#and tommy is a weak man

[mags-yaps]

tommy full on ghosted buck after the breakup because he KNOWS that just one glimpse of evan’s sad baby blues and full pout and he’s down on his knees begging for buck to take his dumbass back

[bidisasterevankinard]

Evan Buckley just pouts his big plump lips, makes his eyes sad and bats his eyelashes on Tommy whenever he needs or wants something and Tommy says only of course

[normalbrothers]

TOMMY: The war is done! Shut the door on it like I did.

[hoechlinth]

Listen I'm just saying there is nothing in the Season 7 canon which directly contravenes the idea that The Bet™ is real and that Hen and Chimney asked Tommy to flirt with Buck and Eddie in order to put the cat among the pigeons and remind them that dating a string of women was not their only option and everything that has happened since is a direct result of their meddling

[call-me-apple]

10, 22, 28 !!

10. What do you think c!Dream’s life was like pre-DSMP?

I wish the search function fucking worked on Tumblr because I literally had a post about this that I now can't find.

This is obviously headcanon territory, but I think he lived a life of constant danger and instability. It would explain why all his living spaces have been so frugal, and why he would walk around overprepared and consistently overestimate his opponents. He fights for peace as if he has barely known it and is desperate to regain the little slice of it that he had. So I imagine him as an orphan, vagrant or even child soldier who found a family in people with similarly disadvantaged lives and chose to build a home with them, only to have that home be taken away by war and conflict once again.

22. If you had all the time, resources, and skills to create your ideal piece of c!Dream fan content, what would it be?

Torn between two options here.

I had a vague outline for a Syndicate AU longfic but I never had the writing skill nor the commitment necessary to turn it into anything. It would have been a redemption story revolving around c!Dream adapting to post-torture disability and trying to find a new place for himself in the torn world as he realizes the path he has been so committed to is not one that will lead him anywhere. The ideal part of it would have been that I wanted c!Dream to be a bit more of a manipulative asshole w/ the Syndicate than how people usually write this kind of AU, but have it come from a place of fear rather than malice.

The second option is something that has even fewer concrete ideas, but if I was basically God capable of manifesting a perfect coherent plot of my desires, I'd write a No Nukes AU fic where c!Tommy and c!Dream go about trying to save the server while also suffering through cutting themselves on the shattered pieces of each other. I'd just really love to explore a dynamic where two characters have hurt each other terribly, with one being in a more obvious position of victim than the other, but try to work through it for the sake of something else no matter how messy and painful the process is.

28. What do you think is c!Dream’s greatest weakness?

This is something that has been said before, but the thing he suffers from the most is overestimating people's fairness (the most obvious example of this being c!Sam's betrayal). I think it's a really interesting flaw for such a character to have. Dude has a stick up his ass and is surprised everyone else doesn't. His brain works in funny ways in general but this is the first thing that comes to mind.

[3liza]

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

[nomsfaultau]

pro tip: make your other OCs so so so so stupid and gullible and have very perfectly designed weak points to exploit with big glowing neon arrows pointing to them. So that you can show how evil gaslight gatekeep girlboss your villain OC is bc their schemes always bamboozle and devastate the other OCs every time 👌

the problem with having an evil mastermind manipulator oc is that i am not particularly good at being any of those things

[lilpomelito]

my favorite thing about Steve is that he’s actually a very confident guy, overconfident I would say sometimes, so in my head he has the shortest gay crisis ever like he realizes on a random Tuesday morning while slowly rotting on his costumer service job that his weird fixation with Eddie and how close he is with that punk dude from the Hideout is jealousy actually, so that means he has a crush on Eddie. Huh, that’s weird, has he had crushes on guys before? Maybe, his friendship with Tommy was intense and weirdly possessive actually, and their fight did feel like a breakup kind off and Tommy did behave like a bitter ex afterwards… also now that he thinks about it his obsession with the captain of the baseball team who was a senior when he was a junior was totally a crush in retrospective. And as he comes to this conclusion he also thinks damn what a waste, I could 100% have pulled him. So that same day he’s driving to Eddie’s place like “hi i’m taking you out” and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s about to be wine and dinned or murdered in the middle of the woods but he’s also a weak weak man for pretty boys so he just follows where Steve tells him to go. They have a lovely date at the dinner and then drive up to the quarry to see the sunset and then a very intense makeout sesh in the back of Steve’s car when Eddie remembers to ask him if he’s even into guys. Steve who already has his hands in Eddie’s pants looks him dead in the eye and says “yeah since this morning I think, but also since forever.” And Eddie who had to spend years slowly crawling his way out of Narnia to even admit to himself he was gay even less admitting it to others just blinks and accepts the fact that yeah, Steve Harrington has always had that vibe actually, and resumes kissing him.

[monstraduplicia]

jdm looks like a yassified version of my dad and oliver reed is like if my dad was an austere british actor so you can imagine i am perfectly normal about them

[josephquinnswhore]

Christmas Eve - joel miller x female reader

summary: Christmas Eve with your husband.

word count: 2k

content warning: fluff..slight insinuations to sex, girl dad joel, heavily pregnant reader, anxiety surrounding pregnancy, birth etc. Pre established marriage, joel is in his early 30’s. no outbreak. I think that’s it?

a/n: it’s chrissy eve in Australia… 10:15pm as I’m posting this. Merry Christmas to all my moots / fans of Joel / Pedro / whoever reads this. Love you all x

Lights draped around the window frames and along the porch were strung up, emitting a golden glow along the cleared pathway to the front door. Tinsel is tightly wrapped around the wooden frame of the steps to your front house, complete with a beautiful wreath on your front door.

Through the curtains, you could make out Joel’s figure up on the step ladder, hanging more lights in the living room.

As you step foot into your home, the harsh wind follows you as you tap the snow off your boots on the doormat, a freezing breeze curls up your neck, making you shudder.

But as the front door closes behind you, all you feel is warmth. The ugly Christmas sweater you wore has poorly stitched reindeers, snowflakes and the ugliest shade of green you’d ever seen. Alas, You’re shocked to see Joel wearing his matching sweater as you step through the threshold of the living room.

Tinsel hangs along the hallways, the smell of the pine tree fills your lungs with warmth. Never did you think it could be possible to crave a smell—until now. The fresh scent of pine tree that Joel had cut down, he and Tommy had lugged it into your living room to use as a Christmas tree upon your insistence.

He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow at your messy hair and few intact snowflakes on your sweater. In hand, you’re clutching a sacred tin of powdered hot chocolate.

His ugly Christmas sweater is the same as yours, but red. His dark hair is littered with greys, feral curls untamed and his face framed with a pair of thick specs. The rainbow lights he’s hanging up with a hammer and nail reflect in them for a moment, before he removes them. His sweet, warm brown eyes meet your own.

“House looks good baby,” you call softly, admiring how beautiful the decorations looked with his determination, not allowing you to do anything more than decorate the tree, and wrap the gifts, since it was your favourite part about Christmas, excluding the gingerbread baking.

He climbs down the ladder, hooking his glasses through the neckline of his sweater, setting the hammer and nails onto the flat surface at the top of the step ladder.

“Without your vision this never would have come to life. Sarah’s going to love it.” He preens, stepping toward you. “How was it out there?” With an all recognisable voice of concern, you smile.

It was beginning to snow outside, and Joel was anxious the entire time you’d been gone.

“Chaotic, shopping on Christmas Eve isn’t for the weak. I had to practically fight an old lady to get this tin of hot chocolate you know?”

His soft laugh breaks the tension of his anxiety, just glad to have you back. His arms snake around you, resting on your hips. “Sounds like you needed your man to come with you hm? I’ve got no problems protecting my girl from the oldies.”

“I can handle them, plus.. I’m glad you stayed. Sarah’s going to be so happy when she sees all of this. Did you remember to do Santa’s footprints with flour?”

Tsk. “So much distrust baby, course I remembered, I ain’t the one with baby brain y’know?”.

You roll your eyes at him, shoving his chest lightly. “And who’s fault is that, hm?”

Joel chuckled as you rolled your eyes, knowing how much you secretly loved his teasing. He followed your gaze to the lights before smiling, proud of his work.

"I’ll take half the blame, honey," he said,

“If you don’t recall, I’ll recite the way you begged me to get you pregnant—“

With your cheeks warming you interrupt. “Alright.. alright. I remember.”

His thumb leaves your waist, curling into your cheek to caress you softly with adoration. "I’m glad you convinced me, baby. You look so beautiful, you’re glowing.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his praise. The warmth of the fire crackling inside of the living room begin to ease the ache in your joints, particularly your knees and ankles.

“I look and feel like a whale.” It had been hard on you, anyone could see, with your stomach so round and swollen, the Christmas sweater struggled to stretch over your stomach to cover it entirely.

Joel shook his head, slipping his warm hands underneath your sweater to caress your aching stomach in a soothing notion.

"No," he protested softly. "You look like my beautiful, pregnant wife who is about to bring a little bundle of joy into the world. Half of me, and half of you.”

With a soft hum, you find yourself smiling. The thought warmed your heart, a small bundle of love, made of you and him. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Joel Miller.”

"Hm?" Joel hums in return, planting a kiss on your cheek, his nose nudging your own. "That's good to know, I might have to use that to my advantage."

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe... it'll get me everything I want."

With a baited breath, you breathe out a shaky response. “And what is it that you want?”

"Hmm..." Joel pretended to ponder about it for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips again, fingers curling into the curved surface.

"Since you asked," he murmured, his voice low and enticing. "All I really want for Christmas is to spend it with you. But if you're looking for a more tangible gift, I guess I could think of a thing or two."

With a roll of your eyes, you snag a candy cane off of the tree beside you, and uncurl the plastic and stick the hooked peppermint lolly into your mouth, sucking the flavour off with a pop.

“Hot chocolate first.” You insist, kissing his cheek, leaving sticky residue on his warm skin. “I didn’t drive through a snowstorm and fight an old lady for nothing.”

You shake the tin of chocolate powder as if to remind him, garnering his attention.

Joel chuckled wipes the sticky candy cane residue off his cheek. “You got it mumma. Hot chocolate first, then I'll tell you what I really want for Christmas."

Joel gestured towards the couch by the fireplace with one hand and an expectant gaze.

"Go take a seat and relax. I'll make the hot chocolate, and then you can tell me about that beautiful baby of ours and how you’re feeling."

He swats your ass softly, amusement clear in his voice.

“Thanks baby. For everything. My feet are killing me.” Minutes later you graciously accept the warm mug of hot chocolate, the white mini marshmallows are soft and starting to melt.

"Anything for you baby.” You know he means it too.

He took a seat on the couch beside you, the leather sinking under his weight. "How's everything been today? Any contractions?"

You shake your head with a small mouthful of the gooey, warm, sweet drink. “No, nothing yet. I feel like she’s never going to come at this rate..”

A soft hum vibrates within your chest as he encourages you to shift towards him, and he props your feet up onto his lap to remove your shoes and socks, promptly massaging your swollen ankles.

“Do you think she’ll come before the new year?”

Joel continued massaging your ankles, looking down at your huge baby bump as you rubbed it tentatively, he can sense some anxiety coming from you as a first time expectant mother.

Sure, you’d practically raised Sarah since she was twelve months, but this was different. A newborn, the birth.. that was all new to you.

"Hard to tell, baby," he said with a thoughtful expression, not wanting to cause you any stress. "But judging by how big you are, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make her debut soon."

He looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours as he decided to pry further, coaxing the truth from you. "You feeling ready for the big day yet?"

“I’m terrified,” you admit in a gentle whisper between you, a sudden sense of vulnerability curates between the two of you. It makes it all the more real.

Joel's expression softened as you admitted your fears, his fingers pausing in massaging your ankles. Watching as you set your now empty mug down onto the coffee table, having satiated your sweet tooth.. for now.

"Hey, I get it," he reassures quietly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your foot in a comforting gesture this time, rather than a massage. "Giving birth is a big deal, baby. But you're gonna be incredible. You're strong, you're capable, and I'll be right there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

Joel smiled warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently as you slowly processed his words of encouragement, that no matter what happened through the birth, you’d soon have a family of four. “You’re right.. it’s all going to be okay.”

"You're damn right it's going to be okay," he said with conviction. "Because we've got each other, Sarah, and our precious little girl.. Sadie, right?”

He moved his hand from your feet, leaning closer to place his hands on your stomach, feeling his daughter actively kick at his affectionate touch. Seeing you nod in confirmation. “Yeah.. Sadie.”

"Just think, in a few days, you'll be holding our baby in your arms."

The thought is overwhelming, a small baby in your arms, Sarah, who had turned six earlier in the year. She was stoked to be a big sister, asking every day when the baby was coming. Constantly cradling your heavy stomach with her small hands, singing as she prompts the baby to kick.

The image of innocence, a young child that still believes in Santa, which will hopefully carry into the next few years of your lives.

The thought makes you smile, wrapping dozens of presents for everyone and sticking them under the tree for all of you, your family of four plus Tommy and Maria who annually joined you for Christmas celebrations.

Joel glances around the living room, taking in the sights of the lights and the decorations that adorned the house. The tree stood in a corner, covered in colorful, homemade decorations from Sarah, the topper at the top of the tree shaped like a snowflake coloured in with a half dozen colours being Joel's favorite of them all.

"You know," he said softly, his hand still resting on your tummy. "This is going to be our last Christmas as a a family of three..."

The thought makes your heart ache with guilt or perhaps anxiety, biting into your lower lip. “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?”

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. He was getting older now, creeping into his early thirties. To start over again, he felt a little out of practice.

"It's a lot to take in, baby, I know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We can do this together, Tommy and Maria will help.. we aren’t doin’ this alone. Sarah will adore our little girl. And I know you’re goin’ to be an incredible mother.”

Ever the romantic.

With a wry smile and your heart swelling inside of your chest, you offer him what he had indignantly prompted for earlier in the evening. “Want to try and get this baby out?”

Your hand trails through his hair with a suggestive smile. Joel raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm... Now that's a proposition I can get on board with, baby."

[oceantornadoo]

ch2 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

You hate John Price because he ruined your childhood. Or at least, his father did.

Growing up as a bastard was hard. You do thank your lucky stars that you were a bastard in modern-day society, and not during some time when your mother could have had her head chopped off. It’s the small things.

Your mother was Mr. Riley’s nanny. How original. 

Mrs. Riley, Simon and Tommy’s mother, did not like her husband. Smart woman. He was cruel, knew how to poke at scars until they opened and bled down bruised skin. They had an heir and a spare, neither of which she was particularly attached to. It was enough to fulfill their marriage contract, so she got to live out the rest of her days in a beachside condo in Cornwall. Simon and Tommy were raised properly, the Riley way, in Greater Manchester. In a mansion bought by blood and exploitation, guns and gold. 

With the wife out of the way and two boys under five, Mr. Riley hired a nanny. The way your mother tells it, only after three glasses of wine before the sun sets, she was low on cash and desperate for a place to stay. The whispers about the Riley family were loud, but the grumbling of her stomach was louder. It’s a phrase she repeated over and over during your childhood, as you hopped from international school in Paris to private school in New York City, wherever your father decreed was safer. You tell her she doesn’t need to justify it, even now as you live with your brother and she stays countries away, but she’ll just give you that same tightlipped smile. She still doesn’t forgive herself for who your father was, so you have to forgive her for the both of you.

She couldn’t say no to Mr. Riley. Maybe it was the sight of her with his kids or her constant proximity, but he claimed he was in love. You can’t say no to the head of a gang, especially if you’re an employee. And once she became pregnant, he tightened the reins. Pulled strings to become your legal primary caregiver so she couldn’t leave the country. It was only after a robbery went wrong, where Mr. Riley lost almost a quarter of his wealth, he invited others to weigh in on the situation. Or at least, Mr. Price.

