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[logistifies]

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[jobean12-blog]

Easy Ride

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Bucky has been dying to take you for a ride on his bike but you've been hesitant, having never ridden before, but when you're finally ready it turns out to be the best ride of your life.

Author's Note: I've been wanting to write some Biker!Bucky after seeing him in the new Thunderbolts trailer- so yum- and then the lovely @steviebbboi is hosting a writing challenge celebration and it worked out perfectly for the Biker AU trope! Thanks so much for hosting and congrats love! ❤️🥰Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by @firefly-graphics thank you so much sweet Daisy! 💕

PS Bucky is still a super soldier here and has his metal arm 😏

Warnings: Bucky on a motorcycle, he's soft and sweet but filthy too, he gives you everything you need, semi-public sex, oral sex (m rec), some curses, p in v

He’s wearing a triumphant grin as he sits on his bike, holding it up and letting it purr between his thighs.

“Ready for a ride doll face?”

You stand by the door of your apartment building, Bucky’s riding jacket draped over your shoulders, cocooning you in soft leather and his distinct scent.

It’s hard to resist him in any circumstance but especially this one…long, strong legs straddling the sleek bike, his soft tee shirt showing off the corded muscles of his right arm, painted with ink, and the shiny metal of his left arm gleams in the sun.

And then your eyes meet his and any reservations you have left start to dissipate in the reverent way he gazes at you.  

“You promise you won’t go too fast, right?”

“Only as fast as you want me to go,” he answers softly.

He pulls the helmet he bought just for you from the saddlebag. “I love this bike, and I love ridin’ it. But neither nearly as much as you. You’re safe with me doll.”

You bite your bottom lip when it starts to spread into a smile and take the final steps to meet him by the curb.

He helps you with the helmet, carefully placing it over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

You let out a sigh shaky with trepidation and he grabs your hand to tug you close.

“You’re mine baby doll,” he growls over the hum of the engine. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I know Bucky,” you whisper. “I trust you. It’s other people I worry about. Crazy drivers…the cabs.”

He nods in understanding and helps you onto the back of the bike, tugging your knees into position so you’re pulled tight against him.

You shift and gasp as the vibrations of the bike move through your body.

He grins and revs the engine.

“Hold on to me. Wrap your arms around me and if I lean a certain way, lean with me.”

“Ok,” you answer, circling your arms around his waist.

“I’m going to go slow around the neighborhood and if you like it we can go out of the city to more open roads.”

Your hands dig into his shirt and your thighs tighten around his hips when the engine roars to life. As promised, he takes it slow down the car lined streets, each turn getting you more comfortable.

When you reach your favorite book shop he rolls to s stop and cuts the engine.

“Why did you stop Buck?” you ask.

He holds back a laugh as he turns to you, tugging your helmet off to see your face better.

“I wanted to check on you,” he says softly. “We can keep riding if you like, or we can go buy some books?”

Your arms tighten around him in a hug. “As much as I want to buy more books I’d like to continue our ride.”

“Anything you want doll face.”

You can tell he’s happy with your answer and he kisses you hard and fast before securing your helmet once again.

This time he meanders through the city streets and gets on the highway, going North. The Hudson River sparkles under the setting sun and the longer you ride the more you relax and enjoy the view.

Once you reach a secluded spot at the edge of the Cloisters he slows and stops his bike, letting it idle as you look around.

“This place is beautiful,” you say in awe.

He helps you off and into his arms, your body sliding down every inch of his until your feet hit the ground.

“Just wait ‘til you see the rest of it,” he grins.

Your hands frame his face, and you cover it with kisses, pressing your lips to his forehead and then his cheeks, until he moves to capture your mouth.

“I can’t wait,” you whisper against his lips. “I love riding with you.”

He stares down at you, his eyes moving over every inch of your face as he leans in again, brushing his lips softly along your jaw until they meet your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Bucky tells you about the history of the old New York landmark as you explore it’s breathtaking architecture and lush gardens but with each step you take you can feel the tension building between you, the rush of the ride settling in your bones and growing with heat.

Hidden under one of the stone arches, he takes your face in his hands, roughened palms warm against your cheeks, and kisses you. His lips are a tease, teeth gently scraping across as he tilts your head back, pulling away just long enough to brush his nose along yours.

You slip your hands under his tee shirt, tracing the memorized lines of ink that shift with his flexing muscles. His fingers tremble with restraint and his soft noises come out tight and barely controlled.

With silent encouragement he leads you back to his bike and as you approach you tug him to a halt, giving the area a cautious glance. Dark has settled and while there are dim lights scattered around the grounds, his parking spot is hidden and it’s quiet, no sign of any other people close by.

You meet his gaze and thread your fingers through his hair.

“How quiet can you be?” you whisper.

“Doll,” he growls, tightening his grip on your waist.

You drop to your knees and work open his jeans, peeling them down his thick thighs to free his cock, already hard and aching.

You lick him, and then again, over, and up and down his length until he’s slick and wet and slides easily into your mouth.

His metal hand slips behind your head, guiding you carefully at first then then holding so he can push deeper with a groan.

He works to remain silent, occasionally letting out a hissing breath and pushing deeper as his fingertips dig into your scalp.

You curl your tongue and suck, loving the feel of his smooth and warm skin stretched tight in your mouth.

“Fuck doll,” he grits out, the sensations too much for him to take.

His hips jerk forward, shoving more of his cock down your throat as his release warms your tongue.

You clean up every last drop and neatly tuck him back into his jeans, standing and grazing your fingertips along his beard.

“You have until we get home to get hard again,” you tell him, pulling your helmet off the handlebars and waiting expectantly for him to help you back onto the bike.

“You better watch that mouth or I’ll bend you over my bike and fuck you until everyone hears.”

“Don’t tempt me with things I want.”

He leans over you, tucking two calloused fingers under your chin so your eyes are locked on his. “When I get you home, I’m taking what I want.”

You stifle your wanton moan and watch him throw one long leg over his bike, his jeans pulling tight against his straining thigh muscles. He starts the engine and revs it, waiting until you’re safely secured behind him to take off down the road.

He slams the door open, the knob hitting the plaster of the wall on the other side. He turns and drags you into his chest with his metal arm, the other, grabs the door frame and pushes it shut.

“Did the ride get you hot doll?” he asks. “You like feelin’ my bike vibrate between your legs?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer.

Your fingers move up his chest and into his hair, windblown and mussed. His hips rock against you and you feel the hard length of his cock along your stomach.

His growl of satisfaction runs through you and with his eyes anchoring yours, he slides a rough hand down your stomach to the button of your jeans.

“Show me,” he murmurs.

You drop your hand and grab his wrist and when he unzips your jeans you shove his fingers into your panties.

Two long fingers search, dipping inside and finding you soaked.

“Fuck! You’re so wet.”

You close your eyes, pushing into his hand to fuck his fingers.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs, running his nose down your neck.

Before you find a rhythm he pulls his fingers from you and reaches to push them into your mouth, pressing your taste on your tongue. His grip is gentle but firm on your jaw, fingers curled into your cheeks to hold your mouth open.

“Answer me doll.”

“Yes.”

The simple word is jumbled around his fingers, and he pulls back, delicately tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

His eyes drop to your mouth and his hands spread softly at the curve of your waist.

“You’re all mine,” he whispers with a brush of his lips before they crash over yours.

You greedily reach for his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Once the smooth muscles of his chest are exposed, you let out a moan and your hands slide along his skin, tracing every dip and curve before following the dark line of hair that leads down below his belly button.

Impatiently he grips you harder, pushing his hips forward and grunting his approval when you start to undo his pants. You reach for him, warm and silky in your palm.

He exhales a tight groan when you grip his cock and slide your hand down his length. He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss, fucking your hand.

With a growled curse he pushes you back toward the kitchen table, taking both your wrists in his hand and resting them above your head as he spreads you out on the hard wood.

He kicks off his jeans and stands between your spread legs, yanking your pants down as he leans forward to kiss your jaw, running his lips up to your ear to whisper, “I can’t get enough of you.”

When he leans back his eyes rake over you, and you squirm underneath him. With slow hands he drags your panties down your legs and carefully rids you of your shirt.

His palms flatten on the inside of your thighs, and he spreads you open, his eyes locked on yours when he roughly thrusts into you. You’re so full of him you want to scream but he doesn’t stay deep inside you for long. He pulls back and then slams forward, gripping your waist and making the whole table slide along the floor.

Large, rough hands reach for your breasts, and he slides his thumb across your nipple.

“Please make me come Bucky,” you whisper. “I’m so close.”

He’s moving so hard the table is shaking.

“You’re going to watch me come instead,” he murmurs, jerking from you and gripping his cock.

His hand moves up and down his cock and he curses, his eyes never leaving yours. The first burst of his release coats your neck, and then your breasts, your stomach. There’s no sexier sound than the deep groan he makes when he comes, the way he growls out your name.

He bends, sweaty and out of breath and his eyes move over your face and down, inspecting how he’s decorated you.

“Fucking gorgeous doll,” he whispers.

“Bucky,” you purr, reaching for him.

“One second,” he says softly.

He comes back with a warm cloth and wipes you clean before kissing you gently.

“I’m going to take care of you now,” he promises with his mouth hovering just above yours.

You brush your fingers across the hair that lines his cheek, cradling it and bringing his lips to yours.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you to his bed, laying you gently on the comforter. You sink your hands into his hair as he kisses down your neck, sucking on your breasts, your stomach and parting your legs.

“I love to taste you,” he whispers with a kiss to your clit.

You arch off the bed when he licks and sucks you in every way you love. He slides two fingers inside you, meeting the thrust of your hips with his hand and face. He brings you right to the edge and then pulls away, climbing over you.

“Bucky…”

“I need to be inside you when you come,” he says.

With quick hands, he rolls you onto your stomach, spreads your legs, and slides in so deep you gasp, bunching the pillowcase with your fists. He starts to move, his chest pressed to your back, breath hot in your ear.

“I’m so lost in you.”

Then his hand slides underneath you and presses, circling your clit until you’re tightening around him and the rush of your release wracks your body, taking him with you.

He rolls onto his side and cradles you to his chest, his fingertips feather light as they trace your skin.

“I’m really happy you liked riding with me,” he whispers.

“I loved it. I want to do it again…”

He grins and in between soft kisses asks, “what did you love about it?”

“Other than the vibrations of the bike and being pressed so close to you?”

He exhales slowly, clearly trying to stay focused on the conversation even as you feel his heart pounding under your palm.

“I felt safe…and it made me feel free. The wind whipping around us and the world passing by in a blur. We could go anywhere.”

