#be he held hands a lot with maria

[chaomother]

Omgomg Shadow and his scared darling on a trip/mission together and darling is always walking behind him with a stiff body language and he's just deep in thoughts

"Such a weird behavior..... so weak this one, so... fragile. I haven't even yelled at her, let alone attack them or spar with her. Pity, and here I thought I had a challenger....

..I want this one. This one is mine. I'm the only one she's afraid of for no reason and no one else, I make sure of that. This one is my property now. This is my little lady right here. I'll make sure you never have to feel actual fear ever again"

[use of 'good girl']

the sensation of a shaky hand grabbing his shoulder knocks shadow out of his ruminations, and he cranes his neck to discern you behind him. "what is it, [name]?" he asks, watching with his predacious gaze as your ears twitch.

"um, i just wanted to thank you for coming with me...!" you tentatively express the words that've been lodged in your throat since the beginning of this lengthy trip.

although, in the first place, he had the option not to. you still don't understand why he chose to join you; but even if you were still apprehensive towards shadow, you were still appreciative to have him by your side. his inordinate strength and intelligence would indisputably help you.

a soft 'tch' sound escapes from his clicking lips. "i don't need your thanks," shadow retorts, "i do need you not to weigh me down. so stick close, stop walking behind me."

"oh!" you audibly squeak, feeling increasingly more aware of your own sense of sense. you shuffle your feet a little faster, setting beside him⁠—but still a beat behind his pace.

fuck, how weak you are... he loves it, he loves it, he loves it.

stopping dead in his tracks, shadow glowers at you in congruence with holding his hand out. he's wordless, the ravening appetite smoldering in his gut pervading into his chest with its unfamiliar heat.

you gulp, slowly extending your hand and sliding your palm into his own. this was weird, you thought...

"good girl," he drawls, intertwining your fingers together; sealing your fate with him forever.

[auroralwriting]

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."

[bunnyhugs77]

Valentine Vixen

★Pairing: Stripper! Reader x Rich! Jungkook

★Happy Valentine's Day, Mwah

★WC: 3k

★Content: some fluff, clubbing, jk is so cute, he gets flustered, teasing, mutual pining, ft player! tae, reader is so hot, mentions of break ups, lap dances, double life, suggestive themes, a smidge of angst, brief psychology talk, mentions of boobs.

Other Content: desperate kisses, domme reader, hand jobs, grinding, almost cumming in pants, oral sex (m! receiving), subby jk. handcuffs, desperate jk, reader is a tease, nicknames, manhandling

"Look, that's her." With a subtle jut of his head, Jungkook directs Taehyung's line of sight about twenty meters off into the distance where you step up on the step ladder to shelve more novels.

Tae's eyes widen ever so slightly before his face relaxes into an all-knowing smirk, "So this is what's got you spending so much time at the library lately?" Jungkook shoves him in the side and you pretend not to notice the two of them obviously staring at you.

Letting your short acrylics graze over the spines of the paperbacks, pinpointing where the book in your hand should go. "I can't see her face from here, but I know a nice ass when I see one," Tae states obnoxiously and it makes Jungkook's face turn sour.

"C'mon, Tae." The elder rolls his eyes, "Lighten up. It's just a joke. Hopefully, tomorrow will help you chill out a bit." With an arched brow, Jungkook turns to face his best friend. "Tomorrow?"

"It's Valentine's Day, and I think it's about time you got some ass, Kook. Seriously, when's the last time you had a nice pair of tits in your face, huh?" Jungkook's cheeks flush but he does think about Tae's question.

After no more than a second had passed Tae interrupted his thoughts, "See. You can't even remember, don't worry. That's why I'm here. You're bound to get your dick wet at Red Haven tomorrow, the dancers there are next level." Tae raves, hands waving around to express his eagerness.

Red Haven was the new club that opened not too far from campus but it attracted a lot more than just some touch-deprived university students. Men were ranging from the ages of twenty-one to sixty-five.

"But-" Jungkook was about to object but Tae had picked up a call, reassuring the person on the other end of the line, "Maria, you know you're the only girl in my life." He coos and his face freezes, "Oh shit, this is Jessica? Baby, I was just joking. I don't even know a Maria." Tae walks off trying to save himself from the deep hole he'd dug himself into.

Leaving Jungkook at the table by himself once again, his eyes naturally gliding back to where you once were but he couldn't see you. His feet guided his brain over to the bookshelves where you once stocked away hardcovers.

He stops in his tracks as he lays his eyes on a certain book that caught his eye. 

In your head

"That's a good choice." You startled him, the book slipping from his grasp and hitting the ground. The two of you reach down for it at the same time which in practicality wasn't a good idea. The impact of your heads colliding nearly knocked you to your feet.

"I'm so sorry," He apologizes, gaze checking in on you while you worked on picking up the novel off the floor. "I should be the one saying that. I didn't mean to scare you." You say, finally making eye contact and nothing could stop Jungkook from holding his breath.

You're breathtaking.

Beautiful dark brown eyes that held the most innocently seductive eye contact. The way your tan skin dimpled in your cheeks and the perfect formation of waves that your hair mimicked as it flowed down your shoulders.

"I've seen you around here a few times but I never got your name." Jungkook does his best to be subtle as he fishes for your name. It wasn't exactly the most discreet but you think it was a cute effort.

"I'm Y/n," You smile, handing him the book back and he just about collapses inside. Anything you wanted he would give it to you, and he's rich, he could make it happen. God, he would make sure you never had to lift a finger around him.

"I'm J-" It seems he didn't need to introduce himself because you already seemed to know him. "-Jungkook, right? The Dean's son." He sighs, of course.

That's how everyone knew him.

Being the son of the dean at the most prestigious university in the country wasn't something easy to escape. It continued to precede him anywhere he went. "Have you read it?" Your perfectly manicured finger points towards the book now in his possession and he nods.

"It's incredible, the way it examines the interplay between conscious and unconscious desires. I think it's pretty amazing." You blink once, then twice. "Don't pin me for the reading type, right?"

"Honestly, no, but trust me, I'm the last person who should be judging based on first impressions." He smiles at the sound of your soft chuckle. "Do you like psychology?" Your gaze now focused back to the shelves, "I hope so, I wouldn't want to be taking that major and not like it." You turn to him.

"You're a psychology major?" The tone of your voice gave away your disbelief but he wanted to know why this was so shocking.

"Yeah?"

"Weird. Usually, we would've had at least one class together if we shared the same major." He swallows thickly, briefly zoning out because he realizes he is talking to you. Finally, after months of watching you from a distance, trying to work up the nerve to approach you.

Getting too stuck in his thoughts, he loses his ability to speak. Settling for a hum of agreement. You sigh, disappointed. "What a shame. I would've liked having a cutie in my class like you." Your finger gently traces along his jaw and it feels like fire against his skin.

Before he could blink you were strutting away. Hips swaying like you were on a runway, he licks his lips. He'd never fumbled so badly before, but your beauty was something entirely different. It made him disoriented. He needed to get a grip.

Who would've thought the cute library assistant was so...tempting?

★★★

"Hey, Kook! I don't know If I'll be able to stay with you much longer. The bartender is giving crazy fuck me eyes and I can't leave her disappointed now can I?" Tae grabs his friends by the shoulder amidst the crowd of moving bodies.

"What about Maria?" Jungkook questions, referring to the woman Tae had spent all day before this one buttering up in hopes she would forgive him. Tae shrugs, "She'll forgive me again." Jungkook scoffs as he watches the silver-haired man travel through the sea of bodies.

Sometimes he couldn't believe that was his best friend, but he had to remember he wasn't always like this. This was just some terrible hoe phase he was going through.

He had gotten out of a 3-year-long relationship with Yara no more than 3 months ago and he's been on some sort of fucking spree ever since. He claims he feels so 'free' but deep down he was hurting and Jungkook knew that, but Tae refused to admit it.

But what could he do? It was a canon event and he couldn't interfere, even though he tried to once. Didn't end well. Tae was on a hunt for as many women as he could get, and he knew that eventually he would get sick of it and regain his senses.

His mind was pulled out of his thoughts once the entire venue went black for a few moments and the music was shut off. Jungkook was confused, maybe even a bit scared but it seemed there was no need to be as the crowd roared to life.

It seems they knew something he didn't.

"Introducing Red Haven's Vixens!" The announcer's voice rang through the speakers but the crowd was so much louder.

Jungkook was deep into the middle section of the audience so it was hard for him to get a clear view of the stage but he could see eight beautiful women walking onto the stage, in outfits he could probably use to floss.

There were so many colours on the stage. It was as if he'd died and been brought to the end of the rainbow where the sexiest guardian angels waited to bring him to heaven. Although there was one that piqued his interest.

All the girls were wearing some form of unique face paint that was accessorized with rhinestones, each one matching the general colour scheme of their outfits. There was something about the girl in the hot pink two-piece.

Jungkook fought to make his way to the front, face now up close to the base of the stage, looking up to the woman with hearts in his eyes. The way her hips swayed with the music, and her ass jiggled with each sharp movement.

She was a natural, with one hand on the pole she leaned back, looking right into the crowd. Her eyes scanned for a target before they landed on Jungkook as she began to grind your hips down onto it, making such a lewd expression.

She bit her lip and furrowed her brows just like one would as if they were close to- A shock ran through his body. It was you. Even with the gems and the paint around your eyes, he knew it was you, and by the slight smirk that crept up your lips, you knew he recognized you.

Once the performance was over Jungkook had found his way back to the front counter, eyes desperately scanning over the list of private sessions they offered. "How much would it cost for a room with the girl in pink?"

The clerk reminds Jungkook, "A private session grants you a private dance from one of our vixens. No touching of any kind is permitted unless granted by the Vixen, you must-" The rest of the rules were no brainers and Jungkook desperately wished he could fast forward the long speech.

"Got it. How much?"

"Well, Destiny is our Vixen of the highest demand, a 10-minute session could cost you up to five hundre-" Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. "I'll give you a thousand." He interrupts and the woman's jaw drops. She promptly hands him the key, "Third door on your left."

He'd been sitting in the nicely decorated room for the last five minutes. He was sitting on the chair that faced the door, his right leg bouncing uncontrollably. He was so nervous, and if he was being honest, he was already sporting a semi just from the thought of you walking through that door any second now.

The lights in the room flickered from the bright blue as it strobed to a gentle purple before a deep pink. The door opened, and there you were. In the same outfit you'd worn on stage except this time the music had changed to Wild Side.

"It is you." Jungkook gasps cutely as you take confident strides towards him. "Right, you are." Your heels made you tower over him once you stood before him.

"B-But- why?" You laugh, "The same reason why billions of other people have jobs. I've got an expensive tuition that won't pay for itself." He frowns, speaking before thinking. "I'll pay for it." You give him a playful roll of your eyes before you bend at the waist, bringing your face close to his.

"You're lucky you're so cute." The mere proximity was making Jungkook's brain get mushy and hazy with lust. He wanted you so badly, would do absolutely anything to have to, anything you said.

"Now, let me see those hands." You order and just like a dog to its owner, he follows instructions immediately, his hands out in front of you and you slowly walk around him, taking one hand then the other and handcuffing them behind his back.

He doesn't even remember seeing you walk in with handcuffs then again there was a lot about tonight that he didn't see coming. Like how smoothly you were able to straddle his lap and begin a slow, deep grind.

"So I really can't touch you at all?" Your heart skipped a beat at the way he was almost pouting when he said it. "You can try, but it's so much more fun this way. Watching you struggle to touch me." Your voice is as gentle as a whisper that should've been lost over the music but it was spoken right into his ear.

The feeling of your breath against the shell of his ear sends the hairs on the back of his hair to stand, and goosebumps to raise. He was rock solid in his jeans, although you already knew that. You could feel it. With every sensual roll of your hips, the man beneath you became a little more whiny.

"Do you think about me touching you?" Whipping your hair to the side as you leaned down intentionally close to his neck, making sure he felt your presence all over. His hips stutter under your set pace and it caused you to jolt slightly, "Fuck yes- Every day." He answers. Voice empty and high-pitched.

"Yeah?" You slowly slide off him, and let your knees hit the soft cushioned floor. You weren't doing anything, simply resting your arms on his knees and letting your head rest innocently on your hands.

How dare you look up at him like such an angel while you tempted him with a world of sin.

"Tell me, what do I do to you?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he feels your hand slowly glide up the inseam of his jeans. "You-" He gets distracted, losing his train of thought the moment your hand gently squeezes the thick muscle of his thigh, "Shit. You take my cock in your mouth and you suck me off until-" you squeeze his thigh once again, a little tighter this time.

"Hm? Until what? Until you cum in my mouth? Or on my chest?" Leaning back up, making an intimidating eye contact that Jungkook was unable to hold. "Look at me, Kookie." God. That nickname was so belittling, made him feel like he was being teased, but oh how he loved it.

"Until What? Say it." You grit, your hand holding his face, just firm enough for your middle finger and thumb to press into his cheeks. "Until I cum in your mouth and you swallow it." He looked so ashamed to say it, but it only caused you to grin bigger.

"Can I touch you, Kookie?"

He nods, nods and nods. "Please." His voice was a mere whisper, and at a certain pause during the music, you could hear him fighting against his restraints.

Back on your knees, your hands worked skillfully on getting him out of his pants and pulling how his briefs, just low enough for his throbbing dick to be released. Already budding with precum, some of it sticking to the base of his shirt as it rests against his abdomen.

"Nice cock." You almost wanted to laugh at the cliché, but it was true. Jungkook really had the prettiest dick you'd ever laid your eyes on, and he was big too.

He doesn't respond, eyes focused on your every move while his cheeks tinted red. He was anticipating for the contact between your hand and his length, but he still wasn't prepared.

Sucking in a sharp breath as he watched you spit on it and proceed to flash him the most charming smile he'd ever seen. You wanted to kill him, and Jungkook was afraid you'd succeed.

Your hand languidly rose from base to tip, working him up but he didn't need that, he wanted to last. His hips bucked up with every motion of your hands, "Relax," You coo, hand continuing its ministrations while Jungkook's head fell back. Hands still fighting against the cuffs desperately.

"a-ah." he moans so sweetly as your lips unexpectedly place a chaste kiss on his tip. Eyes shooting wide open, "Shit- 'm not gonna last." He warns but you continue anyway. Letting your tongue swirl around his tip like your favourite popsicle.

"Y/n-" His groans became more breathless and frequent, "Oh shit- Y/n-" Being ambitious you relaxed your throat and took deep breaths through your nose as you deepthroated his length. Fondling his balls in your left hand as you continued to work the base that you couldn't fit with your right.

That was it for him.

Jungkook's hot cum was filling your mouth with no further warning and the sound of the clashing metal rang in your ears, you grin. Looking up at the man who you've just ruined.

He blinks down at you with no thoughts behind his eyes, you maintain eye contact and swallow. He groans; and just to make sure you made his dreams come true, you stick out your tongue when you're done.

You stand, and the song changes once more, now playing sex with me.

How fitting, you think.

You uncuff Jungkook's wrists and with all the strength in his body, he tugs you back down to his lap. "Let me kiss you," A big strong man like him had just manhandled you to his will yet here he was still asking for your permission.

Good boys deserve treats.

You lean in, tilting your head to the side as your lips meet in a lustful exchange of saliva and desperation. This was all Jungkook needed. His hands unconsciously roamed down your backside until they found comfort on the soft flesh of your ass. Giving it a confident grip, you moaned into the kiss.

The two of you hardly pulled away, kissing like you wanted to become one. The way your body rolled against his and he pushed up into you.

"Can I fuck you?" He looked up to you with stars in his eyes and he was just the cutest thing, just as you wanted to answer, the lights strobe back to their default blue colour.

Slowly, you dismount him. Pretending that you weren't soaking through your costume. "Next time," You leaned down to drop a kiss on his cheek and begin to make your way out, "Happy Valentine's Day." You flash him one last wink and walk out of sight.

Happy Valentine's Day ♡

[officialaemondtargaryen]

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note:��Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.0k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Mama+Wife!Reader, lot’s of fluff, talks of sexual vulnerability, mentions of loss, mild emotional angst

𝐀/𝐍: Another vent fic…shocker. Loosely inspired by @cupcakeinat0r prof!Miguel story chap 8

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A late night talk with Miguel leads to unexpected confessions, drawing you closer to your husband.

The ethereal glow of the floating holograms filled the room, illuminating a soft light around Miguel. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, muscles taut with the weight of responsibilities.

He studied the swirling projections of different universes as his fingers moved expertly across the controls. The precision of each motion reflected how deep he was immersed in his task.

If it was so late and you weren’t so sleepy, you might have stood there longer. You would have watched in quiet awe as the muscles in his back flexed with every movement. The definition of his form stood out against the low light— powerful yet weary.

Instead, you lingered at the doorway, cradling your daughter in your arms. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too engrossed in his work. The weight of his responsibilities exhibited in the tension of his posture.

The soft hum of the hologram and the quiet hum of Lylas digital voice blended in the background, harmonised by the soft breaths of Maria, your one-year-old baby, who stirred slightly in your arms.

It was Lyla who noticed you first, her digital form glowed brighter as her eyes met yours. She offered a small wave, then disappeared with a soft glitch, leaving Miguel to glance over his shoulder.

When his eyes finally found you, they softened instantly. The soft glow of the marigold hologram flickered in his crimson eyes, casting a tender reflection back at you.

“Someone wants her papa,” you whispered. The moment Maria’s face lit up with a smile, Miguel’s stern demeanor melted away, his workaholic armor disarmed in an instant.

You always knew how much of a soft spot he had for your daughter, especially when she reached out for him like this.

“…and papa wants her too,” his voice soft and tender. “How come you’re both still up?”

Miguel extended his hands, carefully taking Maria from your arms. His usual sharp, deliberate movements softened as he turned to face you both.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a quiet reverence in his eyes, before lifting her gently and cradling her small body against his broad chest.

Maria nuzzled into his neck, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her tiny fingers brushed against his bare skin. Miguel’s free hand instinctively moved to her back, gently tapping as he lowered his chin to rest on her soft head.

“She wouldn’t settle,” you explained. “I think she's been waiting for you to put her to sleep.”

A low hum rumbled in Miguel’s chest as he gazed down at Maria, whose eyelids were already drooping. Her breath slowed in the comfort of his arms.

She was already sleepy, but you knew if she hadn’t been, her excitement as seeing her dad would’ve kept her wide awake.

Miguel’s eyes flickered back to you, his voice a whisper so he wouldn’t disturb the precious peace that had settled around you both. “She missed me, huh?”

You watched as he cradled Maria in his arms, his hold gentle but firm. There was something calming about seeing them both together, the strength of his form contrasted by the softness in which he held her.

But as your gaze shifted to his face, your chest tightened. The visible bags under his eyes were stark against his tanned skin— an unmistakable sigh of his exhaustion.

But what concerned you more was his constant drive to push himself past his limits, something he often didn’t seem to notice, or refuse to acknowledge.

“You’ve been working for hours.” You said gently, hoping your tone would coax him into resting. “I think it’s time you hit the hay.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, the subtle crease between his brow deepening. You knew that look— he was preparing to push back. To insist he could handle it, even though his body told him otherwise.

“I know, cariño,” his voice edged with weariness. “But I just need to finish a few more things.”

You sighed, stepping closer. “You said that an hour ago,” you reminded him, trailing your fingers lightly over his forearm. The warmth of his skin sent a familiar ripple through you. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

You knew the effect you had on him when you touched him like that, your fingers tracing deliberate patterns.

His breath hitched slightly, his resolve wavering as yoh leaned closer. “You know I’m right,” you lowered your voice to a sultry tone. “Look at your eyes.”

Miguel took a quick glance at the holograms, clearly trying to hold onto his stubbornness, but you could see the struggle in his face— the pull between duty and the weight of his exhaustion.

It was a battle he was already losing.

His shoulders sagged over slightly as he exhaled a long, defeated sigh. When he looked back at you, his demeanour softened. The tension slowly fading from his posture.

Without another word, he switched off the holograms, the swirling projection disappearing into nothingness.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and finally surrendering to your touch. “You’re playing dirty.”

“Yeah?” You resorted, hands resting against his chest. “Only because it works.”

You headed back to the bedroom, tucking yourself into the warmth of the blanket while waiting for Miguel to put Maria down in her crib. The soft murmur of his voice, soothing your daughter to sleep, could be heard from the other room.

“She was restless for a while, you know,” you remarked once he joined you in bed.

You pulled the blanket tighter around your body to ward off the cold. Miguel slid besides you, his large frame instantly bringing warmth.

“She was probably restless without me,” he grinned, the prideful glint in his eyes. “She’s daddy’s girl through and though.”

You smiled at his confidence. You knew he loved that role— being a father, a protector. It was something he wore proudly, dispite the heavy burden he carries as Spider-Man.

Letting out a long, tired yawn, as you moved closer to him. The weight of the day— and the late hour— was finally catching up to you. Your eyelids grew heavier by the second.

“Looks like both of you can’t stay awake around me,” Miguel teased.

“We’ve been waiting for you to get to bed,” you replied with a sleepy voice. “You’ve been taking so long.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tone full of guilt as he pulled you closer. “I wish I didn't have to work so much. I'd be in this bed with you every night.”

You pressed yourself against his warmth, your face tucked against the crook of his neck to inhale his familiar scent.

“Eres mío,” your words were muffled by the skin of his shoulder.

“Sí, amor. I’m all yours,” he hushed, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Completely, utterly yours.”

His lips brushed against your neck, warmth and soft. “I missed this,” he confessed between tender kisses. “Touching you, feeling you.”

“I missed you too…you’re still my doting husband, though.”

“Of course I am. I’ll always be here to dote on you.”

You felt his hands slide down your back, lingering at your hips. The familiar tension between the two of you sparked, but the exhaustion weighed heavy on your limbs.

“I hope Maria’s actually sleeping,” you said if more to yourself, trying to distract how tired you felt.

“Don’t worry, she’s fast asleep. The baby monitors on, and I checked on her before I came in. She’s completely knocked out, trust me,” his lips grazed your collarbone, but his voice was tempting. “Now, stop worrying. It’s just us, remember?”

“Mhmm. I don’t want to do anything tonight…just talk until we fall asleep,” you said before barely suppressing another yawn.

Miguel pulled away slightly, enough to see your face. There was a hint of feigned disappointment in his expression, but he masked it with a small smile.

“Just talk?” he asked, pulling his lower lips in a pout “You sure? I was looking forward to doing a lot more than just talking.”

“I’m tired…”

Miguel sighed softly, his fingers tracing light circles on your back. “I’m pretty tired as well. I guess we can do it another time.”

“Mhmm, I don’t want to get pregnant again, not until Maria’s three at least.” your voice was firm through the sleepiness.

You already had your hands full with a one-year-old, and adding another baby to the equation— especially with Miguel’s dimension hopping work schedule— felt overwhelming.

You could already imagine the sleepless night, the extra demand, and the toll it would take on both of you.