You were seven, Tommy was ten, and Simon was fourteen. Simon said he was too grown up to play with a baby like you, but Tommy always stuck around. Tommy just beat you in hide and seek, again, and frustration seeped out of your skin. He always caught you, no matter where you hid. He was counting down to another round and you were determined to win this time. There was one place he wouldn’t think of - your father’s office.

There have been a lot more men around lately. Mama had told you to keep upstairs, out of eyesight, but you wanted to win this time. Tommy was counting from sixty, too fast in your opinion, so you creeped down the stairs at warp speed. There was a secret door to Father’s office, mainly for the maids, and it had a door for your dog. Riley was huge, so the flap took up a third of the door. You were still small enough to scurry through, though it was becoming a tighter fit lately. Determined, you popped through the flap, being sure not to disturb Father. There was a chair for you to hide behind, a perfect angle to hide from the man on the other side of Father’s desk while still keeping an eye out for Tommy’s feet.

“They hit you because you’re weak.” The man’s voice was familiar. Mr. Price. He was around more and more, always bringing his annoying son John. He was sixteen and thought he was so cool, bossing around the staff like he was, well, the boss. And he never wanted to play. 

“They hit us because my idiot men weren’t watchin’ the cameras.” Father replied. He sounded angry. He always snorted like a bull before he started yelling, and you could hear him huffing. “Y’ve got a bastard an’ ‘er mother yankin’ ya by the balls. She’s the help, for god sake. The scousers see an opportunity.” You knew that word. Bastard. Simon had called you bastard once, a year ago when you took his stuffed animal that he hid from Father. Mama told you it was a mean word, only said by people with too-small hearts. When Simon said it, you cried for an hour. He apologized, hugging you like a baby until the tears receded. Then, he promised to hurt anyone who said that word to you. 

“What do you suggest?” Father didn’t say anything about the mean word. He was like that, he didn’t protect you like Tommy or Simon. “Send them away. Make your enemies forget about your weakness. Bring Simon into the fold.” That wasn’t Mr. Price speaking, it was John. He wanted to send you away? You prayed not to Cornwall, where Simon’s mom lived. She was scary.

“I second John. You need strength, not complication. Focusin’ on Simon learnin’ the ropes will emphasize your heir, not the help y’ forgot to wear a rubber with. ‘Least til she’s eighteen an’ can be married.” Mama wasn’t married, so you didn’t want to be either. “Appreciate the help, gentlemen. Now about the Chester deal…” You tuned them out. Sent away? You had to tell Mama. Slipping away like a cat, you ran to find Mama, not stopping even when Tommy found you. He’d won, again.

Without John’s suggestion, you might have stayed. You might have gotten a real relationship with your brothers. You might have prevented Tommy from walking into that gunfight and- that’s where the hypotheticals stopped. Who knows what would have happened? What you know is that, despite being provided for and with your mom, there was always that what if? clinging to the back of your brain.

Your father died when you were twenty-two. Months after he’d paid your last college bill, thankfully. Simon called you during your summer of freedom, a twenty-nine-year-old man with no clue how to run an empire. A lost younger brother between you. He’d promised to protect you, and that was your chance to return the favor. Family first, the Riley way.

-

Now, years later, the hate for John Price has turned from a boil to a simmer. Something you don’t think about constantly until he’s right in front of you. It’s hard to blame a man for a teenage hypothetical, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t insult him for being a pompous git. A mafia brat. Decades of being shitty to each other have turned the cord of your relationship rotted black, a frayed string connected by the fact you can’t physically hurt the other. You’ve got no clue why he wants to marry you of all people, so you’re determined to scare him off. This should be fun.

-

“Quaint,” John mutters to Gaz, who scoffs. They took the jet, a quick hour trip, and brought Laswell, his trusted lawyer. The bookstore is off a side street in Greater Manchester, next to a cafe and a flower shop for god sake. He has to give it to Ghost; it’s a good place to clean cash or lay low. Discreet. No clue why the spitfire’s running it, though. He’s surprised it’s not gone to ruin.

The bell over the door makes a faint tinkling sound as they enter. Gaz goes first, ready for an ambush like the control freak he is, and John can see you smiling at him. It’s a smile he’s never seen, unbidden and shy. It immediately sours once John emerges, turning into a faint frown. “You actually came.” You say it like you aren’t discussing a marriage contract to tie you together for eternity. It’s been a year since John last saw you. Your meetings are infrequent, mainly in passing during weddings and funerals. He knows it’s been years since you came back to Manchester, but you finally seem to have…matured. More confident with your movements, at ease behind the counter of your bookstore. If he were a different man, your confidence would be attractive, but in this world, something about it irritates him.

He sees you pick up your phone, a battered thing, and fire off a short text. Not five seconds later, Soap and Ghost emerge from the shadows of the backroom, men in suits at their shoulders. The shop is immediately crowded, and you cringe at the change in atmosphere. “You’re lucky I closed the store today. Your vibe would freak out the customers. Come on.” John is already practicing restraint, biting his tongue so he doesn’t reply like a scorned teenager. He’s too grown for this. 

Soap leads the way, opening a hidden door to the basement by tugging at a dusty bookshelf in the back. He holds the door open for everyone, trading looks with Ghost before nodding to the Price group. “What do ya do if a customer pulls that book by accident?” Gaz wonders out loud, snorting to himself as he approaches the door. “Dosnae happen, Garrick.” Gaz grins and John sighs inwardly. “Usin’ last names now, MacTavish? I can play that game too.” Gaz dips down the staircase before Soap can answer, presumably needing to have the last word. Between you and Soap, this is going to be a long meeting.

The bookstore might be old and dusty, but the basement is sleek and modern. John passes a small med bay, fully stocked, before they reach a large conference room, equipped with TVs and enough office chairs for a small army. Even Gaz lets out a low whistle, while Laswell hums thoughtfully. Kate’s probably memorizing the layout for another upgrade to her office.

As everyone sits, two waiters make their rounds, taking drink orders. He gets a tea and thanks the waiter, catching your brows furrowing after he murmurs his gratitude. Odd.

“Right so-” Soap starts, but Gaz cuts him off. “You’re a bloody barrister?” Soap practically growls at his tone. “Solicitor. Not jus’ a pretty face, Garrick.” It’s silent as the two stare, a contest only broken when Simon clears his throat. “Get on with it, haven’t got all day.” Soap starts again, mainly talking with Kate as they go through the contract. John has it practically memorized. 25% of his businesses, mainly the ones not in London, in exchange for their weight in Ghost’s gold, something he desperately needs. Relinquishing his claims to border territory between Manchester and Liverpool, something that would make his father turn in his grave, for thousands of weapons. Guns, bullets, tracking equipment - anything he can use that has removable identity numbers. It’s a deal that’ll help him win against Shepherd’s men. All for the small price of being married to you, of course.

“Ms. Riley will marry Mr. Price and produce a minimum of two children within ten years. In case of fertility struggles, one child will suffice, only with a board of doctors agreement. If infertility persists and no children are produced, we have clauses for that.” The statement rolls off Laswell’s tongue easily, but John can tell the moment it reaches your brain. Your eyebrows go sky high, and you almost stand until Simon puts a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Board of doctors? What, so if I can’t get pregnant, I have to inform an entire hospital just so I don’t get shot? That’s barbaric.” You spit out, and John can’t help but agree. If the situation comes to it, he wouldn’t want the future mother of his child having to humiliate herself like that. Thoughts of you being a mother are turned away, a dreary thought for another day.

John murmurs instructions to Laswell, who notes them down with ease. He can tell she approves as her shoulders relax slightly. “We can amend this line. It’ll only require one doctor, not a board, and it can be your current gyno or someone else. The matter will stay between Ms. Riley, Mr. Price, and Mr. Riley if it comes to be.” Laswell replies. You huff, irritated that John agreed, and he smirks at you from across the table. You’re so easy to tease, probably because you’re snooty and spoiled.

“What about my bookstore?” The question escapes you after another ten minutes of Laswell droning on about childcare protocol. How if there’s no child in ten years, and all avenues have been explored, the marriage will be dissolved. “What about it?” Laswell asks smoothly. Your eyes dart between her’s and John’s. “Well, I’ll hire a manager for the Riley store, but what about in London?” John considers it, running a hand through his beard. It’s a safety risk, but who knows what havoc you’ll wreak on his home if you’re bored 24/7. Something to do would be nice.

“‘Ve got a few closed storefronts I own. You could take one.” Your mouth drops. You didn’t expect him to agree, to be honest. Imagined yourself chained to his property, playing housewife night and day. “I want to own it. Buy it from you so the deed is in my name.” You cross your arms on your chest, quirking an eyebrow like it’s a challenge.

“Fine. But you’ll let it up once there’s kids.”

“Not happening.”

“First few years, at least.”

“And are you taking a few years off for paternity leave?” Well, no. But he’s running an organized crime unit of over 5,000 members and you’re running a bookstore. John can’t have other families seeing his wife working when she’s supposed to be resting or raising his heir.

“First year after every new kid. That’s what I’ll agree to.” Soap murmurs something in your ear and you sigh with defeat. “Fine. But you have to sell me the property at fair market value and you can’t use it for any business. And I get to pick any property not in use.” This seems to be the hill you’re dying on. If you were a Made Man, he’d add in flowery language, guaranteeing you the cheapest property. But he’s already taking your home and your business from you, not to mention your womb and ten years of your life. He can spare a building.

“Agreed. Next.”

Soap continues on, his leg bouncing under the table with so much force that it’s shaking. He’s eager to get out, that’s for sure, and John can’t help but wonder why. “Ms. Riley will reside with Mr. Price at his permanent London residence. If she wishes t’ leave city limits, she must request written permission.” John quirks an eyebrow. Surely you’ll bite at this one.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth. Took you almost thirty seconds to say it. He could see you weighing your options in your mind, the price of too many amendments versus your freedom. He almost respects the move, until he remembers this is the Riley brat. Not someone to be respected.

“‘S for your safety.” He croaks out, throat dry from lack of use. Speaking to you is like breaking the fourth wall, an unsettling feeling. The full force of your glare is blazing hot, the pits of Hell contained in two eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’ve always got a gun and a man on me.” You challenge him.

“Guns run out of bullets. Men die.” He replies, smug with the fact you can’t particularly deny what he’s saying. You turn to Soap, muttering your dissent. He shakes his head, then looks over at Ghost. The bastard has his mask on, but even a blind man could see he agrees with the statement. He wants to protect his sister, a trait John knew he could rely on.

“Fine. Oral works.” You say the words like they’re bitter on your tongue, something you want to spit out. “Does it, sweetheart? Good t’ know.” You roll your eyes, then shove Soap’s shoulder for him to continue. “Can’t believe I’m marrying a manchild.” If you’d said it in front of his men, he’d have to reprimand you, but he can drop the mask in this room. He’s not going to punish his future wife this early. It would throw off the wedding atmosphere.

Laswell marks the change from written to oral permission then continues. She’s at the last few lines, thankfully. “The marriage cannot be dissolved unless in the case of maltreatment or abuse. If there is evidence of Ms. Riley cheating, 50% of the Riley Family assets will be transferred to the Price Family and the marriage will be dissolved. Any bastards will not be recognized and will be given no child support.” The word bastard echoes around the room. Laswell could say she didn’t realize the context of the word but, knowing her, it was probably used on purpose. A test.

You roll your shoulders back. Ghost’s eyes narrow into black pits. Soap’s hands clench and unclench on the table. Despite the obvious tension, there’s no immediate reaction. You don’t jump on the table and curse his ancestors or pull out a gun and start shooting. Both he expected more than the actual outcome, which is…nothing. You nod at Soap and Ghost, gesturing at them to continue. 

It should be a victory. Gaz is nudging him under the table, his right-hand man all too proud that he riled up the Rileys. The feeling of success is hollow as John tracks your tense muscles, the way you turn your gaze to the contract in front of you and don’t move, even when Laswell finishes reading it. You’re just…frozen. It’s too human of a look on you, and John wonders if this is what your marriage will be like. Cold. Distant. Robotic fucking, just enough to make heirs. A fidelity clause only for you, while John can do whatever he wants as long as there aren’t any kids made. It’s a point he would have let you argue, let you add a fidelity clause for him too, but you take it on the chin. Is it punishment for the family sin you didn’t commit? The mantle of knowledge is heavy on his shoulders.

John signs. You sign. Ghost signs then hands it to the lawyers. Gaz is the witness. In five minutes, John has turned his mafia into a militarized mob and gained a wife who hates him. Every man’s dream.

Papers are gathered as the waiters clear glasses from the table. He stands only after you do, observing how Ghost has to touch your shoulder to get you to pay attention. Soap leads the way again, but John hangs back until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. The dislike is still there, a plant that sprouted roots eons ago, but the urge to be a good husband is there as well. He was raised with the standards of chivalry, to be the picture of a gentleman. He will not treat the mother of his children like how his father treated his mother. He will be better.

“Alrigh’?” He nudges your shoulder. It snaps you out of your daydream, glassy eyes meeting his own as you take stock of the situation. “Fuckin’ mint, thanks.” It’s the most Manc thing he’s ever heard you say. “Remember bein’ promised tea, but not a biscuit t’ be found.” You snort and he’s glad for it. You seem to finally be out of whatever funk came over you. He lets you go in front of him on the staircase, keeping his eyes firmly on the sliver of skin that shows as you move and the outline of a gun tucked in your waistband. John Price does not stare at his fiancee’s arse at all. Mostly.

“Guess I’m not wife material, Price. Looks like you’re getting the shitty end of this deal.” You shoot him a cheeky grin once you’re on the main floor, and he’s glad it looks mostly genuine. You’re easier to deal with when you’re bantering, not whatever that was back there. “Jus’ bought ya for some guns, sweetheart. Not lookin’ good on the husband front, either.” You roll your eyes, biting your cheek so he doesn’t sense a laugh. The whole group is at the door now, awkwardly standing on opposite sides of the room as the two of you talk. Is this what your wedding will be like?

“I’ll, uh, see you Saturday.” At our wedding. To each other. Jesus, this is a bleak future he’s thinking of.

“See you Saturday, John.” You stand in the center of your store. Sunlight is streaming through the windows as the sun goes down, and if John were a different man, he’d tell you you look beautiful. He’d kiss your cheek, then your forehead, assuring you that your years of spats were just a form of foreplay. He’d squeeze your shoulder in reassurance, murmur a sweet nothing in your ear. Fortunately, or unfortunately, John is not that man.

“Remember, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue.” He winks but there’s no charm behind it. He thinks.

“Something old, something new. A sixpence in your shoe.” You whisper it just to him, like a secret, and then turn away. Like he was never there.

John turns away, feeling oddly flustered, and doesn’t catch Gaz’s eye as they leave. He avoids Gaz’s gaze as he shakes Ghost’s and Soap’s hands. He’s still avoiding it when they get into the car, Laswell splitting off to her own chartered vehicle. It’s only when the doors close his right-hand man decides to speak.

“You’re fucked.” He says it sternly, like a teacher scolding his student. The kid’s a decade younger than John but acts like he’s his father.

“Piss off.” He’s got no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing between you and John. That bridge has been burned, ashes turning to dust in the wind.

Of that, he’s almost sure.

-

I hope the background wasn’t too boring! Stay tuned for a chaotic wedding week 😁lmk if you want to be tagged (please remember this is 18+)

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

[kat-mobile]

could i request a small fic/imagine where tommy is soft with only his girlfriend/fiancé/wife and his kids?🫶🏼

Scary? My God you're divine!