“I’ll take you everywhere,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “But I still wanna bend you over my bike.”

You press your body along his side, sliding your leg up over his. The muscles of his quads are defined and firm beneath his smooth, warm skin and when you reach his hip you roll against him, and he groans.

“I always want you,” he whispers into your skin.

[soleilapproves]

Part 3 of Mechanic!Sukuna

Notes: fem!reader hinted to have social anxiety, not proofread :/, changed the ending of part two to make more sense for this story

main masterlist

Sometimes, you felt like the universe didn’t want you to drive. Like there was an invisible force that was pushing you to your limits with the mechanical monster.

You hugged yourself tightly as you tried to make sense of what was going on under your car’s hood. Despite it being pleasantly warm earlier, every drop of rain felt like an icicle against your shivering body.

The predicament you were in was caused by your engine—sputtering and hissing, prompting you to pull over and try to figure out what was wrong with it. Thank God for the internet because at least now all those car experts on YouTube could tell you that your engine was officially dead.

Yes, dead. As in, your car was never going to work again.

Now, you had three options: call tow service, call your only friend (who was busy taking care of his sick partner), OR

call the mechanic who was (in your friend’s opinion) flirting with you.

Your finger hovered over Sukuna’s name. Calling tow service felt unfamiliar and you didn’t even know what to say to them. Would they offer you a ride? And if they didn’t, the lowest cab ride from the street you were at to your house was an astonishingly laughable price.

With a bite to your already chewed up lip, you tapped his name. You’ll deal with the embarrassment of it later. At least being with him felt safe and familiar.

Fifteen minutes later, a monster of a jeep pulled up right behind your car and Sukuna hopped out from it, all in leather jacketed glory. Your anxiety riddled mind told you that he was probably lurking around, waiting for your car to give up on you.

“Hey, Sukuna—“

Sukuna simply pulled you into a hug, uncaring that your clothes were basically stuck to his. “Fuck, this area is dangerous to be stuck in. Good that you’re safe.” You shivered as his hands slid down from your shoulders squeezed your waist while pulling away. He then dropped his leather jacket atop your soaked hair. “Don’t catch a cold, pretty.”

The frigidness of the heavy rain was no match for your burning face. You were soggy and shivering and the last thing you felt was pretty.

Your eyes couldn’t help but check him out as he leant over your hood. His muscle tank top looked like a second skin. The drops of rain recoiling and trailing down his tattooed arms as he worked around the engine with concentrated eyes. He had surprisingly good navigation despite the terrible weather.

You felt mortified about the heat pooling between your legs as you watched him swipe his hair back while he sauntered over to you. You had never thought about anyone like that so why was this man in particular so appealing?

Not to mention the pure scent of manliness from his leather jacket. It didn’t smell like the sweat or grease from last time as you expected, but more of pine and sandal. It smelled expensive. You had initially taken him for a body spray kind of person.

Not that you thought about what he smelled like outside of work often.

“You were right—the engine is dead for good.” God, his voice was the equivalent of a good book on a rainy day. This one in particular.

“Oh.” You could not afford a new car in the middle of the semester. Your part time job was barely enough to cover up maintenance costs—even with Sukuna’s many discounts.

He grabbed your shoulders and began walking you to the passenger seat of his jeep. The slight squeeze of his large hands felt great after being stiff in the rain. “But don’t you worry, I know a guy who’ll scrap your car for a good price,” he said as he closed the door, not even giving you a moment to agree to letting him drive you.

He jogged quickly to the driver’s seat and switched on the heater. He threw his phone in your lap. “Play whatever you like.” The entire situation felt like he had been preparing for it for days.

“It’s not about scrapping my car. I really need a way to get to class, and my car was my only option. I don’t think I can afford a new one even after selling this,” you couldn’t even look at him while shabbily admitting how broke you were.

“That’s fine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll drive you to school. I think it’s my fault that I even let you drive around that thing. Should’ve told you to get rid of it ages ago.”

You remembered how his advice would get more and more concerning (and flirty) with every visit. How he’d rest his hands on your waist as he’d show you what part of your car was actively dying and how hard he had worked to fix it. Too bad you were too distracted by the way his warm breath would hit your face with how close he’d lean in to speak to you or how he’d slide a strand of hair back to its position. Like he knew what your body reacted to the most.

“But still, thank you. No mechanic I’ve ever gone to has been this helpful.” It was shameless receiving all that help from him. You felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness.

He let out a small laugh as he started the car and began driving towards the address you entered on the GPS. “Oh, you thought I was being kind?”

“You weren’t?” You began to play with the hem of your shirt to calm yourself down. Of course, it was too good to be true. He was probably going to ask you to pay him tenfold the money you owed him in the name of “discounts.”

“Nah, they were favors. And you’re gonna return all of them to me.”

“I-I don’t have the money for that kind of stuff. If you’d told me earlier—“

“Not that type of payment, pretty. I’m not that cruel. I just want something more… physical.”

“I don’t own a bar of gold.”

He let out a louder laugh this time as the car stopped at a red light. He then took a moment to look at you and trail his eyes down your figure.

“One kiss for each discount. And a date for scrapping your car.”

—

End of the mechanic!sukuna chronological parts. Rest of the fics will be stories that’ll be about reader and sukuna’s relationship, and can be read in any order.

taglist: @sakurasimppp @thisaintredwine @blueemochii @totallygyomeiswife @asuritam @chosokamoluvr @sterzin @aluvrina @pettybunnyboo @nanamisrighthand @lavenderdaydream97 @shokosbunny @stainednailpolishremover @stopeatread @uma0777 @matchat3a @ieathairs @tamishadawn @persyhange

I’m really sorry if I forgot your name. I really need a system as to how I’m going to update a taglist. If you have any suggestions then please leave them in the comments :)

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 15 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2300

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” You asked Joel, though immediately you regretted asking. It wasn't his responsibility to figure things out for the two of you.

“Next door to each other?” He toyed with your hair as you hovered a few inches above him in the back of the truck, but you shook your head.

“No.”

Joel laughed. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. “But I can't be apart from you right now.”

“Oh you can't huh?” He grinned up at you.

“No.” You smiled back and leaned down and touched your lips to his.

“My brother has a two family house. He knows my situation is fucked up. Maybe we could spend the night there.”

“Does he know about us?”

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Would it be okay with him if I was with you?”

“I don't see why not.” Joel continued to run his fingers through your hair and you closed your eyes. “Worst case scenario..” He pulled you toward him to kiss along your collarbone, “We can go camping.”

You giggled against him and bit down on your bottom lip when he kissed down your breasts and latched on to your nipple.

“I'll go anywhere with you,” you whispered, cupping the back of his head and gently grabbing a fistful of hair.

You were completely immersed in one another again. After all was said and done you almost suggested just sleeping in the truck; though Joel finally talked you into putting your clothes on and getting back in the truck.

“I'm going to call Tommy,” he explained, finally starting up the engine. “My brother.”

You nodded and began typing your message to your mom that you were out for the night. It pained you to hit send because you knew for the first time in your life, you and her were not on the same page. That was the one part of the whole ordeal that didn't feel right. Still, you knew your decisions were yours, alone. Leaving Joel wasn't an option.

“Hey,” Joel had the phone to his ear and you could hear the faint voice of Tommy on the other end. “You still have that space available on the upper floor?” He paused and nodded. “Alright.” Another paused, “Great, thank you.” Joel huffed a laugh, “I'll pick you up a thirty pack of Bud Lite.” Pause, “I'll leave it on the front step for when you get back. Thanks man. I owe ya.”

You smiled to yourself, noting it must have worked out. When Joel turned, you smiled. “We all booked?”

“We’re booked,” he confirmed, “As long as you don't mind a swing by the package store.”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

Joel grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “Good.”

Things felt right at home when you were beside Joel. Nothing mattered. You were light as air. When the two of you strolled into the liquor store to get Tommy his beer, Joel picked up a bottle of champagne and winked as the two of you checked out.

“Champagne huh?” You asked as you were securely back in the cab of his truck.

Joel nodded and linked his hand with yours. “I figured I'd get us a little something.”

Your heart was full. In fact it felt like it grew three sizes. You were so completely in love that you knew if this ever were to end it would be difficult to bounce back from. Still, you pushed the negative thoughts away. Things were good. You and Joel were on the same page in the same book.

When his truck cruised into Tommy’s driveway, Joel parked in the back behind the house near a detached garage. The house was in a suburban neighborhood, though trees surrounded the property, making it at least semi-private. In the back of the house was an outdoor staircase that led up to the second floor. That was where Joel led the two of you after leaving Tommy’s beer on the front porch.

“I have a key,” he explained, and you noted that he and his brother must have been close. Joel propped open the back door that gave way to an upper deck and the two of you made your way inside.

You glanced around the interior. The first step inside was a quaint, little kitchen that gave way to the living room. Down the short hallway, you soon discovered, were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Almost right away, Joel spoke the words you were thinking.

“I wonder if he'd let us stay here until we figured shit out.”

Yes. Yes. Yes! From the second you walked in the door you wanted that.

“Us?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Joel turned and read your face, “Us.”

You smiled wide. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“This is crazy, isn't it?”

You shook your head and leaned in, pleased when Joel met you with a needy kiss. “This doesn't feel crazy.”

“What's it feel like then?”

“Just right.” The words naturally rolled off your tongue and the two of you began to make out in the hallway. “Maybe a little crazy.”

Joel snickered against your lips. “Come on. Let's get settled in.”

You did just that, selecting the bigger of the two bedrooms to reside in before dropping off your bag of clothes. Joel found a mason jar in a cabinet, rinsed it out and put your toothbrushes in it before finally you both settled down on the couch and put a movie on.

Joel retrieved a pair of glasses and the bottle of champagne, making you wince with a giggle just before the cork popped.

“I'm not going to lie,” you admitted, “I had a feeling that was going to spray everywhere.”

Joel laughed lightly and shook his head. “I'm an expert.” He poured you each a glass and set the bottle down on the table in front of the couch.

As you held your glass out you asked, “What should we toast to?”

“To new beginnings,” he suggested.

“The beginning of..” your voice began to trail off. You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence.

“The beginning of..?” Joel held your stare and you couldn't look away from his eyes.

“Nothing,” you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear.”

“No, say it.”

You shook your head.

“Come on.” His smile convinced you. In that moment you knew he could probably convince you to do anything.

“Ughh..” you cringed but finally manned up the courage, “To the beginning of forever.. possibly.” There we're your insecurities taking the reigns.