Miguel looked back at you, his brows furrowing slightly, clearly mulling over your words. The hesitation was written all over his face. It wasn’t that he disagreed, he just wanted to consider everything carefully.

He let out a low sigh before he spoke. “So…uhm, are you suggesting we should use protection?”

“Protection?” you echoed. The word caught you off guard.

“Yeah,” Miguel said, running a hand through his hair, choosing his words carefully. “I was just thinking, you know, if we want to be careful… it’s up to you. I won’t get you pregnant again unless you want me to.”

You thought about what he said, letting the words turn over in your head. Realistically, you knew abstinence wasn’t going to work— not for three years. The attraction between you was magnetic, and it wasn’t something that could be easily ignored.

So, it only made sense to use some protection. Still, the thought of it made you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Hmm…I never really liked the feel of the rubber,” you said truthfully. You didn’t see the point in sugarcoating it.

That seemed to set him off. Miguel’s eyes twinkled in amusement as soon as the words left your mouth. You saw the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“And what if I told you I’m not a fan of them either, hm?” his voice dropped lower to a purr.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed over the sensitive spot just bow your ear, sensing a shiver down your spine. His hands hike up your sides, as if he couldn’t keep himself from touching you.

“You sure you don't want to change your mind about just talking?” there was the familiar hunger edged in his tone. “I'm sure we can keep it quiet enough to not wake up Maria..”

“Yeah, I’m sure…not tonight,” you felt Miguel’s grip loosened as he pulled away, respecting your space. Though, you could feel the reluctance in the way he did.

As you basked yourself in the silence like a comforting blanket, your thoughts began to wander. As peaceful as the moment was, it stirred some memories— of how far you’ve come, of every obstacle you faced before reaching this point.

You never imagined yourself in this role: a wife, a mother. The journey to get to where you were was winding, filled with doubts.

You’ve built walls, thick and impenetrable ones. They were meant to keep you safe from disappointment, from hurt, and things you’ve convinced yourself you didn’t need.

But then, there was Miguel.

Maybe it was the way he understood— truly understood— when you said no just now. He never made you feel pressured. Instead, he held you and let the silence do the talking.

That’s when something inside you shifted, tugging at the edge of memories from a past you would rather forget.

Meeting Miguel felt different from the start, but you didn’t know why at first. Things between you weren’t rushed or fixed, they unfolded naturally. As if fate guided you both to this very moment.

You still remember that early time in your life— the time when you began to heal, when you started to unlearn all those harmful lessons from before.

You were rediscovering yourself.

The moment you were first introduced to Miguel, you were intrigued by his sharp mind, his serious demeanor, and the way he could command a room without even trying.

His no-nonsense attitude should’ve repelled you, but instead, it pulled you even deeper. Maybe that was what made him so trustworthy.

With him, those walls didn’t come crashing down all at once, but rather they crumbled slowly, piece by piece. Everytime he looked at you with that silent understanding, when he respected your space without question, a part of those barriers chipped away.

Back then, you hadn’t realised he felt the same, at least not until the subtle clues vague to surface. You laughed at yourself, remembering how he went out of his way to wear a particular cologne that had aphrodisiac qualities.

As if he needed it. You’d already been captivated by him long before.

Now, as you lay beside him, watching his eyes fluttering closed and his arms wrapped around you protectively, you couldn’t stop the words from spilling.

“You know…” you began, your soft voice matching the dim glow in the room. “Before we got together, I always found intimacy quite…uhm…”

The words were harder to pinpoint than you expected. You paused, biting your lips as you searched for how to explain something so complicated— something you’ve kept buried for so long.

Miguel opened his eyes at the sound of your voice.“Go on, I’m listening,” he murmured, his deep voice anchored you in the moment. There was no judgment, just patient understanding.

Your heart skipped a beat under the intensity of his gaze. There was no biting back your words now. You started this conversation, and he was waiting, ready to hear what you had to say.

“Growing up, I was taught that sex and intimacy weren’t things that should be discussed, or explored openly,” you hesitated, the memories making your throat tighten. You let him digest your words before continuing. “It was seen as a stigma. And it was always the man’s domain to take control in those situations.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to moisten your dry throat. It felt like a release, but also terrifying— like exposing a part of yourself you’ve always kept hidden.

Your hands trembled slightly, and you gripped the sheets tighter, bracing for his response.

Miguel didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with a thoughtful expression. Then, his hand moved to gently cover yours.

“That must've been hard,” he said quietly, voice filled with empathy. “Having a strained view on something that’s natural and should be enjoyed without guilt

He squeezed your hand softly, silently reassuring you. The warmth of his touch eased some of the tension in your chest. He didn’t need to ask for more details or push you to explain further. He simply accepted what you shared, offering his quiet support.

For so long, you had carried the burden of that discomfort— the feeling that something that should be good and intimate only made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

It has left a lingering sense of fear and guilt, like you weren’t allowed to enjoy something so deeply personal. A special bond that was supposed to strengthen you as a couple.

You thought about how different things could have been if someone had told you earlier that it was okay— that intimacy didn’t have to come with shame. You deserved to feel safe, to desire more, and enjoy it.

But maybe the timing didn’t matter as much. What mattered was that it felt right now— with him. And you were grateful with how far you came.

“You make it feel natural,” you whispered, the fragile truth followed by a small smile.

Miguel mirrored your expression and took a hold of you hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to the knuckles. “Because it is natural. And I’m glad I’m the one who gets to help you feel that way.”

You wouldn’t want it any other way.

“There was a point when I found it hard to appreciate and accept romance or intimacy. I always saw anything remotely romantic as revolting or uncomfortable,” you let out a shaky breath, feeling your face getting hotter as more words trembled out. “I was really at my lowest then. I saw sex as…dirty.”

Miguel’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more serious, more pained. His eyes darkened with empathy, as though your admission had quietly fractured something in him.

You could see the weight of your words sinking in, and it made you wonder why it was so easy to share this with him. Perhaps because Miguel created a space that made you feel safe, even about the darkest parts about yourself.

“There’s nothing dirty or shameful about sex, amor. It’s a way of expressing love and desire. I hate that you had to go through that kind of pain,” you could hear the strong conviction in his tone. “You’re my wife and the mother of my child. I promise I’ll never let you feel that way again. I’ll always honour and cherish you.”

You knew that. It had taken time but deep down, you understand the truth of his words. Yet, hearing him say it, with such tenderness in his voice, made your stomach flutter.

It wasn’t often that Miguel spoke like this. Soft, sweet words weren’t his usual language. But when he did express himself like this, it always felt sincere.

He never said things just for the sake of it, or just to fill the space. He meant every word, and that made the weight of his promise feel more powerful by ten folds.

The tears came unbidden, welling in your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as the gravity of his words settled straight to your chest.

Miguel noticed immediately, his thumb brushing against your damp cheeks. His touch was delicate, full of concern.

“Hey, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you sad, just expressing how much you mean to me,” he said softly, a slight tremor of worry in his voice as he tried to console you.

You shook your head, blinking through the tears. “I’m not…they’re not sad tears. Promise.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hands before letting out a small, shaky laugh.

“Oh, I see. I'm glad to know they’re happy tears then.” His hands remained on your cheeks, his touch soothing. “You’re so strong and resilient, you know that? Carrying our baby, giving birth to her…I’m so proud of you.”

“But I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I guess it goes both ways. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you either. You brought so much joy and love into my life. You’re my rock.”

You let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Oh please—”

“Oh please, nothing. It’s the truth.” His eyes softened as he looked at you. “You’re the only one who’s believed in me, supported me, and loved me no matter what. You make me a better person, amor, and I’m so grateful for you and our little family.”

“I could say the same for you. I’m glad I shared about my previous experience and what I’ve been through.”

“I’m honoured that you trust me enough to share that part of your past with me.” Miguel said.

You felt the familiar sting of unshed tears pressing at the corner of your eyes, a reminder of how hard it had been to keep everything inside for so long.

You glanced back at the baby monitor, watching the slow rise and fall of your daughter. The sight filled you with something unnamable, a joy you had once though was out of reach. “I’ve never told anyone about this. I was in a dark place…”

His brows furrowed with concern again. “A dark place? What do you mean?”

You hesitated, letting the bleak memories flash briefly behind your eyelids. The ache of the loneliness, the numbness that followed. “I don’t know, but maybe because I had no job back then too. Nothing to keep me busy, to keep me occupied. No drive.”

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “It can make you feel like you’re not worth anything, like you’re not contributing…but just remember you always have so much to offer.”

You looked at him expectedly, waiting for him to continue. At first, you thought he’d follow up with something sappy or cheesy, but this was Miguel. Sappy came in rare, fleeting moments— like shooting stars you barely caught.

“Like the coffees you make for me every morning,” he grinned at you knowingly. “You know you make the best coffee, right? And that’s coming from a perfectionist. I don’t think I’d survive without you bringing in my morning fix”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his comment, but the warmth didn’t last long. Once your laughter died down, you noticed his expression shift.

His eyes turned distant, the corner of his mouth pulling down into a frown. It was like a s bleak cloud loomed over him.

“Miguel?” you asked softly. “What’s on your mind? You just went quiet on me.”

Even after five years of marriage, there were still parts of Miguel that remained a mystery to you— layers he kept hidden, even from you.

Moment like this made you wish you could see into his mind, to understand his thoughts without needing the words.

You longed for that kind of connection where you could read his mood through subtle cues— the way his jaw clenched, or the way his eyes darken when something weighed on him.

But now, all you could do was wait and hope he’d let you in.

“I don’t…I don’t want to make this about myself when you’re talking about your own struggles. But…” he let out a sigh, you could pick up on his reluctance to continue. “Hearing you talk, it made me think about my own issues too.”

You squeezed his hand, gently urging him on. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m here to listen too.”

Miguel let out a breath, his chest rising and falling, like he was trying to steel himself. His hand tightened around yours as he began.

“I guess I’ve been carrying more than I realised,” his voice was low, almost strain. You watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed with a thick swallow. “Being Spider-Man, losing Gabriella…sometimes I wonder if I’m worthy of the life I have now. You, Maria…all of it.”

You could still recall the early days before marriage, when Miguel first opened up about his struggles. It had taken time and patience, and more than a few long nights before he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

But when he finally did, you could see the weight he had been carrying lift, if only slightly, as he shared his pain.

Hearing the full extent of his past had left a knot in your stomach that day. The loss, the guilt— it was staggering. The thought of someone you loved bearing such an immense burden was almost overwhelming.

You had questioned if you could be enough for him, if you’d be able to say the right things to provide the confront he truly needed.

But as time passed, you saw Miguel in all his complexities— the man behind the hero, the man who fought everyday not just for the multiverse, but for his own fragile sense of redemption.

And with every moment spent together, you understood more of what shapes him into the leader of the Spider Society.

“Miguel, you’re more than worthy. I know you’ve been through a lot, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness,” you gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles, hoping to have the grounding effect on him that he craved.

Miguel gaze fixed on your intertwined hands. “I know…logically. But it’s different when you’re in the middle of it. Everyday I wake up with the memories of everything I’ve lost. I don’t know how to let go of it.”

“You don’t have to let go of it all at once. But maybe…just start with accepting that you deserve good things too,” you looked up at him with a soft smile. “You’ve done so much for so many people. Don’t you think you deserve a little bit of peace?”

Miguel’s lips twitched into a small, weary smile too. “You always know what to say to get through to me.”

“Because I know you. And I’ll always be here to remind you when you forget.”

It didn’t take long before you both drifted off to sleep. Tangled in each others arms and the trouble of the day slipping away.

Having a negative experience with sex and should probably talk to a professional ❌❌

Writes a fic about it😗✅✅

I’ve mentioned this on AO3 but I’m gonna put it on here too, please don’t be mean (._.) while I welcome constructive criticism, there’s always an approachable way to give feedback without sounding condescending, rude, or sarcastic. Even though I don’t let hate get to me, I don’t have the thickest skin.

I also want to mention that many of my older fics, mostly from last year, were written during a phase where I was still exploring different tropes and writing styles. So, looking back, some of them might seem forced or rough, especially in areas where I was experimenting with kinks or tropes that I’m simply not familiar writing.

After writing Miguel for a year, I’ve found tropes I’m most comfortable with and happy to post. If these don’t suit your tastes, feel free to move on …💕

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @smokeywhalee @nina-from-317 @thealleydog @f1-hoff @nommingonfood

@kavimoo @honey-bee2002 @club-danger-zone @sp0ck136 @youhaveraybies

@deputy-videogamer @laysmt @hyperstardaydream @crimin4llyins4ne @yougoodsis10

@asterrrrose

[familyvideostevie]

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help. 

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable. 

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets.  You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her."  Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

__

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something. 

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[innorogers]

Lull

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: So this is when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking.

Warning: Fluff / SMUT / MINORS DNI / 18+ / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia

You slipped through the streets like shadows, holding hands, hearts racing, eyes darting over your shoulders, every sound amplified by the silence of the night. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder – or ‘Magic Stark-Potter Thing’ as Steve was calling it – had granted you some safe time. But time was fragile, and you both knew it.

Your powers pulsed beneath your skin, guiding Steve with quiet certainty. You could feel the city’s pulse, see through the walls, and peer into the hidden corners of every alley. You led him down paths that no one else knew, invisible threads pulling you toward safety. The streets, immersed in late hours after midnight, stretched before you like the remnants of some secret map.

When you reached a narrow street swallowed by the night, you knelt down and moved a pile of old garbage cans aside, revealing a small, grimy basement window. You glanced back at Steve, and gestured for him to follow you down.

Turned out to be an underground club, and the party was just getting good.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Neon lights painted the walls in erratic colors—electric blues and deep reds—while people shouted over the pounding music, their laughter swallowed by the deafening noise.

You exchanged a look with Steve as you pushed through the crowd. His usual composed demeanor flickered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene while staying close behind you. You weaved through the press of bodies, brushing against strangers lost in their own worlds, music vibrating through your bones as you both made your way to the other side. It felt like a different universe—one that was wild, loud, and completely unaware of the chaos lurking outside its walls.

“I need a computer!” You raised your voice so he could hear.

“I really don’t think you’ll find one here.” He almost laughed, holding your waist and waving through the people around you as you moved forward.

“I know.” You tilted your jaw. “But that’s perfect, look.” You pointed to the computer they used as a register to take orders. “An older one, probably. I need to enter an untraceable code; our network is probably compromised, so I need to notify the only being who can’t be hacked or corrupted.”

“Really?” Now he was intrigued. “Who?”

“Vision.” You continued to scan the place as you moved through the dancing crowd. “These machines won’t work, they’re plugged into their private network. I’ll need something connected to the outside. C'mon… let’s go to another floor.” It was a huge underground bar, so you held Steve’s hand and moved to the stairs.

“I think we’ve got company.” Steve tightened his grip as he noticed some guys entering the floor. They looked like military—tense poses and sharp, alert eyes scanning the place. He looked up and saw more of them on the floor above, near the exits and moving through the whole place.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time. I think there’s some gear on me that’s making us trackable.” You hurried with him to go down, but stopped when those military men started coming from downstairs. You pulled him aside, hiding in a dark corner, but they weren’t leaving. Steve’s figure—tall, handsome, blonde—was too easy to recognize. A lot of women (and men) were looking at him with flirtatious eyes, intrigued.

You passed by corridors and stairs full of people, using your powers and his sensitive perception to navigate the space. The men didn’t notice you were there, but their eyes were everywhere.

You felt Steve’s body tense beside you, ready to attack at any moment, and the place would turn into hell if that happened. You cupped his face, pulling him closer to the wall, your eyes scanning behind him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you…” You smirked as the men passed by, and with your hand on his neck, you kissed him deeply.

Shit. Steve’s body went rigid.

This was the worst place and the worst time, but somehow, it felt so right. He’d almost forgotten how much he needed this. The moment your lips met his, your body pressed against his, the scent of smoke and debris clinging to you from the chase. But your kiss, it grounded him—reminded him why every risk was worth it.

He kissed you in the flicker of shadows, under the flashing lights, in a dark corner of an underground club. Drunk, dancing strangers moved in their own ecstasy, oblivious to the danger. It wasn’t something he ever imagined doing, but then again, you always brought the unexpected. And again...How could you ever think he’d choose anyone else over you? Over this?

He deepened the kiss, pinning you to the wall, his tongue brushing yours, and it felt so right… you tasted like sweetness, laced with something wild, like sin and salvation entwined.

“Steve…” You broke away, eyes still on the men as they passed, and he lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist. You grinned. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“Well…” He chuckled, voice rough. “I think it’s the perfect time for this.”

“Come on. Let’s move now that we have the chance.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before starting to move.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies in sight, you made it to the last floor through doors and hidden passageways and arrived at what seemed to be a VIP room.

“There we go.” Your eyes locked onto a computer next to a more sophisticated bar. “That’ll do.” But as you approached, Steve’s senses sharpened, picking up the tension of a threat.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of men—tall, armed, and bearing the unmistakable faces of movie villains. Why do they always look like the bad guys? He sighed, slowly rolling up his sleeves. Well, it was about damn time. He had been holding back this feeling of wanting to punch someone ever since a bomb exploded near your car.

“Mmm?” You turned back and noticed the surroundings. The only guy who had been on a date at a corner table rushed out with his partner as soon as the room filled with the approaching men, circling both of you. He was even polite enough to close the door behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked at the 1, 2, 3… 15 men surrounding you.

“Gentlemen, there’s really no need for this to escalate…” You advised as the tension thickened, movements slowing to a crawl before the inevitable first strike.

“Shut up, doll. We’ll take care of you later.” Said the man who seemed to be their leader, smirking at you. “And believe me, you’ll be well attended.”

“Oh … you really shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, already sensing Steve’s fists clenching in response.

“Sir, you’re about to get the smash of your life…” You spun just in time to grab the bartender’s hand as he reached for a weapon beneath the desk, a fight breaking out behind you. “Please don’t do that.” You blinked at him. “I just need to borrow your computer, okay?”

“Um…” The bartender, startled by your strong grip, noticed the Avengers logo on your gear and quickly reconsidered. “Um… this thing runs on Windows Millennium. Like…Yikes.” He gestured at the ancient machine. “Don’t you need something, I don’t know, more modern?”

“It’ll do, thanks.” You hopped over the bar counter and began typing. “If it doesn’t send Vision a signal, it’ll at least ping him with a virus warning.”

The moment Steve moved, the air shifted.

The first punch landed with the force of a freight train, sending one of the goons crashing into a table, shattering glass and upending chairs. Chaos erupted in the room as fists and bodies collided. Steve ducked under a wild swing, his movements sharp and precise, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that left another attacker sprawled on the floor. Damn, this is so boring. A punching bag in the training room felt even heavier.

One of the armed men lunged at him with a knife, but Steve twisted to the side, catching the man’s wrist and flipping him over with ease. The crack of bones echoed as the thug hit the ground hard, and Steve was already turning, launching a swift kick into another man’s chest, sending him crashing through the VIP room’s thin partition wall.

“Babe, you got that?” He moved his head, avoiding a knife—or whatever sharp thing was coming from the back—grabbed the guy by his arm, and twisted it like a towel.

“Just a sec.” You were typing the commands as bottles clinked and tables flew across the room, the thumping bass from the club floor below barely audible over the grunts and crashes of the fight. 

“Just… okay, there.” You turned to the bartender: “Do you want me to upgrade this system for you?”

The bartender wanted to answer, but suddenly bent over as a guy was thrown and hit against the wine cellar. He covered his head and screamed, so you raised your eyebrows and took that as a no.

With only three men left standing, they hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with each other as if silently deciding who would make the first move. But that took forever, and Steve was getting bored. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down onto the tables, the impact scattering bottles and glasses across the floor.

Before the next guy could even react, Steve spun, delivering a swift elbow to the second man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over with a deafening crash.

The last man, clearly outmatched, pulled out a gun in a desperate attempt to regain control. But Steve was faster. In one fluid motion, he ducked low, dodging the shot, and surged forward, ripping the gun from the man’s hand and delivering a bone-crushing punch to his gut. The man doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, before Steve finished him off with a knee to the face, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

The room was now littered with unconscious bodies, shattered glass, and overturned furniture.

“Wow…” You said in awe. “You didn’t even sweat.” You were thinking that he sweats more when he’s in bed with you.

And he laughed, thinking the same: “I’m saving that for later.”

Just as the dust was settling and Steve was wiping his hands clean, the door burst open, and Tony sauntered in, his suit gleaming in the dim light.

"Everybody freeze!" Iron man said in a mechanical voice behind his helmet, raising his hand and pointing at… nothing. Then he lowered it, noticing the room was still, filled only with men groaning in pain on the floor, while you and Steve rolled your eyes at him.

"What? I was already nearby when Vis delivered the message just three seconds ago. It's not like I'm late..." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of unconscious bodies and broken furniture, clearly unfazed by the chaos, as the team led by Maria and Sam entered the room with their weapons raised.

"Get 'em all; we need intel," Steve sighed as he walked over to you. "There’s a lot of interrogation to do." He pulled you close. "C'mon, let's go home."

It was almost sunrise when you arrived at the compound. You slept a bit in the car, and when the heroes started debating in the command room about the next steps and strategies, you stretched your body and headed to the dressing room yawning.

You needed a cold water shower to clear your mind before helping Tony and Bruce decipher all the information. Plus, you had to get out of this suit that smelled like grilled cement, ashes, and burnt fabric.

Ugh, you were a mess. You opened the locker and started unzipping the gear when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.

Steve’s arms locked around you before you could turn. He restrained your wrists as a frenzied kiss landed on your lips, fingers laced with yours, pinning you against the wall. While holding you captive with one hand, he explored your wrists with the other.

He was burning.

The kiss deepened, and all the feelings he had been holding back since the car chase, was poured into the embrace. 

He was so turned on by everything that had happened—the adrenaline, the action, the danger, and the risks. He was impressed, and aroused, so fucking aroused.

He knew you were special, but you didn’t even blink during the chaos. 

There were explosives, drones, and the entire freaking Iron Army chasing you in a car, and you didn’t step back an inch.

This unyielding, unwavering, fierce-as-fuck version of you was driving him insane.

“Steve…?” You broke the kiss because you needed air, though you were enjoying it. “Are you okay?” Didn’t you just kind of… escape from death?

“Better than ever.” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I need you.” He said this while lowering your gear’s zipper, inhaling as your breasts sprang free from your clothes. He groaned, kneading them with desperate need.

Oh, okay… You moaned, tilting your head back when he sucked and lapped at them. Your gear was only half off as he pulled down your pants, kicked them aside, lifted your leg around his waist, and plunged into your already soaked folds.

Oh, wow. You gasped in awe as your inner walls stretched wide, completely filled by him, and your bodies slamming against the lockers.

And that’s when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking. 

Yup, what you’d been doing every night was making love. But this… 

This was Steve fucking you. And fucking you hard.

The pace was brutal, pounding with relentless intensity. He held your leg and gripped your ass to keep you in position. With one hand on your neck, forcing eye contact, he fucked you harder and harder.