A/N: hey babes, this is actually longer than I was expecting lmao. It still is under 1000 though. I am a huge sucker for soft!Tommy so thank you so much for this request 😍. I named the baby Charlotte before I realised how much her full name sucks and then couldn't be arsed to change it, so apologies to Charlotte Shelby. This is probably also ooc but I don't give a shit, but I hope you like it anon!!! 💕💕

You knew what Tommy did, what came with his job. All the illegal affairs and cutting people up. You'd be a fool not to. But you couldn't help but feel as if the real Tommy Shelby was the one who came out when he was with you.

Ever since the start of your relationship, Tommy had always acted differently around you, much softer, always there to place a soothing hand on your back or hunch over to talk to you with his lips brushing your ear, his words meant for no ears but your own. His hardened gaze softened and the corners of his mouth would quirk up in a a miniscule smile, only momentarily but you would count that as a win no less.

Arthur had employed you to help run things at the garrison, you weren't exactly excellent at maths but you were certainly better than Arthur so you would help with the books as well as working as a barmaid. The two of you met for the first time when Tommy burst into the office of the garrison with a cut on his sharp cheekbone, he thought he would be opening the door to his brother, you thought he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. You insisted on helping and sanitising the "wound" and although he initially refused he soon gave in to your worried frown and relentless offer of help. The two of you had been practically inseparable since, rarely seeing one without the other and if one was missing they were never very far behind.

Tommy took to you almost immediately after meeting you, and Polly clocked him the very next day. The woman always was good at reading Tommy and that day was no different.

Over the next couple of months, whenever he was around Tommy barely let you lift a finger, always eager to help lift things and assist in anyway possible, never letting you out yourself in any risk whatsoever, no matter how small. At first you were offended, thinking that he was doing it because he thought you incapable, what with you being a woman, or if he didn't trust you enough to do things on your own. But when you brought it up one day, thoroughly fed up, he was quick to quell your suspicions and doubts by instead admitting his growing feelings towards you. Absolutely zero persuasion was needed for you to agree to a date with the handsome Tommy Shelby, and now three years later you're married with an adorable little four month old baby girl named Charlotte.

Tommy often refers to your small family as his greatest weakness, saying that if it ever gets out how soft he is that his reputation would never recover. But you just laugh to yourself and cuddle in closer, hand coming up to stroke Charlotte's head. No one would believe it if it got out, he has nothing to worry about.

The first time Tommy had held her you would've thought she was made out of cheap glass, fragile and likely to break at even the smallest of mishandlings. You knew from the moment that little Charlotte Shelby first opened her eyes, sharp and blue like her fathers, that she had Birmingham's most feared gangster wrapped around her teeny tiny pinky. Once the doctor had shown him how to hold the baby properly, supporting her head and all that, it was hard to separate the two.

Every night when he came home to you he would lie in the centre of the bed with you curled up into his side, head resting on his firm shoulder, and he would place the small babe to lie on his bare chest, small legs tucking up in a scrunch like a frog and cute babbles making the corners of his eyes crease.

[cjlouwho]

Sick of It

in which Tommy gets sick, and he and Buck head towards making up.

The first time Buck gets a call from a number he doesn't recognize, he ignores it.

He does the same the second time too.

The third time, he waits for it to go to voicemail so he can block it.

“Why don't you just answer?” Hen asked, annoyed by his grumbling. “Might be something important.”

“No. Someone gave my number to a debt collector and I've been dodging calls for a Victor Fornell all week. It's nothing.”

He'd barely had time to block the number and resume his search for new bread recipes when Bobby was walking out of his office and calling out to him on the couch.

“Buck, Captain Dominick just called me.”

The name got Buck's attention fast. He stood. “The captain at 217? Why? Wh- What's wrong?”

“Calm down, Buck. Tommy didn't show up for work today and Dominick couldn't get ahold of him. You heard from him lately?”

“N- No. No, I- Was Captain Dominick the one trying to call me?”

Bobby nodded. “Apparently, Tommy put you down as his emergency contact a few months ago. Like I said, could be nothing,” he repeated, noticing Buck's heavy breathing, “it's just not exactly like him to not show up.”

“No,” Buck agreed. “No, it's not. Um, Boss, I-”

Bobby held up a hand to stop him. “I'm not stopping you,” he said, “but I also don't want you going alone. Chim,” he said, glancing around Buck to see all the others paying close attention, “why don't you head out with Buck and see what's going on?”

Chimney nodded, getting up and heading for the stairs. “Let me grab my bag and keys!” he called out to Buck. “I'll meet you at the car.”

Buck already had his phone pulled up to Tommy's name, typing out a text to ask if he was okay. He sent one text, then another, then another.

“Eddie, ha- have you talked to him at all? Since we, um, since the breakup?”

Eddie shook his head. “He broke up with you,” he reasoned. “I figured that's the end of that.”

“You're joking.”

“You're my best friend, Man, I wasn't gonna take his side.”

“Eddie, you've gotta b-”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby interrupted. “Buck, you need to get going.”

Buck turned his phone toward Bobby, eyes pleading. “He... He's not answering me, Bobby.”

“Go.”

*****

“His spare key is in one of these,” Buck said, lifting up rock after rock in the flower bed at the front of Tommy's house.

“We could try knocking on the door first, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck replied, waving Chimney off. “Try it. I'll keep looking.”

Chimney knocked three times, then waited. Called out Tommy's name, and knocked again.

“Maybe he's out?” Chimney suggested just as Buck found the fake rock.

“His car is here, Chim.”

“Could've gone for a walk.”

“When he's supposed to be at work?”

“Just trying to be positive here.”

Buck unlocked the door and entered slowly, afraid of what he might find. “Tommy?!” he called. “T- Tommy, it's Evan.”

“And Howie!” Chimney added. “You here, Buddy?”

They waited for an answer, then continued on into the house when they didn't get a reply.

It was dark inside, the only light filtering in through a couple of open windows.

It was messy too, which was unlike Tommy. He was always so put together; had a space for everything and liked it that way.

But now there were half empty glasses on the kitchen counter, dishes in the sink. Take out containers were on the coffee table in the living room.

There was also a ridiculous amount of plants on every available surface.

“I think Tommy might have you beat in the breakup grief department, Buckley.”

Buck ignored him in favor of calling for Tommy again. “Tommy! You here?”

“I'll check the garage,” Chimney said, he and Buck splitting up to cover more area. Buck headed down the hallway, tilting his head a bit when he noticed a light shining from underneath the bathroom door.

“Tommy?” Buck felt anxious in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. As he neared the bathroom, he heard a weak groan, and then the sound of someone shuffling.

Every horrible thought ran through his head in a matter of seconds. What if Tommy was hurt? What if someone had tried to murder him? What if that was the murderer on the other side of the door right now?

“I'm coming in!” he exclaimed, shoving the door open as he braced himself for whatever was waiting on the other side.

And there was Tommy, lying on the bathroom floor. Not murdered, but definitely not okay.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. “Chimney, in here!”

Buck knelt down beside Tommy, who was curled on his side, eyes clenched shut, practically vibrating with chills even as sweat covered his face.

“Tommy, what's wrong? Wh- What happened?” he asked, resting a hand over Tommy's forehead. He was burning up.

“I- I passed out, I think,” Tommy replied, teeth chattering. He managed to turn his head enough to look up at Buck. “I- Why're you here?”

“Doesn't matter. Chim!”

“I'm here, I'm here,” Chimney said, rounding the corner. “Whoa! Whatcha doin' on the floor, Tommy?” he asked, managing to keep his cool far better than Buck.

“I'm really... I'm okay, guys.” Tommy's weak voice betrayed his words.

“Don't think that's true, Man. Buck, mind giving us a little room?”

Buck nodded, pushing the hair off Tommy's forehead before standing and moving to the doorway.

Chimney knelt beside Tommy, putting on a pair of gloves before beginning to look him over.

“You fall?”

“K- Kinda. I felt like I wa- was gonna puke, so I was l- l... leaning over the toilet. Then I must've passed out.”

Chimney began to feel around his head and neck. “Can you tell me the year?”

“2024.”

“Your name?”

“Tommy K- Kinard.”

“And where are you right now?”

“Ugh,” Tommy groaned, a look of disgust on his face. “My bathroom floor.”

“Alright. I don't think you've got a concussion, but there's definitely something going on.”

“Ya... Ya think?” Tommy deadpanned.

“There's that humor we all know and love. I need to look you over, Bud, but I'm gonna have to move you a little. Can you turn to me a bit so you're laying flat?”

Slowly, Tommy turned, briefly glancing up at an anxious Buck before closing his eyes. “Hurts,” he grunted.

Carefully, Chimney began to feel around his abdomen. “Tommy, you still got your appendix?”

Tommy shook his head. “No."

“What first brought you into the bathroom?”

“Had t- to pee.” He sucked in a shaky breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Then puke. Then I mu- must've passed out.”

“Mm.” Chimney felt around Tommy's midsection, stopping when Tommy practically jerked away from him. “You been having pain in your side?”

“Mhm.”

“What about your back and/or groin?”

Tommy curled back in on himself, lying sideways on the bathroom floor. “Yeah.”

“Chim?” Buck spoke up from the doorway. “What is it?”

Chimney raised a finger at him. “One second.” He turned back to Tommy, pulling a infrared thermometer out of his bag and pointing it at Tommy's forehead. He whistled when the temperature popped up. “Quite the fever you've got there. Tommy, does it hurt when you pee?”

Tommy managed to glare aback at him.

“It's important, Bud.”

“Mmm,” Tommy groaned. “Mhm. Yeah, i- it does.”

Chimney nodded. He placed the thermometer back in the bag and rested a hand on Tommy's shoulder. “I believe that you, my friend, have a kidney infection. A pretty bad one at that. How long have you been hurting for?”

“Few... Few days. Not this bad though.”

“I'm gonna call for an ambulance. Infection this bad might've gone into your bloodstream. Buck's gonna stay with you while I wait outside for the ambulance, okay?”

“It's really,” he had to stop as a wave of chills came over him. “Really no problem.”

Chimney rolled his eyes, standing and turning to Buck. “I'm afraid he might be close to septic shock,” he whispered. “He's gonna keep fighting against going to the hospital though, however weak he might be. Talk some sense into your man while I put the call in.”

“He's not my-” Chimney pushed past him and headed down the hall, “man.”

Buck moved back into the small space next to Tommy. Hesitantly, he reached out, his hand hovering over Tommy's arm. He'd touched him before, when he was checking for a fever. That had been in a rush, without much thought.

Now, he wasn't sure. Wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch.

He pushed the thought aside as another almost violent wave of chills overcame Tommy.

“It's okay,” he soothed, running his hand up and down Tommy's arm. “It's okay. Chimney's got an ambulance on the way.”

“I think... I just n- need to rest. I- I'll be okay,” he tried to insist. “It's n- nothing.”

“Tommy, it's not nothing. You're crying right now.” Buck leaned forward, gently running his thumb across Tommy's cheek, wiping away a tear. He'd never seen him like this before, and it was terrifying. “Do you wanna try to get up? Would it be more comfortable to wait on th- the ambulance in bed?”

“Don't think I can. Everything gets t- to dizzy when I move.”

“Okay. That's okay. Here, why don't I...” Buck's voice drifted off as he maneuvered Tommy and himself into a better position. One where Tommy's neck wasn't awkwardly angled down in a way that was sure to cause him more pain later.

By lifting Tommy's head slightly (and slowly), Buck managed to slide between him and the bathtub. He straightened out his legs, one on either side of Tommy, then gently rested Tommy's head on his stomach.

Tommy, still on his side, unconsciously curled his hand around Buck's thigh, gripping onto his pants.

It was quiet for a bit, then, “Ev- Evan?”

“I'm here, Tommy,” Buck answered quietly, running his fingers through Tommy's unkept and sweaty curls, softly massaging his head.

“It r-” his voice was cut off by a jerk, chills prickling up all over his body, “really hurts.”

“I know. Help will be here soon.”

“I- I tried to ignore it.”

“I can tell. Not sure that was the wisest choice.”

The side of Tommy's mouth managed to lift into a small smile, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, a grimace taking over.

“Maybe... Maybe I j- just need t- to sleep it off.”

“Well, you can sleep it off at the hospital.”

“I don't... I don't think I-”

“You're going to the hospital, Tommy, whether you like it or not,” Buck interrupted, matter-of-factly.

Tommy jerked again, a little whine slipping out as he curled in closer to Buck. “I- I'm sorry,” he said, nearly whimpering. “I'm sorry.”

Buck wanted to cry. Tommy- big, tall, strong, Tommy- looked so incredibly small right now. Like a scared child, afraid he was going to get in trouble for being sick.

Buck held him the best he could without hurting him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Tommy.”

*****

When Tommy woke up, it was to Buck by his side. He was sitting in the visitor's chair, his head resting on the bed next to Tommy's thigh, their hands intertwined.

It made Tommy's chest ache. He wanted Buck there, wanted him to stay, but he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve him.

Not anymore.

Tommy wiggled his fingers a bit. He didn't want to startle Buck, but he also thought it'd be best to wake him up.

Buck's head popped up quickly. He let Tommy go, using the back of his hand to wipe away the little bits of drool running down his chin.

“Good morning,” Tommy said, grinning over at him. “Or afternoon?”

“Night,” Buck informed him, causing Tommy to glance toward the window. A drawn shade blocked any potential view.

“I don't... I don't really remember getting here,” Tommy admitted.

“You, uh, you passed out in the ambulance. You'd wake up every once in a while, but you were kinda out of it.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Long day.”

“That was two days ago, actually.”

“Wow... Long week then, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

After a beat of awkward silence, Buck suddenly stood. “You thirsty?” he asked, pointing over toward the tray table. “I- I can fix you a cup of water.”

“Sure,” Tommy answered. “That'd be good.”

Buck nodded, but didn't move. He stared at the water, making no effort to actually go over and get it.

“Um, Buck?”

“The doctor said twelve more hours and you'd have been a dead man.”

Tommy closed his eyes, readying himself. He knew where this was going. “Buck-”

“What were you thinking, Tommy? You had to have been in pretty bad pain for a few days, at least. You should have gone to the doctor!”

“I know.”

“Or you could have at least called me, or Eddie, or Chimney. Somebody! Let someone know you were sick.”

“They're not my people to call, Buck.”

“Stop calling me that, and don't say that! I don't own them, Tommy, you could have called!”

“Are you really fighting a dying man right now?” Tommy pouted, wincing as moved himself up the bed slightly.

“You're not dying anymore,” Buck corrected, “and yes, I am! Seeing you like that, Tommy, it was... it was terrifying. The idea of you not being around i- is terrifying.”

“I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't,” Tommy paused, taking a breath. “I didn't really think about calling anyone. It's not what I do when I'm sick. You just power through, you know? I figured I'd get better. Absolutely did not plan on passing out on my bathroom floor. Would have brought a pillow and a blanket with me, made things a little more cozy.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “You're using humor as a defense mechanism.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Tommy sighed, but gave Buck a smile. “Listen, um, thank you for coming and everything. I'm gonna be fine though, so you can-”

Buck's face fell instantly. “I swear to God, if you're telling me to leave.”

“Buck-”

“I told you to quit calling me that! To you, I'm Evan, and I'm not leaving you! I don't know what it is about me that makes you think that that's what I do, but it's not!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm also sick of everyone telling me what I should or shouldn't do, so jot that down!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm sick of you acting like you're not worthy, or whatever the hell you're doing, because it's not true. And I also know you're doing worse than I am with our breakup, which I didn't think was possible! I saw your place, it's a mess! So don't you-”

“Evan!”