“Possibly?” Joel continued to own your gaze. Raised his eyebrows. “Drop that word, baby.”

You spoke with more confidence. “To the beginning of forever.”

Joel still didn't look away and tapped his glass to yours. “Cheers to that.”

Fuck. There went the next size up of your heart. You were all in - not that you weren't before. But this man, you knew for certain, had your beating heart in the palms of his hands. Maybe you held the same power. Still, it was scary, exciting and made you feel more alive than ever all at once.

You each took a sip. Your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. His eyes remained on yours. You drank about half the small glass and then placed it down next to the bottle. When Joel was done taking his sip, you removed the glass from his hand and set it down before straddling him on the couch.

His hands dropped to your hips and your lips eagerly found his again as you snaked your arms around the back of his neck.

“I'm not kidding,” you whispered against him.

“I'm not either.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The eye contact was pulling you in as much as his kisses and touches. Joel was intense and he pulled you in so easily.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and then added. “Please.”

Joel's plea made your body feel hot. You kissed him sensually at first. And then it became more desperate. You kissed one another every time like it would be the last time. It was hot and addicting.

Your clothes were on the floor within minutes and you took control of the moment, reaching for Joel’s hard cock as he dropped his pants to his ankles. His arms outstretched the length of the couch when you positioned him at your entrance and then lowered yourself down onto him.

Joel's head dropped back onto the top of the couch when he felt you tighten around him, but you pressed your lips to his forcing his head back up.

“Kiss me,” you echoed his words from a few minutes before. “Please.” When you rolled your hips he groaned into your mouth.

Joel's arms wrapped around you and he aided in helping you move on top of him. He growled your name in a whisper, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. It made you moan.

“Let it out,” Joel begged.

“What if he hears us-”

“Tommy’s not home.” Joel thrusted up into you and you cried out and whimpered, holding him harder. “I never want you to hold back with me.” His fingertips dug into your back and nibbled down your neck until his tongue swirled around left nipple.

“Joel..” you whined his name. When he trusted up into you harder again you whined again. And then moaned louder when he impaled you again and again.

Your legs trembled and thighs tightened around the outsides of his. You felt tears in the corners of your eyes and as you continued to ride him they fell. You whimpered again and Joel’s thumb grazed your cheek, wiping away the stray tears.

“(Y/N)..” His voice was concerned now but you kept moving on top of him.

“Don't stop,” you begged. Emotion flooded every part of you. So did a wave of pleasure. The build up was making your head spin. “I'm about to c-” The burst of pleasure halted your sentence and you cursed as your body stiffened. “Fuck.. Joel.” You grabbed him as hd steadied your hips with his hands, rocking your hips through your orgasm as you did as he asked you do. You let it out. You let it all out.

You moaned, you whimpered, you choked out his name as stars erupted behind your tightly pressed eyes you felt the flow of more tears stream down your face.

“Fuck..” you cried out, feeling a thudding pulse between your legs. At the same time a warmth filled you and knew Joel came just a few seconds after. He groaned into your neck and held your hips harder, leaving panting breaths against your neck.

You felt like you were on another planet for a moment, until Joel finally snapped you out of the daze.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Hey.. (Y/N)..”

Your eyes opened and your felt a dampness on your eyelashes. Joel looked back at you from an inch away and you laughed as you continued to sob quietly.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You were crying. Out of the blue. In the middle of your orgasm.

“Hey..” Joel repeated, touching your cheek with one hand.

You sniffed in and took in a few deep breaths in a row. Tears fell from your eyes when they closed and you reopened them.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded. “I don't know why..” you shook your head. “I'm just..” you had nothing. You didn't know what you were saying or why this sudden eruption of emotion was coming out this way. “I love you.” You laughed again and felt completely crazy as you fell apart in his lap.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said right away with a smile. “No. I don't.. I don't know why I'm crying.” You laughed and cried. Laughed and cried.

Joel’s arms secured around your body again and he held you against him, kissing your forehead, your cheek and then the area beneath your eyes.

You let out a deep breath and dried your eyes. “I'm sorry. I just.. I'm not used to feeling like this. I'm.. I don't know.”

When Joel brushed your hair away from your face and your eyes met again you swallowed hard.

“I promise I won't hurt you,” he said.

You gave a half-smirk. “I know.”

“I love you. And I'm sorry if this is putting a strain on your relationship with your mom.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“I mean it,” you went on. “When I'm not with you I'm looking at my phone wondering when you'll call or text me me next. I think about you. I always think about you.”

“Then let's move in here,” Joel said. “Together. You and me.”

This was all so new and felt impulsive. But it also felt right. Joel wasn't even officially divorced yet. Your relationship was new. It didn't matter. You only had one word to say back.

“Yes.”

Joel could read you were certain in your response. He dried your eyes again and kissed you once chastely on the lips. “I'm feeling what you're feeling.”

“I know.”

“I'm going to be with you so much you're going to get sick of me.” He tipped up the corner of his lips in a half-grin and you smiled back. When another tear fell he wiped it away.

“I'd like to test that,” you told him. “And prove you wrong.”

“So, pending Tommy's approval,” Joel went on, “You're going to move in with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Joel smiled. “Let it out.”

You laughed and said it louder. “Yes!”

“Yes?”

You shouted now. “Yes!”

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[lisenberry]

Fluffy fluff.

CW: Pregnancy and child birth, language

Ch.2, Ch.3

You knew this day would come. Your due date wasn’t until the following week, but as of your last check-up, the midwife didn’t think you would make it that long.

But you were still surprised, and fought a rising panic, when you woke up around dawn to your first set of contractions. They weren’t terrible, at first, and you tried to remain calm as you showered, dressed in the comfortable outfit you’d set aside and checked your hospital bag for the thousandth time since you’d packed it weeks ago.

You’d read all of the books and watched all of the videos. It was a long process, and there was no rush to get to the hospital at this stage. It could be hours, days even before anything happened.

You were completely prepared and in control.

Until you stepped out into your hallway and straight into the wall of heat and muscle that was your neighbor.

“Oh, hi, John. I didn’t know you were back.” It’d been over a year since he’d left.

Why on earth he kept such an expensive apartment when he hardly ever lived in it, you couldn’t understand. He’d lived across the hall for five years, and had spent less than six months total sleeping in his bed.

And every so often, when it worked out, in yours.

“I got in late last night.” He paused, brows drawn together as he took in your obvious condition. “I was just heading to the gym.”

Jesus, he looked so good. Even in track shorts and a hooded sweatshirt. It pulled tightly across his chest as he rocked back on his heels. No doubt doing the quick math as to whether or not he could be responsible.

“I’m headed to have a baby,” you huffed out, as a sudden rush of spasming pain in your back nearly keeled you over.

That was a new feeling. It felt urgent. Shit, maybe you should’ve left sooner.

“Right now?” He lunged to grab your bags from your arms as you leaned against the wall for support.

“Not yours, don’t worry.” You laughed up at him, in an attempt to lighten the awkwardness of the exchange.

“Can I call someone for you?”

“I called a cab. It’s on its way.” The pressure started to ebb as you chanced a few steps towards the stairs.

“A cab? Absolutely not, I’ll drive you.”

“No, please. It’s fine. I have a plan. It’s all going to plan.”

But he’d taken possession of your hospital bag and your diaper bag, and had them loaded into the boot of his truck before you could protest.

“Is your boy—the father meeting you there?” Once he’d hoisted you into the passenger seat, and started the engine, he finally asked the question that had been left hanging between you.

“He’s not in the picture.”

Never was, you didn’t add. After you’d convinced yourself it would never work out between you and John, you'd had a brief fling with a visiting colleague from Berlin.

Imagine your surprise when you found out you were pregnant a month after he’d finished the project and gone home. To his wife, you found out later.

“You’re doing this alone?”

“It’s going to be fine. I told you, I have a plan.”

**********

“You don’t have to stay, really. I can do this on my own.” The contractions had become so intense, you couldn't control your voice enough to sound convincing.

His sympathetic smile as he finished filling out your intake paperwork was purely to placate. He had no intention of leaving. And you were grateful for his help.

The fact that he knew so much about you to only need to ask a few questions when completing the never-ending forms should’ve been alarming, not comforting.

Your blood type? Had you ever told him that?

“Aren’t you preregistered? How many times have you had to give them the same information?” He drew his eyebrows together in frustration as he realized the next packet was double sided.

“A fucking thousand.” You focused on your breathing and fought the waves of nausea that seemed to get worse along with the pain.

Weren’t there supposed to be breaks? You were told there would be breaks. You barely got a second to unclench your fists before another one started again.

You stood too quickly and steadied yourself with a hand to his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Concerned, he stood with you.

“I’m going to be sick.” You rushed, or rather waddled at your fastest pace, to the nearby family restroom and he trailed along close behind.

He stopped momentarily at the triage desk to slap the clipboard down and boom something about needing a room immediately, before following you in and holding your hair back as you wretched into the toilet.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He soothed, as he rubbed your back and passed you a wad of tissue.

“Please don’t leave me,” you croaked out, tears flowing at your helplessness and the sudden realization that this was only the beginning. That your life would never be the same.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

Once you were admitted to a room and set up with effective pain management, you finally relaxed enough to get your wits about you. And that involved, in no small part, frequently reminding the staff that, no, John was not your husband. He wasn’t even the father.

He wasn’t nearly as dedicated to correcting them as you were.

Things seemed to happen quickly, although you’d find out later that you labored well into the night, with a tireless, supporting hand held firmly in yours.

“You did so good, love.” When it was all over, he wiped a sweaty, wayward lock of hair from your cheek and planted a kiss on the top of your head. Seemingly as relieved as you were. As if he’d been holding his breath along side you.

You missed the look the nurse gave you as she placed the squirming infant on your chest, nor did you hear her mutter under her breath, “Not the father, my ass.”

“Welcome to the world, sweetheart,” you cooed, the pain quickly forgotten as you felt a tremendous sense of peace. Clarity.

“And welcome home, John.”

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

tp!daryl x young reader, young Daryl Dixon, pre apocalypse, fluff

warnings: none except Daryl is kind of an ass at first

The night air hung thick and humid, clinging to the inside of Daryl’s truck. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, their rhythm competing with the faint rattle of the truck’s idling engine. He leaned his chin on his hand, fingers scratching idly at his scruff as he stared at the empty stretch of road ahead.

“Goodnight,” the girl said, her voice pitched just a little too sweet, teetering on the edge of something expectant. Hopeful.

Her name was… Tessa? No, Tanya. Maybe. Wait, Tina? Hell, he couldn’t remember anymore. Not that it mattered.

