly.

Hearing your name out of that man's mouth made Joel's whole body ignite with rage. His blood pumped loudly in his ears as he tried to take deep breaths and focus on what they were saying. Keep it separate. Don't fuck this up.

"Yeah, that's my wife," Patrick had said, and again, Joel felt his muscles spasm under his shirt. As if they had a mind of their own, arms itching to reach out and strangle him. Wife. Wife. Wife.

"We're gonna have to talk about this in private," Beckett said to Patrick. Joel took a deep breath, grateful that they were leaving because he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back much longer. But as Joel walked them back out to the front of the station, he felt compelled to say just one more thing.

"Now your client's got a restrainin' order against him. I trust you will make sure he understands what that means if he violates it."

"I know what it fucking means," Patrick spat. "You forget I'm a cop, too? Seems like it, considering the way I've been treated here-"

"That's enough," Beckett said, cutting Patrick off yet again. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll be in touch."

"I am sure you will," Joel said, leaning against Helen's desk as he watched the two men leave, the front door clicking shut quietly after them.

"Piece of work," Helen muttered as she adjusted her glasses on the tip of her nose and turned back to her computer.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," Joel sighed. He shoved himself off the desk and headed back to his desk, only pulling his phone out when he had privacy once again.

Joel: He's out.

You stood in the middle of your kitchen staring down blankly at your phone. The two little words taunting you, glaring at you, piercing your skin before knocking the wind out of you.

He's out. He's out. He's out.

You rushed down the stairs and triple checked your locks with shaky fingers before forcing yourself to take a deep breath. It will be okay. This time will be different.

You trudged back up the steps and locked the door behind you, one that you typically left unlocked because you felt it to be more of a hinderance than anything, but going forward you would have to take every precaution. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Patrick very well. He wouldn't take this lying down. He never has. He will find a way, he will find you and when he gets his hands on you again -

"Stop it," you mumbled to yourself, gently knocking the heel of your hand against your temple, hoping to shake loose the bad thoughts. Just as another wave of panic was about to surge, your phone buzzed again.

Joel: It will be okay. I won't let him touch you.

You took a slow breath in and closed your eyes. How did he know you so well already? How could he know you, inside and out, almost better than you knew yourself?

You knew why.

Because he cares. Because he pays attention and listens and puts your needs first. All of them. Always worried if you ate enough, if you took pain medicine when you were hurting, if you needed a ride back from work, if you could come for him again.

You couldn't live in fear anymore. You finally had someone fighting in your corner, someone who could actually help you, someone you trusted. You needed to be strong. Joel couldn't do everything for you, although you were fairly certain if he could, he would. You picked up your phone and typed out a reply.

You: I know. Thank you.

It was brief, but you knew he needed the reassurance that you were okay. And just as quickly as you sent the message, another popped up on your screen.

Joel: Me and Sarah will pick you up from work tonight and take you home. I'll check your place before I leave.

Tears burned your eyes instantly, overcome with so much gratitude you could just melt into the floor. You hadn't thought about being alone overnight yet, and the idea sent a shock of anxiety through you. Be brave. Be strong.

You: Okay.

Joel: Miss you.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling just enough to cause the tears you were fighting to hold back to fall down your cheeks.

You: I miss you too :)

You took another deep breath and looked around your small living room. You made it this far. You could do this.

It will be different this time.

You had half expected the rest of the waitresses to know what happened when you arrived at the diner that evening. Every time you made eye contact with one of them, you kept waiting for the inevitable look of pity, or their eyes to travel over your face, trying to see past your makeup to what was hidden underneath, but they seemed to treat you exactly the same as always. The butterflies in your stomach quieted down after an hour when you realized Tommy and Maria must have kept their word when Joel asked them to keep your situation private.

At the very least you had expected Maria to try to talk to you about it quietly, or maybe Tommy to make some comment, but they didn't say a word. They welcomed you back to work as if you had been on vacation and you were actually able to push Patrick and the last few days out of your mind. Before you knew it, the dinner rush was nearly over, and you were close to surviving your first shift back. Your legs and feet ached as you unloaded a bus tub in the dish area. You felt sweaty and tired, but you still had a couple hours left in your shift and you could only hope that the rest of the night would be quiet.