“What?!” Buck yelled.

“Why don't you sit down and we'll talk, okay?”

Buck eyed him curiously. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Tommy patted toward the chair beside his bed. “I think we both need it.”

Buck stood straighter, puffing out his chest. “Y- Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He went to sit, but Tommy stopped him before he could.

“But,” he said quickly, “could I get water first? I actually am thirsty.”

“Oh, damn it!” Buck exclaimed, eyes widening. He hurried over to the tray table, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a straw. “Sorry about that,” he said with a little laugh. “Got distracted, you know, yelling at you.”

“It's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I probably deserved it.”

“Oh you definitely did.” He shooed Tommy's hands away from the cup as he brought the straw up to his mouth. “Just sip, I'll hold.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They were both silent for a few seconds while Tommy drank, and then. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I want to be here, okay? I need you to know that.”

Tommy stared up at him, giving him a nod. “Okay,” he replied. “I want you here.”

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – the Outing

read Into Temptation (the initial meeting & first night)

summary: Reader hasn't left Joel's side since they spent the night together. When he brings her to the Tipsy Bison days later, Tommy is pissed, and people stare at them. It should bother Joel, but it has the opposite effect. warnings: girthy juicy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink (duh), overstimulation, forced orgasm (kinda sorta, consent is enthusiastic the whole time), breeding kink, praise kink, Joel calls reader “kid” or “kiddo”, dacryphilia, Joel gets off on people seeing them together, reader is really sweet

note: this Joel has me so weak in the knees I actually need to either be locked up or put down like a dog. Position inspired by that Narcos scene. You know the one. Enjoy!

For a man who likes to keep to himself, Joel sure doesn’t mind all the eyes glued to him – to you, your little hand clutching his, your torso drowning in one of Joel’s pullovers, his scent lingering all over you like some sort of sick perfume. They know what he did to you. What he will continue to do, once you’re back at his place. He took you there after your first day together at your place, because your house is still so empty – you haven’t been in Jackson long. Joel’s home smells like you now, and neither of you could come up with a good enough reason for you to go back to your place, when it’s so quiet and empty and Joel-less.

So he washed your clothes for you in the tub while you were sleeping, all fucked out, limp, and naked in his soiled sheets. This way you wouldn’t even have to go home to pick up new clothes, not for a while at least. He wouldn’t want you to be cold, though, so he gave you one of his knit sweaters to wear over your dress, and a heavy brown leather jacket. They are way too big on you of course, but for some reason they fit. Not physically, but it looks so right, you in his clothes, your hand in his, your hair still a little tangled in the back from where his hand buried itself when he kissed you right before leaving.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even keen on going to the Tipsy Bison. Hell, he went without a drink for four days and he didn’t mind a bit, your pliant body under his a pleasant distraction from all he tried to drown in whiskey. No, not a distraction – a cure. That’s what it felt like when he heard your voice, when he smelled your sweat and sweet perfume and felt you clench around him.

So no, he doesn’t mind people looking. You and him – it’s unusual, he knows that, knows how much of a pervert it makes him, but you moaned so sweetly for him, begged so politely, wanted him so bad. Unusual is the word for it, unusually good. You don’t seem to be very nervous, which validates him further. You feel safe in his hands, as safe as you did when you asked him to walk you home that first night, and if you don’t mind the looks people are giving you, he sure as hell can put up with them.

"Your friends here?"

You like to play cards in the evenings, he knows, and even though he’d rather sit down at the bar and pull you onto his lap, he’d be happy to leave you to it if it’s what you want.

"They’re on patrol, I think," you answer, eyes glued to his as the door of the bar slams shut behind you two, effectively blocking out the cold. "What day is it again?"

Jesus Christ, you don’t even know the fucking day, all perception of time lost to your endless naps after Joel made you come in various ways over the last couple of days. He feels that insatiable fire in his loins start again, even though he’s already fucked you two times today. Either you’re supplying him with the best cardio of his life, or he’ll die of heart failure any day now.

Before he can tell you the day, he feels a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly drags his eyes away from your pretty face. He likes when it’s flushed, from the cold or from sex, he isn’t picky.

"Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Joel?"

 Of course it’s Tommy. He saw right through Joel the first time he caught him watching you from across the bar, and came over to your place as soon as he figured out where his brother was.

Tommy’s angry face, the curses on his lips, the way his fist banged against the door frame. 

Joel, she’s twenty fuckin’ years old. There are plenty of women who’d be happy to keep you company. Just send her home, alright? She’s been in Jackson for like a minute, she doesn’t need you complicating things for her. 

But just before Tommy knocked, hadn’t you seemed so ecstatic in Joel’s arms, your body entirely relaxed? 

She’s an adult, Tommy, ’n it’s what she wants.

He heard your bare feet on the floor, was glad Tommy couldn’t see you with the door only half open, because if he turned around to look at you right then, Joel was sure he would be able to see his spent dripping out of you and the marks his lips had left all over your neck.

"Look, Tommy, it’s like this: you think you have a say in this cause of Maria’s position in Jackson, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you. At all. So back off."

Joel’s voice is quiet, he doesn’t want to cause a scene. What he wants is to have a glass of whiskey, watch the look on every man’s face in Jackson when they realize you’re sweet on him, and then go home and fuck your lights out. By the way you won’t let go of his hand, he guesses you’re not opposed to that plan either.

So he ignores Tommy and helps you out of your jacket – his jacket – for which you reward him with one of your dazzlingly sweet smiles. He watches as you take off his pullover, too, and although it fills him with a sick pleasure to think of everybody seeing you in his clothes, he’s blessed with your naked shoulders and arms instead. Immediately, his hand finds your back, right below your neck, the spot that isn’t covered by your dress. If he’s not mistaken, you shudder under his touch. God, he wants to take you to the bathroom and really make you shudder, but he’s more than testing Tommy’s patience already. His brother is watching with a deep scowl on his face, dark brows pulled tight together.

You smile at Tommy when Joel walks you over to the bar, ever sweet to everyone around you, and it makes him weak for you. You’re everything he isn’t.

"The usual, Joel?", the barkeeper asks, his eyes widening when he spots your hand holding Joel’s, the marks on your neck he forgot to conceal for you. A scarf would have done the trick, but Jesus, he likes this physical proof of how often he’s had you stretched on his cock already. It’s near primitive how much he wants to defend his territory. For a second he wonders if the kid who pestered you the night he took you home is here, and almost snorts at the idea of you and him together. What made his blood boil that night, now seems like a joke. You didn’t want a twenty-five year old kid, you wanted Joel, Daddy, with his bad back and greying hair and popping joints. Too good to be true, but true nonetheless. 

You sit down at the bar and he joins you, nodding at the barkeeper. Your leg presses into his immediately. He understands your need to be close to him, he feels the same way, so he reaches out and drags your barstool closer to his, until he can feel your body heat even through his flannel. You fingers clutch at his knee, as if there’s no other option for you but to touch him when he’s this close. He lets you, revels in the fact that you would probably let him touch you however he wanted in return.

The barkeeper gets Joel his whiskey and you your usual – Joel smiles when he realizes you’re both creatures of habit – and you clink your glass to his.

"Cheers," he says with a smile, watching your eyes that remind him so much of Bambi, and you chuckle.

"Cheers, Daddy."

It comes naturally, and it makes something deep within him stir. He doesn’t think anyone heard, but he knows if Tommy somehow got wind of what you call him, the debauched name he drags from you with strokes of his cock or fingers, or just with a smile, well, he’d probably wring his neck. He knows he should tell you not to call him that in public, but you seem so happy to be here with Joel, any thoughts of chastising you are wiped from his mind.

"You look so pretty, baby, I forgot why we ever left the house," he mutters, making you blush and laugh lightly. His eyes follow your movement when you clench your thighs and he wants to groan. Whenever he thinks it’s sick how much, how often, he wants you, you want him right back, and any doubts shrivel up inside of him. He wishes he could take you here, make everyone watch how willing you are for him, and maybe then they’d understand that there was never another outcome than this one, maybe then he’d get you all to himself again, with nobody knocking on the door after he just pumped you full of his load. He thinks you might just let him, too.

Instead, he takes a sip of his whiskey. You’re quiet, and he wonders if you’re uncomfortable, but before he can ask, you lean up and catch his lips in a kiss. God, he should really put a stop to this before his brother has an aneurysm, but you taste so sweet. It’s just a peck, but it leaves him wanting more, and he wonders how quickly you two can get away with leaving again without making people talk more than they already will.

You’re here for a reason of course, something about keeping up appearances, though the details escape him with you fogging up his brain. But he can’t steal you away completely, or people will do more than whisper and point. A pretty girl like you, not leaving the house of an old man like him – it wouldn’t be received well, and you’ve been pushing it with the last couple of days already. So, a nice public outing, where everybody can see just how content you are, and then it’s back to Joel’s bedroom. He wonders for how long he can stop going on patrols before Tommy will threaten to throw him out of town.

"You know," he mutters, leaning down so he’s sure only you can hear him, "when we get home, you’re not wearing clothes for a week, baby. Already miss you naked."

You blush violently, but a satisfied smile curls your lips upward.

"I’ll get cold," you answer, half pouting. Joel wants to feel that pout with his thumb, but doesn’t dare.

"I’ll keep ya warm, don’t worry," he answers darkly, thoughts of your sweating, exhausted body flooding his brain. There are so many things he still hasn’t done to you, like letting you suck him off, or fucking you in his lap, your back pressed against his front. A million ways he could have you, will have you, and one by one they come to him as he watches you drink your drink in a bar full of people he knows.

It doesn’t take either of you long to finish your drinks, and Joel knows it’s stupid to leave so soon again, but he can see the way you’re subtly rubbing your thighs together, how your gaze drifts over his arms, his chest, his belly, and he really can’t leave his little girl hanging when she clearly needs him. He plans on making you say it, though he knows it can’t be here.

So the two of you leave after Joel pays, you’re out the door, jackets in hand, before Tommy can stop you. Joel will deal with him later, when he’s gotten this frenzy for you out of his system.

You’re needy, hands clutching his arm as you walk through the cold, and Joel can’t help himself, he puts an arm around you and rests his palm low on your hips, so low it makes you squirm. He strokes you there, teasing you when he knows you can’t do anything about it, and you whine for him, even though you’re in the middle of the street.

"Jesus, kid, pipe down or they’ll have my head," he mutters, and you do your best to stifle any sounds his hand coaxes out of you. Despite what he said, he doesn’t stop teasing until you’re at his doorstep, and he opens the door. He doesn’t waste time kissing you, just slams the door shut and guides you to the sofa, where you lie down on your back immediately.

"Fuck," Joel curses, "look at you, baby. Thought I was gonna have to fuck you right over that barstool, that's how sweet you look."

You moan and your hands grasp at his collar, opening the buttons one by one, trying to get him naked as quickly as possible.

"Needed you so bad, Daddy, and I couldn’t tell you," you admit almost timidly.

"Oh baby," Joel answers, helping you with the buttons, "If you need Daddy to get you off, you tell me and I’ll help you out, alright? We could’ve gone to the bathroom."

His shirt is off now, and starts pulling your dress over your head.

"They would’ve known what we were up to," you breathe, half naked under Joel’s big form, your breasts exposed now.

"Shit, kiddo, they knew already," Joel groans, opening his belt buckle, "'s all over your face how bad you want this cock, bathroom or no bathroom."

You blush at his words, watching him pull down his jeans and boxers with wide eyes, and he can almost taste your desire.

"Don’t worry, baby, I like how much you need it," Joel breathes, and finally kisses you, his practiced fingers finding your panties easily and dragging them down, your hips lifting from the couch to help him.

"Yeah," you breathe against his lips, "Need you all the time, Daddy."

Something in him snaps at this admission, because part of him expects you to run out on him any day, that you’ll snap out of whatever craze you’re in and realize fucking a man almost forty years your senior can’t possibly be what you want – but you never do. You just look at him the way you are now, all doe eyed and docile, like his every whim is your command. It shouldn’t turn him on the way it does, it really shouldn’t. A better man would send you home, a stronger man would admit Tommy is right, but Joel hasn’t been good since the end of the world began, and he’s tired of being strong, so his thick fingers find your clit and he watches in awe how your head falls back, your pretty eyes rolling upwards.

"Say that again, angel," he orders gently, fingers insistent and relentless, building the pressure in your tummy with practiced ease.

"I always need you, Daddy," you whimper, hips bucking on their own accord. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a sweet thing like you to bury himself into, to want his seed so badly you beg him for it, but he’s done questioning, and pumps his fist over his hard cock a couple of times, watching your face contorted in pleasure.

He aligns himself with your entrance, easing up on your aching clit, because he can sense your orgasm impending, and pushes into the tight heat of your body with a grunt. He stopped being careful several days ago, and although you yelp, your face splits into a satisfied smile when he fills you up, like you really have been waiting for it since the moment he pulled out of you this afternoon.

"Take my cock so well, baby," he mutters, and starts slamming into you. His pace isn’t punishing, but it’s fast and deep, after seeing you among other people, his need to stake his claim over you having grown. He wants to pump you full of his load, have it dripping out of you wherever you go, have it swelling up your belly and making it impossible for anyone to take you away from him. Surely, if you were pregnant, even Tommy would admit it’s best for you two to be together.

He fucks you into the mattress, hips snapping into yours, his belly nudging your body and the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit just right. There’s no need for you to move with him, not when his pace feels so good, when it builds that coil in your stomach so unrelentingly, and soon he can feel the way you flutter and clench, that telltale sign that you’re almost there. Normally he would make you wait for it, tell you to ask for Daddy’s permission, but you were so good at the bar, didn’t want to expose just how badly you needed his cock to stretch you out, so he plans on rewarding you. There’s certain benefits to his age, like the stamina he built over the last four decades.

"Daddy," you cry, your whole body rocking with the impact of his thrusts, and he chuckles.

"'S okay, angel, you let go whenever you want to, but I’m not near done with you."

His hands roam over your body, your pebbled nipples, the column of your throat, your waist. When he presses down on your stomach, feeling himself all the way inside of you, nudging against that spot only he seems to be able to reach, you tip your head back and gush around him, a trembling mess under his big body.

"Goood girl, there we go," he mutters, but doesn’t stop even when it starts to feel like it’s almost too much and your orgasm fades. You don’t ask him to stop either, though he would, if you did. No way he’d harm you, it’s just that you seem to enjoy a little hurt.

He hoists you up and slips out of you briefly, which draws a petulant whine from your throat.

"Easy, baby, just a second," he soothes, and sits you both up so that you’re on his lap, his belly pressed against your back, and his hot breath right at your ear. His voice is so close, it might as well be inside your head.

"There you go, you quit your whinin’," he drawls, and forces his cock back into you. His arms wrap around your torso, holding you to him completely, his hips snapping upwards forcefully, your whole body rocking against his with the impact.

His right hand comes up to your neck, clutching your hair, while his other hand grabs your tit, and you’re helpless to do anything but crane your neck and grasp his large hand with your little one. Your body is overstimulated from your first orgasm, but Joel doesn’t let up, and quickly, he can feel another one building inside of you by the way you clench, the way your cries become a little more breathy.

"Gonna give your Daddy another one, sweet girl? Gonna come on this cock again? Yeah, I think you will, think you’d come as many times as I tell you to," he huffs, the vibrations of his voice sparking goosebumps on your skin.

"Yes, D-daddy," you groan, "as much as you want."

"Go on then, kiddo, let me have it."