His voice was hoarse and raw, groaning with lust. When he saw you bite your lip to stay quiet, he smiled and quickened his pace.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you kissed me in the nightclub…” He said, his body slamming into yours, locking you against the lockers.

“Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd…” With those images in mind, he murmured in your ear, his thrusts becoming stronger, admiring how waves of pleasure overtook you, making you pressed your leg tighter to his waist, your breath coming in silent gasps, pleading for more.

“Steve…” You could barely whisper. You couldn’t catch your breath as he pounded into you, shaking your body with the force of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his back, trying to hold back your voice, biting your lower lip so the moans wouldn’t escape. You didn’t even know if he had locked the door—someone could walk in at any moment.

But he was so hard, his pace so fast and relentless, completely out of control.

Steve never came before you did. He always made sure you were satisfied first. But this time, he cums when you finally gave in and moaned his name, his release hot and thick inside you.

Before you could even process it, he pulled out and turned you around.

Your breasts hit the lockers as his hands gripped your waist. He positioned you, and just when you were about to inhale, he was inside you again.

Fuck! This felt so good…! Steve never felt this urge, never wanted this so bad, his eyes darkening with further lust and desire, his hands pressing your waist and squeezing your bouncing ass cheek as he sees how he thrusts inside out of you. 

You are so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect for his cock, as you were tailored made for him. He was probably hard since you commanded him in the car, with that badass attitude and fierce determination, and now you were leaning there, with your elbows against the locker, your tits bouncing as he strokes, your ass cheeks marked as he squeezes and rubs them, and your folds still dripping remains of his last cum. Totally at his mercy. 

Fuck, this is hot.

He was going wild. Seeing you trying to mute what at home would be the sweetest or wildest moan, only spur him on, driving him to fuck you with greater velocity, snapping forward with greater intensity. 

“Let go, babe…” He said, snapping his hips forward. Each thrust hit that perfect spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of your bodies. “Let it go… Cum for me honey… Come on… I know you’re about to…”

He leaned forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you fiercely, his tongue claiming yours. His hand found your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples until they stiffened, begging for attention.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good…” His voice was a ragged, hot breath near your ear. His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continued to fuck you. 

Your moans were loader, and your clit was so sensitive, it couldn’t take more contact, Steve’s thumbs rubbed faster and stronger, and as he continues to fuck you in your spot, when he feels your walls about to clamp, he just whispers in a determined tone in your ear. “Cum, now.”

It was like he had a switch that controlled your body. Your inner walls clenched at his command, and you gave in, cumming long and hard around his cock, your body trembling. All you were making was lust sounds, mumbling his name, trying to breathe and to recover to the ecstasy that went from your clit to your mind. 

“That’s it, my love…” He smiled with satisfaction, hissing through clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you into another fervent kiss.

When his lips sealed yours, the thrusts became faster and rougher, uncontrollable moans escaping as his hands roamed over your breasts. His movements were frenetic, chasing his own orgasm.

You moved with him, drunk on lust, oblivious to everything else. You felt his hands squeezing harder, his gasps becoming heavier, his cock growing bigger and stronger. Finally, he buried himself inside you, erupting and flooding your depths with a hot load of cum. His hips jerked involuntarily as the last drops spilled inside you, and he was finally satisfied.

“Oh…god… fuck, babe…” He had one hand still rubbing your tits, another pressing your clit and feeling his cum overload your folds, and his body resting in yours, covered with sweat, gear at his feet, when the extreme edge washed over him. “That…was…amazing.”

"Steve..." You panted as he pulled out and turned you around, instantly leaning into him. "I need to sit..." Your knees were weak, and your thighs hurt a little, but in a good way, a very good way.

He let out a soft laugh. "I’m so sorry..." He kissed your forehead as he lifted you onto the bench and covered you with his shirt. "Did I hurt you? Oh..." He winced at the marks on your waist and thighs, nearly bruised from his hands.

"Shit, babe... I’m sorry I got carried away." His voice softened, apologetic. "Does it hurt?" He pressed a kiss on your wrists, where he had also been holding on so tight. "Fuck... I’m sorry."

"No." You grinned and kissed him back. "It was amazing..." You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "I loved it. We should have more missions like this."

"As much as I’d love to..." He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, holding you close. "I hate the danger around you. But hey..." He hesitated for a moment. "About what I said earlier..."

"'Cum, now'?" You imitated his voice, and he let out a loud laugh.

"No, earlier..."

"Mmm..." You recalled your eidetic memory. "'Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd'?"

Your eyes brightened. "You wanna go back to the nightclub so we can make out?"

Steve actually considered it for a second. "We’ll talk about that later... but no, I meant what I said in the car before the Iron Army attacked us like Ultron’s possessed children."

"Yeah..." You didn’t remember. Well, no, you weren’t listening. "I was distracted by the giant bomb headed toward us, babe... I’m sorry I didn’t hear."

He leaned back, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Okay, what I was saying..." Now he was looking right at you. He cupped your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I think it’s just been proven how deeply, madly, utterly in love I am with you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else..."

"Ohhh!" Now you connected the dots. "So we’re talking about my insecurities because you hung out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend all day?"

"She’s not..." Steve sighed, then softened his voice. "Well, there. There’s nothing for you to be insecure about. I love you. Only you. And I think I’ve proven my desire to be with you forever with the ring..."

"What?" Now you were shocked. "Wait, what?" You sat up straight. "Was the ring really... really... a ring?"

"Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"Um... you said it was a tracking device."

"It is." Steve sighed. "But eventually, when all this is over, it will be just a ring that means: you’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever." He smiles at your incredulous face, and holds you in his embrace, placing a kiss on your forehead: "In this life, and all the lifetimes to come. I want only you."

You stared at him, speechless, feeling the warmth of his arms around you and the weight of his words settling in. His gaze was so full of love, it made your heart race. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, but then you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his.

"Steve..." You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just... stay with me. That’s all I need."

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "Yes." You kissed him back. "Now. Always. Forever."

"Okay, now that we’re good..." He lifted you up in his arms. "C’mon princess, let’s take a bath, we are a mess here."

Oh. You raised your eyebrows. You don’t know who he’s kidding; you both know how this was going to end.

The End but TBD :)

Continue to:

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

And that's a wrap for chapter 8! Wohoo, I'm so glad I've made it to write a complete smut!! xD I really suck at writing it in english :D So with so many wonderful writers out there, thank you for reading up to here, hope you enjoyed it :D And thanks everyone for participating in the poll last post xD Can't believe fluff won, come on some angst and then a fluff and happy ending won't hurt, right? xD

I'll see you next friday for chapter 9! Wow 9 chapters!! <3

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Shirt On.

Pairing/Au: Sub!Joel X soft dom f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 4645

Rating: + 18, MDNI, NSFW. I’m not joking with this one, if you’re a minor please stay away from it.

Summary: Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his flannel shirt. That’s it, that’s the fic. LOL

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but if you decided to stay, the rest is under the cut.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with feelings, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamic, sub!Joel, soft dom f!reader, reader wears jeans and a top (and of course Joel’s flannel), has breasts and vagina but apart from that no other specific description of her is given, pegging, use of a double strap-on, mention of plugs, lube, edging (m receiving) , orgasm control, oral (f receiving with the strap-on), mention of anal play, squirting, a little bit of nipples play (m receiving), ass slapping, swearing, dirty language, mention of threesome, mention of nipple clamps, mention of Joel conservative environment as a child (? I don’t know, i imagined that), a whole lot of fantasies made explicit, pet names (mostly good boy, honey, baby), use of “mommy” once, Joel is so soft and needy in this one, reader is cheeky, brief Tommy appearance, mention of alcohol consumption, I think that’s all but if I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

I love sub!Joel so much and and I've been thinking about writing it for a long time so here we go!

It’s my first sub!Joel fic and pegging fic, I’m so nervous about it, I really hope it’s good and you will enjoy it.

One inspiration for this fic was this work by @milla-frenchy : Her, if you haven't read it yet and you love sub!Joel RUN to do it because it's amazing and she’s so talented.

The other one was the sex toy described lol

As usual, English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so it’s all my fault, I apologize for any mistake.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, I would love to have some feedback on this (please, be kind) !

Thank you so much for reading❤️

Joel is unloading materials at a construction site when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He puts the brick pack down and rubs his hands on his jeans, takes out his phone and unlocks it. There is an unread message from you. 

“Baby, I’ll wait for you at home at 6. Don’t be late” 

He quickly types a reply and sends it to you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He smiles. 

He had never done anything like this before, but with you everything was different right away. 

——————-

When he first met you, at Tommy’s birthday party, he thought you were a wonderful creature. 

You were talking to someone he doesn’t even remember unlike your bright smile, your contagious laugh, your breathtaking body and your impossible-to-miss charm. 

The pair of jeans you were wearing hugged your hips and waist perfectly and your tight top highlighted the curve of your tits so deliciously that his mouth started watering instantly at the sight. 

You turned to him probably sensing his eyes on you and your eyes weren’t even close to be intimidated or embarrassed. 

You held his gaze fiercely and he knew in that moment that you were going to be troubles in the best possible way. 

He had always been quite successful with women but he suddenly felt like someone destined to remain on the bench who has to compete with the team's star player.

The challenge excited him anyway, he decided he had to find out something about you.

He entered the house and found Tommy busy opening a bottle of wine. He asked him who you were and he replied with a smirk, "Maria's coworker. Why do you ask? Do you fancy her?” 

“I don’t even know her!” he retorted. 

“Yeah but you think she's hot” he stated raising one of his thick eyebrows and looking at him with a sardonic grin.

Joel snorted “I knew I shouldn't have told you anything”

Tommy bursted into laughter and said nothing else.

And he didn't do anything, there was no need. 

Joel couldn't imagine it but you know exactly what you want and you know how to take it.

He was at the buffet table taking a beer when you approached tantalizing him “You think you’re going to ask me for my phone number or not?” 

“Why?” He tried to play it cool and nonchalantly.

“Well you've been staring at my ass all night, so… either you want to know where I bought these jeans or you like my ass, cowboy, what do you say?” you waited, delighted by the state of confusion you had caused in him.

He hadn’t expected it in the slightest, no one had ever been so cheeky with him.

And then you added “The thing is… I like yours too, so we could do something about it”.

Of course you sneaked off the party and you immediately jumped at each other in Joel’s truck after finding a fairly isolated spot along the road, sloppy kissing and hands everywhere like you were both starving. You haven't even made it to his house.

Of course you ended up sharing contacts because you just had had the most incredible sex and wanted more. 

Many dates and many months later you moved in together.

The harmony between you two was strong from day one and never changed.

You know how much he needs to have his coffee in the morning, he knows how you love your eggs, you know he always fail to put his dirty laundry into the basket in the laundry room, he knows he’s the one that has to take care of the garden because you have absolutely zero skills and you kill the cacti too. 

The domesticity between the two of you always feels like the most precious gift.

You talked many times about what you like in bed and you have confessed to Joel that you love to be the dominant part in the relationship. 

Joel had no difficulty accepting and embracing it, he is happy that you are the one taking the reins. 

He is always in charge at work, his construction company is doing really good and has several employees, he is used to being the boss and making decisions all day long. His mind is sometimes so tired of that that coming home to you and let you decide for him allows him to shake off all the stress that is weighing him down.

“This is actually good for my own peace of mind” he told you “I feel free” 

You have set rules and boundaries and you talked throughly about what you want and don’t want from this dynamic. 

You both respect and understand each other. You love each other like there’s no tomorrow, Joel told you he has never been this happy before.

And experimenting with him is the most exciting things in the world. He’s prone to it, even more than you thought at the beginning. 

So when you brought up to him that you would love to try some anal play he accepted straight away. 

He told you that he had done it before, he had never been on the receiving end but he was more than happy to do it with you.

You’ve proceeded by step, experimenting with your fingers, while he fucked you senselessly like you wanted to, then it was Joel himself who suggested trying a plug. 

“You sure about that, babe?” you asked “I'm happy that you want to indulge with me in this but I wouldn't want you to do it just for me”

“No,” he assured you, with the sweetest smile “I’m not doing this just for you, even though you know how much I like it when you’re satisfied. I love what you do to me with your fingers and I think I’d like to… um… try something more.”

“okay then, let’s dig into it” you replied with a little smirk. 

He grabbed your laptop and you searched online together, sitting on your couch with your head resting on his shoulder as you explored site after site giggling together in total complicity.

You can’t forget the thrilled look on his face as you decided to order a trio of plugs in different sizes.

And you can’t forget the moans he made the first time you tried it. 

The trust you’ve built has made it truly special. Joel knows he can abandon himself to you, you’ll never do anything he doesn’t want and you’ll always take care of him as much as he does with you.

Joel’s protective side makes him sensitive and attentive to your needs. For everyone else he’s just a somewhat grumpy, reserved man and a tireless worker, but for you Joel is the most thoughtful man you’ve ever known.

He is amazed by the patience and delicacy you put into getting him where you want him to be, and you’re completely fulfilled by how much of a good sub he can be. 

Sometimes he gets denied for days and it’s all about you coming repeatedly on his tongue or he’s only allowed to watch as you masturbate, other times you ask to be fucked several times a day or you demand to see your tall, broad, strong and gorgeous man bent over on your bed while you play with his ass.

Every session was pure bliss, he was a little bit flustered to try the biggest plug but he ended up getting an orgasm that was out of this world. 

And now he's ready to try the strap on, which makes you incredibly wet just thinking about it.

As with the plugs, you chose together which one to buy and once you decided you were both so excited that you allowed him to fuck you and come inside you after a whole week of chastity, edging and ruined orgasms.

___________

Joel leaves work at 5:30, gets in his car and curses all the way home against the traffic that threatens to make him late. 

He parks in the driveway and opens the door “I’m here, my love” he quickly says as he puts his keys on the cabinet in the hall. 

“I'm in the kitchen, babe, come here”

Joel rushes to your command and the sight of you leaves him speechless. 

You're standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing only his flannel shirt left open and the strap-on you both chose. The leather straps wrap around your hips and a large dildo stands out between your legs.

“It came in the mail today,” you smile at him, extremely pleased by the rapt expression painted all over his face.

“Oh fuck, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he breathe, his eyes feasting on your body. 

He loves it when you wear his clothes, he loves seeing you walk around the house in his shirts and wearing his boxers and he loves it even more when you let him watch you masturbate in just those.

He tries to get closer to you and you raise one of your arm stopping him “no, wait, not yet. Look at me a little longer” and saying that you take the big cock in your hand and begin to stroke it slowly “talk to me darling, tell me more about how it seems to you”

“It's big,” he gulps “and it looks great on you.”

You have chosen a type that stimulates both of you, so you have a dildo inside you. With each stroke you feel it penetrate a little deeper, widening your walls.

“What else?” you coo “What would you like to do now? Would you like to suck it?”

“Yes, my love, I would like that, please.” 

He’s fixed on your hand moving on the fake cock. 

“Eyes on me, baby, what else?” you gently scold him

His look shifts immediately on yours as he answers you huskily “I wish you would fuck me with that. Please”

You move closer to him, without stopping touching the dildo, you raise your hand to gently stroke his raven curls lightly streaked with silver “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby, I’m going to split you open and you’re going to be the best boy, right?” 

He closes his eyes, abandoning himself to your caresses and he whispers “yes” 

You tug his hair “louder, babe” 

“Yes, my love” 

“Perfect. Kneel down for me, now” 

He immediately goes down, in front of you, on the kitchen floor.

“Take this cock, babe, make it all nice and wet” you purr

You put your hand back in his hair and bring him closer to it.

You can see a sparkle in his gaze as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to lick the tip.

You feel a shiver of pleasure run through your body seeing him like this, malleable like clay in your hands, on his knees, hungry, totally involved in what you were doing, so endearing and beautiful. 

“More, baby, show me how good you are” 

He opens his mouth wide and bends over the cock starting to make it disappear into his mouth, his lower lip trembling slightly. 

He raise a hand to grip the base but you slap it and say firmly “take it fully in your mouth first” 

He frowns and he gag a little when the tip bumps on the back of his throat but immediately gather his control back. 

“good boy, now suck. You can use your hand on mommy’s cock” 

He looks up at you in gratitude as he circles the base with his fingers and begins to suck greedily.

The entire length is now coated in his saliva as he moves up and down on it continuing to suck and every time he goes down, the dildo inside you hits a deeper spot making you moan just as much as he does. His big hand is all wrapped around the silicone cock, the other sunk into your hip above the leather straps and his grunts are like the cherry on top. 

You continue to praise him and he’s enraptured by your gaze and you can clearly spot his cock hardening in his pants, it strains against the hem of his work jeans. 

“You like that huh? So good for me” 

He swirls his tongue around the tip and goes down flat on the underline and swirls around again taking the mushroom between his luscious lips and sucking on it.

He’s still fully dressed and yet you could swear you could come just by seeing him all engrossed in sucking your big fat dildo.

His nose hits the end of the cock bumping into your clit as he tries to put it all back in his mouth, gagging around it, trails of saliva slide down his chin, your thumb smear it all over his jawline “Just like that, baby, keep going for me”

Your fingers are tangle in his curls and you push him down the length arching your back, making him gasp for hair, his eyes start watering a little but he keeps sucking. Pressure is building on your clit at every brush of the base on it and the other end sink deep into you all slick and soaking wet with your juices. He’s basically masturbating you sucking the dildo.

You’re about to give in and you convulsively yelp “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, Joel”

He sucks at an even faster pace, stroking the base and lingering on the tip every time he comes up.

You toss your back and shut your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your first orgasm washing over you, panting hard and feeling you knees buckle.

Joel continue to suck quietly until you regain the ability to speak.

“You’ve been very good, darling” you coo “get up for me now”

He let the dildo slide out of his mouth with a lewd pop and stands up and you order: “turn your back and put your hands on the table for me.” 

He does so and you lean back and wrap your arms around his waist. You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth as you try to calm down.

“Well, we have discovered a new talent in you” 

“I- yes” he mutters

“Don’t be shy baby, there’s nothing wrong with sucking a dick” and you leave a trail of kisses on his back 

“You’re right” His voice is uncertain, as if he had just realized how much he liked it.

You move to look him in the eyes “it’s all good, honey? do you want us to stop here?”

He shakes his head.

“Words, baby”

“No. No, my love” 

“Good. You know you can always use the safe word, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I know… I was just thinking…” 

“What, honey? Talk to me” you stroke his arm trying to reassure him, peering into his big brown puppy eyes.

Joel grew up in a conservative environment and you know that he distanced himself from it as soon as he could and he is certainly sure he can tell you what he would like, you decide but you always allow him to express himself. 

Every now and then a kind of reticence resurfaces in him, and it melts your heart the way he tries to fight against the beliefs that were put in his head as a child.

“Do you think we could try a threesome sometime?” 

You giggle lightly caressing his cheek “Sure, we could do that. Why were you so afraid to ask me?” 

“I didn't want you to think that you're not longer enough for me. I mean you’re perfect, absolutely perfect and I love you and-” 

“Babe” you interrupt him “it’s okay. It’s your fantasy and I find it hot too. Would you like to do it with another guy?” 

“Yes…uhm..I would”

“Mmmm God, that would be so hot, you trying a big meaty cock…deep in your throat”

He blushes instantly at your words and the corners of his mouth curl into a smile “I- yeah, I think I would love to try”

“I would masturbate while you do it and then I would let you fuck my cunt while the other guy’s cock would go deep in my mouth. How does it sounds?” You lewdly whisper to him.

“Oh fuck- yes” he reply, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“You’re such a dirty boy, I love that. How do you get so good at sucking anyway?” you ask him mischievously

“Well, I learned something by watching you, you’re the best at it.” he states with a proud tone. 

“Mmm you’re such a flatterer. Now shut up and let me play” you tenderly scold him kissing his lips “unbutton your pants” 

His hands fiddle with the button and the zipper and as soon as he’s done you order “put your hands back on the table”

You leisurely slide one hand into his pants and make room in his boxer to reach his already hard cock.

You flick the tip with your fingertips gathering his precum and you slide over his length wetting it, you can feel his breathing thickening and a sigh of relief leaves his mouth.

You pump him until he reach the edge, throbbing in your fingers, then you stop, a muffled sound of impatience run through his lips. 

You smile, your gaze chained to his “keep calm, love”

You take a small remote control out of the flannel shirt pocket and show it to him. “Look what I have”

He mumble “oh my fucking God”, his voice cracks a little and your lips curl, even more pleased “I forgot about it” he admits. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be fun” you giggle “let’s go to our bedroom now”

He immediately follows you and once in the room you lean on the piece of furniture in front of the bed and you demand “take off your clothes” 

He does it slowly as he knows you like it, first boots and socks that he throws in a corner, then his jeans that he leaves lying on the floor and finally the shirt, that also ends up on the floor at the foot of the bed. With every part of his body revealed to your eyes you lick your lips thinking that you will never get used to seeing such beauty. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, tiny freckles scattered on his skin, his narrow waist, his slightly soft tummy, the thin line of hair that ends up hidden by his boxers, his meaty thighs… you can never get enough of him.

He remains in a pair of boxers, standing in front of you. “Good boy, take them off and lie down on the bed,”

There is sweetness in his gaze, trust and a desire to abandon himself, at this point you can read him like an open book.

You're taking off the flannel you’re wearing when he looks at you pleadingly “Can you please keep it on, honey?”

“You like seeing me like that?” You smirk

“I do. You’re so damn sexy” 

“Okay, baby, I can do that” you grant and he smiles gratefully.

Once he's lying down you take the lube from the nightstand and then you climb on the bed right next to him, your fake cock still shiny with his saliva.

His naked body is still and waiting for you, and you take his cock back in your hand “you did so well for me” 

“I’m glad, my love, thank you” he whispers

You pinch his nipples with your other hand, pulling and twisting them between your fingertip, teasing them while you keep stroking his lenght slowly. 

“God, I love your nipples, baby, they drive me wild, so pink and turgid and delicious.” 

 You run your tongue over his chest sucking them into your mouth. 

“I think we should try nipple clamps sometime, would you like that?” you say before taking back one of his buds between your lips. 

“Oh - God, yes. Yes, please, my love” 

His moans go straight to your cock-covered clit, you feel it hardening against the soft and smooth silicone.

You know perfectly well that he is much stronger than you and could easily tip you over onto the bed and trap you with his weight, but he won't.

This awareness makes you feel powerful and the mere thought of how far you can go with him and still be safe makes you dripping wet.

You take him back to the edge again and then you stop, his cock is throbbing and the tip is angry red and leaking profusely. 

His hips slightly twitch a couple of times and you can tell how desperate he is for a release but he knows that he can’t come until you say so. 

You start pumping him again after a couple of minutes and you can hear the stifled moans crowded in his throat as you take him on the edge again. 

He’s such a mess of sweat and cries and glassy eyes but he’s managing to remain still like you ordered to.

“I can’t believe I have such a good boy all for me” you purr “You want my big cock in you? You want that?” 

“Yes, please, my love. Please” he whines. 