"What can I make ya?"

Your head swiveled around in surprise, somehow not hearing one of the cooks, Thor, sneak up on you. He was leaning his big, hulking frame against the wall casually as he waited for your response, as though it wasn't the first time he's ever initiated a conversation with you that wasn't strictly work related. To say he was a big man was an understatement. With tattoo covered arms that were as wide as your torso and towered at least a foot over you, when you first met him, he immediately made you nervous. His intimidating physique and quiet demeanor set you on edge, but by the end of your first day you had realized he was actually very kind. Sure, he kept to himself and didn't say much, but he kept his cool under pressure and he was always doing silent favors for the waitstaff.

"Huh?" was all you could think of to say. He raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a look like it was the most obvious question in the world.

"I said, what can I make ya?" he said again, and then it clicked. He wanted to make you something for dinner. He's never offered before. In fact, you were fairly certain you've never seen him away from the grill once, let alone tracking down waitresses in the dish room for a chat.

"Oh," you said, setting the empty bus tub down and looking around uncomfortably. "You don't have to -"

"If you don't pick somethin', I'm makin' you a BLT."

You met his eyes again, trying to figure out what spurred this on, but his expression gave nothing away.

"Tommy told you, didn't he?" you asked quietly. He gave a small shrug and crossed his arms.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying to hide your reaction. He was just offering to make you a sandwich, but it was more than that. He was trying to do something to help. Essentially an acquaintance, a step up from a stranger, he was attempting to reach out and offer his support, in his own way.

He must have seen your eyes grow misty because he pushed off the wall with a grunt, ready to make a hasty exit.

"BLT it is," he said gruffly, and just as he was about to turn to leave, you spoke.

"With turkey?"

He glanced at you and you swore you saw the corner of his bearded mouth twitch, the muscles trying to pull into a smile, but he wouldn't let them. He gave you a quick nod and then headed back behind the line. You bit your lip to try to hold back your smile as you wiped your hands on your apron, then headed out the door back into the dining room.

It was getting close to the end of the night. The diner was closing in thirty minutes and there were only two tables left in the building. With any luck, you would be able to get out of there on time, eager to climb into the safety of Joel's truck. You had been nervous about sleeping alone now that Patrick was out of jail, but now all you could think about was curling up in your bed that hopefully still smelled like Joel.

You were wiping down the coffee machines when you heard the door open and Maria greet a customer. You groaned inwardly when you heard her tell them that the counter was open, and you hoped it was just someone who maybe wanted coffee and a piece of pie so you could still get out on time. Glancing up through the kitchen window, you spotted Thor and Tommy putting away the salad bar and listening to a hockey game over the radio. You sighed, now wishing more than ever that the customer didn't want anything complicated since the kitchen was nearly all broken down for the night.

The fake smile that you plastered across your face fell when you turned around, and you felt all the blood drain from your face when you met a pair of cold, familiar eyes set around a broken nose, waiting for you.

"Y-you can't be he-"

"I know, just listen to me, alright?" Patrick pleaded, looking guilty for maybe the first time in his life.

You looked over his shoulder at Maria, but she was too busy sweeping the foyer to notice what was happening.

"Please look at me, baby."

"Don't call me that," you said softly, but still, your eyes involuntarily slid back to him.

You saw his jaw clench as he cracked a knuckle in his finger, but he forced a smile anyway.

"I guess I deserved that," he admitted, leaning forward as his eyes raked up and down your body. "You look good. Uniform's sexy."

"Stop it," you said, your voice a little firmer now, but still too quiet.

"What? I can't compliment my own wife?" he said with a smile and a tilt of his head. You just stared at him, not sure what to say, worried about setting him off again. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back.

"Can I get a coffee? My head's fucking killing me."

You hesitated and glanced around the dining room, watching as one of the two tables got up. Maria wished them good night as they left, and she continued to clean up the foyer.