He thrusts up particularly hard, his big arms trapping you against his wide body, engulfing you, as you shudder and whine. When you’re done, you go limp against him, barely able to hold yourself up, but Joel’s arms hold you steady, and he mouths at your neck, sucking fresh bruises onto your skin. He marvels at the way you let him fuck you like this, even when you’re spent, and speeds up his thrusts.

"One more and you’re done," he tells you, and you shake your head against him.

"I can’t, Daddy, too much," you whine, but your core clenches and trembles, and Joel knows you have it in you.

"You can take it, baby, come on, one more for Daddy."

It takes a while, this time, your body spent, but Joel has no trouble holding off spilling his seed inside of you. If he really wanted to, he could probably make you come five times before he did himself, but he wants so badly to paint your insides with his load, to have it take and watch your belly swell. And anyway, he can just fuck you again in a couple of hours, if his age allows it. The past days, you woke up in the middle of the night and begged him for it.

"Need me to talk to you?", Joel asks, when you whine and splutter, but don’t come, and you nod frantically.

"Yes you do, angel, course you do. Just listen to Daddy’s voice, alright? Doin’ so well, takin’ everythin’ I give you."

His thrusts are slower now, but deeper, grazing your cervix, his hand still clutching your hair so that your throat is exposed.

"You’re really something, baby, lettin’ an old man like me fuck you like this," he rambles, not really sure why he’s bringing up his age when surely it will make you see sense, but if anything, your whines grow louder, like his age is turning you on.

"You like that? You like letting and old man fuck you full of his cum?"

Your sweet pussy flutters around him at the mention of him filling you up, and he almost comes. His jaw is slack, mouth bumping into your neck with every thrust.

"Not an old man, Daddy," you whimper, "just you."

Joel’s hips stutter for a moment, but he quickly regains control over his rhythm.

"That’s right, baby, only I get to cum inside of you," he groans, "You want it?"

You nod, a weak twitch of your head, and usually he’d make you use your words, but you’re limp and exhausted, so he decides to let it slide.

"Alright baby, you can have it as soon as you come again for Daddy."

He can feel you actually put an effort into it, the muscles in your stomach clenching and unclenching, and the idea of you wanting his load that bad makes him curse. He can feel your body tense, can hear the way your breathing grows shallow, and then you’re crying, a real sob tearing through your chest, as you come on his cock for the third time.

He wants to praise you for it, but he just keeps punching into you, feeling your hot tears drop onto his hand and making a sick satisfaction pool in his stomach, and then he’s clutching you to his body tightly, burying himself inside of you as deeply as possible, and white hot pleasure erupts behind his eyes as his cock twitches and coats your inside with his spent. He fucks it up into you, imagines the effect it might have if he does it often enough.

You’re weak in his arms when he pulls out of you, your eyes closed, and he gently lets the two of you sink into the couch, your legs automatically wrapping around his thigh. He can feel himself drip out of you. Next time he vows to let you sleep with his cock still inside of you, so that there’s no way you won’t fall pregnant.

"Good girl," he whispers into your hair, and even in your exhausted haze, you smile, mouth half slack. He tugs you close to him, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Tommy is not right, he thinks, it cannot be wrong to feel as happy as he feels, as happy as you look, tucked against him and dripping onto his thigh.

[cherrycranes]

A Proper Thank You (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're Tommy's younger girlfriend who he loves to spoil. Thankfully, you always know how to thank him. Word count: 2,954 Contents: (Minors DNI) Age gap (reader is in her 20's, Tommy is in his 40's), smut, daddy kink (a serious use of the word "daddy"), oral sex (male receiving), cum eating. Author's notes: Another collab with my bestie @fuckiingloser. Don't forget to give her some love too! Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love ya!

You were not the first young woman to be with a man in his 40's. It was still very common even if the times were changing. But there was something about this relationship that did mirror the societal shift. You were his sweet girlfriend who he paraded around town, who shamelessly sat on his lap while he worked and who shared his bed. Quite the scandal for those still stuck in Victorian times who would expect this to happen only between a married couple. Good thing the Victorian times had ended over 30 years ago. 

Tommy loved having you by his arm half of the time. The other half he loved having you under him. Or on top, he wasn't picky. He got a kick out of the variety of looks some people would give him for having a pretty, young girl as his sweetheart. But above all things, he absolutely adored the way his pretty baby looked at him whenever he spoiled her rotten.

Today, you went with him to a horse ranch near Southam. A lovely place where Tommy intended to see that beautiful look in your eyes once more. He smirked, seeing you caress a beautiful mare’s nuzzle, the animal calm and docile under your touch.

“Aye, I think she likes you.” Tommy announced with pride, already planning to buy the horse for his beautiful girlfriend.

“You think?” You turned your head to look at him and admire his poise. The cigarette kissing his lips, the fine dark suit, the piercing blue eyes. So intimidating to many, so dear to you. “She’s beautiful…” Your thoughts and eyes returned to the mare, giving her another soft pet.

“You two make a very pretty picture, baby girl.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out skillfully before making his way to you. His big arms wrapped around you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You smirked when a surprisingly sweet kiss was planted on the side of your head. Thomas Shelby was never sweet to anyone, not even in the dark humor jokes of those who knew him. His portrait could have easily been annexed to the definitions of “rugged”, “serious” and even “ruthless”, yet, here he was. This was what his lips that had spat out curses and threats were doing. Kissing. And very gently at that. 

Above all women, you had a special place in his soul. You had him wrapped around your finger like those expensive rings you wore. Anything you wanted, you could have it. And if tomorrow you were to ask for a heart on a silver plate, he would tear anybody’s chest open and serve it to you himself.

You leaned into him, just in time to meet his husky whisper:

“If you want her baby… She’s yours.” 

With a big, spoiled princess grin, you turned around and looked at him in complete elation.

“Thank you, daddy!” Your sweetness intoxicated him, the way you looked into his eyes killed him, and the way you called him “daddy” raised him from the dead. He absolutely loved it. 

A calloused hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. He admired the joy upon your beautiful face and studied it devotedly.

“Anything for my girl.” He spoke softly, his sexy Birmingham accent made your knees feel weak and your pussy become wetter. In a heartbeat, Thomas spoke to the farm owner, purchased the mare without even caring about the cost and made the necessary arrangements so you could have your pretty horse. 

After a successful purchase, Thomas helped you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to town. You would have your horse tomorrow morning, right now, business called.

He drove you to the Garrison, the Shelby's family owned pub for a Peaky Blinder business meeting. Usually, women were not allowed, but you were not just a woman. You were Thomas Shelby’s woman. And the people who knew would rather chop a limb off than dare to deny you access.

With his hand on your lower back, Tommy guided you inside the rowdy bar towards the private Peaky Blinders table. Everybody was waiting for your arrival between sips of irish whiskey and puffs of smoke. Thomas took a seat and you took yours on his lap, the feeling of your weight on him as natural as the feeling of air entering his lungs. 

The men at the table did not bat an eye, your presence was the new normality. And in a way, a sign that things were good, that Thomas was relaxed and no conflicts were on the horizon. If something bad or difficult was preying upon them, you would be hidden away in some safe heaven and not happily sitting on Tommy’s lap. Perhaps, the only other emotion a few of the men could feel when looking at you was a secret, deeply buried longing. Anybody would love to have a beauty like you sitting on their lap. Not that they would allow Thomas to hear them admit that.

The meeting started around you, some usual business and many details you didn’t care for. Thomas concentrated, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your clothed thigh. You liked the skirt you wore, the fabric was soft, and it incited Tommy to touch. It was not exactly close to the feeling of your bare skin when you fucked him, or when he would make you sit naked on his lap while he worked in his house studio, but it was pleasant. 

The more the meeting dragged on, the more you started to grow restless. And a little bored, in all honesty. Sitting on his lap sounded glamorous and sensual in theory but in practice it was a test of resilience and patience. Being a sweet arm candy girl like you required more than a pretty face and a hot body. You also had to possess the skills to tell when a meeting was dying out and calculate the exact perfect moment to lean closer to Tommy’s ear and whisper something to save you from boredom.

“You know… I never properly thanked you today for getting me my beautiful horse… I think daddy needs a proper thank you…” Thomas turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk.

“Is that right?” He leaned closer to you until your noses bumped together, giving your thigh a squeeze. “And just how would you thank daddy, then? Hmm?” He whispered, the meeting a mere background noise now. You leaned towards his ear again, whispering so quietly so only Tommy could hear.

“I wanna suck your cock… Or you can fuck me over your desk in the back?” You purred so innocently despite the pure filth of your words. His cock told you all you needed to know about his opinion. The twitch inside his pants impossible to miss. You pulled back to stare into his eyes and take in his tiny smirk. He knew that resistance was futile and completely incompatible with him when it came to you.

Without excusing words or explanations to the other gentlemen, Thomas scooted you two out of the booth, taking your hand and guiding you to the back. He kicked the small office door open and locked you both in. You could almost feel his piercing blues tracing the shape of your ass under that fashionable skirt you wore. 

“So...” You started, walking over to his desk and luring him to take a few steps closer to you. He towered over you, his rough hands touched your hips with interest. “How does daddy want me?” You purred innocently, looking into his eyes.

Thomas’ cock hardened even more in his dress pants. Your figure, your soft face, your pretty eyes, your voice, you. Lust took over his eyes.

 “On your knees baby… you know what daddy wants.” His voice was husky, overcome with his need for you and your pretty little mouth. You grinned, a hungry look in your eyes replicating his own. Steadily, you sunk to your knees, the fabric of your skirt your only padding on the cold floor. Tommy leaned against his desk and watched you work your magic. Your fingers undid the button of his pants with torturous care.

“You know… If you wanted to fuck me in front that whole room of men… I’d let you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me..” You were a tease, you killed him slowly. His breath hitched a bit, his possessive streak driving him to total insanity. You were right. You would let him do anything he wanted. He knew. But hearing you say that made the fire of his lower stomach ignite him whole.

“Oh, I know you would… You’d be my good little girl, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your beautiful face. You nodded so innocently, and then lowered his pants down until they pooled around his ankles.

“I'll always be your good girl… I’ll always please you and let you use me however you need…” You whispered back, a soft sensual smile gracing your lips. Tommy couldn’t help but groan at your words, his painfully hard cock pulsing in his boxer briefs right in front of your face.

“God, you’re such a good girl… You’ll be good for daddy now won’t you?” He cooed. 

“Always.” You purred in devotion. Your hands reached up to grab the band of his boxers and, with one swift, well trained motion, pulled them down. His large throbbing cock sprung free for you to drool over. Mere inches away from your face. 

“You gonna thank your daddy properly, hmm?” He asked with a sexy smirk, heavily accented and incredibly husky. You nodded obediently, your eyes going from his beautiful irises to his hard cock. It had been over four months since you became his sweetheart and you still felt enamored at his sheer size.

“Yes daddy…” You answered softly then looked back up to his pretty blue eyes. “Gonna suck your cock and drain these perfect balls just how you like…” You made it a point to speak so innocently, stirring something in him. He could have lost himself right then and there from your words alone. It took him a second to fully take in the idea. The dirtiest promises coming from the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“Fuck baby… You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that?” He asked in a playful little smirk, and you attacked. Your soft hand wrapped around his aching hard cock. He groaned softly.

“But at least you’ll die happy.” You purred, gifting him a few seconds to prepare himself before finally leaning in to swirl your tongue skillfully over the head of his dripping cock. Thomas let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping his desk behind him in an attempt to steady himself. His head fell back, the texture of your wet, warm tongue erasing each and every thought off his mind. It all became you and you only. You licking him, tasting his sensitive tip, you pleasing him.

“Fuck, baby… My perfect girl…” He managed to choke out, affected yet addicted. Your tongue swirled over him expertly, and you looked up at him. A sweet happy hum reverberated in your throat as you tasted the salt of his precum. Every drop that ran down his tip not making it far thanks to your eager licks. Your hum sent vibrations up his cock, making him feel like his knees were about to buckle under him. The only time he appreciated feeling vulnerable.

Tommy looked down at you servicing him, taking your sweet time on his sensitive tip. The fire in your eyes recognized his and burnt with it. 

“Holy-f-fuck.. my girl knows how to suck her daddy’s cock so good….” He groaned, and you took more of his lengthy cock in your mouth, working your way down and sucking it, your tongue massaging it slowly.

He tried his best to maintain his composure and control, but another swirl of your tongue made him admit to himself that he would not last long.

“F-fuck, baby girl… You keep going like that…” He groaned, gripping the edge of the wooden desk harder and urging you.

You bobbed your head on his cock in a skillful rhythm. The sounds coming from you were so filthy and obscene. Nothing could have torn his gaze away from you. It was a war between him and his throbbing cock. He wanted more, desperately needed more, but his orgasm neared closer than his next breath.

 “You’re too good to me, baby girl… You’re gonna make daddy come… And it’s gonna be right in your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna take every last drop, aren’t you?” He cooed with one hand touching the top of your head for support. You bobbed your head, up and down his shaft, with your nose bumping his pelvic area. You looked up and hummed in response. You always swallowed.

Noting his increasing pleasure, you pushed yourself to take more of his thick cock. You gagged a little and earned a loud moan from him akin to music to your ears.

“Goood girl… Good girl.” With his praise like a mantra, he watched over you, almost out of breath. “That's it. I'm gonna come for you… ‘m gonna come in this mouth and you’re gonna swallow all of it, aren’t you baby?” He repeated, unaware by now. No thoughts inside his head, only your perfect mouth that pulled back for just a second.

 “Yes, daddy.” You purred, looking up at him with innocent eyes before taking him in your mouth again, this time working faster and with much more intensity. Constantly swiping against the underside of his thick cock.

Thomas had to resist the urge of bucking into your mouth and fuck your face just the way he likes, but he found the willpower to stay calm. This was all about you pleasing him, putting that mouth of yours to work and thanking him. 

“Good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl…” He praised, his orgasm so close to hitting him and knocking him flat out. “Now, remember, baby girl… What’s my rule?” His voice almost cracked. Dominance was a hard thing to upkeep when his balls tightened this hard and your throat hummed around him. Your pussy grew wetter at the mention of the rule, one you had committed to memory.

“Before you can swallow, you have to show it to daddy... Need to see my come all over your pretty tongue, hmm?” Thomas said, barely hanging on at this point. One of his hands holding your hair back and the other gripping the desk behind him for stability.

You hummed as loud and as best as you can, his thick cock barely giving up space for sound to travel. You kept sucking him, and his resistance was hung on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. His moans, his heavy breaths, the hot puffs of air he lets out, the way his cock throbbed in your  mouth… You wanted him done for. 

Your hand came up, gently cupping his balls and giving them a soft squeeze. His breath hitched and he cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, baby-” He choked out, and everything snapped inside him. “Coming..” That was the only word he managed to utter before his resolve crumbled and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. His hand grabbed your hair firmly, but not painfully, keeping you there, ready to take it all.

Your movements stopped in anticipation and his cock pulsed inside your mouth. A salty load of cum coated your tongue completely and his sensual low groan filled your ears. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and his lips stayed parted. When every last drop was unloaded, he opened his eyes back again and looked at you intently.

“Show daddy…” He murmured, his voice a little strained. You obeyed, pulling off him and sitting back on your knees. With pride, you stuck out your cum-painted tongue for his viewing pleasure.

“My good girl.” Tommy praised. You were indeed so good. So obedient. So perfect for him. “You can swallow now, baby girl.” 

His hand petted the top of your head with appreciative softness, and you, living up to his praise, did as he said. The salt taste of his cum mixing with your saliva before passing down your throat. A soft hum of approval coming from you made him smile ever so gently.