“Turn around for me like the good boy you are” 

He turns around and you take the lube squeezing a good amount into your hand, spreading it all over his hole, caressing it gently and penetrating it with two of your fingers.

He cries “please” 

“Don't be impatient” you say firmly slapping his ass cheek, leaving a red mark. 

“I’m sorry” his voice is hoarse and deep and you can hear his struggle in every single word which is such a turn on, he wants you so bad. 

He’s so excited and needy that he basically cries and the sound of his voice reverberate into your ears like a music.

“So sweet, my big boy crying for cock” 

“I want- please. I want it so much, pl- please” he’s bucking his hips against the duvet and you slap his ass again.

“Behave, baby” you order “stay still for me” 

You linger a little longer in his hole, moving your fingers slowly. 

“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen, you know that? Is it ready for me?”

“Yes. It’s all yours, love, please take it” he begs. 

When you finally place your body behind him spreading his ass cheeks with your hands and poking at his entrance with the tip, he leaves out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him. 

The inside dildo is still hitting you the right way and in this position you can feel it even deeper than before. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes - oh - yes, love it”

“Good” you whisper caressing his hips “we’re almost there, baby. You look so gorgeous like that, Joel. So fucking gorgeous”

You keep pushing the cock inside him, until you’re balls deep inside and you start moving, thrusting into him while the other end thrust into you.

“You’re doing so good, Joel, so good for me”

He whimpers while you brush against his prostate, lifting his butt to feel you even more, you could swear you’ve never seen anything more intoxicating.

You take the small remote that you placed on the bed and turn on the vibration at the lower setting, just enough to add that little buzz into the already overwhelming sensations you’re both experimenting.

Joel lets out a “fuck” so deep and hoarse, you feel him clenching around the cock and the vibration hits your clit and your inside too and you almost lose it.

You take a deep breath and focus on him.

“Just like that, you love taking this cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes OH GOD YES - I think - I think I’m almost c-” 

“Sssh not yet, baby, don’t be to greedy, hold it until I say it” 

You pump harder and his body tenses, you can see every muscle in his back flex while he tightens his hands on the sheets underneath trying with all his might to hold back, his face leaning in profile sinking into the mattress, little drops of sweat beading on his skin, his plumped lips open in search of air letting out moan after moan.

He’s almost incoherent by now, just babbling please and fuck and begging you to let him come and you can feel yourself getting right on the edge.

You get out of him to change positions as you fear of losing control because of the vibrating dildo inside you slapping at your walls “Turn over on your back for me,” 

He turns around immediately, you make him lift his legs and rest them on your shoulders and then you go back inside him with a single thrust “OH FUCK” he wails “fuckfuckfuck” 

“Yeah, baby, do you like watching me fuck you with your shirt on? You like that, huh?” his look is ecstatic as he reply “Yes - GOD- fuck - you’re so beautiful” 

You start to pound again against his prostate, deeper into him with each movement, your tits bouncing and obscene slapping filling the air mixed with the buzzing of the dildo, until you can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

It’s too much, all too much, the vibrations, the dildo crushing on your cervix, and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen all worked up and sweaty between your legs, just losing his mind for you.

“Come baby” you order in a breath “come for me” and he throw his head back on the mattress rolling his eyes and lets himself be invaded by a devastating orgasm right after your command, long spurts of his cum painted all over your tummy and his shirt.

You can feel his whole body shaking and you hold on to his ankle as you hastily pull out with the other one and squirt all over the dildo, drenching the duvet underneath you.

You’re completely shattered and exhausted but totally appeased, no thought left in your brain but a complete state of serenity that mostly comes from the fact that you can be completely you with Joel, no disguise, no mask, no filter is needed when it comes to him.

You turn off the the dildo and let it out him, you throw it on the empty side of the bed and lie down in his arms, it’s all you want and it’s all you need now.

He welcomes you and holds you tightly as you both try to get your breathing back to normal, you abandon your head on his chest and you feel his heart beating fast behind his ribcage. 

After a few minutes of silence he is the first to speak “that was…fuck…I don’t have words. Thank you, love”

You tilt your head to look at him and he’s smiling with his entire face, his eyes sparkling and his cheek flushed and his adorable dimple showing off. 

“I love you, Joel” you murmur and your mouth reach the bald patch in his beard to place a kiss there. 

“I love you too, honey, so much you have no idea” and he gently takes your lips. 

“I’m sorry, your shirt got wet” the final part is practically stuck to your skin, soaked in sweat, cum and squirt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind at all. We’re both sticky and sweaty but we can think about that later”

You laugh and kiss him again, nibbling on his lower lip.

When you break the kiss there is a question you feel curious to ask him “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I have a question” 

“Shoot”

“Why do you like it so much when I wear your clothes?”

He gives you a sweet and slightly shy look as he replies “For starters, they look sexier on you and then…it makes me feel like you’re mine in some sort of primal sense, you smell like me and I love that you have something of me on you”

You giggle.

“Did I explain myself?”

“Yes, yes you perfectly did, honey” you reply hiding your head in the crook of his neck and inhaling his woody citrusy scent. 

He smells like home, the only one you truly feels to belong to.

[writingpastmybedtime]

Mine

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to pretend to be husband and wife on a mission, even though they do not get along at all. Your classic enemies-to-lovers trope.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none, although Bucky is hot as always.

A/N: Let me know, if you want a pt 2 to this ;)

You should have known better, really. Wearing a short black, curve-hugging, dress wasn’t going to go unnoticed by the Super Soldier whose gaze you wished to avoid.

Bucky and you had been tedious to each other for most of the time spent at the compound. It was common knowledge for the team that you two weren’t supposed to be on the same mission together. Unless they wished to witness your back-to-back nagging. Which, they did not.

That changed, however, when Natasha fell sick and you had to replace her on a mission pretending to be the wife of a Russian mobster, Ivan Sarkovich aka James Buchanan Barnes undercover. 

Needless to say, you did not go on this mission without letting out a fight. Tony shut you up quite quickly, reminding you of the innocent lives that would be harmed if you did not fall through with this mission. There was no one else to take Natasha’s place, but you. You sighed, before begrudgingly agreeing.  

So here you were, at a lavish Balkan hotel somewhere in Eastern Europe with the most exhausting and tiresome being to ever exist - Bucky Barnes. The bane of your existence. The man, with the most gorgeous blue eyes, the body of a Greek God on steroids, and hands you wish would do the dirtiest things to you. 

No one knew you had these kinds of thoughts and feelings towards the ex-Winter Soldier, however, it wasn't hard to hide them whenever he acted like a total ass towards you. You had put up a façade to everyone, not letting out your true feelings. Not when he couldn’t even be in the same room as you without snickering a rude remark.

Had he ever not acted indifferent towards you, perhaps you would not be in this predicament you were in right now.

Fortunately enough, Bucky had already gone downstairs to play poker with the people who you were investigating. 

Ruslan Nikolaevich was a Russian man, behind a drug cartel that had been shipping new kinds of supplements in New York, mainly appealing to teens and young adults. They sold it under the premise of protein, however, it was nothing similar of the sort, except for the look of it. 

You and Bucky had to gain information about the next possible drop-off - the location, the recipient, and the lot. You were supposed to join your dear husband downstairs in five minutes, playing the ever-clingy happy, and satisfied wife.

Smoothing down your dress and taking a last-minute look in the mirror, you deemed yourself good to go. Perhaps your dress was a bit much, but without a second thought, you left the safety of your hotel room. 

Walking towards the men sitting at the poker table, you held your chin high and only looked at Bucky. He was wearing an all-black suit, the one that you thought fit him the best. The one that you wished he would wear when he’d do the most dirty things to you. 

Bucky looked up from the table, as if hearing your thoughts, and his eyes fell on yours. A smirk graced his lips as you neared and he patted his lap, an indication for you to take a seat. 

It was totally normal and mostly expected of the Russian mobsters to have their wives and eye candies sitting on their lap - a way to show off. So, as expected of you, you took a seat. Right on Bucky’s deliciously firm thighs. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come, with how long you took,” Bucky nuzzled into your neck, making a shiver go down your spine. You smirked, placing a seductive hand on his jaw, playing with the slight stubble there. 

“What kind of a wife would I be, if I did not show up to support my perfect husband?” You raised an eyebrow and Bucky chuckled darkly, before placing his lips on your temple and focusing his gaze back on the game. 

“I wish my Maria would still look at me the same way your девушка looks at you,” a man with a thick Russian accent said, looking over at you with a longing gaze that made Bucky place his vibranium arm over your waist as if to pull you closer to him and protect against the Russians that eyed you in a way that made his blood boil. 

Bucky chuckled, to not let on, that he was disturbed by Maksim’s looks. 

“If you’re willing, you could also share your сладостью with the others,” Maksim was eyeing you up and down, and you were now second-guessing your dress choice.

“Gentlemen,” Bucky chuckled darkly, before throwing his cards on the table. “I’m afraid this sweet thing is not for share, for I have intended her all for myself tonight.” 

The men at the table groaned but still looked at you with lust-filled eyes, a certain jealousy towards Bucky Barnes, no, Ivan Sarkovich. 

“I think it’s time we took our leave, my девушка seems to be getting tired of our manly chit-chat and boyish games.” With a nudge to your waist, you feigned a believable yawn and clung to Bucky, playing the ever-attaching wife. Bucky wished good night to the gentlemen at the table, before guiding you towards an elevator.

When the elevator doors closed and you could finally take a breath, letting go of the fake act, Bucky stepped in front of you with a hard look. 

“Are you out of your mind to wear a dress like this in front of them?” 

You looked down at your dress, picking invisible lint off of it. 

“Do you have any idea, what kind of a position you put me in? The things they whispered,” he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, as if to calm himself. You did not understand the Russian language the way he did. Which also meant that you had no idea what kind of vulgar things they had said about you. 

You saw his hands shake on the railing on the wall, that he’d gripped, his knuckles turning white on his right hand with how hard he was gripping it. 

“Fuck, doll-” he looked at you then, his baby blue eyes a shade darker, before he suddenly gripped your jaw and made you look up at him. “You only belong to-” He was cut off by the elevator doors opening and he nonchalantly let go of you, walking off to your shared hotel suit.

You followed him, still ashamed and, confusingly enough, a little bit turned on by his demeanor. He’d never acted this way before. And what was he almost about to say?

As you shut the door of the suit, you immediately felt his breath on your neck. A gentle, but rough hand moved strands of your hair off your shoulder, before chuckling deeply. 

Bucky placed his forehead in the crook of your neck, before letting out a deep breath. His hands then found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to himself. 

“Y/N, do you have any idea, what you do to me?” You felt his lips move on your skin, which made you shudder and the most obscene thoughts filled your head. He whispered your name again.

“If I had known any better, I’d think you got jealous when poor old Maksim made that suggestive comment,” you finally whispered, your forehead resting on the door. Bucky pressed himself closer to you, leaving you sandwiched between him and the brown wooden suite.

“Only I can make comments like that about you. No one else.” He kissed the side of your neck, your head automatically falling on his shoulder. It was as if you had no control over your body; you only moved on his accord.

“You’re mine.”

[mattscoquette]

𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬/𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 - 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor

smut (p in v, slight praise kink, use of pet names), cursing, arguing, kissing

6.1k words

introduction 1 2 3 4 5 6

addilyn richardson,

was currently standing in front of her torn apart closet on a monday morning, contemplating what to wear. normally she would just throw on something comfortable, but today was the day her and matt had their science project to present. she woke up with a sick feeling in her stomach, presumably from nervousness. the nervousness from presenting, and from seeing matt for the first time in days. she stood there, seriously considering playing hooky today and going back to sleep. it was so cold, and the warmth of her bed was calling out to her. she shook her head. she couldn’t do that to matt, though, not after she treated him this weekend. she texted him early saturday morning that she was still “feeling under the weather” and that it was best if they wrapped up the project on their own. all they had left was the worksheet, so it wasn’t a lot of work to do, but deciding to work alone and then submit it was risky. she had ignored his questions of how the project was coming along, and she even declined nicks request to hang out at his house. although he was weary, matt trusted addilyn, though, he knew she was a smart girl and she could pass them with ease.

addilyn sighed, settling on a her favorite pair of jeans. she rummaged through the clothes on the hangers, trying to find something that paired well with the pants. she found a small blue lacy tank top, close to the blue of matt’s eyes, and decided on that. she shook her head, trying to push thoughts of the brunette haired boy to the back of her mind. she had to focus today, no more matt, she could not mess up her presentation in front of her class. she looked in her mirror quickly, before opting to put a silky white headband in her hair, attempting to make her curls look a little neater. she tugged a sweater on over her shoulders, grabbing her backpack, before heading out the door.

she hasn’t gotten a ride from matt for the last couple days, not since the day they came so close to kissing. granted, matt would have driven her if she asked, but she grew distant with him, not wanting to embarrass herself anymore than she already had. that moment kept replaying in her head all weekend. how she felt him nearly pressed against her body, the feeling of their noses brushing against one another, how close their lips were to touching one another. she thought about what it would feel like to kiss matt. if it would be gentle, their lips barely grazing one another, or if it’d be the rough, messy kind, where it was a clash of teeth together. she wouldn’t have minded either one, as long as she was kissing matt.

addilyn. she told herself. get a hold of yourself. you need to present well today.

making her way to the bus stop, she saw matt’s van drive past her, nick sitting in the back. addilyn sighed, putting her earbuds in as she waited for the bus alone in the cold. a part of her hoped matt would’ve pulled over, jumping out of the van, and ushering her in quickly, telling her that she did nothing wrong and he liked her back. they would drive to school together, walking in hand in hand, until they had to go separate ways. but he didn’t, he simply kept on driving.

₊˚ 𓂃✧

“i hope you all are ready to present today,” the physics teacher announced as the bell rang, watching a few stragglers shuffle in. addilyn held her breath, looking over to matt. he didn’t turn around to meet her gaze. “maria and joey already offered to go first, but before each group goes up, i’ll allow you guys to prepare yourselves in the hallway.”

addilyn sighed of relief. she only briefly met with matt before class to go over their assignment quickly, barely having enough time to make sure they did it right. although she was confident in her part of the work, she couldn’t help but feel worried it was wrong. she was so out of it this weekend, picking up her phone every five minutes to see if matt would reach out her, and ignoring him when he did. she partly felt bad, but that feeling would instantly be washed over with embarrassment. he texted her a few times in the span of the two days, but addilyn just kept on ignoring matt, praying he would just forget about it and let her work. by sunday, though, matt stopped reaching out to her. she couldn’t help but feel disappointed, but she knew ignoring him would get the boy to leave her alone. but deep down she hoped that if she pushed him away enough he would come back around.

the class watched as each group went up, sitting in anticipation waiting for their turn. about four groups in, addilyn and matt were on deck to go.

“gianna and kian, you’re up now. addilyn and matthew are after if you guys want to go to the hallway.” the teacher told them.

the two of them glanced at one another, slowly getting up and going into the hallway with their project. taking in a deep breath, addilyn looked at matt up and down. he wore dark blue baggy jeans with his car keys clipped onto the belt loop, accompanied with a black and red t-shirt that read ransom across the front. he wore a black zip up over his clothes, where his hands were currently engulfed by the sleeves. her stomach was instantly in knots as matt smiled at her and sat the experiment down delicately on the linoleum floor. he pulled out a bag of marbles from his zip up’s pockets. “you ready?”

addilyn nodded quietly, watching as he bent down, setting the marble on the top part of the slope. he let it go, watching it go down and run its course. it raced down all the slopes, speeded through all the sharp turns, evening spinning around and around the funnel they added. it was flawless. matt and addilyn smiled at one another, both of their chests feeling tight.

“you finished the packet, right?” matt asked, looking at the paper she held in her hands. “can i see it?”

she nodded slowly, a soft blush creeping onto her cheek, handing the pile of paper to the boy in front of her. she hadn’t seen him in person since friday afternoon when he bumped into her, when he saw her crying. she had been so embarrassed. she had a crush on the kid for barely a week and she’d been a crying wreck over him. how pathetic of her. she wanted to explain to matt that afternoon she was upset about something that happened earlier in school, but she couldn’t bring herself to look in his eyes without bursting into tears. instead, she ran away and ignored him all weekend. she watched matt intently as he looked through the packet, seeing the mix of both of their handwriting as they had both taken turns working on it. he paused as he got to one section addilyn did over the weekend by herself.

she watched as his eyebrows furrowed. “are you sure you calculated this right?” he asked, showing her the paper as she leaned into him to look. she could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. she flashed back to last week, when his face was inches from her and the only thing she could smell was him. his scent stayed in her room all night. matt’s voice snapped her back to reality. “i think you used the wrong formula.”

“no i didn’t, matt.” she told him confidently, looking up to meet his eyes. she looked back down at the work, going over it carefully. she was certain she did it correctly.

“no, you used the formula for potential energy, not kinetic.” matt pressed back, showing her the paper and pointing. “look.” she directed her gaze back down at the equation in front of her, then back at him absolutely dumbfounded.

“i didn’t.”

“you did.”

“matt, i know what i’m doing,” she told him, her voice starting to grow louder. “i know i did it right.”

“addy, you did it wrong.” matt shot back at her, also starting to become frustrated.

she didn’t even realize she was yelling. it’s as if all the flirting and joking they shared with each other over the last week was gone, and it was the first day all over again. “who’s the straight a student here, matt? i know i did my work right. you just don’t want to admit you’re wrong!”

he shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, before addilyn interrupted him. “i know how to do this shit matt, you don’t, so don’t come out here questioning my work that i know is ri-”

he cut her off by pulling her by the arm into an empty classroom, dropping the papers to the floor and shutting the door behind them. her back was flush to the door, matt standing over her with his arms extended on either side of her head. the space between them was so small, it was dizzying. she looked up at him, trying not to let it falter her confidence.

“what is your issue?” she spat, “we need to go over our project.”

“my issue?” matt yelled, “what’s my issue? you’re the one who’s been acting weird the last four days! we wouldn’t be in this situation right now if you just did the project with me over the weekend instead of avoiding me.”

if looks could kill, matt would be six feet under the ground. addilyn glared up at him. “i wasn’t avoiding you, asshole, i was sick.”

“sick, my ass,” he argued, “you were avoiding me! i know you were!”

“was not.”

“were too”

“matt,” she whisper-shouted. he still had her against the door. “stop it.”

he looked down at her sighing, trying to cool himself down. she continued to look up at him with daggers in her eyes. all the emotions the two felt in the past couple of weeks, they were getting it all out now, only in the form of an argument. how typical of addilyn and matt. she spoke up again. “i knew working on this project with you would go to shit.”

“you don’t mean that.” he told her, looking back just as angrily, standing even closer to her than before.

she stood her ground, trying her best not to feel small underneath matt. he’d always been a few inches taller, but with the position they were in now, he towered over her small frame. she yelled back at him. “yes, i do mean it! if we never worked on this assignment together, everything would’ve worked out so much easier! i would have been fine doing it alone, and you wouldn’t have been bothering me and ruining my-“

matt couldn’t handle the sound of her voice yelling at him anymore, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. in the heat of the moment, not even thinking, he took his hands off the door from behind her and grabbed her shoulders, pressing his lips to hers. she blinked, kissing him back after a moment. he pulled away from the girl, eyes wide as he met addilyn’s shocked expression that was plastered all across her face.

what the fuck did he just do.

matt didn’t even have the chance to speak, hell, he couldn’t even move, all of his words left his mouth. addilyn blinked up at him, pausing for moment, before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling the boy into her. she titled her head to the side, deepening the kiss as she kept one arm wrapped around him, her other hand moving to hold his face close to hers. matt’s hands moved down and gripped her hips, pressing them against his. he kissed her back hard, like she would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t. addilyn cupped his jaw, pulling him impossibly closer to her as she felt him smirk against her lips slightly. she broke away momentarily to look at matt, flashing him a soft smile, his favorite smile. before she could fully pull back, matt was already connecting his lips back with hers. he ran his hands up and down her sides as he kissed her with all the feelings he couldn’t convey over the last couple weeks. addilyn sighed against the boy’s lips, moving her hands from his face up into his hair. she tugged lightly at the brown locks while she felt matt’s teeth graze against her lip. addilyn pulled back slightly, placing a few small pecks on matt’s grinning lips before pulling away fully.

they two of them giggled, still holding on to one another. matt spoke up first. “i still think you did the equation wrong.”

“shut up” addilyn laughed, pressing her lips to matt’s once more.

₊˚ 𓂃✧

“and that’s how kinetic energy works.” matt concluded, taking the marble off of the track and placing it back into his pocket. the class burst into applause, a few kids even obnoxiously whistling to really add to it. addilyn beamed next to matt, looking at him for a moment before returning her gaze back to the rest of the class. the pair returned to their respective seats, glancing at one another as their teacher praised the work. they sat through a few more presentations, before the bell dismissed the students, matt finding his way to addilyn rather quickly. they walked together out of the classroom, not long before the girl pulled matt by the arm into a lesser crowded hallway.

“hi.” she grinned up at him, arms hugging around his waist. he brushed a curl behind her ear, retuning the smile.

“do you wanna skip the rest of the day?” he asked, watching addilyn’s face widen. it was only the middle of the day, they still had at least four more classes before they had to go home. she instantly shook her head no. “come on addy, live a little.” he laughed, watching her contemplate her choices. stay in school like you’re supposed to, or spend the day with matt.

“i’ll buy you lunch.” he bribed in a sing-songy voice, his hands still playing with the hair behind her ears. he brought his lips to her cheek, kissing it softly a few times. he pulled back. “please?”

she sighed, giving in. matt cheered, lacing his hand with hers as he pulled her out of the double doors leading outside. she instantly felt a chill run down her spine as they were met with the cold winter air. matt took notice, slipping off his puffer jacket he was wearing and giving it to her. she smiled sweetly at him as he opened the passenger side of his van, letting her in. he climbed in next to her, starting the car and immediately turning on the heat on full blast. he plugged his phone in, queuing up a few songs, before kicking the car into reverse.

“where to?” he asked addilyn, backing out of the parking space, putting his hand on her knee as he began to drive. she felt her face redden at the action, shifting her legs closer to the center console as matt rubbed his thumb back and forth.

the girl shrugged. “wherever you want to take me.” matt smirked, an idea popping into his head.

they drove comfortably, making small talk about whatever came across their minds. after about fifteen minutes, matt pulled into the parking lot, turning off the car and looking over at addilyn. he found that she was already staring at him, leaning across the middle to place a quick peck on her smiling lips. “let me get the door for you.” he said quietly, quickly getting out of the van and opening her side of the door, offering a hand out.

“such a gentleman.” she laughed, taking his hand in hers. she still was wearing his puffer jacket, only a thin zip up keeping matt’s body from being met with the brisk january air around them.

“are you sure you’re not cold, matt?” she asked the boy as they began to walk, hands still held together.

“i’m fine.” he promised, leaning down to kiss her rosy cheek. they walked through the parking lot, before the park came into view. the large bare trees that surrounded the vicinity became separated by a walkway that lead into the grassy area, where the playground and baseball field resided. she gasped, turning to look at matt.