"What do you want?" you finally asked, your eyes flicking back to him.

"I just told you," he said, his voice taking on a menacing tone. "I want a cup of coffee and I want to talk to my fucking wife."

You took a shaky breath in and reached down below the counter for a mug. This was the Patrick you were used to.

"And then you'll go?"

His eyes narrowed at you and his jaw ticked to the side, but eventually he nodded.

"Yeah. And then I'll go."

Your hand trembled as you picked up the coffee pot and filled a mug. Turning back around, you stepped forward and placed the cup in front of him, realizing a moment too late that you were within arms length of him, but fortunately he didn't do anything. Hurriedly, you stepped backwards a few feet, creating some distance.

His eyes slowly lifted up from the steaming mug as he stared at you, something sinister flickering behind his eyes. Something that sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart begin beating twice as fast.

"You-"

He stopped himself as he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then tried again.

"You fucking whore."

Your eyes widened and you stumbled back, your shoulder blades knocking against the behemoth of a coffee machine. Sweat was beginning to accumulate at the base of your skull as your fear spiked.

Patrick stood up from his stool and beckoned you forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the last table get up to leave and part of you was relieved. At least whatever was going to happen wouldn't involve innocent customers.

His face was growing hot as he beckoned you forward again, accidentally knocking the coffee over with a clatter, the dark liquid trailing like a lazy river down the counter. And this time, you shook your head.

"I fucking smell him on you, you slut!" he growled lowly, anger and fury lacing every word.

You gasped, your hands coming up to clamp over your mouth as tears began to cloud your vision.

"There a problem here?"

Both of you jumped when Tommy's voice rang out from somewhere next to you.

"No, there's no problem," Patrick said, unphased by Tommy's presence. "Just trying to talk to my wife, do you mind?"

"Actually, I do. Pretty sure you ain't allowed to be around her right now," Tommy said, taking a step forward, almost standing between you now. Maria's head popped up from a booth when she heard the tone in Tommy's voice and she quickly made her way to the hostess stand, picking up the phone and dialing.

"Pretty sure that's none of your fucking business," Patrick sneered, eyeing Tommy up and down. "The fuck you gonna do about it?"

"Call the police, for one," Tommy quipped, and Patrick scoffed.

"Oh, your sheriff? That motherfu-" Patrick's voice trailed off as he froze, his eyes going round as he actually stumbled backwards, his gaze fixed on something behind you both. When you turned around, you found Thor was standing quietly right behind you, staring Patrick down. Quite literally, as he towered over him by a good five or six inches.

Thor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to the side so he could step forward.

"You wanna try that again, boy?" Thor asked, his voice taking on a tone you never heard from him before.

"You got guard dogs now? How many men in this town are you fucking?" Patrick shouted, craning his neck to try to look at you, but Tommy stepped forward again, blocking his view.

"She's one of our own. We don't take too kindly to people talkin' to one of us like that around here," Tommy said, squaring his jaw.

"Jesus Christ," Patrick muttered, then huffed out a disbelieving laugh before glancing around the dining room. He realized his options were limited, so he began to back away.

"Fine. I'll leave," he said, looking at Thor and holding his palms up in defeat.

"Good idea," Tommy said, still not moving until Patrick slowly backed up towards the doors, trying and failing to think of one more jab to get in before he disappeared. Maria quickly locked the doors and twisted around, eyes wide.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing towards you. "I had no idea, I didn't know what he looked like-"

"It's okay," you said, waving her off and sagging against the counter, your body suddenly feeling weak.

"I called the station, Bobby will be here in a minute. Let's take you to the office so you can have some privacy."

Maria wrapped her arm around your shoulder, turning you towards the kitchen, but just as you were about to walk through the door, you stopped and turned around to look at Thor and Tommy.

"Thank you," you whispered, your bottom lip trembling. They both looked at you, Tommy waving you off with a smile, about to say something, but Thor unexpectedly spoke up.

"Don't need to thank us. Like he said, you're one of us now. We look out for each other."