He reached down to pull up his pants, tucking his now soft, sensitive and tired cock back into his boxers and buttoning his dress pants. He reached his hands down, pulling you up from the floor easily into his arms. When you were close to his face, you gave him a cheeky little smile. His hands cupped your face and gently pulled you in for a burning hot, passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, making him taste himself on you. A pervertedly satisfied smile crept into the kiss.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You know… If all it took to get you to do that for me is to buy you a horse… I think I'll buy you a horse, or anything else you want every single day for the rest of your life.” Tommy whispered in a mix of sensuality but also pure, deep love. 

Your eyes twinkled a bit and a soft smile appeared on your face. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him. 

“Deal”.

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part six

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: angst, hospitals, fluff, feelings!!! lots and lots of feelings!!!, smut (f!oral receiving, mentions of m!oral and handjobs, fingering, unprotected piv, consented filming), anxiety and overthinking, no use of y/n.

word count: 10.1k

synopsis: Joel’s accident has you confessing your feelings, and while you take care of him, you worry you’re becoming too attached too quick.

a/n: sorry the mood board sucks i literally couldn’t find anything that fit the vibes. hope u enjoy tho. xoxo

You don’t even know how you and Maria got to the hospital so fast. 

Everything was a complete blur; your mind was in a haze and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would nearly jump out of your chest. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. He has to be okay. 

Your vision became blurry as tears welled your eyes, and in your mind all you can think about Joel and hoping to god you guys didn’t run any red lights, speeding against time and pouring rain as you drove here.

He has to be okay. 

You felt like you were going to throw up. You didn’t know how bad it was, and you weren’t trying to be dramatic, but how could you not be worried? 

The man you love is hurt and you couldn’t do anything about it. Your mind immediately went to Sarah, wondering if she was already here—then it shifted back to all of the scenarios running in your mind a million miles a minute. 

A sob escapes your throat as Maria parks the car, giving you a tight hug before getting out of the car with you. 

“It’ll all be okay. It’s Joel we're talking about here, hm? He’s a resilient man,” she tries her best to console you, but all you can do is meekly nod before you walk into St. David’s. 

You’re shaking like a leaf as you approach the front desk. Maria clears her throat and the receptionist looks between you two, furrowing her brows. 

“You’re not hurt, are you honey?” She asks you, and you shake your head. Not physically, anyway. 

“No,” Maria tells her, “We’re here to see someone who got checked in probably not too long ago,” she says, and the receptionist nods in understanding. She twists her bright pink lips to the side, typing something into her computer. 

“Who’s the patient you’re visiting today?” She pushes her glasses up her nose, looking at Maria intently. 

“First name Joel, last name Miller.” 

The receptionist types something into her computer once again, and she nods. 

“Looks like he’s popular today. He has a lot of visitors,” she says, and you know it’s to lighten the mood, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh. You give her a small smile before she prints out two visitor stickers and hands them to you both. 

“Here you are ladies. Fourth floor, and on the left is the waiting room.” 

“Thank you ma’am,” Maria says, pulling your arm gently as you both put the stickers on and head to the elevators. 

A few stray tears roll down your cheeks on the quiet ride up to the fourth floor. Maria won’t let go of you; a silent plea to say I’m here for you without saying a single word. 

The elevator doors open and you turn to the left, seeing nearly everyone in the waiting room sporting an Austin Fire Department uniform. Your eyes search the room for Tommy and Sarah, and when you spot them, you make a beeline for them both. 

You give Sarah a tight hug, rubbing her back in consolement. You’re the adult here, so you have to be strong and put on a brave face for her until you find out Joel’s prognosis. 

Tommy hugs you next, and you can hear the stuttering in his breath as he tries to take a beat to calm down. He wraps Maria in his arms once he lets go of you, and you go back to hugging Sarah, to which she accepts in a heartbeat. 

She’s hugging you tight and won’t let go, and you look around the room and give a weak smile to all of Joel and Tommy’s coworkers as they wave at you with sad smiles. 

“What happened, Tommy?” You whisper, trying to brace yourself for the worst. 

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“We were on a call and Joel needed to get to the third floor of a building, so he was climbing the ladder of the truck. I guess he slipped or lost his footing because he fell off the damn ladder, and his harness didn’t hold his body weight up right and it fucking snapped. He fell three stories to the ground,” Tommy said, tears coming out of his eyes. 

You could barely even process his words. Your blood was pulsing in your ears and your body went still. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to cry and panic, but you were in a room full of his colleagues and his daughter’s arms were wrapped around you tightly. 

You look at him with glossy eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Have the doctors said anything yet?” 

“They’re doing scans and tests on him right now,” Tommy says. 

“Was he at least wearing his helmet?” You can’t help but gnaw on your lip, body starting to tremble again in disbelief and fear. 

“He was, but he took a really hard fall. He kept coming in and out of consciousness on the way here,” he says, and you shut your eyes to steady yourself. Maria gave you a look of sympathy before coaxing the four of you to sit down. 

It became a waiting game at that point. Everyone was talking quietly amongst themselves, and Sarah leaned in to you and rested her head on your shoulder. 

“How are you holding up?” You ask her, voice soft and concerned. 

“He’s been hurt before, but not like this. I’m really scared,” she confesses, and you sigh and wrap your arm around her shoulder. 

“Me too, sweetheart, but your dad is a strong man. He’ll get through whatever the outcome is,” you try to reassure her, but even you heard the worry in your own voice. 

After what seemed like hours, a doctor comes out, looking down at her clipboard. 

“For Joel Miller?” She says, and everyone looks up. She blinks in surprise that nearly the whole waiting room’s eyes are on her. 

“Who’s his next of kin?” She asks, and Tommy stands up. He looks down at you and Sarah, nodding his head toward the doctor. He grabs Maria’s hand and you all walk up to her, waiting for her to tell you what’s going on with him. 

“How is he?” Tommy asks, worry written all over his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes glossy, and his body language was stiff—he was on edge. 

“We need to keep him here for a few days to keep a watchful eye on him and observe, just to make sure he’ll be okay. He hit his head really hard. He’s concussed and he has a couple of broken ribs with some bad bruising in various locations, but I’d consider him a seriously lucky fella. This could’ve ended a lot worse for him, but his heavy gear and helmet took a big amount of shock absorption from the fall,” she explains, and it feels like you can breathe a little better. 

Of course, his injuries are still nothing of the sort that you wanted to hear, but knowing they aren’t worse than what they are fills you with a tiny bit of relief. 

“When can we see him?” Sarah asks, and the doctor gives her a soft smile. 

“Now, actually. He’s asleep and heavily medicated, so he probably won’t be up for awhile. Four visitors are allowed at a time,” the doctor says, and you all nod. 

“You girls go ‘head. ‘M gonna inform the guys on what she just told us,” Tommy says, and you three nod before you follow the doctor past the doors labeled restricted. She takes you down a long hallway and into a room on the right hand side. 

Your eyes land on Joel, wearing a hospital gown with an IV in his arm. He looks peaceful while he sleeps, breathing steadily on his own. You notice the bruising starting to form on his arms and you can’t help but get teary-eyed again at the sight of him like this. 

You obviously know his job comes with many, many dangers—you just never in a million years thought he’d get hurt like this. You three pull up chairs to his bedside, making sure to stay out of the hospital staff’s way in case they need to get in around Joel or his bed. 

“This man really is resilient,” Maria says, smiling at Sarah. She returns a weak one back with a small nod. 

“He is. I know he’s a hero and he’s great at what he does, but sometimes I wish he and Uncle Tommy had a profession less… dangerous,” she confesses. 

You can’t even begin to imagine the anxiety she’s faced practically her whole life, knowing her dad is doing a job that’s strenuous and physically demanding, not to mention the danger he has to face every time he’s out in the field. 

“Have you ever talked to him about it?” You ask softly, genuinely curious and not-too-shocked about her confession. It seems like this thing would be normal for kids to think about when it comes to their loved ones performing a dangerous job such as this one. 

She shakes her head. “No,” she says with a sigh, “He loves this job and it makes him happy. The last thing I want for him is to leave what makes him happy because of me.” 

Sarah has to be the most level-headed, mature fourteen-year-old, you think. You’ve never met anyone as wise as her at her age—hell, nobody was this wise when you were around her age—and yet, her bravery and wits was tell-all about how she was raised. Joel really did a great job. 

“I get your point,” you say eventually, meticulously calculating your next choice of words. “Maybe you should have that conversation with him, though—in your own time. His job makes him happy and it’s important, of course, but you make him happier and you will always come before his job.”

She offers you a small smile as she leans her head on your shoulder. You wrap your arm around her shoulders once more, giving her a loving squeeze of reassurance. 

“You know, you’re an important part of his life now, too,” she starts. “He talks about you a lot. Admires you a ton. He’s crazy about you,” she giggles, green eyes looking up at you. 

You can’t help but softly laugh. 

“I’m crazy about him, too,” you confess, and Sarah’s smile widens. 

“I’m really glad my dad finally found someone that makes him genuinely happy. You’re the perfect fit for our small lil family, so uh, thanks for being here. For him. For me. For all of us.”  

Her words make your chest tighten and bloom with warmth. You can’t help it this time—tears spring to your eyes and you kiss her hair, smiling at her with pure endearment. 

“There’s no place I’d rather be. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives.” 

“Well damn, it’s about to be a sob fest in here,” Maria says, eyes welling with tears too. 

All three of you laugh, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape. The door opens a few seconds later, and Tommy walks in. He looks exhausted, and he smiles sadly when his eyes land on his brother who was still in a deep sleep. 

He sits in the empty chair next to Maria, watching as Joel’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace. 

“Thank god he’s responsible and wore his gear correctly,” Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “Doctor said he might be a little loopy when he wakes up from the medication.” 

“He’s always been the responsible one, Uncle Tommy,” Sarah chastised him, causing everyone to laugh. 

“Yeah yeah. I owe your old man big time, kid. Now I got this lovely lady here to keep me in check,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans in to kiss Maria’s temple.  

“Damn right, Miller. Don’t you forget it,” she pats his knee twice, an unmistakable happy grin adorning her lips. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he says, and she nudges his side before everyone’s attention shifts to Joel who groans softly. He doesn’t wake up, but his brows furrow for a few seconds before the tension leaves his face. 

“Well, ‘m goin’ down to the cafeteria before it closes for the night. Anyone care to join me?” Tommy asks, gaze flitting from Maria to Sarah to you. 

“Actually yeah, I haven’t eaten dinner tonight,” Sarah says, twisting her lips to the side. “I’ll go with you.” 

“I’ll join you two,” Maria says as they all get up from their chairs, and you furrow your brows at her before she gives you a soft smile. “Just so you can get a little alone time with him,” she whispers, and you mouth thank you. 

The door snaps shut behind them as they leave the room, and your focus hones in on Joel. You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his. You bring his hand up to brush your lips on his knuckles, leaving soft kisses there. His hand is warm. He is warm. He’s always warm; the most comfortable and loving presence you’ve ever been around. 

You admire how strong this man is. How loving, how loyal, how he’s the type to give someone the shirt off his back if they needed it most. He’s selfless in every way possible. He’s the man of your dreams, and you’re so lucky to have found him when you did. 

For once in your life, being confident and not pushing someone you care about away in self-sabotage has worked out endlessly in your favor. 

“I love you, Joel,” the words slip past your lips easily, giving his knuckles another sweet kiss, “I love you so, so much. I’m so beyond lucky to be with you. I ain’t going anywhere, cowboy, so I hope you don’t get tired of me.” 

Joel’s hand tightens around yours and you gasp, eyes darting to his face. He purses his lips before his hand goes limp again and you sigh, leaning over to kiss his forehead before you let go of his hand. 

You decide to call your family and let them know what happened, just to keep them in the loop. You start with your mom and dad, standing in the corner of the hospital room as you look out at the plethora of lights of Austin that illuminate the night. 

“Hey honey! We were just thinkin’ of you,” your mom chirps, and you laugh softly before you sigh and answer her in a hushed tone. 

“Hey mama, I’ve got some bad news,” you start, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“Oh no. What is it babygirl?” Her voice is laced with worry and overprotectiveness. 

“Joel got injured pretty badly at work. He’s in the hospital right now, but he’s okay.” 

Her gasp was unmistakable on the other line. “What? How did he get injured?” 

“He slipped off of the truck ladder due to the rain, and his harness snapped,” you say, looking back at Joel.

“My god, how badly is he injured?” She’s frantic, and you hear some shuffling in the background. 

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion, a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Doctors said he’s very lucky considering the circumstances.” 

“Oh, sweetheart. Is there anything we can do?” 

“Do you mind texting the family group chat? I feel bad, I don’t want to bug Emi or Josh on their honeymoon but I wanna keep them in the loop.” 

“Of course I can. And you know Emi, she’d want to know regardless,” your mom says, and you nod with a sigh. 

“Thank you mom. I’ll keep you guys updated, okay?”

”Alright baby girl. Let us know. Love you lots,” she says, and you smile. 

“Love you too, mama. Bye,” you hang up your phone and shove it in your back pocket, facing Joel again. He inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut, and you rush to his side and grab his hand. 

“Joel?” You try to level out the anxiousness in your voice, biting your lip and furrowing your brows as he squeezes your hand. 

He groans softly, eyes fighting to open. He eventually blinks them open the tiniest bit, furrowing his brow as he takes in his surroundings. 

“What the hell happened?” He asks, voice cracking as he shuts his eyes again and swallows harshly. 

“You were in an accident at work, my love. You took a pretty big fall,” you say, bringing his knuckles up to your mouth so you can softly kiss them. 

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes cracking open again. 

“Everyone’s waiting for you in the waiting room. Sarah, Maria, and Tommy went to get food in the cafeteria. ‘M gonna go get a nurse to check up on you, okay?” You try to keep your voice soft and light in hopes of keeping him at ease. 

He nods slightly, wincing when he tries to take a deep breath. You kiss his knuckles one more time before letting go of his hand, walking over to the nurses station not too far from his room. 

“Excuse me?” You say, getting the attention of a nurse. He looks up at you with a smile, and you easily return one. 

“The patient in room 411 just woke up.” 

The nurse—whose name tag says Jeremy— nods at you and walks with you back to Joel’s room, and Joel squints his eyes open again. Jeremy grabs the clipboard off of the end of Joel’s bed, beaming down at him with a smile. You text Tommy that Joel’s awake and they should head back to the room soon in the meantime. 

“Hey Mr. Miller, how are you feelin’?” Jeremy checks a couple of his vitals on the monitors, jotting something down on his paperwork. 

“Like I got hit by a bus,” Joel says, wincing again as he tries to sit up more. 

“It might feel like that for a couple of weeks, unfortunately. You had a pretty bad accident at work. You have a concussion and a couple of broken ribs,” Jeremy explains to Joel, and Joel’s face deflates. 

“Shit,” he says, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. 

“We’re goin’ to keep you a couple ‘a days just to make sure your concussion isn’t too serious,” Jeremy says to Joel, clipping the clipboard back on the end of the bed. 

The look on Joel’s face tells you he wants to argue, but it’s apparent the exhaustion he’s feeling has drained the fight in him. You can hear it in your head: ‘Couple ‘a days? I’ll be good t’go home by tomorrow.’

Joel just nods and murmurs a thank you to Jeremy as he leaves the room. His eyes find yours, and you can easily clock his frustration. 

“I know you don’t wanna stay here baby, but it’s for your health,” you reason, sitting down next to him again. He reaches out for your hand and grabs it, bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. 

“Y’know, I heard you talkin’ to your mom,” he says, eyes softening as you scoot closer to his bed. Your knees were touching the mattress now, and you were so close to him that you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body. 