“i love this park!” she gushed, leading matt though the gate. they started down the walkway, making their way around the track that stretched a mile around the perimeter of the park. they lost count of how many laps they took, walking with their hands together the whole time. they talked about whatever crossed their minds.

“tell me about the book you’re reading right now, adds.” matt asked her, turning to look over at the girl as they walked. her cheeks were all pink from the cold, her lips glossy. she looked back at him, the widest smile spread across her face. nobody’s ever asked her that. she talked to him about the book, her favorite characters, favorite quotes, all of it. she talked of the book she read previously to the one now, and how it was all connected. matt just listened and smiled at her as she talked, loving the way her eyes lit up while she spoke.

they continued walking around as matt told addilyn about his love for nature and the comfort it brought to him, especially in the colder months.

“i just love the trees and shit,” matt told her, taking in the surrounding around them. the trees were dead and bare from the cold of the winter, but matt continued to admire them anyway. “my favorite season is fall because of the leaves. i think they look super pretty and i love the colors of everything.” addilyn beamed up at him listening to him talk about his other favorite things about fall. he talked about how he loved to wear fuzzy sweaters as the weather grew colder, and found peace for himself being surrounded by the outdoors.

they’d been in the park for a good hour and a half, just talking about everything and nothing all at once. they were currently sat on a bench that was located across from a small pond, abandoned from the small animals that typically lived there due to the freezing winter weather. addilyn was resting her head on matt’s shoulder as they still held hands, simply enjoying the moment in silence. she was tracing small patterns on his hand when she broke away and sat up for a moment to look up at him.

“what?” matt smiled, looking back at addilyn. she shook her head, muttering a small nothing, leaning up slightly to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. it felt just like the dream he’d been having all week.

the air around them was cold, but addilyn felt so warm against him. she removed their intertwined hands and wrapped both her arms around his neck, pulling him back down into her as she leaned her back against the bench. matt turned his body to match hers, arms instinctively wrapped around her waist as she sighed contently into the kiss.

“do you want to go back to my house?” he whispered against her lips.

she pulled back, glancing up at matt. “yes please,” she said, leaning back into him. the pair shared a few more quick pecks before they got up, walking back to matt’s car with their hands together once more

₊˚ 𓂃✧

when addilyn and matt got back to his house, they were the only two home seeing as it was still the middle of the day. they were currently up in matt’s bedroom, sitting together on his bed watching a movie. despite the fact the two had already kissed, both of the teenagers were terrified to make another move. they were both sat upright, matt’s arms crossed while addy’s sat her in her lap, their legs barely touching one another. they both wanted more but neither would act on it. addilyn kept feeling matt’s not-so-subtle glances at her, only looking back at him when his focus returned to the t.v.

this was about the fifth time addilyn addilyn looked over at matt in the span of thirty minutes, and she was ready to give everything up right then and there. upon arriving home, matt pulled a grey hoodie over his t-shirt, trying to warm himself after spending nearly two hours in the cold outside. brown hair flopped over his blue eyes and scrunched eyebrows as he tried his best to focus on the movie and ignore the twitching feeling in his jeans. his cheeks stayed a pink rosy color, his lips slightly parted while he breathed heavily. addilyn felt her stomach flutter as matt repositioned himself so he was now laying down as opposed to having his back against the headboard. his arms moved to lay behind his head, his sweatshirt riding up just enough to reveal the waistline of his boxers. matt could feel her eyes digging in to him, looking up and smirking to meet her gaze.

“take a picture, addy, it’ll last longer.” he said in the most flirtatious way, the words immediately making her panties soaked. two hours ago she’d kissed a boy for the first time ever, and here she was now wondering what he’d feel like insider of her. her eyes stayed wide looking at matt as she felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and the back of her neck.

“sorry, i just-” she started, being cut off by matt’s arms pulling her on top of him following his sudden and bold change in attitide. “matt!” she yelped, half giggling.

“hi pretty girl,” he smiled up at her, his face getting red and his dick starting to get hard as his hands made home on her hips, rubbing them back and forth. her hands traveled up his chest to play with the strings of his hoodie

“hi” she whispered back, unable to stop herself from trailing her eyes all over his body. he looked so good underneath her, it was driving her insane. matt’s hands moved to her back, bringing her down to meet his lips in a passionate and hot kiss. the two lazily kissed as addilyn felt matt’s tongue swipe against her bottom lip, granting him access by opening her mouth more. they both explored the inside of each other’s mouth as their tongues clashed against one another. matt slid his hand beneath the bottom of her tank top, lightly tracing tiny shapes into the small of her back. she whined quietly at the boy’s touch, matt swallowing her sounds as their lips moved together perfectly in sync as they continued to exchange slow, sloppy kisses.

“matt,” she breathed out, pulling away to catch her breath as he began to kiss down her neck. he stopped when he got to where her neck met her shoulder, peppering kisses all along the base and across her collarbone. she gasped when she felt him going back to leave marks all along where he had previously kissed her. he slowly worked his way back up her neck, sucking and biting at the sweet spot beneath her ear. she let her hands dance in his brown locks, pushing him closer into her neck as he continued to leave small kisses over the purple bruises he was leaving.

he pulled away from her neck, looking up to meet her eyes. her one hand still stayed twisted in his hair, the other moving down to rest on his chest, while she breathed heavily and looked back at him intensely, smiling at the boy beneath her. he felt his mouth curl up into a big grin pressing his lips to hers again. he left small quick pecks on her lips while addilyn was giggling softly in between them, trying to kiss him back and laugh at the same time. matt removed his hands from her waist, holding her face still while he began give her dozens of small kisses across her cheeks, forehead, nose, closed eyelids, and all over the rest of her face. he made his way back around to her mouth, pressing it against his firmly. “i want you so bad addilyn,” he mumbled against her lips, “please.”

she retreated from his lips, looking down at him with wide eyes. she’d be fantasizing about this moment more than she’d like to admit for the past week, and now it was finally happening. it all seemed to have worked out perfectly, there only being one issue.

“i’m a virgin” she blurted out, her mouth going up to cover her mouth. she hid her face in the crook of matt’s neck in immediate embarrassment, him just giggling softly and running his hands up and down her back.

“it’s fine, addy,” he told her softly, whispering in her ear, “i just want to make you mine.”

she whined quietly in his neck, rocking her hips back and forth slightly against his now noticeable boner. “what if i’m bad?” she asked, drawing away from his neck.

he peered up at her, moving his hand up to cup her jaw, running his slender thumb across her cheek. “listen to me sweet girl, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” he examined her face, looking for any signs of discomfort before he pulled her down into an endearing kiss.

“i want you too, matt.” she sighed into his lips, getting a little more comfortable and planting kisses down his neck. matt smiled, flipping the two around so he was now on top of her, holding himself up with his two hands. his lips met her in hungry and ravaging kiss, very different from the one they had just shared previously. it was a mess of teeth and tongue, their lips barely even catching each others.

matt kissed all the way down her neck, stopping when he got to where her breasts were revealed in the tank top she wore. he began to suck and leave a mark at the top of her left tit, his hand reaching up and underneath her shirt to cup the right over her bra. she curled his fingers in his hair, pushing the brunette boy further into her chest.

“can i take your shirt off?” he asked addilyn, looking up at her through hooded eyelids, his once blue eyes now getting darker with lust. she nodded slowly, gaping downwards at the boy. “use your words, addy, tell me it’s okay.”

“i-it’s okay, please take it off.” she told the boy, holding his face and meeting his gaze.

he leaned up slightly, gifting her pink cheek with a soft peck. “tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?”

“okay.” she whispered.

he instantly was yanking the tank top off of her body, throwing it behind him onto his floor and he attacked her tits with his mouth, his quick contrast in attitude turning her on even more. he kissed and licked all around the valley of her breasts where it was exposed from the white lace of her bra, leaving soft kisses in the wake of the purple marks he left all across her chest. his one arm was wrapped around her waist as his head stayed buried in the girl’s chest, his other arm reaching around her to play with the clasp of her bra. the girl impatiently moaned, moving her arm behind her to take it off for matt. he pulled away for a second, admiring the girl beneath him. addilyn looked up at him, suddenly feeling insecure.

“you’re so fucking pretty addilyn” he breathed, tossing her bra to the side as he took her right nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand reached up to massage her left. she moaned loudly, holding the brunette boy closer to her chest as she felt his tongue flick across the sensitive bud. he did this repedealty, sucking and licking her one tit until he brought his attention to the other, giving it the same treatment.

the girl grew more and more restless, wanting nothing more than to just feel matt inside of her. she groped at his hoodie while he was leaving a hickey underneath her boob, signaling she wanted it off. he laughed to himself at her actions, lifting his head from her so she could take off both his sweatshirt and t-shirt at the same time. the two took a moment to pause, looking at each other intently, both of their chests bare and heaving. “matt i need you, please.” addilyn murmured, her voice laced with desire.

“i know, baby, i do too.” the brunette boy moaned out, grinding his hips down on her, the friction driving him insane as he buried his face into her neck, sucking a dark bruise into her skin. his hands reached down, toying with the hem of her washed out jeans. “can i take these off of you, beautiful?”

“yes, just do something please,” addilyn sighed, running her nails up and down matt’s bare back, scratching at it slightly. he nodded, moving up from her neck as he swiftly removed her pants, the girl reaching up to fiddle with his belt to do the same. matt, also growing just as needy as her, reached down to help addilyn undo his belt and take his jeans off too, leaving the both of them almost fully naked.

upon the removal of his jeans, matt met addilyn with an aggressive kiss, rubbing his clothed dick to her soaked underwear. they both moaned at the new feeling of only a thin piece of fabric separating them, both moving their hips against one another’s. addilyn felt matt slip his hand down beneath her panties, teasingly playing with her clit, rubbing it in soft circles with his thumb. “that feel good, pretty girl?”

unable to talk, addilyn only nodded as she gasped, feeling matt’s fingers move down to her folds, running them lightly across the entrance, before inserting the middle one and curling it up. “fuck, matt” she panted, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, “don’t stop please.”

“trust me, adds, i wont.” the brunette hair boy replied, adding another finger as he thrusted them in and out of her, looking down at the mess of the girl he’s made. “you’re doing so good for me.” she only moaned in response, feeling her stomach grow tighter as her face contorted.

right before she was about to release, she felt matt suddenly pull out, opening her eyes as she watched him suck on his fingers that were drenched in her arousal. her jaw slack, she reached up to trifle with his boxers, dipping her fingers beneath the band and running them along the tip of his dick.

“please matt,” she began, her voice hoarse, ���fuck me.”

that was enough for matt to tear her underwear off of her, ripping it slightly as it was discarded into the messy pile of clothes on the floor next to them. he leaned over her, opening his bedside drawer to search for a condom as he felt the girl sucking and biting at his neck. he met her lips to messily make out with her for a moment, before pulling his boxers down, his erection springing free. he felt her soft fingers wrap around his dick, pumping it as he dropped his head into her neck, moaning. impatient, she snatched the condom wrapper from him, tearing it open with her teeth as she grabbed his cock to slide the rubber on.

“that was really hot,” the boy laughed, stroking his dick that was poking into the girl’s stomach, moving it to line up at her entrance. he looked up to her eyes, his facial expression changing to more serious. “tell me if i hurt you at all, okay?” he told her, stroking her inner thigh lightly with his hand.

she shuddered at his touch, replying with a meek “okay.”

“you ready?” matt asked, taking his hand from her thigh and moving it to her hip to hold her. she gave him a small nod, quietly saying yes before he began pushing in.

her face scrunched up as she felt him insert his dick, gasping at the new sensation. “matt,” she breathed, her voice undeniably having a discomforting undertone.

“i know, pretty, i know.” he soothed her, running his hand along her hipbone and tracing soft patterns on it, pausing for a moment before pushing in any deeper. “tell me when i can go again.”

she took a deep breath, reaching for his hand that was playing at her waist, grabbing it tightly. “go ahead.”

matt nodded, continuing to push deeper and deeper until he bottomed out, feeling addilyn squeeze his hand. “tell me when to move.” he groaned, peppering her face with light kisses as he tried to distract her from the pain. she grabbed his jaw, pulling his lips to hers, whispering a soft you can go into the kiss as he began to thrust in and out of her as slowly as he could, trying not to hurt her. he kept on kissing all around her face, diverting her from the uncomfortable feeling as best he could, until she brought his mouth back hers as she moaned, the once pain subsiding to pleasure. her hands tangled in his hair and his around her waist, the two messily kissed one another as matt continuously fucked her, the two finding a rhythm as they rocked their hips back and forth together.

“faster, please,” she begged, her mouth still against his as he simply groaned in response, snapping his hips up into her at a quickened pace. trying to focus on something other than cumming right away, matt pressed hard kisses to her lips, each one growing sloppier, their tongues hastily moving around each other.

“addy,” he whispered in between the kisses, “i’m so sorry-” he was cut off by a long kiss from addilyn, her arms tightening around his neck and she ran her tongue along his lips, catching some of his teeth as he opened his mouth. “i’m so sorry i was mean to you.”

“i forgive you,” she told him, pulling the boy down into her boobs as he began to kiss and leave marks, moving his hand down to play with her clit as he kept up his pace of thrusting. “fuck.”

between the stimulation from her clit, matt’s dick ramming inside her, and him sucking at her tits, she was absolutely spent. “matt” she whined, trying to let him know she was close, unable to form coherent sentences.

“i know, beautiful, let go for me.” he groaned into her tits, rubbing her hands up and down her sides as she came all over his dick, a loud moan escaping her lips. he continued to fuck addilyn through her orgasm, his hips sputtering and bucking against hers as he came too, whimpering slightly at the sensitivity. she breathed heavily, holding the boy against her breasts while he pressed light kisses to them. he looked up at her, stroking her chin as he watched the her regain her breath. “you okay, adds?”

she nodded rapidly, closing her eyes for a moment. “yeah.” she breathed. matt smiled, planting a quick kiss on her jaw as he pulled away from her embrace, pulling out and cleaning her up quickly with a tissue, discarding of the condom. he returned after a second, moving so he could hold addilyn against his chest , resting his head atop hers and their legs tangled together.

she looked up matt, smiling widely as she pressed a loving kiss to his lips. he smiled at the feeling, tilting her chin up as he held her face gently in his hand. “matt?” she breathed, pulling away for a second, “can i tell you something?”

“yeah,” he muttered, brining his mouth back to hers.

“i never hated you, not even in the beginning.”

matt broke apart from her, looking at the girl in his bed with wide eyes. his hand stayed on her face, rubbing his thumb across her lip gently, examining every little detail of her face. his gaze flicked between her two eyes, then down to her smiling lips, before pulling her in for another sweet kiss.

“me either.”

the end

© mattscoquette

𝐚/���: first off thank u sm for 340 followers 😭😭😭 i love each and every single person who’s ever came across my account thank u sm for taking time to read my stuff. also thank u to everyone who’s shown love to this series!!!! i loved writing it so much im so sad it’s over now :( i plan to do another series at some point so stay tuned for that! i hope u all enjoy the final part <3333 i love u all sm! 💕💕

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie @imwetforyourmom @dlyansworld

[itgetsdark-x]

gruff dilf joel and younger snarky reader are sent on a mission out of jackson. they have a rough, long day of constant nitpicking and bitching (done worse by a shared horse). the reader is purposefully pressing his buttons because she wants to make him snap on her. they stop for the night at a safe house with one bed and filthy unprotected sex ensues. joel forces her into submission and her cockiness dissipates. super condescending and demeaning joel. breeding kink, pet names, the works 🙏🏼

A/N: what a return for me… pheewwww, this was hot to write ngl. I loved writing Joel as a bit more of an asshole and I just wanna say, I would do anything for snarky, gruff dilf joel… like literally anything. I hope this is okay for you, anon!

Summary: You were a skilled hunter, everyone in Jackson knew that and it often meant that you were sent out with someone just as skilled but not quite as young, Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m & f receiving), degrading talk (depends on how u look at it), implied age gap (not specified), just a lot of smut and swearing tbh

Characters: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 7.6k (lol, I’m sorry!)

Sunlight seeped through the threadbare curtains of your house, the early morning light drowning your soft skin as you slept peacefully. Three loud bangs drew you from your slumber and you let out a groan as you stretched your limbs out, rubbing the remnants of sleep away from your eyes. 

“Get your ass up!” You heard the familiar voice shout from outside and you groaned again, shoving your face into your pillow. 

“Fuck off.” You yelled, knowing the older male would be able to hear you through your open window. 

“Would if I could.” He retorted. “I’m letting myself in through the back. Hurry up, sick of waiting for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you finally sat up in your bed, you heard the male enter your house downstairs and it immediately ignited anger in your bones. You stomped out of bed, grabbing your clothes and begrudgingly dressing yourself.

You gave your appearance a once over in the old mirror that hung pathetically on your walls and sighed at the dark circles under your eyes. After using your bathroom to freshen up, you traipsed down your stairs gruffly and shoved your feet into your worn boots. 

“Why are you here at the ass-crack of dawn, Miller?” You hissed, scowling at the male who sat on your old couch, his dirty boots carelessly resting on the coffee table in the middle of your lounge. 

“Aren’t you a ray of fuckin’ sunshine this morning.” He huffed. “Got a job to be getting on with, Maria and the guys gave me the instructions that we have to go run off some raiders. There’s a safe house half way that we can stay in tonight. Should be an easy job so long as you listen to me for once and get on with it.”

You groaned, loudly, as you bent down to lace up your boots; your old cargo trousers clung to the curve of your ass and thick, muscular thighs as you did so. Joel stood behind you, he couldn’t help but admire as the old material stretched as you moved. 

“Why exactly have I been instructed to work with you?” You shot back, turning to look at the male. 

Joel held a hand out as an offer to help you stand, you shot him a sour look, rolled your eyes and stood without a word. Joel clenched his jaw at your defiant behaviour and gently pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“Do I look like I know, little girl? Look, I don’t wanna be working with you, just as much as you don’t wanna be working with me. So how about you quit your bitchin’, get the job done and go back to being a sour little brat by yourself.”

“God, I fucking hate you, Joel Miller.” You said harshly, shoving past him and bumping him with your shoulder. 

You grabbed your backpack off the floor, it was the one you always used when going on jobs or patrols; it had all your necessities that you kept restocked. You opened your front door, and ushered for Joel to leave your house, he narrowed his eyes at you and walked out. You left behind him and made sure your house was shut up properly before walking down the three steps that lead to your house. 

“Where’s the other horse?!” You asked, ludicrously as Joel swung himself onto the large horse. 

“Only got allocated one, ‘lotta raiders and people sniffing around Jackson at the moment so they got a lot more patrols going on. Sorry kiddo, either you’re hiking all day or sucking it up and getting on with me.” He shrugged, patting the horse gently. 

You sighed deeply to yourself, as if this job or day couldn’t get worse; you had to spend it with Joel Miller on one horse. 

You had known Joel for a while now, since your first day in Jackson in fact. Him and Tommy found you stumbling around outside the gates of Jackson, whilst they were out on patrol, they saw you were injured and luckily, the people of Jackson allowed you to take residence within their community. 

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when this long-standing feud started with the older of the Miller brother’s but it had been going on for sometime. You despised the male, he always acted like he knew what was best when it came to hunting or patrols, whatever he said was the golden way of doing things and it drove you insane. Maybe it was your twisted attraction to the older male that made your stomach twist and settle in deep anger; you hated the way your pulse would race when he was near or the way your eyes would hungrily drink in all the sharp lines of the males features. He was too old to be any good for you, you knew that and maybe, just maybe, that’s why you kept up this pretence of hatred. 

Tommy was a stark contrast of his older brother; he had kind eyes and soft features, he actually cared about other people within the community. Joel on the other hand, he just cared about getting the job done and done right first time so he could get back home to Ellie, the kid he had arrived in Jackson with. You didn’t really care to ask how or why but Ellie, for what it seemed, was a cool kid and that you had spoken to a handful of times. 

“Your choice but we gotta leave now, it’s a 50 mile ride east to the safe house and I don’t expect it to be an easy one.” Joel stated bluntly. 

“Fine. Fucking fine.” You hissed, slinging your backpack onto your back and holding your rifle over your shoulder. 

It was a known fact that you were one of the more skilled hunters and fighters in Jackson; you had been fighting for yourself your whole life, you didn’t have anyone to fight for you or to keep you alive so from a very young age, you had to do it yourself with whatever resources you could find. Joel seemed to hate it, he seemed to hate the fact that you were younger than him and seemingly, knew what you were doing. 

That’s why you always got paired up together; Joel was skilled but older, you were younger and fitter but still on his skill level at handling your firearms. 

You slung yourself onto the horse, holding Joel’s muscular arm for leverage as you steadied yourself on the back of the animal. Your body was pressed tightly to Joel’s, your legs meeting at the front as your torso pressed to his back. He gently kicked the horse and encouraged the animal to move. 

You rode in silence through the town and out of the gates of Jackson. You watched your surroundings carefully, keeping an ear out for any nearby movement; you had heard the stories recently of people not making it back from their patrols. The raiders nearby were increasing and they were getting desperate for a fraction of what you all had in Jackson. 

The peaceful sounds of nature filled your ears as you rode in silence; just the horses’ hooves on the soft ground and noises of nearby wildlife; birds chirped happily and it almost made you spit out a laugh. Those innocent creatures had no idea of the depressing state that the world lived in now, they couldn’t ever know what loss meant; your mind wandered and you felt the bitter acid of frustration rise in your throat. 

“Wanna ease up on your grip?” Joel huffed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” You spat before you realised your hands were gripping tightly at his waist; you eased your grip and kept one hand on him to steady yourself whilst your other hand rested on your thigh. “Sorry.” You mumbled sheepishly. 

“What’s causin’ you to have the death-grip on me, anyway? Not normally scared ridin’.” He laughed smugly. 

You shrugged, he felt the jolt of your shoulder so he knew what you did without seeing it. 

“Natures just… funny.” You laughed sourly. “These birds, chirping away and living their normal lives; they ain’t ever known any different whereas we have, y’know. We’ve all lost something, someone and they don’t know shit. Just makes me angry.”

Your voice trailed off at the end, the images of your parents being taken from you when you were just seven years old played in your head like a worn out cassette. It was painful to constantly think of your mother’s screams as she was torn apart. Or the way your father hid you and told you to remain quiet and that was the last time you saw him. 

“Yeah, well, that’s life, kid. It’s shit.” Joel shrugged back.

He never opened up about his loss, about his daughter, he didn’t see the need to. People who were closest to him knew and he remembered the beautiful memories of his daughter, for him, that was enough. He knew the way people whispered about him, he could even see the way some even pointed as he walked by. “There’s Joel Miller, yeah, Tommy’s brother, he’s the one that lost a daughter and turned up with that kid months after Tommy arrived with Maria.”

You didn’t respond to Joel, instead you huffed and went back to taking in your surroundings. You travelled in a, somewhat, comfortable silence for a couple of hours before Joel halted the horse. 