You were pretty sure even Tommy was surprised by the amount of words Thor said at once because he slowly turned his head to look up at him in shock.

You gave Thor a small smile and nodded before letting Maria lead you to the back.

"When do you think I'll have a shift where we don't have to get the police involved?" you asked Maria, and she chuckled. It had been about twenty minutes and the adrenaline was wearing off. You were beginning to feel more like yourself again, more at ease. Maybe having people in your life know the truth wasn't actually a bad thing. You felt safe. You felt protected. And most of all, you felt like you belonged. But you also felt an unshakable cloud of guilt and fear. Guilt for dragging innocent people into your drama, and fear that Patrick won't back down so easily next time someone tries to stand up for you.

"To be fair, the Marcus thing could have happened to any one of us. You just got lucky that day."

You laughed and leaned your head against the wall.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

There was a soft knock on the office door and Maria stood to open it. You rolled your head to the side then straightened up when Joel walked in, looking frazzled and shaken up with the curls on top of his head messier than usual, most likely from his fingers anxiously combing through them.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you could tell he was holding back. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He glanced back and forth between you and Maria before clearing his throat.

"Sarah's out front. I didn't tell her what happened, didn't wanna scare her. D'you mind-"

"Of course not," Maria said, already understanding what he needed. "I'll take her in the back, let her pick out a dessert or two."

"Thank you," Joel said, waiting until she walked away before he shut the door and turned back to you.

"I'm so sorry," he said, quickly stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. You sighed, your arms draping around his neck as you leaned into his chest, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. Your muscles instantly relaxed in his hold, your mind went blank and all of your worries, the guilt and the fear, began to drift away.

"I'm okay," you murmured into his shirt, but he just squeezed you tighter.

"I shoulda been here."

"You can't be here all the time, Joel," you said, leaning back to look up at him. "I know you want to do it all, and it's so sweet, but it's impossible." You reached up to cup his face, your thumb rubbing across his stubbled cheek gently. His eyes were still filled with worry, so you stretched up on your tiptoes, brushing your lips softly against his. He responded quickly, lips massaging yours before he pulled away all too soon. He let his forehead rest against yours and sighed heavily, his arms still holding you flush against him.

"I got three cars out lookin' for him. We'll find him and toss him back in jail."

You nodded, your eyes closed as you leaned against him, perfectly content to stay that way until your legs gave out.

"'Til we find him, you shouldn't be alone. Tommy said you could stay with them, or you could stay with me." He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, wanting you to make your choice without his influence, but he desperately hoped you would take him up on his offer.

"I-" you paused, eyes still closed, guilt slowly swelling back up in your chest. "Maybe we shouldn't confuse Sarah," you finally decided to say, and you felt his shoulders slump under your arms.

He wanted to argue with you, wanted to convince you to stay with him, but he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just nodded and stepped back. When your arms slid down from around his neck, he caught your wrist and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss against your pulse before letting you go.

You stared at one another for a long moment, so many things you both wanted to say, but couldn't.

A sudden trill filled the room. An upbeat tune playing from deep within his pocket. He slid his hand down to pluck out his phone from his pants, his thumb sliding over the screen before answering.

"Yeah?"

You took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest, watching as his eyes drifted around the office while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. He stared blankly at some old bankers boxes filled with receipts underneath the desk as he nodded along, his thumb coming up to rub anxiously against his lower lip.

As the phone call continued, with Joel only giving brief answers, you heard a knock at the door. You cracked it open then pushed it further when you saw Tommy waiting on the other side. He stepped into the small space, his mouth open about to ask Joel a question until he realized he was on the phone, then turned to you, instead.

"Any luck?"

"I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"We got a spare room, you can stay with us tonight. If you want, that is," Tommy offered awkwardly. You gave him a tight smile in return.

"Yeah, I - if you don't mind, that would be great."

Just as Tommy was about to answer, Joel turned around to face you both, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Can't find him," he said, trying to mask the frustration he was feeling, but you could see the muscles in his neck tense.