“Night,” he muttered, the word coming out low, almost like an afterthought.

Still waiting. Still expectant.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, but his gaze didn’t waver from the road. He let the silence stretch between them, filling the cab like the humid summer air, heavy and suffocating. Daryl exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Why wasn’t she leaving?

She adjusted her purse on her lap, the clink of the metal clasp annoyingly loud in the quiet cab. He didn’t look at her, didn’t give her the satisfaction of meeting her eyes. Maybe if he stayed still long enough, she’d take the hint.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in?” she asked, her voice soft, but with an edge of insistence that grated against his nerves.

His eyes flicked to her, just briefly, before settling back on the road. “Nah,” he said, voice flat, as though the single syllable could put an end to the conversation.

She stayed there, unmoving, her nails tapping against her purse now, a nervous little rhythm that set his teeth on edge.

“Alright,” she said finally, though her tone carried more disappointment than acceptance. She shifted, one hand reaching for the door handle, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she paused, turning back to him. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Daryl huffed, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ain’t got much to say.”

That clearly wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Her face fell, the sweetness in her expression fading into something colder.

“Well, thanks for the ride, I guess,” she said, her words clipped now. She shoved the door open, stepping out onto the gravel driveway with a sharp click of her heels.

“Yeah,” he grunted, already reaching to shift the truck into gear. He didn't let her get another word in, already backing out of her driveway onto the road, eager to get away.

The road stretched ahead of him, endless and empty, the faint glow of the late night store's neon signs flashing by him through town. He turned the radio on, letting the static fill the cab before switching it off again. He was on edge.

It was late—closer to midnight than not—and he wasn’t sure where he was headed. He just knew he couldn’t go back to the trailer yet, not with Merle’s drunken yelling waiting for him. He needed space, air, something to quiet the restless energy clawing at his chest.

Before he realized it, his truck was pulling onto your street.

---

The sound of tires crunching over gravel pulled your attention from the book in your lap. You glanced up from the porch steps, squinting as headlights washed over you, the faint rumble of an old truck engine breaking the quiet of the night.

You didn’t have to see who it was to know.

The truck rolled to a stop, the engine idling as the driver’s side door creaked open. Daryl climbed out, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he looked at you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, closing the book and setting it aside. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Figured you might wanna get outta here for a bit.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head at him. “What, and ride around in that death trap of yours?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he turned back toward the truck. “C’mon. Ain’t gonna ask twice.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your jacket from the porch and jogging down the steps. The cab smelled faintly of gasoline and old leather as you slid into the passenger seat, the bench warm from where someone might've been sitting earlier.

“Where we goin’?” you asked, buckling your seatbelt as he shifted into gear.

“Dunno. wanna stop at Sevs?” he muttered, his eyes on the road as the truck rattled to life.

--

The neon lights of the 7-Eleven cast a hazy glow over the parking lot, the hum of the buzzing sign filling the quiet as the two of you pushed open the glass door.

You bee-lined for the slurpees, the bright red syrup swirling into a cup as you filled it to the brim. Daryl followed behind, snagging a pack of jerky and a bag of chips before nodding toward the counter.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door.

The truck cab was quiet as you climbed back inside, the faint crinkle of the jerky bag filling the space as Daryl tore it open. You leaned back against the seat, sipping your slurpee as the engine purred beneath you.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an edge to it—like something unsaid was lingering in the air. You drove for awhile like that, listening to music, aimlessly turning down different roads in the quiet night. The truck rolled to a stop at a red light, its glow casting the cab in deep crimson. The roads were empty, no one else around this late. The hum of the engine filled the silence, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“How was your date?” you asked finally, your voice casual as you stared out the windshield. The question had been boggling your mind since you got in the truck with him earlier.

Daryl froze for half a second, his fingers tightening around the jerky bag before he scoffed. “Pfft...Borin’.”

A flicker of something you couldn’t name stirred in your chest, but you kept your expression neutral, snuffing the feeling out and taking another sip of your slurpee.

“Did you talk to her, or did you just grunt the whole time?” you teased, turning to glance at him.

His eyes rolled, the movement slow and deliberate, the red light casting his dark blue irises in shadow. “’Course I talked to ‘er.”

“Hi and bye don’t count,” you said, a small laugh escaping despite yourself.

His lips twitched again, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I talked to ‘er, alright?” he repeated, the words low, rough, almost playful.

You leaned back against the seat, the slurpee cup cool against your hands as you studied him. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the traffic light ahead like it held some kind of answer.

“Guess she wasn’t your type,” you said softly, the words barely above a murmur.

Daryl’s hand stilled, his fingers curling against the wheel as he finally turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable at first, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something that made your heart stutter.

“Nah,” he said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “She wasn’t.”

The air between you shifted, thickened, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were in the cramped cab. The light remained red, casting its glow over his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

Your pulse quickened as his eyes lingered on yours, the weight of his gaze making it hard to breathe. “What?” you asked, your voice softer, unsure.

---

The moment your eyes flicked toward him, framed by the crimson glow of the light, Daryl felt like his chest might cave in. He’d been fighting it for too long—the way you got under his skin, the way every word you said felt like it meant something, even when it shouldn’t.

But now, sitting in the truck, roads empty around him, it was like the world had narrowed to just you. The way you were looking at him, quiet, expectant—he couldn’t take it. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t desperate, but it hit him all at once. If he didn’t do something now, he might never get the chance.

His throat felt tight, his hands itching where they gripped the wheel. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head—if it was bold or just plain stupid—but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when you were this close.

His hand moved first, almost of its own accord, coming up to cup your cheek. Rough and calloused, his thumb brushed over your skin, and the softness of it nearly undid him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. You just… stayed. Watching him. Waiting for him.

Now or never.

His lips met yours, soft at first, just barely there, like he was trying to figure out if he was even allowed to do this. Every nerve in his body screamed to hold back, to keep it slow, but it was impossible—not when you leaned into him, not when your lips parted against his like you’d been waiting just as long as he had.

This was what he wanted.

The thought hit him hard, rattling around his head like a loose screw. It wasn’t just the kiss—not the heat of your lips against his or the way your hand found his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt like you couldn’t let go. It was all of it. You. The way you fit here beside him, the way you always knew what to say, even when it pissed him off. The way you made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t some broken-down mess of a kid.

His grip tightened as the kiss deepened, his other hand finding your jaw, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. He’d waited too long for this, longer than he wanted to admit, and now that it was happening, he didn’t know how to stop.

He pulled back for a breath, his eyes scanning you. He couldn’t look away, not now, not ever. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his voice came out low, rough, as he whispered, “Ain’t no one like ya.”

The words weren’t planned, but they felt right, felt true in a way that made his chest ache. His thumb traced the corner of your lips, lingering, memorizing. He was certain now.

Before he could say anything else, you surged forward, your hands threading into his hair and pulling him closer. The heat of you pressed against him, the way your lips moved against his—like you’d been holding back too, like this was something you needed as much as he did.

He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, and it only made you pull him closer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding himself in the feel of you. It was frantic now, messy, but he couldn’t care less. You were here, in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

The kiss deepened again, hungrier now, more desperate. His hand slipped under the edge of your jacket, his fingers pressing into the small of your back like he was trying to pull you even closer. He couldn’t get enough—didn’t know if he ever would.

And then the horn blared.

The sharp, jarring sound ripped him out of the moment, and he jerked back, panting, his mind struggling to catch up. The light had turned green, and the car behind him was blaring their horn like their life depended on it.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he turned back to the wheel. He slammed his hand against it, leaning out the window to yell, “I’m goin’, alright?!” His middle finger shot up for good measure, and he hit the gas, the truck lurching forward.

His chest still heaved as he gripped the wheel tightly, the tension in the cab almost unbearable. You laughed softly, the sound breathless and light, and it made his ears burn. He glanced at you, his lips quirking just slightly, though his grip on the wheel remained firm.

The road stretched out ahead, but something between you had changed. He could feel it in the air, in the way his heart refused to settle, in the way he could still taste you on his lips.

[incorporealbombchelle]

Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down and we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans answers the door, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest with a hint of vanilla.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles and his smile is warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing masters program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip and my eyes follow its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses and his cheshire smirk is enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face is hot and my body is tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and lets his head tip against the back of the couch. I feel him twitch inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop and his grip on my neck releases some and I feel warm and hazy as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and I struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"I needed that so badly."

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

[dvchvnde]

You tell him your name in the first three minutes of clambering into his truck. 

It's rattled off between where you’re going (wherever he'll take you), where you'd like to be (the ocean, the sea, the ocean and the sea and the mountains; a place where both meet—), and sits, nestled, in the heart wrenching travesty of where you ended up. In a truck with just a stranger for company, destination unknown.

Your whole life packed up inside of a box resting on the rusting bed of his truck. No one knows you left. They'll figure it out in the morning, you're sure. A ant that escaped the colony. Left for something better and got stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a few hundred dollars to your name, and a box filled with junk.

(stupid, stupid girl—)

It's quiet in the cab. The only sound cutting through is the crunch of gravel and dirt under his tires. The noises his engine make.

The sound of his truck is not too dissimilar to an old, sick cat. It doesn't quite purr. It sputters. Sickly. Hacks through corroded lungs, spitting up plumes of thick, black smoke into the air. You grip the worn, threadbare seats until your nails ache, feeling each jerk and dip of the road acutely in your chest. Thump, thump, thump.

This might have been a mistake, you think, eyes staring firmly ahead. Through the streaks on the windshield, the horizon a smears a pale pink beneath powder soft blue. Cloudless. The sun is to the west. Maybe. Your knowledge of the world outside of the box is rooted in a weathered textbook printed back in 1935.

(A dumb girl, mamma always said. But at least you have your pretty face.)

Embarrassment needles in—that familiar knife of shame cutting into your seams. You swallow it down. It doesn't matter. Not here. Not in this truck. You'll go somewhere else. A big city where the books are based in fact, and you'll read and read and read until you're not just pretty face. Empty space. Something to gawk at but not engage.

an ornament girl.

It makes you itch to say something. To fill the air with whatever might impress him even if you don't think you like this man too much. But you don't. You bite your tongue because smart girls like silence, don't they? They like the time to think because that's what they do; think, and that's what you do, even if they race by like silverfish, too quick to catch: just think, think, think—

But as the winding back roads of the flat prairie yawn into thickened wheatfields and towering tussocks of corn deeper in the rural, unpopulated countryside, he speaks, voice rough. Gritty. It grazes over your neck like a sharpened blade, tip pressing against your jugular. 