“Why are we stopping? We’re in the middle of the Forrest?” You snapped, finger hovering over your trigger as you scoped out the landscape through your weapon’s scope. 

“Needa eat, piss and you can take charge on leading the next stretch. Problem with that, little girl?” He snapped right back. 

You sighed and reluctantly climbed down off the horse, you took the reins and carefully attached them to a nearby branch so your horse would stay secured whilst you all took a moments rest. 

Joel grabbed food out of his pack and chucked a sandwich in your direction, you quickly caught it with one hand and shot the male a cocky smile. 

“Gotta be quicker than that, old man.” You smirked. 

He rolled his eyes and stretched out his back with a deep groan, he had himself turned away from you as he stretched. You eyes soaked up every inch of the male, from his salt and peppered locks, down to his broad shoulders and down even farther to the subtle curves of his ass and muscular legs. As he stretched a slither of tanned skin was exposed and you mentally cursed yourself for wondering what Joel’s body would feel like under your skilled hands. You couldn’t help as you wondered even further how the male would sound as he came, would it be gruff like his groans as he stretched out his aching limbs or would it sound more tender and soft.

You physically shook your head to rid the mental images that were drowning your mind and you absently took a bite of your food as your eyes still hungrily wandered over Joel’s physique. He turned back to you, catching your eyes and he smirked, knowing full well that he had just caught you checking him out. 

“You alright there, darlin’? Lookin’ a bit flustered.” He chuckled, cockiness dripping from his voice. 

“Fine. Just thinking about Grayson.” You lied. Grayson was your most recent boyfriend, well, fling. You had both agreed to use each other to scratch the itches that your hands didn’t satisfy anymore; he was fairly well known among Jackson, especially to the women there and you knew Joel hated the younger male. 

“Sure.” Joel said, unconvinced but not willing to push the matter any further right now. 

An icy silence fell between the two of you once again, you stared at your food and bitterly ate at it. Your eyes trailed up slowly and bored into the older male as he sat down on the ground to eat; your eyes followed the lines of his legs as he sat until they fixated on his bulge. Jackson was small, people talked, women especially talked. Joel wasn’t one to sleep around carelessly but even when the world had ended, everyone has needs and Joel knew how to fulfil them. You knew he had quite the reputation, apparently he had the equipment and he apparently knew exactly how to use it. 

You finished your food and threw the wrapper to the side, you stretched your legs out with a delicate groan and leant back onto your arms, taking a moment to relax before you had to be cramped up on the horse again with Joel. Your mind wandered once again as the silence between you both persisted, you wondered how Joel’s rough hands would feel; how they would feel wrapped around your throat as his thick fingers fucked into you. Or how his cock would split you open as he pressed you down roughly to take every inch of him. You swallowed thickly, pushing the thoughts down as you gently squeezed your thighs together, trying anything to curb the throbbing between your legs. 

Joel could feel your eyes on him, he could feel the intense stares and he couldn’t help but smirk as he finished up his food; he loved the fact that he could get you all flustered and frustrated by simply just being. It would be a complete lie if Joel hadn’t thought about you in that way but it was a line he hadn’t crossed, mainly because you both couldn’t stop arguing long enough to realise the tension that was thick in the air. 

“We should get going.” You said gruffly, your voice shattering the silence abruptly. “Want to get to the safe house to actually sleep properly. Get your ass up, old man.”

“Old man.” Joel tutted, rolling his eyes. 

He moaned as he arose from the ground, further cementing your comment on his age. You let out a sharp laugh and shot him a smug look as you slung yourself onto the horse. 

“Pass me the reigns.” You said sharply. 

“Please?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah, thanks. Get on or get left behind.” You muttered. 

Joel let out a frustrated sigh and simply passed you the reigns before climbing onto the horse behind you. He shimmed himself into place until he was comfortable, you could feel his thick thighs rub up behind you; you were so close to him now, it felt different than when you were on the back of the horse. You cleared your throat awkwardly and kicked the horse into action. 

The soft sounds of the horses hooves in the mud filled your ears as all your brain could focus on was the feel of Joel grinding up behind you with every move of the horse. He kept a hand on your hip for his stability at times when the terrain proved bumpy. 

You could feel yourself trying to shift in the saddle, feeling grateful every time you felt the seam of your pants rub against your damp core in just the right way. You bit back frustrated groans and the safe house couldn’t come soon enough, you would wait until Joel would fall into his usual slumber to relieve yourself with your own needy fingers. 

-

The ride was long, excruciatingly so and that was only enhanced further by your own frustrations but Joel assured you that the safe house was just up ahead, only a few more miles. The sun was setting and your surroundings were growing darker by the minute, it was made you nervous but you persevered, not letting any weakness show to the older male. 

“What was that?” You muttered, pulling on the horses reigns to halt the animal and you brought your finger up to your lips to hush Joel. 

A twig snapped near you and immediately your hand was on your weapon, pulling the pistol from your thigh holster. 

“Probably just an animal, keep moving.” Joel barked, annoyed at your paranoia. 

“Joel, I’m not a dumb ass, that didn’t sound like an animal.” You snapped back, your voice a harsh whisper. 

You sat there, your eyes still scanning the darkening scene as you held your pistol out and aimed. 

“Shoulda listened to the little girl, old man.” An unfamiliar voice rang out, a silhouette coming into focus as your finger hovered over your trigger. 

“Fuck off, walk away and I won’t shoot your brains out right here.” You spat, pointing the gun in his direction. 

The unknown male whistled, the noise echoed throughout and suddenly, four more men came from the shadows; they were all holding various weapons, some with crow bars, some with bats and the leader, with a large knife. 

“Oh boys, look at her, such a feisty and pretty little thing.” The male laughed, his voice sent sickening chills down your spine. “Whatcha reckon she’s doing with this old guy? Probably fuckin’ him so he don’t kill her.”

You felt your skin crawl and you shot a look over at Joel, your eyes flickered with panic as they looked back over at the men. 

“Let the old man go, take me, I’ll do what you want.” You said quickly, knowing a distraction like that could help. 

Joel looked at you ludicrously and as his hand hovered over his knife that was out of sight of the males. 

“Whatcha say boys? You reckon we could use the pretty little thing… Depends I guess, how used up are you.” He snarled, the other men with him whistling and laughing as the leader spoke. “Wouldn’t want his,” he shot a look at Joel. “Sloppy seconds, don’t want a used up little whore.”

“I-I’m a virgin!” You lied, lowering your gun and slowly getting off the horse. You threw your gun behind you, away from the men and smiled as sweetly as you could. “I’m fresh, I promise. Not used at all.” You held your hands up in surrender.

The leader closed the space between you, with two large strides and he took a few strands of loose hair so he could twirl them in his fingers. He leant down to close the gap between you further and sniffed deeply. You closed your eyes as you cringed internally. 

His fingers gently stroked down your neck and pulled your T-shirt forward so he could peer down your shirt, your stomach flipped with sickness and whilst he was distracted, you landed a hard kick to his groin. He groaned loudly and immediately fell to the floor, you took his knife and without hesitation, plunged it into the side of his neck. 

“Fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He spluttered out as the life slowly drained from him. 

The other men came lurching forward, immediately springing into action and Joel jumped down from the horse, knife in hand to help fight off the others. One of the men scrambled to pick up your gun, they quickly grabbed it and shot at you as you tried to fight him for it, the bullet missed you but managed to graze your thigh. As the loud bang rang loud in everyone’s ears, Joel was able to injure anotjer enough that the rest all dispersed off into the overgrown trees. 

“If I see you again, you’re all fuckin’ dead. Hear me? Dead men fucking walking.” Joel barked as they scampered off, fleeing the scene. 

You breathed deeply, holding your thigh as you fell to the floor; the fabric of your pants was ripped where the bullet grazed your skin. The burning was intense and you hissed as you ripped some fabric from your shirt to wrap around your leg. 

“Let me.” Joel said, kneeling down to help. 

You kicked your leg, pushing the male away from you and you shot him a sour look. 

“I’m fucking fine, leave me alone. I’ve got it. Just get us to the safe house.” You hissed again, standing shakily. 

You bent down to pick up your gun that had been thrown across the ground and you landed a final kick to the two bodies on the ground before clambering awkwardly onto the horse. 

“You’re so stubborn. I’m just trying to help you.” Joel spat, his annoyance evident as he kicked the horse into a fast canter. 

“Fuck off, Joel. Just get us there without getting us killed, yeah?” 

“What do you think I’m doing?!” He bickered back. 

The final stretch of the journey was short, although it felt elongated with the burning in your leg. You arrived at the safe house, looking at the exterior, you should wondered how it could even be classed as a house. It was a sad looking shack, the old and splintered wood of the its exterior looked as if it could give out any second. 

“Is there supplies here? Medicines and what not?” You asked as you climbed off the horse, you tied up her reigns and watched as Joel grabbed the bags off the back harness on the horse. 

“Should be.” He muttered and led the way, he cautiously opened the building and checked out the surroundings; it was dark now and he quickly flicked on the lantern that was situated inside. 

The dull orange glow illuminated the small shack just enough for you to see one old, worse for wear bed in the corner and a small kitchenette area. Joel searched through the cupboards and found bandages and some old disinfectant. 

You sat down on the bed with a groan, flexing your leg as you inspected your wound. He tossed the supplies at you and shut up the building, after giving the outside a final inspection of any nearby activity. 

You had removed your trousers so you could better dress your dirty wound when Joel walked back in, he was pacing the creaky ground and pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“You were fucking stupid back there, with those guys. Could have got yourself killed.” He finally barked. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see you with a better plan.” You snapped back, standing after being satisfied with your handy work. 

“Watch your tone with me, kid.” He snarled, getting closer to you. 

“Yeah? Or what? Whatcha gonna do, Miller?” You asked, squaring up to the older male. “I saved our ass back there and all because you were too chicken shit to do anything yourself. And I’m not a kid, so you watch your tone.” You accused, your slender finger landing some jabs into his shoulder. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” He bit back as he took your wrist with ease into his large hand and held it roughly. 

You winced as he twisted your arm so it was behind yourself now and out of his general area. You took your free hand and shoved the male away from you, he took a couple steps back after stumbling from the force of your shove. 

“Fuck off, Joel. You should just be glad I was there to save your sorry, old ass. You wouldn’t have been able to do shit by yourself.” You hissed in agitation and turned your back to the male. 

You bent down to rummage through your pack until you found the spare set of pants you carried with yourself; you couldn’t see the way the older male’s eyes were fixated on the curve of your ass in your panties or the way his cock twitched in his own pants. 

“Such a brat.” Joel spat. “Such a rude, fuckin’ brat. Someone should teach you some manners.”

You laughed as you stood once more and span to look at the male, your eyes were narrowed and you cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh yeah? Someone should teach me some manners?” You laughed and the male nodded, his hands balled into tight fists as his sides. “And who’s gonna do that? You? Like to see you try, old man.” You laughed once more, it was a condescending and loud noise, and it only seemed to anger the male more. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Joel smirked, voice cold and smug. “You’d be purring in my lap in no time, little girl. I see the way you stare at me, or the way you were rubbin’ yourself on the saddle earlier. Pathetic little girl. Should be taught some manners on how to behave properly.”

You lurched at the male, unable to control your anger anymore and you landed a loud slap to his face. 

“You’re such a cunt!” You cursed loudly, shoving past the male. 

He caught your wrist once more in a tight grip and pulled you back until you were stood in front of him again. 

“You’re only angry because I’ve called you out.” He said calmly, his voice still oozing with condescension. 

You opened your mouth to argue, to protest what he was saying but you didn’t have the chance because just as quick as you went to argue, his lips were pressing to yours in a hot and angry kiss. Joel weaved a hand around your throat and gently squeezed it as he kissed you. Your hands pawed at him eagerly, trying to strip any layers of clothing off of him as quick as you could. 

He bit at your bottom lip roughly and you whimpered, almost immediately folding for him. The kiss was filled with all the pining that had surrounded you both for months, even when both of you never realised it; it was angry, hot and full of clashing teeth. It summed the two of you up completely. Still, even now, you were both fighting for dominance to command the exchange. 

“Get on your fuckin’ knees.” Joel whispered against your lips, his hand still wrapped around your throat. 

You wanted to protest and tell him to fuck off, you wanted to snipe back and tell him to do the same but the words weren’t forming and they soon died in your mouth; instead, you were sinking to your knees to obediently look up at the male. Slowly, he released the hand from around your throat and smirked down at you. 

“Well,” he said, raising a brow at you. “You know what to do from here, so fucking do it.” 

You looked at him with narrowed eyes and you opened your mouth to speak, before a sound could even leave he shot you another look, one that warned you to do other wise and you simply shut up. 

You roughly undid his worn trousers, your fingers were trembling slightly and you just prayed that the man above you didn’t notice; you knew you would never live it down. You pulled down the old fabric of his pants and didn’t hesitate to the same with his boxers. His cock sprung upwards, it was hard already and your eyes drank in the curve of his shaft and the way his tip was already leaking a small bead of precum.

You looked up at him with a smirk, it was a smug move and you knew it, clearly he was far more turned on then he cared to admit and that made you feel proud. 

“Whatcha waiting for, princess? Need me to spell it out for you?” He asked, holding your chin roughly to maintain eye contact. “Hm? Need me to spell out for you what it is that you need to be doing now? Poor little baby. I’ve heard some good things about this mouth now why don’t you put it to good use for once, rather than your incessant bitchin’.” Joel growled. 

“Fuck you. Prick.” You argued weakly before obliging. 

Joel still held your chin as he directed your mouth onto his large cock, you opened your mouth wide and slightly stuck out your tongue so his member could slide into the warm crevice with ease. You slowly started to bob your head up and down onto his cock and the male removed the grip from your chin, instead, he wove his thick fingers into your hair; he held on by the roots and tugged roughly to move your head. 

“Fuck.” He groaned deeply, his voice sounding, somehow, even gruffer than normal. “That’s it, good girl. Take my cock, I know you can do better than that.”

You couldn’t deny that the way Joel spoke to you drove your crazier than it should have. Your core throbbed at the thought of having the male inside of you and it drove you to bob your head quicker onto his length, eager to earn more praise from him. 

“Come on, that’s pathetic, little girl. I know you can do better than that.” He pushed your head down harder causing you to gag around him. Spit collected at the corners of your mouth and started to dribble down your chin has Joel controlled the speed of which your head was moving. “That’s it, god, fuck, wish you could see how pathetic you look right now. Spit dribbling down your chin as you take my cock like a good girl.”

You moaned around the male and fluttered your eyes shut as you concentrated on not choking on your own spit as Joel drove his cock roughly into your mouth until the head was hitting the back of your throat. 

Joel roughly pulled your hair until your mouth popped off him, a long string of spittle connected you to his length and he simply looked down at you and barked out a laugh. 

“Look at you,” he laughed again and your stomach bubbled with arousal and anger. “Finally being a good girl and listening to me. Maybe that’s what you need all along, isn’t it? Needed to taste my cock and find out what you’d been missing.”

“Asshole.” You hissed after sucking in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. 

“Hmm? Guess I haven’t managed to teach you any manners just yet, that’s alright baby, they’ll come when you do.” He smirked, taking your throat once more in his hands and pulling you up. 

Your jaw tensed as you ground your teeth together.

“You seem angry, princess. Tell me, what’s up?” He cooed, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You’re such a prick, thinking you know everything all the fuckin’ time, well you don’t. Just ‘cause I sucked your cock doesn’t mean you’re in charge.” You muttered. 

“Oh? It doesn’t? So I’m not in charge? So, if I said, oh I dunno… If you behave and do as you’re told, I’ll let you cum as many times as you want but if you don’t well then… No orgasms for you, princess.” He chuckled, slowly trailing his hand down your arm and across your clothed breasts before he stroked the front of your damp panties. “Your move, baby girl.”

You shivered at his touches, his fingers ghosted over your panties and it took everything within yourself to not grab his hand and just rub up against it like a dog in heat. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, closing your eyes in despair. “Fine. Fuck.” You whimpered as Joel passed his fingers over your clothed heat again. “Fine! You’re in charge. Fine. Happy?” You yelled in defeat.

Joel laughed and kicked his boots off to the side so his trousers could follow suit. He peeled his jacket off before removing his old t-shirt, there he was, stood before you and completely naked. 

Your eyes roamed the expanse of his naked skin and appreciated every inch; for his age, he was fit and not in a sickly way. He was slim but broad in his shoulders, his arms were thick from handling guns and weapons during fights and his cock, you didn’t want to admit it but you needed more of it. 

“Take off your clothes and lay on the bed for me, spread your legs and show me that little cunt of yours.” He whispered in your ear before nudging you in that direction. 

You nodded albeit a little dumbly and did as your were told; you removed your ripped T-shirt from over your head and pulled off the old sports bra that contained your breasts, they fell from the fabric and Joel bit back a groan as he took in your body. You stepped out of your panties, and tossed them to the side, a thick damp strip staining the gusset of them. 

Joel’s hand pumped his cock slowly as he looked at you, his thumb rubbed the precum over his length and he hissed softly at the sensation. Your eyes were fixed on his as you slowly sank onto the bed, the tired springs beneath you creaked softly and you sat back, with your legs spread wide for the male. He could see your arousal from where he was stood, could see your sticky wetness that coated your slit already. 

“Touch yourself.” He commanded and you shook your head, your cheeks flushed in minor embarrassment. “Hm? I don’t recall asking. Fuckin’ touch yourself and show me, show me how you make yourself cum when no one is around.”

Your hands stroked over your breasts, your fingers toyed with your nipples and you whimpered as you gently pinched the buds. You allowed one of your hands to travel lower and finally, dip between your wet folds. You gently sunk a finger into your wet heat and moaned, your head fell back as you pumped your finger slowly inside of yourself. After a few seconds, you added another finger and you whined at the feeling of your walls stretching around your own digits. Your head was still lulled back and soft moans fell from your parted lips, Joel stood above you and pumped his cock as he watched on. 

“Look at me, I wanna see that pretty little face of yours as you fuck yourself for me.” He groaned. 

You lifted your head and almost instantly your eyes met, you were both fixated on one another’s gaze and it made something deep in your stomach twist and bubble. You knew you were close and you sped your fingers up to draw your orgasm closer. 

“Gonna cum.” You whispered, your breaths coming out in short and ragged spurts. 

“Ask me.” Joel shot back, speeding his hand up. “Ask for my permission like the good little girl I know you can be.”

“Fuck. Can I — can I cum?” 

“Can you cum… what?” He asked. 

“Please. Please can I cum. Please, Joel. Fuck. Need it so bad, please.” You whimpered pathetically, your hand working hard. 

“Mhm, good girl. That’s it. Fuckin’ look at me as you cum, that’s it. I wanna see your face when you cum. Good fuckin’ girl.” He cursed. 

Joel’s praises were all you needed to nudge you over the edge and tumble deep into your intense orgasm, your toes curled and thighs shook as you kept your direct eye contact with the male. Explicit curses fell from your lips like flowing stream and you shook heavily as you slowly started to come down. 

“Let me taste you.” Joel whispered, dropping to his knees and pulling you closer, he was careful to avoid your bandaged wound as he did so. 

He pulled your fingers from your wet heat and sucked them clean, groaning as he tasted your arousal for the first time. 

“So sweet. Tastes so sweet. All for me now, hm?” He asked and you replied silently with a nod of your head. 

Joel ducked his head down and without a second’s hesitation, he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth; his tongue lapped at the bud roughly and you all but screamed at him. It was intense, your hand flew to his head to grip harshly at his greying hair and it only caused the male to suckle at your bud harder. 

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking Christ, Joel.” You whimpered, your thighs trembling as he forced them open. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me. Cum with my mouth on your pretty clit.” 

You barely had a second to recover from your orgasm, you barely even came down from it and here Joel was, ripping another out of you almost instantly. If it didn’t feel so good, you would have shot him a snarky comment about it. 

Your fingers were shaking as they held onto Joel and your hips ground down to meet the males face harder as he elicited your second orgasm from you. Your hole clenched around air and you whimpered at the feeling of being so empty when all you wanted was to feel Joel’s cock inside of you. 

He flicked his tongue over your bud once more for good measure as you rode out your orgasm. Your stomach was heaving with the deep breaths you tried to suck in, your legs were shaking and you weren’t sure if you would be able to handle Joel fucking you. 

“On your knees, ass up and silence from you, I don’t wanna hear you arguing with me.” Joel muttered before he gently spanked your exposed pussy. 

You made a small noise, the slap sending ripples through your body. You nodded and scrambled on your shaking legs to get yourself into the position. 

Joel roughly manhandled your ass, he groped at the flesh roughly and spread you before he landed his hand down onto the smooth skin in a bruising spank. You let out of a yelp and tried to scarper away from his hands but instead he brought you back roughly and spanked you again but this time you let out a small moan. 

Satisfied with the response, Joel took his length and gently pressed the tip of his cock to your eager, wet hole. 

You whimpered and gently pushed your hips backwards, trying to encourage the man to hurry up but it only caused him to withdraw more and tut from behind you. You whined and shoved your face into your arms which were resting on the old mattress. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, princess. Tell me how bad you’ve wanted my cock all day.” He groaned, rubbing his fat cock head along your slit, letting it nudge at your clit with every pass. 

“Fuck you.” You spat out, not wanting to appease the male further. 

“I will if you just tell me, come on, sweetheart. Look at you, your needy hole is all but begging for me. I know you want it, so why don’t you be a good little girl and tell me how badly. Come on.” He cooed. 

You groaned and hid your face further into the crook of your arm, no one, not ever, had spoken to you like that during sex or sexual acts and you didn’t want to admit how much it was turning you on. You felt embarrassed at being so exposed to the male behind you and you felt your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze. 

“Fuck, Joel. Please.” You whined. 

“Please what? Hm? What d’ya want baby? Hm?”

“Joel, I’m not playing. Please. Please fuck me, I’ve wanted it so bad all day, c-couldn’t help but stare at your bulge earlier and imagine what it would feel like in me. Been soaked all day, was gonna wait until you were sleeping so I could rub my pussy and think about it. P-please.” You all but sobbed out, your voice sounded foreign as the words tumbled carelessly from your own lips. “I’m not even joking, if you tease me any more I’ll cum without either of us touching me and that’s just embarrassing for everyone. Please fuck me already, wanna feel your cum dripping out of my hole. Want you to fuck a baby into me.” The last sentence fell from your lips and you immediately wanted to withdraw. “I-I mean, I just. Fuck. Sorry. I’m just really turned on and I didn’t mean—.”

Joel didn’t give any more warning, he bottomed out into you with a deep groan and your fingers gripped at the sorry sheets beneath you both. 

“Fuckin’ hell, princess. So tight for me. You want me to fill you up with my seed? Hmm? Wanna see if I can get you pregnant, huh? Bet you’d like that, filthy little slut.” Joel snarled, his hips pushing against your ass hard enough to leave marks. 

He was relentless with his pace, his thick cock drilled in and out of your tight hole and you felt drunk, felt drunk on the high of your previous orgasms and felt drunk on the older male’s cock. 