“Oh, yeah,” you start, huffing a laugh. “She’s worried about you, but I told her you were fine. My family will probably want to come visit you sometime after they release you.” 

He smiles at that. “I’d love that. And, if I’m bein’ honest here…” 

He looks at you with a certainty you’ve never seen before. Then it clicks—how much did he hear before? Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you wait for his next words, the anticipation nearly sending you spiraling. 

“I heard what you said before your mom called you too, and sweetheart, I love you too. Kinda a weird place to say it for the first time to your face,” he chuckles, inhaling sharply at the pain. He still has a grin on his face that you’ll never get tired of seeing, and you can’t help but smile brightly at him. 

“Joel, I—wait, did you say to my face?” You ask, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah uh, I kinda said it right after our first night together at the hotel. The night of your sister’s weddin’. I think you’d already fallen asleep, though.”  

“No fucking way,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. He looks confused and frowns before you lean forward and press your lips gently to his, feeling the absolute emotion and passion behind such a simple, much needed kiss. 

“I wanted to tell you then, too—that amazing morning we spent together before we went down to breakfast with my family. I’d been thinking about it all morning, and this whole week, actually. I wanted to tell you when I got to see you next.” 

“‘M glad you feel the same way, darlin’. ‘M absolutely crazy about you,” he says, and you can’t help but gush at his confession. 

“I love you, Joel,” you say with finality, and he grins widely. 

“I love you too, baby,” he squeezes your hand and tugs you toward him for one final, searing kiss before the room door opens. You and him separate and turn to see Sarah, Tommy and Maria all entering the room. 

“Dad!” Sarah exclaims, giving him a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hey there pumpkin,” he says, wrapping his arms around her the best he can. 

“Had us all scared there for a minute, brother,” Tommy chimes in, nudging his bed with his boot. 

“I’ll be fine,” Joel grumbles, sighing. 

“Glad you’re okay, Joel,” Maria says, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you. And thank y’all for bein’ here,” Joel says. 

“There’s no place else we’d be than right by your side, Joel,” you smile at him endearingly, and the other three nod their head in agreement. 

“I appreciate y’all,” Joel’s gaze shifts to Tommy, “Can’t wait for Cap to put my ass through the wringer for this one.”

It elicits a laugh from Tommy, and he shakes his head before pointing his thumb at the door. 

“Nah. Poor bastard was scared as hell. Whole crew is waitin’ out there for ya,” 

“Shit, really?”

Tommy nods. “Mhm, but the doctor said only four people at a time can be in here to visit ya.” 

“We should give the others a chance to see him,” you suggest, looking at the three. 

“Took the words right out my mouth, lil lady,” Tommy chuckles, and you flash him a grin. 

You look at Joel and grab his hand, giving it one more gentle squeeze. He gives you a lopsided smile and you lean down one last time to kiss his forehead, and he murmurs those three words that make your heart unabashedly skip a beat. 

“I love you sweetheart.” 

“I love you too, cowboy,” you wink at him and he huffs a laugh, slowly letting go of your hand. He gives Sarah one last hug and a kiss on the cheek before you all head back out to the waiting room. The rest of the team looks at you four as you all walk out, and three of them get sent back to see him. 

Their captain stops to talk to Tommy for a bit before he heads back as well while you, Sarah and Maria take a seat again.

“So you finally said it, huh?” Maria nudges you, wiggling her brows. Your face heats and you look down at the frayed part of your jeans, trying to hide a shy smile. 

“Yeah,” you confess. 

“I’m so happy for you. You deserve this so much,” she says, and you smile and lean into her side hug. 

“Thank you for encouraging me to stop being afraid of what I really feel. It’s about time I just stop cowering away and just let myself…feel,” you say. 

“That’s what friends are for. You ever need a pep talk, I’m your girl.” 

You both laugh at that, settling into a comfortable silence before Sarah taps you on the arm. 

You look her way and offer her a smile, which she mirrors right back to you. 

“Would you, uh, mind staying the weekend at our house?” She asks, and there’s a shyness to her voice that you instantly clock. You offer her a reassuring smile, silently vowing to her that you’d be there for her no matter what.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’d love to.” 

-

You kept your word and stayed at the Miller’s house for the weekend. Joel was set to be discharged Sunday morning which thankfully came faster than expected. By the time you and Sarah got situated and wrangled him home, he was ushered to the couch to relax his body. 

You were sitting next to him while a Cowboys game was playing on the TV, silently watching the end of the first quarter. Sarah was finishing some homework upstairs and Tommy and Maria were on their way for a Sunday night family dinner. 

Tommy insisted on grilling some steaks tonight while you and Maria made some sides. 

“Can I lay my head on your lap, baby?” Joel’s voice is soft, and he looks at you with those big, brown pleading eyes that make you melt in an instant. 

You almost want to giggle at how cute he looks. 

“Sure honey,” you scoot your body over before he slowly lays himself down, situating his head on your lap. He closes his eyes for a second before inhaling as much as he can without hurting himself, opening his eyes and fixating his gaze on you. You stare at each other like that for a moment before you bend down and give him a chaste kiss.

You try to separate yourself from him, but he puts his hand on the back of your head gently to keep you there. You can’t help but smile against his lips and kiss him again, a little bit longer this time, before you move your head up slightly. 

“Don’t exert yourself too much now, Mr. Miller,” you tease, and he scoffs against your lips. 

“If I wanna kiss my lady, ‘m gonna kiss her until my face turns blue,” he says, and you laugh at his fake stern tone. “‘Sides, it’s the only action I’m gonna be gettin’ for awhile anyway.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare down at him. “Joel Miller!” You can’t help but laugh, “You’re an insatiable man, y’know that?” You take the liberty of running your fingers through his soft locks, and he closes his eyes for a brief second in comfort. 

“What? ‘S true,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, cowboy. Maybe you’ll get a little something from me soon enough.” 

“You gonna give me some sugar, sugar?” He grins proudly at his lame joke and you huff a laugh. 

“Only if you behave. Gotta wait a little while longer, though. Doctor’s orders.” 

“You’re really gonna make me wait?” 

“Mhm. Learn some patience and keep it in your pants,” you giggle, and the irony of it all is that Joel is literally the most patient man you know. His laid back personality is every indication of patience, but it’s funny to see him squirm a little at the prospect of you taking care of him without having to have him exert himself in any way. 

“It’s hard when I got a beautiful, lovin’ lady such as yourself.” 

“Joel Miller, are you flirting with me?” You try to hold back your laugh, and he squints his eyes at you. 

“And what if I was? Is it workin’?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but fully laugh this time. Fuck, you really love this man. 

“Maybe. Means I’m not going anywhere, cowboy. You’re stuck with me,” you say, and he tugs you down for another sweet kiss. 

“That’s fine by me. Hey, uh, speakin’ of not goin’ anywhere—” he pauses, looking like he’s trying to find the right words to say. “Would you mind stayin’ here while I heal up? Sarah n’ I would both love it if you’d stay here with us for the time bein’ if ‘s not an imposition, of course.” 

You answer him almost immediately, trying not to sound too eager. “I don’t mind at all,” you say, “I know my boss wanted us to move remotely anyways, so it works out.” Your boss telling your whole department they were going to move strictly to remote work truly couldn’t have come at a better time, you think. 

“I can also take Sarah to school and soccer practice for the time being too,” you offer, and a swirl of excitement settles deep into your bones at the thought of the domesticity of it all. You try not to think about it, but there’s something about spending consecutive days with the person you love that drives your heart into a frenzy. 

“You’d do that?” His voice is soft, hopeful. You nod, brushing your fingers through his curls once more. 

“You’re too good to me, woman,” he groans, bringing you down for one last kiss. You can’t help but smile against his lips, whispering right back to him. 

“And you’re too good to me.” 

-

It didn’t take long for all of you to fall into a routine. Mondays are hectic but manageable as you usher Sarah out of the door just in time to drive her to school. Tuesdays are for school and soccer practice, making a quick and easy dinner to appease everyone. Wednesdays are for school and tutoring, because Sarah is wickedly smart, but geometry seemed to take a toll on her. Thursdays are the same as Tuesdays, and Fridays are the days you all decide if it’ll be takeout or pizza for dinner. 

Tommy and Maria will occasionally pop in and help with dinner once in a while, which is always a nice surprise. Your family visited too, checking in on Joel to make sure he’s okay. Your mom even made a pot of ‘get well soon soup’, as she likes to call it. 

It’s now week three at the Miller household for you and you feel like you practically live here at this point. Well, in a way, you sorta do. 

It’s just until Joel heals fully, though. Then it’s back to the regular routine—something you almost forgot about; what it was like before you brought some of your stuff over to Joel and Sarah’s. 

You don’t know how it’ll feel to go back to a bed with an empty side on it, void of Joel and his comforting scent and warmth. You don’t know how it’ll feel to be back to stark quietness, no morning rushes or scrambling of eggs for three or showing off your pancake flipping skills that elicits excited laughs and rounds of applause. 

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn’t want to go back to your apartment. You haven’t constantly been in a house so full of laughter and love since you left your parents to live on your own over a decade ago. 

It’s funny, you think. You were so okay with being alone, so okay with pushing people away to ‘protect your own peace’ as you’d called it, so okay in your own little bubble—when in reality, you were sabotaging every potential relationship that had come your way. 

After Christian, those feelings of doubt and isolation crept in and slowly sank its claws in you, and for a while, you were so content with just being by yourself—so much so that you’d already accepted the fact that you’d probably be alone forever. 

And then Joel came along. This man has single handedly turned your whole world around, and you can’t get enough of him. He’s everything you’ve dreamed of and more. You don’t know what possessed you to make the first move a couple of months back at Rosemary’s, but you’re so fucking glad you did. 

You probably wouldn’t be here in this warm house with the most loving man right now if you didn’t. 

It’s another Tuesday at the Miller household, and Joel squeezes your shoulders to break you from your wandering mind. 

You look up at him from your seat and give him a tired smile, looking back down at the steaming cup of coffee he placed in front of you. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty lady?” He asks, kissing your cheek before sitting down next to you. 

You know you were too chicken to tell him your real thoughts, so you made something up. 

“Your birthday’s this weekend,” you state matter-of-factly. Okay, truthfully, it’s been on your mind for days, so it isn’t  something totally made up. It seemed to work though as Joel groans and tips his head back. 

“Don’t remind me,” he shakes his head with a chuckle, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Oh c’mon, let me plan a little something for you,” you pout, as if you didn’t already have a plan in mind that his family, your family and his friends knew about. 

“My sweet girl, you don’t have to do that. Not exactly thrilled at celebratin’ turnin’ a year older.” 

“But I want to, Mr. Miller,” you tease, and he groans. “Besides, you deserve to be celebrated.” 

“You know what that does to me when you call me that,” he shifts in his seat and you have to stifle a laugh at how fast this man gets turned on by you. He doesn’t comment on the second half of your statement, which you decidedly let go of. 

The feeling of power and seduction sinks her gnarly little teeth into your very being, and you can’t help but feel proud that you’re the one who makes him feel this way. Maybe slight possession wiggles her way in between power and seduction, nestling herself comfortably between the two. 

“Alright alright, I’ll stop teasing. For now,” you say, quirking a brow as you point a finger at him. He leans forward and nips his teeth gently at the tip of your finger, 

kissing it right after. He’s sporting a boyish grin when you look at him, and you roll your eyes with a smile before the chair scrapes against the floor as you get up, looking at your watch-clad wrist. 

“Time to clock in.” 

“Don’t be too long, darlin.’ I’ll miss that pretty face an awful lot.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible flirt?” You tease him, knowing damn well he isn’t. 

“What I lack in flirting I make up for in other areas,” he smirks, giving your ass a slap as you walk past him. You fake-glare at him and he tosses his head back as a deep laugh rumbles from his chest, and you admire him so. 

Fuck, you think. It’s going to be really hard going back to things as they were before. 

-

A few days later, and you‘re basking in the way the golden rays of the autumn sun hit your skin through the blinds in Joel’s room. You aren’t fully awake yet, but you can feel Joel’s strong chest pressed securely against your back. 

His grip on you is tight—protective, in a sense. It doesn’t waver when he begins to press soft, wet kisses against your shoulder, moving the strap of your nightie down as his kisses trail further up your neck. 

He brings his mouth up to your ear, nibbling on your lobe a tiny bit before moving his hands up your torso to palm at your breasts. 

You hum in response, your brain fuzzy and still trying to catch up to what was going on in reality. He tweaked your hardened buds through the satin you wore, and you instantly melted into the palms of his large, warm hands. 

“Mornin’ honey,” he whispers, dragging his lips down your jugular. You hum again, slowly blinking your eyes open. You squint as the sun directly hits your eyes for a second before you stretch, hands above your head. The movement caused the satin material to slide up your thighs, exposing your bare bottom half. 

Joel groans in response, and he flips you over onto your back before his sweet brown eyes meet yours—except his eyes were riddled with pure mischief. He wore a smirk to match, and you wrap your arms around the back of his neck before carding your fingers through his soft curls. 

“Morning handsome,” you say, voice soft and full of sleep. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you beautiful,” the tenderness in his voice matches yours, but he takes one glance down your body before you feel his hardening length against your thigh. You stifle a laugh and bite your lip, excitement swirling in your bones. 

You’ve touched Joel in the past few weeks—handjobs in the shower, morning head every so often—but you haven’t gone beyond that while he’s been healing up. You didn’t mind, obviously, but you can tell it’s been bothering him. 

The thing about Joel, well, he’s a giver. And when he can’t provide what he wants to give, it drives him fucking nuts. You could easily see the frustration brewing within his features when he wanted to give you more, but he couldn’t exert himself. Doctor’s orders. 

His lips trail down the satin material and he pulls it down where your breasts lay, exposing them to himself. He hums in delight and envelopes a pert bud into his mouth, closing his eyes as he licks and sucks. 

You sigh in contentment, hips involuntarily bucking up. Guess you’re a lot more needy than you thought. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you? It’s your day, after all,” You’re breathless, arching your back off the mattress. 

He releases your nipple with a small pop before his brown eyes meet yours once again. “It’s been drivin’ me crazy not bein’ able to please you the way I want—the way I know you deserve to be pleased.” 

“But Joel, that wasn’t your fault. You were healing up from a terrible accident,” you reason, and he grunts. 

“Still doesn’t mean I didn’t miss doin’ this,” he trails off, moving his lips down your torso as he slides his hands up your body to push the satin up. 

The cold air of the bedroom hits your core and you gasp, eyes falling shut as you loll your head back. 

He runs his hands back down to your thighs, digging his fingers into your hot skin before prying your legs open a bit further. He tosses your thighs over his shoulders and gives you the most devilish grin you think you’ve ever seen from him as you force yourself to look at him again. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he leans forward, kissing your aching, puffy core a few times before finally sticking his tongue out to lick a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. 

Only then does he close his eyes in what seems to be pure ecstasy, groaning to himself as he gets lost in his own words and indulges in you. 

You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, knowing that Sarah was right down the hall and Tommy and Maria were in the guest bedroom. They did not need to hear this. 

Joel doesn’t relent and his thick muscle works you incredulously. He’s giving your clit kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth, not caring to be quiet with his ministrations. You’re gasping for air behind your hand as you feel that familiar warmth blooming in your belly already. 

You realize you hadn’t even touched yourself in weeks, being too busy with work and taking Sarah to school and her extracurricular activities while simultaneously making sure Joel was okay and healing properly. Your want and desire was shoved all the way down, filed away and forgotten about until this very morning. 