"Don't care what your name is," he grunts, rummaging through the console for a pack of cigarettes—Pall Malls, he snorts; ain't even go’ Marlboros in this shithole. 

When you ask why he doesn't care to know your name, he snorts in way that rankles down your spine. Like it's obvious. Like you know the answer. But—derisively, droll—his eyes slant in your direction over the console of the old truck that sputters down the barren dirt road, drenched in something you can't name. Shouldn't name, maybe. Shouldn't think about. Shouldn't acknowledge.

"Dogs don't get to name themselves, do they?"

No, you think, settling back into the seat, mind reeling. Spinning in circles as he tosses the pack into your lap, grunting at you again to get ‘im one. Make yourself useful. 

As he drags you further and further out to the middle of the prairies, where the thick tussocks of grass away in the breeze like waves lapping over the surface of the rugged sea, you think of your mother and what she used to say about men.

(do you really think any of them want anything good with a girl like you?—)

Your fingers dig into the seat as your mind sputters like the old truck, spinning uncatchable thoughts of dogs and men.

Don't get to name themselves. Don't want anything good with a girl like you.

You suppose they don't. 

(You don't get it until you do. 

But that comes later. 

What comes first is a box.)

[duncandonuts06]

Book 38-Wilbert the Forest Engine-Cab Over Wheels

my entry for this years #RWScollab2024 hated the book but enjoyed re-creating the illustration with my own little spin on it

enjoy!

[newtonsheffield]

Molly you are giving us another Dilf Daddy Sharma, Bless you! We need more details, please I beg 🙏🙏

Mary Sheffield was 24 years old when her car sputtered to a stop in the middle of a busy street in London in the pouring rain. After she managed to flag someone down to help her push the car to the side of the road and had a tiny mental breakdown about what the fuck she was supposed to do she started walking. She was sure there was a mechanics around here somewhere. She’d seen one hadn’t she? Surely she had last time she’d visited her friend.

She regretted crying the entire way there as the rain soaked her clothes when the mechanic’s daughter screamed at the top of her lungs and a man’s head shot up from under the bonnet of a car. Her heart stuttered in her chest at his dark curly hair tumbling over his forehead, his coveralls tied around his waist with engine oil covering his tight white vest.

She couldn’t stop staring at him and her hand burned where he took it to help her into the cab of the tow truck, insisting she and his daughter stay inside while he wandered into the rain to hook her car up.

“Are you hungry?” He asked gently as they pulled away, her ancient car finally loaded on.

“I’m sorry?”

He looked a little embarrassed, “Katie just convinced me to get her McDonald’s before you got there. Do you mind if we stop?”

“Oh! Isn’t this a bit big for the drive through?”

Tharman’s lips quirked, “I can park. The engine’s not dead but you can stop on the side of the road regardless.”

Mary rolled her eyes, her stomach fluttering. “Oh, he’s handsome and he has jokes.”

He ducked his head, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Us single dads have to have some tricks up our sleeves.”

His daughter, Kate, sat with her on the sofa, their food spread out before them as Kate scribbled furiously in her colouring book, chattering away and Mary felt her heart flutter the entire time. Even though she looked a mess, her hair drying in a frizzy mess while she sat bundled in a Coat Tharman had given her.

“I think I’ve got it sorted for now. But I’ll have to order a part to get it sorted properly.”

Mary tried not to stare at his biceps flexing as he cleaned off his hands, his hair tied back with a bandana now. “Oh, right, yeah. Um… do you know when that will be?”

“Possibly Friday, if not Monday.”

“Right yeah. You can call me if it won’t be here Friday.”

“And you can have your boyfriend follow you maybe.” He said carefully, “Drop you off again when the car’s ready.”

Mary swallowed, “might be hard. If you see my boyfriend let me know.”

Tharman smiled, his hands on his hips as he looked up at her through his eyelashes. “well, maybe I can call you on Friday anyway?”

[sparkarrestor]

This was inspired by @railwayseriesbookcast and their episode on Henry's book. Most people seem to regard it as the weakest of the early books, so I though I'd rewrite it for fun while still trying to keep it Awdry-esque.

Henry The Green Engine 1: Coal

Written By: Rev. W. Awdry

Adapted By: SparkArrester

Henry wheezed as he made his way out of the shed.

“C’mon old boy!” Encouraged his driver, “You know what they say! The early bird-”

“Gets the worm.” Finished Henry lamely.

He had heard that phrase ever since he was rostered with the first train of the day. He tried, he really did, but it didn’t happen. He stopped near the points to the station in defeat.

“We better go off and let the shedmaster know…” said the fireman as he ran off back to the sheds.

Henry stayed where he was as other engines left for their own trains. Soon, James came to shunt Henry back to the sheds.

“Oh dear, oh dear…” said Henry, “I suffer dreadfully, and no one cares…”

“Rubbish Henry!”, snorted James, “You don’t work hard enough! You’d think an engine bigger than me would be capable, but evidently not! Now I’ll have to cover your trains, again!”

Henry only sulked as he was pushed into the sheds.

The Fat Controller came to speak to Henry.

“This is the 3rd time this week Henry, and you only just got out of the works…”, He said, “We’ve tried everything, new parts, modifications, and even new paint but it’s done you no good. If this continues…”

He trailed off, but Henry and his crew got the message. The Fat Controller quietly walked away as Henry's crew tried to console him.

“Ever since we got that new shipment of coal, Henry’s been worse than ever.” Thought The Fat Controller, “I wonder…”

He got into his car and drove away.

The next day, Henry’s crew were once again trying to make steam, but now they had a new problem to deal with.

“It’s no use.” Muttered Henry as steam drifted where it wasn’t needed, “What’ll make this day different? I’ll be sent away for sure…”

“Come on Henry!”, said a familiar voice, “The first train cannot be delayed!”

Henry looked in shock as he saw The Fat Controller standing in front of him. He had traded his top hat and coat for overalls and boots. He clambered into Henry’s cab and helped the fireman. Henry was so surprised that he forgot to be cross and slowly raised steam as he went to the station to collect his train.

It was halfway through the run when Henry began to falter. Henry tried as hard as he could but it was no use, and by the time they reached Edward’s station he could go no further. Edward took charge of the train as Henry slunk into a siding.

“It’s curtains for me. I’ll be sent away for sure!” He thought sadly.

The Fat Controller and Henry’s crew were busy discussing the situation.

“You were stoking quite well, Fireman.”, Said the Fat Controller, “So why ever did Henry run out of steam?”

“It’s the coal sir.” Replied the Fireman, mopping his brow, “We’ve had a poor lot lately, but Henry has it the worst of all. The other engines can manage, their fireboxes are the perfect size for their boilers but, look, Henry has a massive boiler and a small firebox. He simply can’t make the heat.”

“What shall be done?”

“Welsh Coal I reckon, it’ll burn hotter and fix most of his steaming issues.”

The Fat Controller pondered before giving his reply.

“It’s expensive, but Henry deserves a fair chance. I shall send James to fetch some. He’ll probably like a holiday down south.”

A few days later, the welsh coal came. Henry and his crew were excited.

“Now we’ll show them, old boy!” Said his driver.

They greased his motion and polished his brass. The Fireman took extra care in making the fire, using large lumps like a wall and covering the middle with smaller lumps.

“You're spoiling my fire!” Complained Henry.

“Just you wait old boy! We’ll have a roaring fire right when we want it!” Laughed the fireman.

He was right. Henry felt amazing as he blew off steam for the first time… ever. He backed onto his train so smoothly the coaches were amazed, and made such a noise that The Fat Controller came to see him.

“You’re looking better than ever!” He said.

“I feel better than ever!” Replied Henry, “I’ve never made so much steam before! I could practically give Gordon a run for his money!”

“Now, now.” Warned The Fat Controller, smiling, “No record breaking.”

“They’ll have to hold me back!” Proclaimed Henry triumphantly.

And with that, the guards whistle blew as Henry puffed away.

Henry had a wonderful day. He had never felt so well in his life, and his driver had to hold him back as he raced down the line. They arrived early at the junction, startling the passengers.

“Where have you been lazybones?” Chucked Henry when Thomas finally arrived, “I can’t keep my passengers waiting!”

And he raced away.

“Wooosh!”, said Thomas, “Have you ever seen anything like that?!”

Annie and Clarabel both agreed, they hadn’t!

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Shuffle With Me, Houston Stranger

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis keeps a busy life between helping out on the farm and running the garage. There are some moments and places that give him reprieve, though, and one of them happens to be a bar where a certain sweetie works.

Word count: 3,386

Content/warnings: not many, mentions of drinking and alcohol, bar setting, weird vague emotional states, another guy hopelessly head over boots (what else is new, y’all should know this is how I write all my love interests at his point), menacing foreshadowing

Author’s Note: this takes place at the same time as chapters 3, 4, and 5 of YCMBWH and chapter 1 of The Rainmaker. You can technically read it alone, but the other stories help fill in some gaps. Check out the rest of the AU!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Outta Nowhere AU | Series Masterlist | Next >

Curtis walked into the shop with sore shoulders and a slight ache in his heels from a long day of unexpected work and standing. His cousin had called him in to help out with a few chores at the farm since she had to run the Friday farmer’s market, so the day was long and tiresome.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was go through and double check his books for the auto body shop, so he decided against it. Even if he went through everything tonight, it’s not like it would be quality work.

He figured he’d just quickly make sure everything was in its place in the office and the garage to make paperwork easier for him on Monday and work easier for the guys in the morning. Then, he’d be able to join his cousin and her new farmhand at the bar.

Curtis was organizing his socket wrenches by size when he heard a rattling sound become louder behind him. He turned as he sensed it coming closer, seeing an old truck pull into his garage.

He looked down to check his watch. The shop had been long closed by now, and he had places to be. Based off the noise though, he couldn’t deny something was definitely wrong with the vehicle. If Curtis weren’t such a good man, he would’ve turned the patron away, but there was no saying how far a truck that sounded like that could possibly get.

He tilted his head, examining the vehicle and attempting to peer through the glare in the drivers side window when the engine turned off and he saw a pair of old, comfy shoes step down from the cab. His eyes traced up the body before him and Curtis was speechless. Your hair was just tucked under an old ball cap, nothing fancy.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind, I’m not sure what this sound means and was hoping you had time to take a look at my truck. I know you guys are closed, so it’s no rush, but I’d really appreciate it. I’d rather know where my car is than get stranded out in the middle of nowhere.”

Curtis continued to stand there, mesmerized by you until he shook his head back into the present. “Oh, um, sure. I think I have the evening free, so let me just check on a few things real quick and I can take a look at it.”