"Why don't you take her back to her place so she can get some things, then drop her off at our house? I'll take Sarah, you can pick her up when you come by. I'll make somethin' up 'bout a burst pipe or whatever," Tommy suggested, and again you could see Joel's exasperation seeping through as his eyes shifted back and forth between you and his brother, but he eventually agreed.

Joel drove you back to your apartment in silence. It was only a few minute drive, but it felt like it was an hour. So many things swirled around in your head, words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't get them out. You were beginning to feel like a burden. You were asking so much of him and this poor town. The guilt was weighing you down, suffocating you, and you wished you had just run again when you had the chance, but then his hand slid across the console and his fingers brushed against yours and your selfishness won. You allowed his fingers to lace together with yours as his eyes remained focused on the road, looking for a parking spot and again, the words were right there. I need you. I hate that I'm so much trouble. I'm sorry.

"Alright," Joel said, pulling his hand back and cutting the engine. "I had one of my guys drive by earlier, but just in case, I'm goin' in first. You wait for me at the bottom of the stairs, door locked behind you til I come and get you. Got it?"

Only when you quickly nodded did he allow you to exit the truck. You stayed behind him as he approached your door, giving the knob and experimental twist before reaching his hand back towards you, waiting for your keys. You fumbled for a moment and handed him the correct one.

The door had been locked. You just assumed everything would be fine, but you would soon find out you were wrong.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, watching as Joel walked up the steps, pulling his gun out only once he reached the top, then disappeared into your kitchen. You shifted your weight nervously, lower lip pulling between your teeth as your ears strained to try to figure out where he was. The place was very small, it shouldn't take that long. After several minutes without a sound, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Joel?" you called up quietly, and you finally saw the shadow of his frame darken the doorway before he appeared and looked down at you, his face unreadable.

"It's clear, but..." he trailed off, his eyes casting over his shoulder before looking down at you again. "He was here."

"What?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "But the door-"

"I dunno," Joel said with a sigh before pulling his phone out and dialing a number. "Maybe he made a copy of your key or somethin'."

You shakily sat down on the bottom step, his words repeating over and over in your head. How could you be so stupid? Have you learned nothing? He could have killed you and these locks wouldn't have done a damn thing.

You vaguely heard Joel talking to one of his men over the phone, presumably asking whoever had stopped by your place earlier if there was anything suspicious that jumped out at him, but it didn't matter now. Just when you thought he couldn't violate you any more, he did. He had been in your space. In your safe haven. What did he do?

"Joel?" you called out again, standing up and leaning forward. You wanted to obey him and stay at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, but you needed to see what Patrick did. Joel was still talking on the phone, unable to hear you, so instead of calling out again, you went up. When you walked through the doorway, you gasped.

All of your plates, glasses, mugs, dishware were shattered in tiny pieces all over the kitchen floor. Cupboards were left open, food was poured all over the countertops, spilling down the wood cabinet doors and mixing with broken glass on the floor.

You kept your shoes on and tiptoed into the living room where you heard Joel's voice speaking lowly into the phone. You covered your mouth as you looked around the room. The few plants you had were smashed, dirt was spewed and ground into the old carpet. Books were flung onto the floor, some pages even ripped out, and the couch was turned upside down, thrown against the wall. You barely even noticed the TV was lying on its side, the screen smashed, because you were fixated on the holes punched and kicked into the walls, pieces of plaster and dust piled up on the floor under each one.

Eventually, you must have made a noise because Joel swiveled around to look at you.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, and hung up before rushing over to you. "I told you to wait downstairs."

"I know, but -" you lost your voice, unable to continue. Your whole life was in this apartment, and now it was destroyed. How long did it take? Minutes? An hour? Was that really all it took to pick up your entire world and shake it like a snow globe?

"It's just stuff," he said, trying to reassure you. "It can all be replaced. You can't be replaced, though. You hear me?"

You looked up at him, tears already streaming down your face. His eyes softened and he sighed before pulling you against his chest, his strong hands wrapping themselves around your middle, cradling your head against his pounding heart as you sobbed.