You can’t help it—your other hand goes flying to his curls as you begin to rock your hips against his mouth. God, he’s so fucking good at this. He hums against you with a chuckle and prods his tongue into you, fucking you with it. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull and you have to bite down on your lip hard in order not to scream. Fuck, you wish you were back in that hotel room right now so you can be as loud as you want. 

He continues to lick up and down your slit at a torturous pace after, making sure to tease your clit with the tiniest little flick at the tip of his tongue. 

You’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and you whisper behind your hand don’t stop, don't stop, god, don’t stop before your thighs lock around his head and your body starts to twitch under his hold. 

You have to shove your face into a pillow as you moan loudly into it, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. 

And the thing is, he doesn’t fucking stop. In fact, he slides two fingers into you and curls them in a ‘come here’ motion, and your brain goes absolutely blank. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and you’re seeing stars, body shaking so hard you feel like you’re rocking the whole damn bed. Then there’s a strange sensation—you feel like it’s perhaps a stronger orgasm, but with the feeling of needing to pee. 

You toss the pillow off of your face to warn Joel to stop, but it’s too late. You’re fucking gushing around his mouth and fingers, clear liquid coating the bottom half of his face and the sheets beneath him. The squelching sound is so loud that you think this is what’ll get you both caught. 

You’re gasping for air as you toss your head back on the mattress, body now completely limp. Joel slowly slides his fingers out of you before licking one up himself, moving up the mattress to hover over you before he takes his other hand and opens your jaw before slipping his finger into your mouth. You obediently suck, and you can feel his cock twitch in his sweats at that. 

It’s a tangy-sweet taste, and you hum around his finger before peeling your eyes open as you try and even out your breathing. 

“Always taste like a dream, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth, reaching down to rub his cock through the fabric. 

He all but growls into your mouth, rocking his hips into your hand. You gently force him to lay down after you separate your lips from his, smiling down at him before kissing his nose, then shuffle his sweats down his thighs. 

To your delight, he isn’t wearing boxers. His delicious length is rock-hard, pre-come leaking from the slit. You thumb it and bring it up to your mouth for a little taste before you start to shuffle your body down the bed. 

Joel catches your elbow though and gives you a pleading look. “I need to feel you, baby. Please,” his voice is a desperate whisper. How could you possibly say no to that? 

You move back up again and straddle his hips, grabbing his cock before pumping the silky flesh a couple of times. You swipe his head between your folds and you both moan, all furrowed brows and bitten lips. 

You finally sink down onto him, and Joel’s hands fly to your hips. He keeps you steady there for a second, and you can literally feel him pulsing inside of you. You have to bite your knuckle to keep from groaning his name. 

“God, fuck—goddammit, you feel so fucking good,” he croaks, and you lean down to kiss him. He responds hungrily, hands roaming your body furiously before they settle on your ass. He squeezes your pillowy flesh, kneading it before slowly moving you up on his cock. You sink back down onto him after he nearly slips out of you, and you hiss at the intoxicating sensation. 

“Fucking love your cock, Joel,” you whine, “I love you.” 

“I–I, oh, fuck me, I love you too.” 

His resolve totally crumbles as he gets lost in the feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him, stretching beautifully and taking him so well. Like you were fucking made for him. And you are, you think. 

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to be a tease but you can barely even concentrate yourself. 

“Mhm. So fuckin’ lucky you’re all mine. ‘M the luckiest bastard alive,” he huffs, and you lean down to lick up his neck and suck a little on his pulse point. Not too hard, though, because god knows you two’d get teased to no end by both your families. It’s hard not to get too lost into it, though. You pull yourself back with the very little self restraint you have. 

“I think you got it twisted, cowboy. I’m the lucky one,” you moan into his ear, kissing his temple afterward. “Thank you for loving me the way you do.” 

He can’t help but groan at your words. You pick up the pace of your hips, planting your knees firmly on the mattress so you can start riding him for real. You set a relentless pace as you sit up straight, tossing your head back in pure ecstasy. 

Your head lolls forward again and you look down at Joel who’s looking at you with such desperation in his eyes. 

“Can I—fuck, I can’t believe I’m askin’ this,” he grabs your hips, slowing you down a beat. “Can I take a picture of you like this? On top ‘a me? Won’t get offended if you say no,” he’s cautious with his words, and you have to stifle a laugh. The amount of times you’ve thought about asking him to record you both fucking each other is actually ridiculous, even though this is only the third time.  

“I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you take a video,” you send him a wink, and his cock twitches once more. You raise the nightie over your head, tossing it beside you on the bed. He groans at the sight of your naked body above him. 

You bite your lip and look down at him, and he doesn’t waste another second before fumbling his phone off of the night stand, ignoring the plethora of texts he’s got, probably all wishing him a happy birthday. 

His hands are a bit shaky, but he finally gets situated and hits record. You continue to ride him, putting on a little show for the camera as you move your hips in a seductive way. You smile down at Joel and give him a wink, picking up your pace. 

You’re sure the camera frame is all skin slapping against skin and your breasts bouncing wildly as you ride him, and he can’t help the moans and whimpers that slip past his lips. He reaches up and gropes your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and forefinger once more. 

You feel more of your slick arousal pool out of you at the sensation, and you know you’ve got him drenched with you. 

“Fuck, Joel, you always feel so damn good,” you whine. 

“Yeah? Who’s pretty pussy is this?” He asks, reaching down to rub your swollen clit. You cry out, biting the back of your hand to try your best to stay as quiet as possible, which you’re sure you’re doing terribly at. 

“Yours, baby. All yours,” you confess, switching to a grinding motion. You both moan in unison as you circle your hips while giving yourself that extra friction. You feel the familiar bloom in the pit of your core, and you don’t know how much longer you’re going to last. 

He needs to come first. 

“Fuck, please don’t stop. I’m close,” Joel grits, and you do exactly as he says. “Where do you want me?” His voice sounds so small, so strained. 

Your head snaps up and you look him in the eyes as you shoot him a wicked grin. 

“In me.” 

And that’s that. He comes instantly, body stilling as he pumps you full. You moan as you grind against him a few more times before you’re coming, too. 

You’re both breathless and dazed as he stops recording, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand. You slip off of him and he instantly pulls you into him, covering you both with the comforter. He lifts his hips and tucks himself back into his sweats, nuzzling his face into your neck as he breathes you in. 

“Best way to start my birthday,” he says, and you grin and nudge him gently. 

“What the birthday boy wants, he gets,” you say, tipping his chin up for a chaste kiss. 

“What he wants is to stay in bed with you all day.” 

“I wish I could give you that too, handsome, but I’ve got a party to throw and you’re the guest of honor.” 

He quirks a brow. “Guest of honor in my own home?” 

You nod with a grin. “Mhm. So c’mon,” you tap his arm, “Up n’ at ‘em.” 

“Five more minutes,” he groans, burying his face into your chest. He leaves soft kisses there, and you bring your hands up to cradle the back of his head and scratch his scalp. 

“Fine. Five more minutes.” 

-

That five minutes turned into forty five, with Tommy knocking on Joel’s door to shout “Happy birthday you old fucker! Get up!” 

And now you’re all prepping for the party, telling Joel to sit and do nothing. He can’t have that, though, so he helps Tommy prep the grill for the burgers and chicken vegetable kabobs. 

Sarah decorates the backyard while you and Maria dance around each other in the kitchen to prep some side dishes. Joel also requested that you make your chocolate chip cookies he loves so much, so you were eyeing them in the oven while you chopped up some iceberg lettuce for salad. 

The doorbell rings, and you halt your chopping. You glance at the door before setting the knife down and wiping your hands before making your way over to open it up. 

Your whole family stands there, and you immediately smile and hug them one-by-one before ushering them into the house. 

“Maria, this is my mom Alexandria, my dad Michael, sister Emily, my brother-in-law Josh, and my brothers Andrew and Cole,” you point to everyone as you go down the line. “Everyone, this is my good friend Maria,” Maria beams a bright smile at them. 

“Nice to meet y’all, I’ve heard lots of wonderful things,” she says, and Cole snorts. 

“Shadow was just probably tryin’ to be nice,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. 

“Dude, shut up,” you say, and Maria laughs. 

“Oh, he’s funny. Tommy’ll love him,” she says. 

“They already have a ‘bromance’ going with Joel,” you shudder at the words, “I’m sure they’ll get Tommy, too.” 

“Not our fault we’re all funny and good looking,” Andy ran a hand on the side of his head in a slick-back motion. 

“God, you two are idiots,” Emily chimes in, and your mom and dad laugh at the childish banter. 

“Okay, okay, enough all of you,” your mom steps in, putting the tin foil pan on the counter. 

“Go say hi to your boyfriend. He’s in the backyard,” you tease Andy and Cole, and Andy holds up a twenty-four pack of Modelo. 

“Glady,” he’s got that smug smile on his face, and you huff a laugh. “C’mon Josh,” Andy nods his head out to the backyard where Joel and Tommy stand. 

“Don’t corrupt my husband please!” Emily calls out as they step through the sliding glass door, giving Joel a wave as him and Tommy turn their heads. 

“No promises!” Cole calls back, and they all follow them out to the backyard like a pack of wolves. Your attention is torn away as the oven beeps. You pull the cookies out, resting the tray on the counter before looking back outside. 

You sigh and give Maria a nudge. “Let’s go rally the troops,” and she laughs as she follows you out to the backyard. 

“I feel like I need to do a line-up military style to introduce all of you,” you say, and Joel and Tommy chuckle. Sarah sidles up beside you, giving you a grin. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you say, looking around the backyard. “Everything looks amazing.” 

She takes a half-bow. “I try, I try,” she says, and everyone laughs. 

It takes a few minutes for you to introduce everybody to Sarah and Tommy, but once everyone is familiar with one another, they all get to mingling. Joel, Tommy, your dad and brothers crack a bottle open and gather around the grill while the women head inside, finishing up the last of the food. Sarah went up to her room to freshen up, which just left you, Maria, Emily, and your mom. 

“So, Emi, how was Costa Rica? It looked beautiful,” you ask, plating the cookies before putting Saran Wrap over them. 

“Oh my god, it was wonderful. The pictures I sent y’all didn’t even do it justice,” she swoons, putting her chin in the palm of her hand as she rests her elbow on the countertop. 

“Am I getting grandbabies anytime soon?” Your mom asks, and you and Emily share a look.

“Mom, really?” You laugh, shaking your head. 

“Hey! I ain’t getting any younger here, and it’ll probably be a couple of years before you and Joel start having any—”

You cut her off. “Mom, please. Don’t even go there.” 

She huffs and puts her hands on her hips. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, mom, Josh and I didn’t use any contraceptives on this trip,” Emily says, and your mom’s eyes go wide. 

“I’m gonna get a grand baby!” She dances in place, making the three of you laugh. 

Emily shrugs with a smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”

A few hours later, the party was in full swing as everyone you’d invited was gathered in the backyard, laughing and talking amongst themselves. You made it a point to invite people at the firehouse he was close with, thanks to the help from Tommy. 

“There’s my pretty lady,” Joel says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before bringing you into his side. He kisses your temple gently before smiling at you. “Thank you for,” he gestures with his hand that was holding a Modelo, pointing the neck of the bottle into the crowd. “All of this. It means a lot that you’d do this for me.” 

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course, Joel. You deserve to be celebrated.” 

He leans down to give you a kiss. You wrap your arm around his waist, pulling him tighter into you. You pull away before prying eyes can catch you getting carried away because you know you get so caught up in the moment with him. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You ask, putting a hand on his chest. 

He nods and flashes you a soft grin. “I am, but y’know what I wish I was doin’ right now?” His voice lowers a couple of octaves, and that tone shoots straight to your core. 

“I have an idea,” you say, trying to ignore the intense throb between your legs. 

“Wishin’ I was buried between those pretty thighs of yours.” 

He squeezes your hip and your eyes flutter shut for a few seconds, having half a mind to drag him upstairs into his bedroom so he can pound you into his mattress. 

Your delicious fantasy dissipates as soon as you hear Tommy and Andy howling of laughter. 

“Looks like our brothers are hitting it off,” you observantly say. 

Joel nods. “Yeah, actually. The guys wanted to go out for beers next weekend. Told you it was the start of a beautiful bromance.” 

You shoot Joel a look. “The guys? As in you, your brother and my brothers?”

He nods, and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Well, have fun, and be careful. Don’t let them talk you into anything stupid. Don’t need another broken rib,” you roll your eyes teasingly, bumping your hip to him.

You grab his beer bottle from his hand, taking a swig of it before handing it back to him. He has that boyish grin on his face again and it’s so contagious. 

“Definitely don’t want another one ‘a those. Shit still hurts when I turn a certain way.” 

“I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I?” Your voice is lower now, referring to the lovely morning you two spent in his bed together. 

“Not at all. Would’a said somethin’ if you did. Promise,” he says, kissing your temple. 

“Well it won’t be too long before you’re all healed up.” And you have to go back to your apartment, drowning in the once-loved loneliness. 

You dread it now, and you don’t know how to bring it up to him. 

“Hey sis. Great party you threw,” Andy comes up to you and Joel, giving you a rare grin of appreciation. 

“How drunk are you?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Can’t I compliment you without you thinking I’m under the influence?” He frowns at you, nudging your side. 

“I guess so. Thanks, Andy,” you say, and he waves you off. 

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get used to it.” 

You can’t help but roll your eyes right back at him. “Wasn’t gonna.” 

“Anyway, lemme steal my boyfriend back since you so rudely kept him to yourself for a long time,” Andy says, grinning at Joel. 

Joel can’t help but laugh and shake his head, and if it could, his forehead would have ‘dear god help me’ scrawled across it. 

The party went on for a couple more hours after that, the crowd slowly fizzling out. Everyone helped clean the backyard until it was spotless, and by the time everyone left except for you, Joel, and Sarah, it was nearly midnight. 

You’d just finished brushing your teeth and washing your face before you climbed into Joel’s comfy bed, snuggling into his side as he pulled you closer to him. You start to trace small patterns on his warm chest with your fingertips, soaking in every moment you have while being beside him. 

You don’t know how you’re gonna give this up. It honestly scares you how attached you’ve gotten to Joel. 

And, well, for god sakes, you love the man—and he loves you. Being beside him these past few weeks has truthfully filled a void in your life that’s been empty for so long. Now that it’s fulfilled and you’re the one experiencing what love is really supposed to feel like for the first time in your life, you’re struggling with the prospect of being alone again at your own place. 

You know you can come to Joel’s house at any time and vice versa, but it’s just not the same as being able to wake up in his arms every morning. It’s not the same as being able to go to sleep and the last thing you see is his beautiful face, smiling at you tiredly as his brown eyes droop closed. It’s not the same as having hectic but amazing mornings as you brew coffee for two, getting Sarah out of the house in time to take her to school. 

God, you sound so clingy. Maybe you’re just overthinking this, like, a lot. Maybe Maria or Emily can give their input on this—

“Thank you for the party today, baby. Made my day so special and I can’t thank you enough for doin’ this for me.” 

Joel’s deep, velvety voice pulls you from your thoughts. You smile at him tiredly, reaching a hand out to run through his curls before settling it on his cheek, swiping your thumb back and forth. 

“I’d do anything for you, Joel Miller,” you lean in and kiss the tip of his nose. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” His voice is a mere whisper as he moves his face closer to yours. 

“You’re unapologetically yourself and you let me love you the way you deserve to be loved,” you answer as if it’s the most simple and obvious thing in the world.

“My dream woman,” he grins, giving you a kiss. “I love you.” 

You’ll never get tired of hearing him say that. 

“I love you too.” 

And while he’s drifting off to sleep, you’re left with your anxious thoughts swirling your mind—ones that make you want to cower away and push push push, but you won’t allow it. 

Not this time. 

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