Curtis pulled out his phone to text his cousin that he wouldn’t make it to the bar tonight.

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket, going to grab a chair from the front office as you followed. “Never good when a truck that old makes a sound like that.”

You nodded along. “Oh trust me, I know. Darn thing’s even older than me. Usually I’m able to figure out the minor stuff, but this is beyond what I know.”

Curtis nodded when he went to set a metal folding chair down by where you had pulled the truck onto one of his lifts. It scraped against the concrete floor, and he was surprised by the way you simply looked at it, as if you were offended that he’d want you to sit down.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Curtis, I own this shop.” The mechanic stuck out his hand, cleaner than you would’ve expected, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

“Ah, it’s nice to meet you. One of my coworkers actually suggested I come here when the truck started acting up. Said his best friend was the big cheese.”

Curtis laughed. “Um, he used those exact words? Or are those yours? Where are you from?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, sorry, those were my words. I think he just called you the boss, he’s the bouncer at the bar?”

Curtis clicked his tongue as he walked over to the hood of your car, propping it open. “Okay, you’re talking about my buddy, Edgar. Yeah, I’m glad he sent you to me. He works some shifts for me now and then. So you’re new to town? I go to the bar pretty often, I’ve never seen you there.”

You nodded your head tentatively. “Yeah, didn’t think it would be so noticeable I just moved here from Houston, but I’m really from here and there, lived almost everywhere. Been working at the bar for about a week now.”

Curtis nodded as he looked deeper into your engine, testing the tightness of parts and how full each fluid was. “Well how about that. Yeah, we don’t get too many people moving here, but I’m sure it’s a nice change from the city.”

You nodded and hummed, walking over and leaning under the hood of the car with him. “Agreed. I don’t think many mechanics would be this patient with me out there.”

Curtis lightly chuckled as he looked up at you over his shoulder. “Well I’ll be honest with you, patience is one thing, but you probably won’t think I’m very kind when I tell you this truck probably wont survive the next time you take a far journey if you plan to move…”

His small smile was replaced with a grimace. Maybe if he knew you were leaving soon like you seemed to do so often, he could hold himself back more. He could tell himself that there was no point in being attached, being himself for you to see. He’d hold off on the kindness that poured out to everyone he knew and loved, because it would hurt for you to take it and leave.

Your face held a small smile, though, despite his look of worry. “Well what if I planned on staying?”

Curtis looked back into the engine in an attempt to hide the redness in his cheeks. He was warm at the thought of you sticking around. He jiggled the loose part he found, grunting from leaning over so far, before he spoke up, partially avoiding your question.

“Well, you see this right here. I’d replace it and say it would be good for another couple of years.”

You beamed. “That’s good news!”

Curtis stood up to his full height and for the first time, you noticed just how towering his stature was. Anyone else would be intimidated from a distance, but from this proximity, you could see the kindness in his eyes.

“Yes and no.” It came out softer than he had intended. “I’ve gotta make a special order, and it will probably take at least a week to come in. Do you have another way to get to work?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my apartment isn’t too far from the bar. Walking shouldn’t be an issue.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Are you sure? I know you guys have some pretty late shifts.”

“Curtis, I’ll be fine. I’m tougher than I look.” He sighed in response.

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll put in for that part and in the meantime, your truck can stay here.” He walked over to the workbench and scribbled on a piece of paper, tearing it off and handing it to you.

“Here’s my personal number. In case you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me. I could even set up a ride for you if you change your mind.”

You took the paper, creasing it in the middle and stuffing it in your pocket. “Well, I’ve got a shift tomorrow and I think I might get there on time if I start walking now. Bit of a ways to my place from your shop. Any chance you could drive me home so I can sleep?”

Curtis sighed and checked his watch. “Yeah, I guess so, considering I’m holding your car captive. Come on, I’ll close up and we’ll get you home.”

As you waited for the new car part to be delivered to the shop, you kept working. Bills had to be paid. You had to keep living.

You were surprised the next day at work when Edgar had offered to walk you home after your shift, and every night after then, but didn’t question it. You were just appreciative to have a nice coworker you could trust.

Another surprise was the amount of take out orders that you’d have to give out from the bar. Most of which were going to a certain handsome mechanic.

It was Wednesday night, and the fourth time he’d come to pick up dinner this week. The man must really like cheese curds. You didn’t question it, though, as you handed him his order, asking for updates and waving goodbye with a somber smile as he left too soon, and spoke very little.

What you didn’t know was that Curtis had food at home, sitting in his fridge as he opted for the extra opportunities to see you. You also didn’t know how much he feared opening up his mouth and exposing himself by saying the wrong thing to the first person to make him nervous in a long time. Curtis was generally steady, driven, easygoing, but he could feel that world, that demeanor, start to tilt.

Curtis had a long week. A week much longer than he expected with the extra work he had to do out on the farm instead of in the shop. Sure, he was getting along better and better with Bucky, but that didn’t change the fact that there was too much going wrong.

Cole, that little shit from high school, was back and Curtis’s cousin had gotten stuck in a mine. There was no time for sleep, let alone stopping by the bar with this much of a crisis going on.

As soon as the rocks collapsed in the mine, Curtis was freaking out. “We have to call the police, the fire department, someone to get her out of there. She might not be injured now, but I can’t say the same if there’s a secondary collapse. We need to do something. Now.”

Bucky grabbed him by his collar. “No. No police. It’ll ruin everything.”

Curtis put his hands up in surrender. “Okay then, what do you suppose we do, big guy?”

Bucky paced back and forth, biting his thumbnail with worry. “Gimme a second. I’m figuring it out.” He stopped in his tracks. “Who all knows about the mines?”

“What? What does that ha-“

Bucky cut Curtis off. “Who. All. Knows?”

Curtis shook his head and shrugged. “I-I don’t know, not many people. Me and her, her college roommate, and Jake. That’s it, I think.”

Bucky rapidly reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed Curtis a card from his wallet. “This is my associate Sam. You’re going to call him and tell him those names. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Curtis immediately pulled out his phone, trusting the judgement of his new friend. He called Sam, telling him everything he could about those who were close enough to have heard of the mines. After that, he got to work.

He assessed what all would need done in the next day and did as many small tasks as he could, staying up until he could greet the helpers on the way.

All Curtis wanted to do was sleep, this was taking a toll on him, but he did his best to not let it show, to not become a grump. He just put his head down and made himself useful while Bucky waited back at the mine. At the first available opportunity, he was going to drop into a bed and nap. This week was stretching him thin.

Meanwhile, you continued to work at the bar. After seeing him for several days in a row, it was concerning that Curtis seemingly fell off the face of the Earth. Surely that wasn’t your business, though. Maybe it was just a coincidence he was ordering food so often before. He had better places to be, like work, or maybe on a date.

Why would you care, though? He was just the nice guy fixing your car. There was no way he was going out of his way to visit; probably just had some late nights at the shop and that’s why he picked up dinner, not to see you. Anyway, work was always busy enough for your mind to be occupied. You’d at least see him again hopefully once that coveted car part came in.

After a much easier Saturday at the farm, Curtis was ready to have a nice, relaxing time at the bar. As the crew he came with went inside, he hung back to talk to Edgar. He clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Edgar patted him back. “Good, I’m good. Been walking your girl home like you asked. She’s working tonight.” A smirk crept onto his face as Curtis looked down.

“But besides that, what’s going on with you?”

Curtis sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. He turned a picture of Cole Turner towards Edgar.

“Um, I’m alright. A little stressed, but I’m hoping you can help. I’ve got something for you.”

Edgar looked up from the piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“Someone who we need to make sure stays out of here. And if you see him, you let me know, okay?”

Edgar nodded. “Sure thing. Have fun with your girl.”

Curtis rolled his eyes and walked through the door to catch up with everyone else.

You were pouring out drinks for the group that came in when a familiar tall, broad form approached from the doorway. You took in the way his shoulders pushed at the flannel fabric of his shirt as he sauntered into the room. You couldn’t help the way the smile already on your face grew to see him again.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t the big cheese.” He laughed at the nickname, shaking his head as he moved to take a seat at the bar.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been in for awhile. Had some family matters to attend to. Speaking of which, that’s them over there.” He gestured toward the group who had just ordered food and drinks from you before heading towards the booths on the far side of the room.

“Ah! Okay, in that case, this is for you.” You grabbed a short rocks glass from the lower counter in front of you and set it up on the bar top in front of Curtis. The glass made a small thud against the finished wood as you looked at him.

Curtis tentatively grabbed it and sipped. After swallowing he hummed.

“Sweet. Like a cherry.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s because it’s got extra cherries. Your buddies over there said you’d drink whatever, so I made you my favorite.”

Curtis lowered the glass and looked at you deeply with his warm, burning sapphire eyes. His voice grew low and raspy. “I wasn’t talking about the drink.”

He winked at you and you had no idea how your legs didn’t fail you right then. You were able to quickly recover, though, shooting a remark right back.

“Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you test that conjecture.” You could see his cheeks grow warm at the suggestive statement. You grabbed your rag and threw it over your shoulder, leaning closer to the towering man who was just confident, now evidently bashful.

“Curtis, are you…blushing?”

His eyebrows were quick to arch as his attempt of a scowl failed to break through past a shy smile. “No! Blushing is fake. It doesn’t exist. That’s just an old wives tale.”

You looked at his skeptically, not even attempting to hide the laugh that burst out. “What do you mean you think it’s fake? You’re so red right now.”

Curtis’s eyes shifted around the room, unsure of how to respond. “I just feel really…warm…when I look at you.” He muttered so low you could barely hear it.

You wanted to keep pushing before his embarrassment made him turn away from you.

“Hey listen, I’ll be back. I’ve gotta check in with the group, but keep this stool saved for me?”

You nodded. “Sure thing.”

As soon as Curtis returned, he was glued to his chair. He spent the entire evening chatting with you, asking about your life, and telling you about his on the farm and at the shop.

You were honestly grateful for the one bit of peace on a busy bar Saturday night. Every chance you got, you were leaning against the counter by him to take a breath, watching his friends ride the bull and dance together. What a group of great people.

“So, have you been able to make it home alright this week? I’m sorry that truck part still hasn’t come in yet.”

You nodded as you poured a line of shots for a group of girls waiting on the corner. “Yeah, it hasn’t really been a problem. Edgar’s been insistent on walking me to my door, which helps me feel better when it’s that dark out. Just makes me feel bad, though, because I think I finish a little later than his shift time is supposed to be.”