"What am I going to do?" you wondered out loud, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Stay with me."

He felt you stiffen in his arms and he looked down at you.

"Please. I'd feel better if you stayed with me. Just until we find him, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, trying not to show your relief but you already felt safer just knowing you would be under his watch that night. You still worried about Sarah, but you would make sure she knew you were sleeping on the couch. You refused to complicate Joel's life any further than you already had.

"Okay," he repeated, his voice soft. He leaned back and swiped a thumb over your cheek, drying your tears. "Let's see if we can get any of your clothes. Then we'll go get Sarah and go home."

Home.

You nodded and let him lead you to your bedroom, grabbing a tote bag from your small closet as you began to rifle through your dresser drawers.

Patrick had tossed your clothes around your room, but they didn't look like they were destroyed. It probably would have taken too long, you realized, as you packed a bag with whatever you could think of, ignoring how your comforter and sheets were piled at the foot of your bed, the strong smell of urine emanating from your mattress. When you stood up, you noticed for the first time the stuffed penguin Joel had won for you was torn in half, white fluffy stuffing spilling out in a corner of your room.

Choking back a sob, you walked towards the bathroom, but Joel reached out to stop you.

"What d'you need? I'll get it."

"What do you mean?" you asked, giving him a confused look as you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. "Why can't I -"

"Just tell me what you need and I'll grab it for you," he said, not allowing you to ask the question. You stared at him, trying to figure out what could possibly be worse than urine on your bed. When neither of you budged, you brushed past him and flicked on the light.

You only paused for a moment, Joel standing right behind you as you read the words repeatedly scrawled all over the mirror and walls with the few lipsticks you owned. Whore. Slut. Badge Bunny. Cunt.

You swallowed and looked down, averting your gaze to focus on packing your toiletries as quickly as you could. You heard Joel say your name softly from the doorway, but you ignored him and continued to throw things into your bag - shampoo, toothbrush, whore, face wash, slut, hair brush, deodorant.

A chill went down his spine as he watched your face harden and your eyes glaze over. Memories of how you pulled away from him in the past came creeping back: the cologne, the robbery, your marriage... Patrick, and everything he's done. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again.

"I'm ready," you said numbly, pushing past him and heading to the door.

Joel followed you outside, making sure to lock up after, although you could hardly see the point, with what little belongings you had left clutched in your hand.

He jumped into the driver's seat and started the truck, glancing sideways at you, trying to figure out what to say to give you some comfort, but he was coming up empty.

"He knows," you said after a few painfully silent minutes. Joel flicked his gaze to you quickly before focusing back on the road, immediately knowing what you meant.

"How-"

"He said he could smell you on me," you told him, refusing to look at him as shame coursed through your veins.

Joel flinched. Now he was reading those words on your wall differently. Now he knew Patrick wrote those things because of him, and it made him feel sick.

"Did you say anythin'?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, still staring out your window. "Of course not."

"Good," he said. "That's... good. I mean-" he glanced over at you again, stumbling over his words. "Not good, it just-"

"I know what you're trying to say, Joel," you said quietly.

He tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh as another tense silence filled the truck.

"I'll have someone go over in the mornin', process the scene so we can press additional charges," he said, breaking the quiet. You just continued to stare out the window, exhausted.

"How will you prove it was even him?"

"DNA," was all Joel said, and you closed your eyes. You refused to give the situation any more tears, so you forced them back and opened your eyes, resting your forehead against the glass as Joel drove the short distance to Tommy and Maria's house.

"Why don't you just stay here and I'll go talk to Tommy?" Joel suggested, unbuckling his seatbelt as he turned to look at you. You stared straight ahead and gave him a slight nod.

He scanned your face, wishing he could see you smile again. He reached a hand over and gently squeezed your thigh, finally pulling your gaze off the dashboard and onto him. He hated that look in your eye. A distant, sad, hopeless look that made him want to comb through the whole town until he found Patrick so he could break every bone in his worthless fucking body.