You couldn’t help but squirm under Joel, his strong hands held you in place to ensure you didn’t move too much. 

“C’mon baby girl, quit your squirmin’ for me… gotta keep nice and still whilst I fuck my cum into you. Gotta make sure it gets nice and deep.” He groaned. 

You clenched around the male as he spoke, his words causing your walls to flutter around him and you moaned softly, your head still buried deep into your own arm. Your fingers were still gripping at the sheets for dear life as Joel fucked into you, his own fingers gripped roughly at the soft flesh of your hips. 

“J-Joel…” you whimpered weakly. “Please can I cum again? P-please.”

Joel smiled from behind you and released on of his hands so he could intertwine it into your messy hair; he pressed your face into the mattress below you and rolled his hips rhythmically. You whimpered under the pressure of the man and felt yourself fluttering around him, knowing that another orgasm was impending imminently. 

“Mhm, wanna feel your pretty little pussy cum on my cock. That’s it, atta girl. Such a good little whore for me, aren’t you? Taking me so well. Mmm, so proud of you, good baby.” He cooed, pulling his cock out to rub up against your clit. 

Your legs shook once more, the new sensation against your swollen clit driving you mad. He took his cock and roughly pressed it back into your wet heat and you groaned under him. You slid a hand under your bodies so your fingers could rub eagerly at your own clit, Joel noticed it and pressed your face hard into the rough fabric underneath you. 

Your fingers circled your clit and within seconds you were falling apart at the seams, you came around the male and your walls sucked him in deeper as you did so. 

His name fell from your lips like a spoken curse as you fell apart, your weak body collapsed as your orgasm ripped every shroud of energy you had left in you. Joel didn’t seem to mind, he more felt a sense of pride that he had this effect on you. 

He took both of your hips into his hands once more and sped his hips up, hungrily chasing his own high. 

“Such a good little pet for me, so beautiful when you’re fucked out. So obedient for me. Fuck. So good. Should fuck my seed into you so we can see you get all full and round, let everyone know in Jackson who you belong to. Eh? You like that?” Joel mumbled, his words barely stringing a sentence together between his ragged breaths. 

You nodded under the male eagerly and moaned weakly. Joel chuckled as he looked at your spent face and you clenched around him once again, that was all he needed and he was tumbling into his own orgasm. Joel bottomed himself out and held himself there, anchoring himself to you by your hips as you felt the first hot spurts of his cum coat your insides. You whined at the sensation of being so full of the male. 

“Fuck…” you whispered. 

Joel laughed gruffly as he collapsed on top of you, he barely held his weight up as he tried to suck down some deep breaths. After a few seconds, Joel finally built up the courage to collapse onto the sorry mattress next to you. The springs creaked loudly as he did so and you rolled onto your back with a wince, you knew you would be sore tomorrow for more than one reason. 

“Fuck!” You repeated, your mind slowly coming to terms with what just happened. 

“Not so cocky anymore, are you?” Joel laughed, leaning up on his elbows to peer down at you. 

“And yet, you’re still an asshole? Unbelievable.” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. 

“I prefer the term, consistent, darlin’.” He shot back, smugly before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

Joel got off the bed with a groan and quickly threw his clothes back on. 

“Take the first sleep, I’ll keep watch. Tomorrow we’ll go find those fuckers from today and make sure they don’t get anywhere near you again.” Joel said, softer this time. 

“You take the first sleep, y’always fall asleep on watch anyway. Old man. Can’t imagine how tired you are after fuckin’ that hard.” You teased back. 

“For once, just for once could you just listen to me and do as I say?” Joel huffed. 

“I just did… dunno if you remember? Your cock was inside of me? Pretty good. That’s all you’re gettin’ from me.” 

“Only pretty good? Huh…” Joel mumbled as he watched you dress yourself. “Guess I should give it another go and see if I can improve my score… and your manners since you seem to have forgotten them real quick.”

“Guess you should.” You replied quickly with a smirk. 

“Such a bitch.” Joel shook his head with a fond smile this time and quickly closed the distance between you both again. 

“Such an asshole.” You laughed and latched your lips onto his with a grin spread across your features. 

Maybe working with the older Miller again wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world, not anymore, anyway. 

——————————————————

————

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[macfrog]

wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k 

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.  

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

 So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

[tropes-and-tales]

Kind of a Sh*thead

(Rhett Abbott x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst; family-type healing; allusions to and threat of violence; bit of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5256

AN:  This was originally requested by @elegantmusicdragon from a long-ago Christmas prompt list: "trying to hide their sadness during the christmas celebration" from the sad christmas prompts? Definitely angst...maybe with a little hope at the end?"

AN: This is the next piece in the "Mending Fences" miniseries, found here.

It will shame Rhett in the future, how long it takes for him to realize what has happened. 

That night at the bar, he sat waiting for you:  nursing a beer, his eyes on the door, ready to get a little loose with you and maybe head out to the open range and fool around. 

Then Maria appeared in front of him.  Like magic.  Like an angel spirited back to Wabang and right in front of him.  It threw him off completely, his world tilting sideways  He found himself dazzled by the fact that the girl he pined over for years was suddenly in front of him, smiling, laughing, touching his arm and squeezing his bicep while he subtly flexed it under her fingers.

It wasn’t until last call that Rhett surfaced for a moment, the spell lifting for long enough to remember he was supposed to meet you, yet you were nowhere to be found.

She must have been held over late at work, he reasoned, and even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. 

It will shame Rhett in the future, but it will take months before he really feels that shame.  He’ll find out you left early for school, but by then, he will be entirely wrapped in the magic of Maria, dumb with lust and love that he thinks is finally reciprocated.  He'll send you a handful of texts, bland little things that you read but don’t respond to. 

Months later, when Wabang is sliding fast to a cold winter and Maria is gone again, disappeared as quickly as she appeared, Rhett will feel shame.

And you’ll be long gone.

*****

Wyatt wishes he knew what he was doing.  Hell, he’d be happy for an inkling.

When his sister and brother-in-law died, he didn’t even hesitate to step up and take his niece in.  No brainer.  Blood is blood, but Wyatt loved his sister something fierce, and taking you in was like holding on to a part of her even if she was gone. 

Didn’t hurt that Wyatt loved you for you.  That he had loved you from the first time his sister set you in his arms, a bundle only a few days old.  You’d set your wide eyes on him and blinked sleepily, then puked up a torrent of milk on him that reeked something fierce.

Love at first sight, it was.

But hell, love wasn’t enough, was it?  What did he know about raising a little girl?  What did he know of walking that tricky line between being overprotective and being too blasé, of giving you space but making you feel safe? 

Cecilia had stopped over a lot in the beginning, had soothed his fears.  Had reassured him that love was enough, that he was doing a good job.  He was kind and well-meaning, and you had been a smart kid who became a smart woman, and on the balance, he would have agreed with Cecilia and said he did alright.

Nothing about this feels alright, though.

Wyatt always guessed it was Rhett Abbott who left you stranded at that hotel when you were a senior in high school.  Little fucker skulked around that entire summer, scampered away like a cat with a lit tail when he saw Wyatt coming.  Something had happened between the two of you.

When you came back to Wabang finally, you took up with the little fucker again, and Wyatt thought maybe he had been unkind.  Ungenerous.  He tried to be nicer to Rhett, but the kid barely ever met his eyeline.

What the hell, Wyatt thought.  The Abbotts can be a squirrelly bunch.  As long as he doesn’t hurt her.

All those years ago at the hotel, Wyatt was never sure who it was that left you stranded and tear-streaked.  This time, though?

You confirmed it that evening when you got home, eyes unseeing as you charged past him, thundered up the stairs, started packing.  When he confronted you, you burst into tears and spilled the entire sorry affair.

You and Rhett, hanging out all summer.  You in love, and Rhett…not.  Not with you, anyway. 

Wyatt wasn’t stupid.  When you said hanging out, he could guess what you meant.

Seeing his niece hurt like that made him see red, but he has a modicum of maturity, which means he bides his time in most things. 

*****

Maria’s been gone for months.

You’ve been gone for longer.

Winter in Wyoming is no joke.  Wabang gets less snow than other parts, but the wind cuts marrow-deep, and the days are short, grey affairs.  The holidays could be a break from the doldrums, but Royal has been on a tear lately, lighting into Rhett for every little thing, so Thanksgiving, then Christmas are tense and joyless.

For the first time in his life, Rhett truly considers his future.  What his life may look like in five, ten, twenty years.  Will he always wake to grey mornings that sit on his chest like a stone?  Will he become bitter and mean, the way his father has despite having a wife and sons and a granddaughter? 

He sends you texts.  Little one-liners, asking how you are, saying he misses you.  He tries to feel you out, but you leave him on read and never respond.

Once, he gets blisteringly drunk and tries to call.  You don’t pick up, and he doesn’t leave a message.

By now, the shame has settled into him and made itself at home. 

He can guess that you came by the bar that night.  He can guess that you saw him and Maria, and that’s what caused you to flee.  Layered on top of the shame is an annoyance with you and your knack for running.  He may be an asshole but you’re a child to run and hide when shit gets tough.

Then, on top of the annoyance, another layer of shame.  Of course you run.  The death of your parents left you with that wound, the inability to handle hurt in a healthy way.  You flee and tuck yourself in a corner, tend your wounds alone.  It’s a flaw, but it’s understandable why you do it.

Rhett had been your best friend, and for the briefest summer, he was your lover too.  He should have been the one person to help you work through that fear.  Instead, he only cemented it further.

*****

March.  The leaden skies start to take on some blue, high up in the atmosphere.  The sun burns a little warmer.  The barnyard thaws into a swamp, and Wyatt has to handle the anxious animals, pawing and snorting and half-mad from a winter of cabin fever.

March is a tough month, though, because you call and tell him you aren’t coming back to Wabang for the summer.  You got a coveted internship with a specialty vet hospital in the city, and while Wyatt knows it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, it’s far easier to blame that fucking asshole Abbott boy.

It’s easy to blame Rhett when Wyatt eats dinner alone each night.  When he runs a vacuum over the floor of your bedroom, keeps it dust free like you may turn up any day and take your place back on the family ranch.  When he studies the row of family photos on the mantle, sees his sister’s face and feels like he’s failed her in the care of her daughter.

He’s not irrational about it.  He knows he has to let you fly and trust you’ll return.  Vet training is a long process—it’s not like you went off to Cheyenne for a handful of bookkeeping courses.  He knows, deep-down, you would have always left for your schooling.

Still, that fucking Abbott boy has built up a tab, in Wyatt’s eyes.  March is when that tab comes due.

-----

He knows the boy drinks at the Double Deuces.  It’s common gossip how he overdoes it and either gets ornery with the Tillerson’s or pukes himself silly in the parking lot.  There’s whispers of the fights between Royal and the boy, how the elder Abbott is tired of bailing out his youngest son, though no one would ever accuse Royal of having any patience, especially where Rhett is concerned.

If it were anyone else—any other dickhead young buck—Wyatt would chuckle in sympathy.  He used to do the same when he was younger.  He knows what the Wabang drunk tank looks like.  Hell, maybe his name is still there—he scratched it into the pea-green paint of the wall decades back to commemorate his first overnight stay.

But Wyatt doesn’t confront Rhett at the Double Deuces.  He doesn’t seek him out at all.

Rhett comes to him.

It’s a Saturday night, and Wyatt is lazing in front of the TV, watching the recaps of the week’s basketball games.  He’s half-asleep when he hears the heavy, scuffing tread of boots on his porch, then a thumping fist at the door.

When he peeks out of the window to see who it is, it’s the fucking asshole.  Rhett sways unsteady on his feet.  Wyatt opens the door, and he can smell the reek of cheap beer and brown liquor.  When he peers out farther, he can see where the fucking asshole parked his truck, half in the driveway and half in the yard, the tires sunk deep in the soft spring turf.

“You drive here like that?” Wyatt asks, though it’s obvious.

The kid nods.

Wyatt sighs, scrubs his hand over his jaw.  “Tell me you came from next door.  Tell me you were drinking at home and not out on the roads fucking loaded.”

Rhett stares at him, his eyes bleary and blood-shot, his blinks slow and deliberate.  “Came from t’bar,” he slurs.

“Fucking prick.”  Wyatt breathes it out. 

His vision wavers for a moment, the rage that courses through him is so hot and sudden.  He moves towards the kid just as Rhett sways towards him, and in a blink, Wyatt finds his hands on him, his sweat-dampened t-shirt twisted in his fists.  This close, the beer fumes make his eyes water, and when Wyatt studies the kid’s face, he sees blank stupefaction. 

“You fucking little prick.”  He pivots, turns, hauls Rhett away from the front door, down off the porch.  He half-drags, half-carries him, and once they are on the soft grass of the front yard, Wyatt shoves him away.

“Stupid, selfish.  So fucking selfish.”  The rage feels good, like a narcotic in his veins.  “You could have killed someone, driving like this.”

“I didn’t…”  Rhett sways on his feet, struggles to get his balance.  “Didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t t-think—”

Wyatt is on him again, his hands firm on Rhett’s chest as he shoves him in earnest, sends the kid stumbling back on his ass.  “You never fucking think, do you?  Jesus fucking Christ, my sister…her husband…they were killed by a fucking drunk driver, and you have the fucking balls to…you asshole…you fucking piece of shit.  You—”

But he can’t even finish.  His sister and brother-in-law, your parents.  Years ago now, but the pain is still fresh, a keen edge of a knife blade that takes his breath away.  It was after a rodeo, a random Saturday.  One stupid fucking decision and Wyatt lost his family, you lost your parents, and the rest of the world had the bad taste to keep on going. 

There’s a roadside memorial on the road out of Wabang that marks the site of the crash.  It makes that knife blade of grief twist in Wyatt’s gut every time he sees it.

Anger—rage—is such a close neighbor to grief.  Grief is something one has to feel, but anger?  That’s something to embrace, to lean into.  To do.

Wyatt advances on Rhett, his big fists opening and closing as the kid struggles to get back on his feet.  Wyatt wants to beat the shit out of him, wants to see him bruised and bloodied on the ground:  for hurting you years ago, for hurting you more recently, and now this.  For taking his life and the life of anyone else on the road into his own stupid, selfish hands.

Rhett manages to find his knees, and he kneels in the grass but can seem to get no further.  Wyatt towers over him.

“Get up,” he orders.  His voice is low, deadly, and his tone must penetrate the booze-fog because the kid tilts his head up and looks at him. 

“Get up,” he repeats.  “Get up and face it like a man.”

Rhett only manages a dumbfounded, “huh?”

“You wanna drive a big truck like a big man?  Drink at the Double D’s like a big fucking man?  You wanna fuck around with my niece and break her fucking heart like a big man?  So stand up and take what’s coming to you like a man.”

The kid seems to track Wyatt’s meaning.  His bleary eyes clear a fraction and fix on where Wyatt’s fists wait, eager to offer some payback for his sins.  Rhett nods, as if to himself, and he takes a deep breath.  Closes his eyes, opens them.  He struggles to stand, staggers a little, but eventually finds his feet.

“Make it her.”  It comes out one slurred word, makeither, and Wyatt’s anger cools by the barest degree.  He unclenches his fists, holds them looser.

“What the fuck you trying to say?”

Rhett coughs, sways.  Coughs again, then enunciates, clarifies.

“Make it hurt.  Make sh…sure.  Make sure it hurts.”

Wyatt’s fists uncurl more.  “Now what are you—”

“Am.  Piece of shit.  I am.”  The kid sways more but takes a wide step, braces his legs wide to keep himself upright.  “Y’right.  Imma piece a’shit.”

As quickly as Wyatt’s rage came on him, it flees him just as fast.  He sees it just as clear as day, how Rhett Abbott ain’t a man.  He’s just a boy playing at it, fucking up as he goes.  Wyatt knows as well as anyone the sort of father the kid has, Royal Abbott is no model of what a man should be. 

The kid standing in front of him is just a hurt animal:  hurt by his own father, hurt by his own behavior because he has no idea how to not take out his hurt on others.

He waves his hand at the kid, a dismissive gesture, and he starts to turn away.  He is halfway back to the house when he hears the kid coming for him, feels the weak glancing blow of the punch that has no aim or power because the kid is too drunk.

He wants to be punished, he thinks as he turns back around to face Rhett.  He knows Royal is hard on his youngest son, can guess that the kid’s been knocked around plenty.  His own father…well, he keeps that buried in the past, but sometimes it pops up like a bad penny.  Like now. 

He wants to be hurt because it’s the only thing he knows, he thinks.  Like I used to.

Maybe Wyatt only fell into fatherhood because of a tragedy, but he gets more of it right than he will ever give himself credit for.  He faces the kid, and when the kid comes swinging at him again, spoiling for a beat-down Wyatt will never deliver after all, Wyatt only opens his arms and lets Rhett step into them.  The kid struggles for a beat but he’s drunk, and he seems tired down to his soul.

It only takes a moment for the kid to stop struggling in Wyatt’s bear-hug, then sag against him in exhaustion, then weep in dry, barking sobs that feel like they’ve been building up for his entire life.  And Wyatt knows exactly what sort of pain the kid is bleeding out because it was his pain, and his sister’s too, until they both fled their unhappy childhood home and made a happier one here on this ranch.

“Christ almighty,” Wyatt says after the kid calms.  He doesn’t let him go—he only gets an arm around his shoulders, and he leads him inside. 

No sense sending him home to his father.  He’s here now, so he might as well sleep it off on the couch.

-----

It’s less than a month before Rhett returns.  Maybe a handful of weeks later, the kid turns up on Wyatt’s step, sheepish.  Looking small.

Wyatt will never be clear exactly why Rhett and Royal fall out so terrifically.  Who can say?  The Abbotts can be squirrelly fucking assholes, back to Royal’s father and probably even further back, but Rhett finds himself kicked out with nowhere to go.

He takes the couch for a night, but the next day, Wyatt thrusts some fresh sheets in the kid’s arms and directs him to the guest room down the hall.  Past your bedroom.

“Might sleep better in an actual bed,” he tells the kid, his voice gruff.

“I’ll be out as soon as I can.”  Rhett’s ears burn red in shame.  “Just gotta line up a place.”

“No rush.”

“Seriously, I’ll—”

“I got plenty of room.  You ain’t putting me out.”

-----

Wyatt is never sure the right way to tell you that Rhett Abbott is currently crashing with him.  A month passes and then another, and he starts to feel guilty that the kid who broke your heart has been living down the hall from your childhood bedroom, sitting at your kitchen table.  That he parks his truck beside yours, and that he’s caught the kid—more than once—lingering by your bedroom door, lingering by your truck, like your ghost might manifest if he stands still enough.

Every time you call.  Each Facetime.  Wyatt wants to say something and doesn’t.

Wyatt ends up taking the coward’s way out:  he sends you an email.  Keeps it short and sweet, apologizes for not saying anything sooner.  He alludes to the situation between father and son, but clarifies that Rhett is in no way forgiven for how he treated you.  It’s just that the kid needed a soft place to land, and he had the ability to help, so he felt it was his God-given duty to do so.

But I can ask him to leave, if you want, he writes.  If it makes you uncomfortable.  You’ll always be my first and top priority, kiddo.

It takes you two days to reply, but that means nothing.  You have a brutal schedule and often go radio silent for stretches of time.  When you do reply, it makes Wyatt smile.

I can’t be mad about it, you write back.  How many times did you look the other way when I brought a stray home?  I guess you deserve a stray of your own.  Might want to take him in for his shots though. :-) 

Wyatt grins when he reads your email, then glances over at where Rhett is sitting on the couch, watching TV.  The kid does act like a stray; he cringes the barest bit if Wyatt moves too suddenly or too close to him, but like a stray, he relishes the comfort of a warm home, food in his belly, and even the tamest praise.

You got a heart of gold, kiddo, Wyatt texts you, and your response is immediate.

Got it from my uncle.

-----

Through the summer and autumn, the two men fall into a rhythm.  It isn’t so bad living with the kid, once he starts to get his sea-legs under him.  Once he starts to feel like the bottom won’t drop out.  Rhett puts in an honest day’s work on the ranch, and Wyatt pays him.  The first time he presses money on the kid, he tries to push it away, embarrassed at what he thinks is more charity on top of the charity of room and board…

“You work for me, you work for me,” Wyatt said, blunt.  “Means you get paid by me.  Take it or leave.”

Wyatt won’t know it until years from now, when he’s an old man and Rhett has grey in his own hair, but this stretch of time—the two men working and living together—is when Rhett starts to learn how to be a man.  That Wyatt is the gruff but kind, slightly awkward father-figure Rhett always needed.

There are lessons embedded in their days working the ranch.  The lessons ease Rhett out of the fog of his life, the strange liminal space of being in his early twenties but still just a kid.

When Rhett royally fucks up a stretch of fencing, ruins a day of work.  Wyatt only grunts, shakes his head, then claps Rhett on the back.

“You can either take the time to plan out a job, or plan on doing the job twice,” is all he says, and he guesses that Royal would have belted his son into the dirt for such an error.

When Wyatt tasks Rhett with a simple rewiring job in the barn, replacing some light fixtures, and the kid has no idea where to even start.  He spends half the day sweating about it, a sick feeling churning in his stomach, until he decides to throw up the white flag and admit he has no experience working with electrical fixtures.

“Well, hell, kid.  Why didn’t you say something?”  Wyatt jerks his chin towards the barn.  “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

When at the rodeo, Rhett is tossed from the bull within seconds, a humiliating display.  Afterwards, his body bruised but his ego far worse off, Wyatt only chuckles at him, says life will throw you off like that sometimes and it’s the getting back up that shows character.

“You got back up,” he tells Rhett.  “That means something.”

“Means I didn’t want to get trampled,” he grumbles.

“Still means something.”

-----

Always, though, there’s the specter of you.

Wyatt catches the kid standing in the doorway of your bedroom sometimes still.  Peering in at the time capsule of your stuff:  the clothes you’ve left behind, the framed photos, the beat-to-shit stuffed bear on your bed. 

Wyatt mentions you in passing, but he never brings up that long-ago night at the hotel or your sudden flight from Wabang the summer before.  He guesses Rhett already feels terrible all the time, so why bother bringing it up and making it worse?

The kid eventually broaches the subject all on his own, just as winter descends on Wabang again.  It’s been over a year since either of them have seen you in person, though Wyatt Facetimes you at least once a week.

Rhett makes himself scarce during those calls, but Wyatt’s always had the impression he’s not far off, maybe straining to make out your voice through the wall.

In early December, you break the news that you aren’t coming home for the holiday break.  Wyatt would suspect that Rhett might be the reason, but your eyes practically glitter with excitement as you talk about a massive stray animal sweep you’ve helped plan, a Christmas-into-New Years take-to-the-streets movement to find and rescue as many street dogs and cats as you can.  You’ve been working with local Girl Scouts to build feral cat cold-weather shelters, and you’ve been raising money and donations, and you’ve built a strong foster network, and local clinics are ready to spay and neuter and administer vaccines—

Heart of gold, indeed.  It makes Wyatt tear up, first from so much pride it feels like his chest might burst, then from that knife edge of grief that his sister isn’t here to see what a force for good her daughter turned into.