“Well that’s nice of him. If you want, I can drive you home tonight. Might take some of that load off if you’re worried.” Curtis’s eyes watched you slide the shots to the patrons as you came back to his seat and sighed.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you staying here later than you have to, either. It’s really okay. I can definitely take care of myself.”

Curtis shrugged. “I don’t doubt that at all, Cherry. But I’m offering. And I’d be a fool to prematurely end one of the best nights I’ve had in awhile. I really don’t mind.”

“Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.”

As the night was winding down, and Curtis’s group had already come over to close out the tab, the two of you watched the remaining people prepare to head out. Who was Curtis that he knew someone with a black card? Supposedly they were business associates of the farm. Was farming really that lucrative? You guessed so.

You rejoined the present as the last few slow songs came on the juke box and Curtis held out his hand.

“You know how to dance?”

You scoffed, “Curtis, I’m still working. But yes, do you think I could’ve gotten by all this time without a little bit of knowledge?”

He shook his head. “I would’ve been worried if you did. Come on, there’s hardly anyone left. Shuffle with me, you little Houston stranger.”

You sidestepped the bar and walked out the small half door to join Curtis on the dance floor, holding both his hands and looking up into his eyes. “I’d say we’re hardly strangers now. You don’t learn nothing after hours of talking like that.”

You began to swing to the twangy music, holding each other close. Curtis twirled you and pulled you into his chest where your ear could hear his racing heart. The warmth and the scent of his cologne were comforting. His arms blanketing you, shielding you from all other thoughts besides this moment. As the song faded out, you realized you two were the only ones left besides the other employees doing the final tidying up before shutting down for the night. You reluctantly pulled your body from Curtis, left only holding each other’s hands.

“I should probably go help with the closing duties. Can you wait for me by the door?”

Curtis nodded. “Of course. I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Curtis watched you go back to your cash register as he walked back towards Edgar, keeping an eye on you the whole time.

“So, anything interesting happen tonight?”

Edgar nodded with with wide eyes. “Um, yeah. That guy you gave me a picture of, he came by. Threw a fit when I wouldn’t let him in. Some dude in fancy clothes and a mustache was with him, too. Not sure what that was about, but they at least respected the badge.”

Curtis huffed and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

This was not good. Curtis pulled out his phone and texted Bucky.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Tbh, even I don’t know where this story is gonna go, but I love Curtis a lot and will need some time to find a niche plot that will do him some justice.

I hope you enjoyed. Comments, reblogs, and likes are sooooo appreciated.

[whirligig-girl]

Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends aired on this day 40 years ago. Here's a portrait of the tank engine of the hour.

I usually draw Thomas as a sort of freelance design or "railway series" inspired design, with a few more realistic features and so on, if not as a straight up accurate or slightly modified E2.

But this drawing is a study of the Gauge 1 (1:32 scale) plastic prop built for Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends season 1. Proportions could be a little better; the wheels might be a little small and the boiler a little big. oh well.

A fun detail about the design is it's mostly using flat plastic-card and tubing of just a single radius. So the curve on the front footplate is actually the same curvature as the boiler. I believe the splashers are also the same diameter, but I'm not sure. The cab roof is probably slightly curved plastic-card. I'm not sure how the boiler and funnel are made, probably some amount of sculpting went into it. The chassis is a heavily modified german gauge 1 model built by Marklin, and the details like the vacuum brake pipe (the big tubing of the S1 version of the model looks way better to me than the like, floating pipe we see in later variants of the model), headlamp, and screw-link couplers are also taken from Marklin engines.

There's often discussion of what makes an engine a "RWS" version of an engine, but comparing the Gauge 1 prop to the first illustrations of Thomas from the Railway Series books, it's pretty much spot on. The double-whistle seems to be a slight misinterpretation of the safety valve assembly, and the lamp isn't especially accurate, and the font on the "1" is a little different, but it's basically like the drawing come to life. By comparison, it's usually the later versions of Thomas that people are attempting to evoke with "RWS" versions.

I also noticed that the lining appears to have like, white around it, almost like it's a print-out or something, rather than painted directly onto the model. So that's in my drawing too; and it actually kinda helps blend between the red lining and the blue paint a little better.

[doobnnoob-tf2]

The mercs on a road trip to who knows where. What are they each doing?

🧌

we're taking this vehicle-by-vehicle, so buckle up

ENGINEER'S TRUCK

Driver: Engineer

Passengers: Soldier, Demoman

Engineer insists he be taking the lead, and asks Demoman to man the map for him. he marked the path in pencil and didn't realize how many times both Demoman and Soldier would erase parts of it and redraw the line to take detours at first. he catches on by the third time they take an exit that made no sense at all and pulls over to demand he look at the map. this also started an argument between him and Sniper who wanted to just take the lead because he didn't need a map

Demoman sits in the passenger's seat, with the map. he mostly watches the world go by, occasionally attempting to reach over and turn the radio on, but would get his hand smacked because Engineer didn't want it on while he's trying to concentrate on the road. he and Soldier end up playing road games like I Spy, or their personal favorite: Punch Buggy. much to Engineer's dismay

Soldier takes the middle seat that is revealed when the center console is flipped up. he was told not to sit there but he did anyway. the reason being is he can't not shove his arm in front of Engineer's face to point out something on the side of the road. he also has snacks galore and there are crumbs everywhere that he says he'll clean out on their next stop but he doesn't. instead he runs inside the gas station to go get more and leaves Engineer to do it

MEDIC'S (stolen) VAN

Driver: Heavy

Passengers: Pyro, Medic

Heavy is the only choice for driver, not that he minds. Pyro can't drive, and no matter what Medic tries to say he legally is not allowed to drive. whether or not he stole the vehicle. he is a very serious driver and tends to dislike distractions of any kind, which is why he's glad there is no radio in the van. he follows behind Engineer, staying as close as he can to avoid losing sight of him without being too close

Medic reluctantly sits in the only passenger seat. he isn't happy about it and pouts for a good while at the beginning of the drive, but eventually he stops caring. he hates the silence and wants to talk, and after several attempts he finally annoys Heavy enough to get him to talk just so he'll stop poking at his face to get his attention. he relaxes more as Heavy starts to relax and chat with him, the two mostly trying to figure out where they hell they're even going since Engineer planned the whole trip and wouldn't tell anyone

Pyro stole Medic's office chair and sat it in the back of the van without anyone noticing. they duct taped themself to it and unlocked the rolling wheels do they could sit and roll around during the whole drive. it's during one of the gas stops that Heavy and Medic open the back and find out when they're trying to ask them if they want a snack. they have to be cut free from the tape, and someone helps them find a belt to use instead that'll be easier for them to get themself free from during stops

SNIPER'S CAMPERVAN

Driver: Sniper

Passengers: Scout, Spy

Sniper has one rule: driver controls the radio. he rolls the windows all the way down and blasts metal music as loud as he can during the whole drive. much to the annoyance of everyone around them, not that he cares. he sings along to it or gripes about how he could have made the drive so much more interesting than long stretches of boring highway and still got them there in good time. though after some time, the other two vehicles they're with notices the music has faded away, and Sniper's taken the other two on a different road trip. Spy's suggestion after Scout noticed some kind of oddities road sign

Spy sits on the other end of the bench in the cab of the camper, mostly reading a book and drumming his fingers along to the music on the outside of the door he's leaned against. however, when he gets tired of that, he puts the book away and starts egging Sniper on to just speed past everyone since they're the only three vehicles on the road. it takes a couple minutes of back and forth before he finally talks him into disobeying the rules of the road and pissing off Engineer as he zooms past loudly several times, taking over the radio when Engineer calls it to speak only in French before changing the frequency

Scout loves taking road trips with Sniper and Spy, always sitting in the middle of the bench. he knows it always starts with Sniper driving safe and eventually relenting to Spy's insistence that he could speed up. he loves the adrenaline rush of hearing the engine roar and the loud music. it's one of the few times he's quiet because he enjoys the banter between the two he's sitting in between when they both finally decide to let loose. especially when Spy starts getting into the music as well

[absurdthirst]

Sleep Tight {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Minors and dirty magazines, only one sleeping bad troupe, masturbation, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, SPOILERS for TLOU Episode 1 x 04

Comments: Fucking Joel in that sleeping bag, that's the summary.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

gif by @pedropascalsx

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Hey, quit kicking back there.” You huff, rolling your eyes as you look back at the teenager in the back seat. She was a little too excited about her first day in the car and after a few hours, she had wanted to swap seats, coinciding with the first of multiple pitstops. Gas just didn’t go as far as it used to. 

Ellie rolls her eyes and huffs, leaning back in the seat and crossing her arms as she stares out the window. “I have to pee.” She huffs, making Joel groan again and let out a long suffering sigh even though it’s only been four hours.

“There’s a rest stop up ahead.” He grunts after another mile. “We’ll stop there and you can pee while we try to find some more gas.” He looks over at you for a moment, before glancing back at the road. You know he’s irritated by the fact that you aren’t getting farther than you would have back when gas was fresh. It’s taking longer to get to Wyoming than he would like, leaving you exposed out on the road. 

When Joel pulls over into the rest area, he immediately grabs his hose and gets to work siphoning some gas from the abandoned cars. It’s like water now, nowhere near as potent as it used to be, but it gets you somewhere. Ellie disappears and comes back with a joke book. “Volume Too.” She points out and you snort, looking over at Joel who rolls his eyes. Ellie starts to read out a joke and you bite your lip to smother your chuckle. 

“Jesus Christ.” Joel grunts, struggling to stand after kneeling down.

You hum and walk back over to the truck. “Did you pee?” You ask, opening the passenger door to the truck and pushing the seat forward.

“I did, did you?” Ellie asks, smirking slightly in the way that only smart ass teenagers can. 

“I don’t have the bladder of a thirteen year old.” You snort, watching her climb into the back before you slide the seat back and climb inside the cab. Watching as Joel secures the gas can and gets into the driver's seat. “Let me know when you want me to drive.” You offer again, knowing he will turn you down, again.

“I’m fine.” Joel says, getting back into the car. He starts the engine and pulls away from the rest stop. You sigh and look out of the window. 

“Must’ve been some trick.” Ellie says as she looks out of the back window. 

“Yeah they used to stick big ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such.” Joel explains and Ellie grins, “I wanna see a tank.” 

You look back at her, “you will.” 

Joel nods, “tank, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.” 

Ellie fumbles, reaching into her backpack and pulls out a tape. “I got something.” She hands it to you and you show it to Joel, “here. This make you all nostalgic?” You ask Joel who snorts, “this is actually before my time.” 

Ellie settles back in her seat, “great.” 