"You're okay," he whispered, lifting his hand off your leg and sweetly pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You forced a small smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. You took his hand in both of yours and brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you kissed the back of his hand before pressing it into your soft cheek, and he felt a modicum of relief.

"I'm just tired," you said quietly, hoping that would placate him enough for the time being.

After about fifteen minutes, you saw Joel and Sarah exit Tommy's front door, her backpack slung over one shoulder, still clad in a soccer uniform. You hadn't realized she had a game that night, and you hoped the game had at least ended before Joel dragged her away to come to your rescue because you couldn't stomach ruining one more person's night.

He must have told Sarah you were in the car because she wasn't surprised to see you when she opened the door to the back of the cab.

"Your apartment's wrecked, huh?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt. You looked at her, surprised, as Joel twisted around in his seat.

"We told her 'bout the burst pipe," he said, making sure to hold eye contact with you until you nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, it's a mess. Thanks for letting me crash with you," you said, turning to give her a smile. She grinned and nodded.

"It'll be fun. Can we do movie night tomorrow instead of Saturday, Dad?"

"It's a school night-"

"Please! Dad, please! She might not be here on Saturday," she whined.

Joel sighed and rubbed his eyes as he waited for a streetlight to turn green. You could tell he was exhausted, too, so you turned back towards Sarah to try to help.

"Tell you what. If I'm back in my apartment by Saturday, I'll still come by for movie night. Deal?"

Sarah thought it over for a moment before nodding.

"Deal."

Satisfied, she sat back in her seat and hummed along to the radio as she gazed out the window. Joel tilted his face towards you and mouthed thank you, and you smiled in return before looking out your own window.

You weren't sure what you expected when you saw Joel's house, but once you saw it, you could tell it was undeniably his. It was a remodeled two-story white farmhouse. There wasn't much in the way of decor, but what he did have was simple and tasteful. There were framed family photos that littered the mantle and bookcase, and the sparse art that hung on the walls were mostly landscapes. It just felt like him. Rustic, homey, and comfortable.

The light fixtures in the kitchen were dated, and the cupboards looked old, but in true Joel fashion, everything worked. Everything was taken care of. Not a single loose handle, squeaky hinge or burnt-out lightbulb in the place.

It was just after ten at night by the time the three of you arrived home. Joel urged Sarah to go get ready for bed while he walked down the small hallway to grab some linens from the downstairs bathroom. He dropped them on the couch and pointed up the stairs, where Sarah had just disappeared.

"You can have my bedroom, I'll take the couch. Lemme show you-"

"I can't let you do that, I'll sleep on the couch," you insisted, taking a step towards the living room but he wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back against his chest, his nose getting buried in your hair. You sighed and melted against him, weak and completely drained.

"Want you safe and sound in my bed. Please," he murmured against your ear. "I won't be able to sleep otherwise." You didn't have the strength to argue.

"Joel?" you whispered, your eyes closed as you relaxed into him further, letting him lightly sway you side to side as he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For... everything."

You wished you could put your gratitude into words, but everything you thought to say didn't seem like nearly enough.

"Don't want you to thank me," he mumbled before taking a deep breath. "But can you promise me somethin'?"

You frowned and turned around in his arms so you could look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Don't shut me out, okay?" he asked softly, his fingers caressing your cheek. "I want you to talk to me, tell me what's goin' on in there," he said, gently tapping the side of your head. "No matter what it is, just... talk to me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling guilty, yet again. "I'm just not used to having anyone."

"You got me now, okay?" he said, giving you a quick kiss and then pulling back when he heard the water turn off in the bathroom above your heads. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

You gave him a small smile and took his hand as he led you upstairs. He made it crystal clear that the two of you were sleeping apart as he showed you his room, knowing that Sarah would have heard from the other side of the bathroom door. But before he left, a pair of pajamas in one hand and a pillow in the other, he gave you one more kiss, letting his lips linger until he heard Sarah flick the bathroom light off.

"You know where I am if you need me," he said, his voice once again a little louder than usual, for Sarah's benefit. He winked at you and shut the door, leaving you all alone in his bedroom.

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