When Wyatt breaks the news to Rhett later, though, the kid sorta deflates, and that’s when he brings it up himself.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbles.  “She’ll never come back if I’m here.”

“Not true.”  Wyatt goes to the refrigerator and snags two bottles of beer, then hands one off to Rhett.  He settles in his easy chair and studies the kid.  “You know she loves animals.  She’ll come back eventually.”

“She hates me.”

“Nah.  I don’t know if hate is something she can even feel.  Dislike, maybe.  Disappointment.  Not hate.” 

“She should hate me.  I deserve it.”

And then it spills out, one clipped sentence at a time.  The entire history of you two, from best friends in childhood to passing acquaintances to an awkward moment in a hotel that Wyatt now knows was not actual sex but just some fooling around that ended in cruel words.  When Rhett gets to the part of the story about your summer together, Wyatt holds up a palm, says, “yeah, don’t want the details at all,” and Rhett slouches against the couch and sighs.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her, you know.  Sounds fucking stupid, but at the time, I didn’t even realize what I was doing to her.”  Rhett glances over at the man, fixes his eyes back on the floor.  “Looking back, it felt like I was sleepwalking through that summer, and now I’m awake and see all the damage I did.”

Wyatt chuckles sadly.  He knows the feeling.  He has his own hurt women in his past, experienced the same sort of heartless sleepwalking. 

The kid shakes his head and continues.  “Wasn’t worth it.  Maria, I mean.  I don’t even know what I saw in her. 

“You were thinking with the wrong brain,” he tells Rhett.  Wyatt may have no lost love for Maria Olivaries, but he’d admit she was a pretty gal.  He could see why the boys went a little stupid around her. 

“Wasn’t thinkin’ at all.”  Rhett says your name, a sigh in his mouth, then adds, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Look.”  Wyatt sets his empty beer bottle aside, leans forward.  “You gotta try to make it right with her.  How you square it up is up to you.  Maybe she’ll forgive you, maybe she won’t, but you gotta make an honest try at it.”

“How?”

“Damned if I know.  But take it from me, kid.  I had a girl when I was your age, and I fucked it up completely.  Even once I realized how badly I fucked up, I was too proud to try and set it right.  Now it’s been years and it’s far too late.  So you gotta try, so even if she never forgives you, it’ll set right in your chest that you did everything you could.”

Rhett stares at him for a long beat, then nods.  Then there’s a beat of glassiness in his eyes, near-tears, that Rhett blinks away almost angrily before he turns and clears his throat.

“I don’t mean to, you know.  I don’t mean to be a piece of shit,” he says, his voice rough-edged.

“Aw hell, kid.”  Wyatt heaves himself out of his chair and starts to make his way back to the kitchen for another beer.  He stops in front of where Rhett sits, slouched over, and he lays a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit,” he tells him.  “I just think you’re kind of a shithead.”

Rhett snorts.  “What’s the difference?”

“First one is a lost cause,” Wyatt says.  “Second one is just an idiot trying to do his best.  Like most of us.”

*****

Christmas day at a bachelor’s ranch is not as sad as it might seem.

Wyatt brings in a tree but they only throw some lights on it to give it a bit of cheer.  They build a fire in the fireplace, exchange no gifts, settle in and watch the football games.

Christmas dinner is a pot of Wyatt’s ulcer-inducing chili and a pan of cornbread.  Cecelia drops by in the morning with a plate of cookies and a handful of gifts for Rhett, but it’s just the two guys for most of the day.

Until you call to Facetime your uncle.

You take Rhett unawares; you call off-schedule.  You usually call in the evening but this is the afternoon, and Wyatt mutes the football game and take the call from the couch.  Rhett starts to stand up, but the man waves him to sit back down.  No need to hide out like he usually does.

So Rhett gets a full accounting of your life from you directly.  He can hear your voice, and you sound like you have a sore throat.  You tell your uncle about your big rescue mission, how it’s bitterly cold in the city but how you’ve saved so many dogs, so many cats, and how you can’t wait to head back out after you warm up a bit.

“I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas,” you tell Wyatt.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Your uncle glances over at Rhett, nods in his direction.  “We’re doing okay for a couple of guys.”

“You decorate a tree?”

“Just string lights.”

“The prettiest part of a tree anyway.  What about dinner?”

“Chili.”

You laugh, and the sound makes Rhett smile – when was the last time he heard it? 

“Happy Birthday, Jesus.  Here’s some indigestion,” you joke.

“Good thing the kid went to Costco and got a gallon bucket of Pepto,” Wyatt jokes back.

It draws another laugh, which makes Rhett laugh, which makes you stop and ask your uncle if Rhett is there too.

“He is,” Wyatt admits.  “We’re watching the football game.”

There’s a beat of silence from you that seems to stretch out forever but is probably only a second or two. 

“Merry Christmas, Rhett,” you say, and Wyatt hesitates, then tilts the screen so Rhett can see you and you can see him.  He almost doesn’t want to look but he can’t help himself.

You’re smiling at him.  Not as broadly as you usually smile when you’re delighted in something or someone, but it’s a medium-sized one that touches the corners of your eyes. 

It’s genuine.

It’s a place to start.  It’s a sliver of hope.  It’s not a door slamming shut in his face but a door left ajar by a fraction, and maybe Rhett can toe it open if he can just find the right way to try and square things up with you.  It’s confirmation that he’s not a piece of shit, just kind of a shithead, and if he tries his best, maybe that will be enough.

“Merry Christmas,” he replies, and if you notice the gruffness in his voice, you don’t react.

“Thanks.” 

Wyatt holds his phone there a moment, starts to turn it back to him, but Rhett blurts out, “be careful out there, okay?” so Wyatt turns it back.

Your smile grows the barest bit.  “Will do.”  A pause.  “Don’t let my uncle work you too hard.”

A toe in the door.  A sliver of hope.  The fire snaps in the fireplace and the string lights twinkle on the tree, and Rhett may be an idiot just trying his best, but maybe that’s enough.

“I barely work at all,” he jokes.  “Gotta leave plenty of work for you when you come back.”

It makes you chuckle.  It’s not a laugh, but it’s something.

“In that case, Uncle Wyatt, work him into the ground,” you joke back, and Wyatt turns his phone back to him this time, and Rhett is left with perhaps a bit more than a sliver of hope.  He leans back against the couch and thinks that yes, maybe he can salvage this after all. 

Maybe trying his best will be enough.

[nyrasproblm]

Ignorance: part 1/?

Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: ANGST, mention of deaths, typical canon violence, end of the world, Jackson!Joel.

note: this story had already been posted before my blog was deleted and is also available on AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. Your tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

 

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

 

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

 

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

 

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

 

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

 

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

 

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: your house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

 

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

 

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

 

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

 

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

 

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

 

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

 

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

 

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

 

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

 

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

 

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

 

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

 

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

 

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

 

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

 

"I really like you."

 

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

 

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

 

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

 

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

 

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

 

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

 

"If you give me a chance to–"

 

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

 

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

 

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

 

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

 

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

 

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

 

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

 

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

 

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

 

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

 

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

 

"Right. I'm sorry." You turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

 

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

 

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

 

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

 

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

 

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

 

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

 

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (V)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader; Barça x reader (platonic)

Summary: Frido has to confront that she could lose you forever. Will she act?

Warnings: some mildly suggestive content but that's about it

A/N: the final part!! let me know if you guys want a short epilogue or something :) thank you for sticking with this little series I hope you enjoyed it! as usual everything I write is fiction and does not reflect players' real lives

Word Count: 2.9k

PREVIOUS PART

You suspected that Alexia was planning something to make you feel better. You had cried through the night, and although she hadn't come to check on you, her face when you saw her the next morning let you know she was worried. She silently slipped you breakfast and gave you a hug, still not fully aware of the issue but willing to be there for you nevertheless.

You were in better spirits for practice that day. Mostly you were just happy to be cleared for play. Jona was still being careful with you, but the med team green lit your participation on Friday. That meant you had been practicing a lot with Patri when you could, wanting to be in good form. She was taking it easy on you,  you knew, but it still helped to get you back into the swing of things. Plus, it was difficult to be depressed with Patri around. She kept you laughing constantly with her stupid jokes and teased you just the right amount to make it feel like your problems weren't insurmountable. 

At break you spotted Alexia and Mapí chatting quietly, glancing over at you now and then. After a few minutes you excused yourself from your conversation with Salma and went over to investigate. 

"Hola Mapí, Ale," you smiled, knocking lightly into Mapí's shoulder. "What are you two up to?"

Mapí grinned at you, but said nothing. You could tell whatever she was hiding had her pleased with herself.

"Are you free Friday after our match with Athletico?" Alexia asked.

You nodded.

"I don't have any plans."

"Keep it that way." Mapí replied, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and smiled back.

"I don't even want to know…" You muttered.

-

You had kept your promise and left the evening after the Athletico match free. Ana Maria had come over for dinner, seemingly in on the plan Alexia and Mapí had cooked up. You brushed it aside, however, because you missed the Swiss national like crazy. Just getting to talk with her for a night made you realize how much you benefitted from talking to her about anything. She had some of the best advice of anyone you had ever met. 

At around ten Alexia arrived at your door, ready to pick the two of you up. She praised your outfit as you stepped out of the apartment, causing you to blush bright red. 

The club Alexia took you to wasn’t one you had ever been to before. It was fairly small, but clearly popular as there was a line to get in. 

“We don’t have to wait,” Alexia said to you, waving to the bouncer as he let you all through, “The other girls are waiting for us inside.”

The inside of the club was stylish, you had to admit. It was somewhere between an 80s dive and a modern dance club. Disco blared from the speakers, and the entire place was drowning in purple light. 

-

It didn’t take long for you to find your way to the dance floor after saying your hellos and accepting the drinks Mapí pushed at you. 

At first Patri had accompanied you to the floor, the two of you laughing and fooling around to a few songs until she was called back to the table. You could take care of yourself. 

Not ten minutes after Patri left you found yourself dancing with a woman whose eye you had caught a couple of times. She was beautiful, that much was obvious, and you didn’t mind in the slightest when she slid behind you and began to match your movements. 

You felt the woman's hands on your hips as she held you close to her front. The two of you moved fluidly together. She smelled citrusy, her hair was long and dark, and her accent suggested Italian. Either way, you were interested. 

She seemed interested in you too, if her eyes were any indication. Her hands gripped your ass firmly as she turned you around in your embrace. She was taller than you, so you had to lean up to capture her lips in a kiss. You vaguely heard someone cheer in the background but decided to ignore it.

"Your friends seem to approve," the woman said close to your ear. 

You laughed.

"Well, I know how to pick them," you flirted back. 

You were having a great time, honestly. It was refreshing to be out and a little drunk and not worry about any of your shit. It could wait until tomorrow.

The woman pulled you back into another kiss, letting her hands roam across your back and into your hair. She tasted of alcohol and something sweet, maybe watermelon or cantaloupe. You made your mind up then that if she asked, you would go home with her.

"I'm gonna get a drink, do you want another?" She mumbled into your ear.

"I'm all good," you smiled, moving a bit of hair from her face. "I'll wait for you."

She smiled at you, teeth slightly crooked in an endearing way. The way she unabashedly wanted you made your heart soar. It was more than just her, it was the confirmation that this was possible. You didn't have to be hidden.

You glanced back at the Barça girls who were dancing and chatting not far from you. Patri gave you a thumbs up, as did an enthusiastic Mapí. You let Salma take your hand and spin you around playfully. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Except Frido.

You didn't notice her at first. She was with Ingrid, dancing, though she seemed distracted and a little drunk. Her eyes flicked to yours, then away quickly. You didn't know she was coming tonight. Alexia hadn't said anything, though it was probably not to hurt you. You felt your heart clench at just the sight of her. Immediately your mood had slightly deflated. Was it impossible for you to go one day without being haunted by her?

You saw Salma notice where you were looking and she turned you so you were facing the opposite direction. 

"Don't worry about her, she's just in a mood. That Italian is so into you. You should totally go for it."

Soon enough your dancing partner had returned with a drink. She pressed the back of her fingers to your cheek affectionately. "Do you want to keep dancing?" 

You nodded, shooting her a smile. 

This time, as you hung onto the Italian’s hips and let her run her hands across your skin, you couldn’t help but have your eyes flick back to Frido’s. Too frequently for it to be an accident. And she was always, always, looking back at you. Her face was somewhere between fury and heartbreak. Let her come and stop me if she wants, you thought to yourself. 

The Italian’s hands drifted to your ass, pulling you closer until you were practically grinding on her thigh every time you moved. You would never normally do something like this, not anywhere where someone could see you. Surely even your teammates were a bit surprised. You were usually quite controlled and sweet, nothing that suggested the way you were dancing right now. 

“If you want her to stop, you’ve got to talk to her. Now.” Alexia said in Frido’s ear. 

Her moping was obvious now. Everyone had noticed. 

You needed some fresh air. The lights were beginning to irritate you, as was the heat of the bodies surrounding you. You leaned up to the Italian’s ear and let her know that you were stepping outside for a second. She grinned at you and promised she would be out soon, after she used the restroom and grabbed her bag from coat check. 

Frido saw you heading for the door. She saw the woman you were with smile at you, saw her wave, knew what was going to happen if she let the two of you leave together. 

-

“What are you doing here, Frido?” you snapped as the blonde called your name. 

She looked distraught. You had to swallow your concern. 

“Please,” she took a steadying breath, “please just listen to me. Then you can go if you want. But please.” 

You looked at the door, nervous that your Italian would walk out at any moment. 

Frido was still looking at you with that face, that face you found very difficult to say no to. 

You sighed. 

“Okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I know I already apologized but it wasn’t what I wanted to say. I messed it up, like I’ve messed everything between us up for the past year.”

Frido moved closer, you felt your back hit the brick wall of the alley. There was a group of people smoking who ignored you completely. 

Frido sank to her knees in front of you. 

“I want to make it up to you,” 

She was begging, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. You sucked in a breath, looking around you again for people who might be watching. The ground beneath you was filthy. You tugged on her hand, trying to pull her up, but she stayed put.

“Fridolina…”

“I’m serious. Not just for what I did to you during the game. All of it. I treated you like shit and you didn’t deserve it.”

“No, I didn’t.” You said harshly, the anger back all at once. “You acted like I was just some kind of dog who would come bounding up to you every time you threw it a bone. I’m not gonna do that.”

“I know—”

“I don’t believe you. I won’t believe it, either, until you show it to me. Your words mean nothing to me.” 

Frido sat back on her knees, mouth shut. Now you were the one who was letting everything you had wanted to say this whole time pour out.  

“You didn’t want anyone to know about us. I can’t do that anymore. You didn’t want us to be seen in public, ever. I don’t want that, not long term. You wouldn’t let me meet your family, or your friends. You wouldn’t let me stay in your apartment. I can’t do any of that. I want to be treated like your fucking equal. Because that’s what I am.” 

Frido nodded.

“You are. You’re better than me.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not better than you. We’re peers. If we’re going to do this I want to be your partner, not your doormat, not your idol.” 

You pulled her up until she was standing before you, not close enough to reach out and touch, not quite. You tilted your head to look in her eyes. The seconds seemed to drag on for hours. 

She brushed the dirt from her knees, massaging the one she had injured for a split second.

“Come here.” You said softly. 

Frido took a step forward, hesitant. 

“I missed you.” She whispered. 

You could barely hear it, but you nodded just the same. 

“I thought you hated me.” She continued. 

You waited, not sure what to say.

“Please, don’t hate me.” 

Suddenly you caught a glimpse of the Italian out of the corner of your eye. She was by the front of the building looking for you. 

“Wait here.” 

You didn’t check to see if Frido nodded or not before you went to find the Italian woman. You weren’t going home with her, but you felt obligated to at least explain. Besides, she seemed to understand when you told her it was an emergency with one of your teammates, simply pressing her number on a piece of paper into your palm and kissing your cheek. 

You turned back to the alley, catching Frido’s eye.

-

The cafe you arrived in was tiny, a true hole in the wall. You had been there many times with your seemingly unbreakable night owl habits. The staff knew you by name, and your order often arrived on your table before you had to say a word. The interior was a bit run down: the upholster was cracked on the leather couch, a few quilts thrown over it in an attempt to hide the fact. Miscellaneous chairs were positioned at small glass tables, many of which had newspapers and dried flowers stacked on top. It was homey and hardly anyone knew about it since it was tucked in an alleyway in a relatively quiet part of the city. 

You hadn’t taken Frido here. The only person you trusted with it was Patri, and she had been sworn to silence. You had insisted that she put her phone away and refrained from putting it on her story. The last thing you needed was a million fans infiltrating the one space except from your apartment you felt was really yours.

“This is nice,” Frido said softly, treading cautiously even with her voice. 

She took a look around, absorbing all of the little details of the room before her. It smelled lovely—mostly of tea and sugar from the pastries in the display. It was mostly empty except for the couches in the back where a few college students were still working. 

“It’s my favorite place in Barcelona.” 

Frido shifted her gaze to you, her lips curved in a small smile. The olive branch wasn’t lost on her. The fact that you had brought her here at all was a chance, a door cracked open slightly and waiting for Frido to push it all the way open. You wanted things to work too, the two of you just had to figure out how to make that happen. 

You ordered for the both of you as Frido chose a table. 

“Thank you,” Frido said as you placed her tea and biscuits in front of her. 

She took a small sip of the drink, preparing herself for the conversation. You could feel the difference from the last time the two of you met. Now Frido seemed determined instead of scared. 

“I want to try to make this work, if that’s what you want too.” 

You took a breath, trying to tamper your joy a little bit. 

“I do. But I hope you can understand why I’m hesitant. What happened before really hurt me, Frido.”

Frido put her hand on the table with her palm facing upwards, leaving the invitation open to you.

“I can’t apologize enough for what I did to you. I was horrible. But I want to change. I will change. I’m not afraid anymore.” 

“Can you just tell me why you did it? At least something? I think if I understand how you felt, I’ll be able to move on more.”

You took her hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze. 

“I was being selfish. I was terrified of how I was feeling—I told myself I wasn’t queer if it was just sex, no attachments. I didn’t want to deal with soul searching. Every time I let myself consider the fact that I wanted more than sex I started to question everything. I wasn’t sure who I was or what was real attraction and what I made up… I just couldn’t let go of that fear. And I let that control me: it was more important than our relationship, it was more important than what you felt, it was all I was clinging to.” 

You took a moment to process that. It made sense, though you obviously hadn’t known Frido felt that way. 

“What changed?”

You were afraid to ask, but you needed to know. 

“I realized what we have is more important than the fear; and I don’t have to have everything figured out. I want to be with you, that’s what matters.”

You honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It seemed like a dream come true. All you had wanted for months was this conversation. Frido had finally said it: she wanted to be with you. She had feelings for you. She cared. 

“I’m not sure what to say…” Frido rubbed the back of your hand with her thumb comfortingly. “I wanted to hear this so badly for so long. It seems too good to be true.” 

“It’s not. I’m here, I was an idiot before and thankfully I woke up before I lost you completely.” 

Frido scootched her chair around the table so she could be closer to you. She put a hand gently on your thigh, giving you a smile. You place yours overtop of hers, feeling giddy. Your pulse was racing as if you had consumed too much caffeine. You finally saw a future between you and Frido, something you had lost months ago. Maybe this could really be something. Maybe the two of you could be happy. Maybe you could make this work. 

“So what do we do now?’

“I guess you let me take you on a date so I can do this properly.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Can you do a grumpy ii in spin check or smth? He deserves more loving. Thx!

This also has interactions with other members. Hope you will like it!

Code: cranky little man

“Code: cranky little man. Help.” was the message you received from IV about an hour after the rehearsal had started. And quite frankly you weren’t all that surprised considering that II was already grouchy in the morning before he left. Meaning that you had practically dragged him out of bed, bribing him with homemade dinner once he got back.

“What have you done now” you fired back, knowing that as much as they loved each other they also had a passion for pissing each other off. “I’m offended that you’re blaming me”, was all IV responded with before another notification dinged. This time a picture of your boyfriend with his face first on his drums graced your screen. A slight chuckle slipped past your lips as you quietly saved the image. “Leave my eepy baby alone”, you typed back quickly. Shaking your head you reached for one of II old shirts before throwing little things you might need into your purse.

“Maria, Joseph, and the donkey”, III raised his arms in the air when you made it to the studio thirty minutes later, “The savior is here”. You cackled, placing bags with food and drinks to the side, “Forgot the halo boys, my apologies”, you snickered. “I smell food”, IV practically chirped rubbing his palms together, before digging through the options available. “Hey, share”, you pointed a finger at him, making him lift his hands in surrender, “Yes, Mom”.

You just shook your head at him before grabbing the biggest cup of coffee planet Earth had seen, “Four shots, no sugar”, you muttered, setting the drink next to Vessel who reached out an arm to pull you into a side hug. “You’re the best”, he mused before turning back to the sheets with lyrics.“Bringing offerings like a good girl”, IV whistled, popping another fry into his mouth. “Oj, pipe it down”, II grunted stepping back into the room.

“What are you doing here?”, a slight frown crossed his features. Not the kind that suggested that you were unwanted there. More a surprised one, since you both had agreed that your personal life should be separate from the band's life. “Thought I would pop in to surprise you”, you smiled at him but he only tilted his head to the side, clearly not buying any of it.

“Okay, maybe I got a code red from someone”, you admitted with a slight shrug. “Fucking snitches”, II muttered under his breath before reaching out for you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You could feel the tension in his body even from such a small action. “What’s wrong?”, you whispered, leaning in to press a loving kiss on his neck. “Nothing”, he shook his head but just glared at him, “Yeah, you are lying through your teeth”.

II stayed ridged for a moment. Running through his thoughts in his head before letting out a sigh, “Just not my day, nothing sounds good”. You hummed at his words, running a hand up and down his back.“How’s your wrist?”, you asked so casually and the slight shock on your boyfriend’s face was understandable. “How did you…”, he cut himself off with a shake of a head.

“I’ll tape it for ya, come on”, you tapped his back a couple of times before pulling away and reaching for your bag. “You were rubbing it this morning…”, you pointed out, reaching for his hand. “That’s what she said”, III snickered, of course making IV laugh as well. “You’ll be eating drumsticks lads”, II grunted shooting them an annoyed look. But you just snickered alongside them, carefully taping the tender wrist.

“How does this feel?”, you looked up, making sure you hadn’t wrapped it too tight. “Good, a lot better”, II agreed with a sigh, “Thanks, bub”, his free hand rubbed the back of your thigh. “You’re more than welcome”, you mussed, leaning in to kiss his lips a couple of times. “Sit with me while i play”, he mumbled against your lips, both hands pulling you deeper into him as he held onto your hips. “I don’t want to bother you or the boys”, you muttered. “As if you could”, he needed forward pressing his head into your chest.