You sigh, “it’s a winner, though.” 

Joel nods and you put the tape into the player. Joel smiles, shaking his head as he drives along to the music. “Oh man.” He sighs and you smile at him. 

Ellie rummages in her backpack again, pulling out a magazine, “got something else”. 

“What is that?” You ask, eyes wide and you nudge Joel and he looks in the rear view. 

“It’s light on the reading but it has some interesting pictures.” 

You watch Joel’s face, “no, no, no, put that back.” Ellie opens another page while Joel says, “that’s not for kids.” 

You try to reach for it but she pulls it back, “how would he even walk around with that thing?” 

You snort, reaching again, “please get rid of it.” Joel begs and Ellie shakes her head, “hold your horses. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” Ellie looks at you then Joel, knowing exactly what your relationship entails. 

“I’ll take it.” You tease and Joel’s eyes widen, “no you will not.” 

You giggle and Ellie grimaces, “why are all these pages stuck together.” 

Joel’s face is shocked, “uhhhhhh. The—” Ellie whacks his shoulder with the magazine, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” She tosses it out of the window with a “bye bye dude.” 

You pout, “I kinda wanted that.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, focusing on the driving. “Ain’t I enough for you, sweetheart?” He teases but his eyes are serious.

“If he’s got one like that, I don’t know how you do it.” Ellie huffs, and you smother your giggle since it looks like Joel is about to have a stroke. 

“I’m going to decline to comment, but yes, you’re enough.” You promise Joel, mollifying him slightly. 

“Okay, we’re done talkin’.” He huffs, looking in the rear view mirror. “Let’s play the quiet game.” 

Ellie wrinkles her nose, obviously not happy with that option but she turns her head to look out at the surrounding landscape. Sighing, you reach over and touch his hand, smiling at him slightly when he looks at you. The thing with Joel was both easy and complicated. Easy because you never defined anything and complicated because you never know where you stand with him. You think that he cares for you, in his own way but it’s not like you’ve had conversations about feelings.

You look out at the scenery, abandoned cars. FedEx trucks in a depo that sit empty, ransacked not long after shit went down. The train hanging off of the bridge. The abandoned tanks. It’s eery and reminds you of the harsh reality of this world. Joel notices how quiet you get, Ellie is napping on the backseat. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” You check and he shakes his head, “gonna stop soon. It’s getting late and I wanna be parked up before bedtime.”

It’s only about ten more minutes before Joel decides he’s done. “That’s enough for today.” He slows down and pulls off the Highway into a large field. Jolting Ellie awake as the truck bounces through the grass as he heads for the forest on the other side. You know why he is pulling away from the road but you don’t say anything as he starts to drive through the trees, making sure that you are well away from the road before he stops the truck. “Well, I’ll start unloading supplies.” You offer, knowing he probably needs to stretch his legs and take a piss after driving for so long. “Why don’t you walk around?”

Joel nods, knowing he needs to check out the area for any clickers or dangers. “Get the steak out for tonight.” He orders, knowing you’ll need energy for tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow brings? If there’s one thing Joel lives by, it’s eat the damn steak. He hears you talking to Ellie as he strides through the trees, eventually feeling safe enough to pull his dick out to take a piss. He sighs in relief and leans against the tree, ears open for anything moving around. When he makes his way back, he sees Ellie reading that damn joke book again and you are opening the portable stove. “Everything alright?” He asks you, setting the gun down as he helps you open the ancient can of Chef Boyardee

“Yeah.” You take the can and sniff it, nodding when it smells good. Amazing how it hadn’t gone back, and you don’t want to think about how many preservatives had to be in it for such a thing. “We are having steak with a side of the finest Chef this side of the Mississippi.” You joke as you dump it into a pan and start opening the next one. “Find anything out there?” You lower your voice slightly and glance over at him, not wanting Ellie to overhear and worry. Your job was to help him protect the girl and you were slightly softer than Joel, but both of you didn’t want her to fear for her safety until it was necessary. She’s still just a kid. 

Joel shakes his head, kneeling down beside you to place his hand on your lower back, the only indication that he is emotionally connected to you. He helps, stirring the ravioli and he looks over at Ellie.

You can’t help but lean into the warmth of his hand. It’s been a difficult few days and while Joel isn’t overly affectionate at the best of times, you are enjoying the feeling of his hand on your body. The small steaks are next, another pan ready and you sigh softly. “Just a weekend getaway.” You joke, “camping in the woods. All we need is a cooler full of ice cold beer.” Those things seem like a dream and you know that this isn’t a fun weekend bonfire in the woods. The sun is starting to set and soon you need to get the bedding out of the truck after cleaning up from dinner. 

Joel watches you finish the meal and he sighs, wishing this was a camping trip and nothing more. Yet it isn’t. It’s deadly and dangerous and he wishes he could keep you and Ellie safe but it’s going to be a challenge. When you get the dinner served up, Joel watches Ellie wolf it down and tells her to slow it down. You snort in amusement and Joel rolls his eyes at the teenager.

“What am I even eating?” She asks between bites. 

“That is 20 year old Chef Boyardee ravioli.” He tells her, cutting up his own small steak and you smirk when she shoves another large bite in her mouth. 

“That guy was good.” 

Joel grunts. “I actually agree.” You do too, but hunger has a way of making a lot of things taste good. 

Ellie looks over at you for a moment. “How long are we staying out here?” 

Knowing Joel, it will just be for the night, he doesn’t like to stay in one place for long when he is outside the QZ. “I figure I sleep tonight, and drive tomorrow all day.” He glances over at you. “And let her drive all night and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.” 

You nod, agreeing with that idea, although if he doesn’t sleep, you’ll drive in the morning and let him crash in the passenger seat. Ellie scoops up some more of her ravioli. “So can we start a fire? I’m freezing.” It is cold out here, but there is no way Joel will allow a fire. 

Joel’s head shoots up from his plate. “Now why I am gonna tell you no?” He demands like he’s talking to his daughter about dating or staying out past curfew. 

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Because the infected will see the smoke.” She huffs, shoving another bite in her mouth. 

“No.” Joel insists. “Fungus isn’t that smart.” 

You nod. “It’s too remote for infected anyway.” You add on, knowing what Joel is worried about. 

That gets Ellie’s attention. “People?” Neither you nor Joel answers but the look he gives her is answer enough. “So what are they going to do? Rob us?” She asks next, full of questions because she’s never experienced the horrors outside FEDRAs control. 

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that.” His look turns dark and you shiver, he would know first hand what some of these people were after and you want to forget what men are capable of. 

Ellie seems to get the message and she swallows slightly. “Okay….” 

Joel knows that it would be devastating for you to end up with others. You’re pretty, gorgeous, and he knows that you would be- well, he will fight to the death to protect you and ensure that that would never happen. You finish your meal in silence, fork scraping the metal and eventually the food is put away and Joel is double checking the perimeter while you gather the sleeping bags. 

“We have a problem.” You tell Joel and he turns to look at you, “what is it?”

You hold up one of the three sleeping bags that had been packed in the back of the truck under a tarp. You hadn’t unrolled it before now. “This sleeping bag is ruined.” You tell him, showing the large urine and rodent droppings, as well as the obvious destruction of the material. 

Ellie unrolls hers and picks it up to sniff it. “Mine actually smells kinda good.” She informs you, making you roll your eyes. 

“Well that would be Frank’s then.” Joel tells her, making her laugh quietly. 

You sigh and drop the ruined bedding to the ground. “What do you want to do?” You ask Joel. 

Joel sighs, annoyed by the fact that there’s one less sleeping bag. “We can share it. You and I. Ellie gets her own.” Joel says and grabs his rifle, ready to ensure that you and Ellie are safe, even if it means not getting any sleep himself. “Are you tired?” He asks Ellie, gesturing for you to get into the sleeping bag.

Ellie smirks at Joel and waggles her brows. “Of course you want me to go to sleep.” She teases, making him roll his eyes and shuffle uncomfortably. 

“Get in the fucking sleeping bag.” He grunts at her and it makes you snicker quietly as you spread out the other sleeping back you will have to share with him. You know he will put you in the innermost part of the bag so he can get out quickly so you don’t hesitate to go ahead and climb in. Ellie pulls out her book and while Joel grunts again as he kneels down next to the sleeping bag, she turns down the lamp that was set between the two bags.

Joel is hesitant to share a sleeping bag with you, knowing that he wants to be able to move at a moment's notice. Also, the ribbing from Ellie has him rolling his eyes. Another part of him wants to hold you tonight.

“Come on.” You order and Joel shifts to get in beside you after checking his rifle. 

Ellie tries to tell Joel a joke, but he already knows the punchline. “Because he was outstanding in his field.” Joel replies, and Ellie claims that he has already read the joke book. You snort and laugh and Joel smiles to himself, but he’s turned away from you so you and Ellie can’t see. 

“Get some sleep.” He says again and turns to pull you into his arms.

It’s a tight fit in the sleeping back with both of you, making you wiggle slightly and push your ass against his groin. Joel grunts in your ear and you hum. “Sorry.” You whisper, aware that he is trying to fall asleep. Of the two of you, he’s the one that barely moves unless prompted at night.

Joel doesn’t respond, trying to close his eyes and not think about how you feel pressed against him. It’s been a while since you slept together. It was before leaving the QZ and Joel wants you to get some sleep. You wiggle against him again, trying to get comfortable and he grunts. “You gotta stay still.” He demands gruffly in your ear.

“Sorry.” You close your eyes and try not to think about the warmth and weight of him behind you. Although you flatten yourself out to give him more room and he follows you, pressed right up against your ass and you feel the bulge of his cock even though he’s not even hard.

His hand comes to your hip, trying to keep you still but his body still reacts to yours. His cock hardens and he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way his body needs you. You’re so warm against him, he knows how hot you are when he’s inside of you and he curses himself internally for thinking like that. “Get some sleep.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you but his fingers caress your hip, slipping under your shirt to touch your skin.

Biting your lip, you try to not move. It’s hard when you feel his fingers on your skin, hot and rough from the callouses. Instinctively, you rock back just the slightest amount, pressing your ass against his cock more firmly, the handy excuse that you are getting comfortable. It’s been too long since you’ve had him inside you, the fear and sorrow and danger not allowing it. Now, you just want to feel normal for twenty minutes.

Joel can sense what you want. He knows you inside and out by now. It’s too risky though. You’re in the open. The kid is a few feet away. He can’t risk being lost inside of you and not paying attention to what’s around him. “Behave.” He growls into your ear, “or take care of yourself.” He demands, flicking the button of your jeans. You get excited but he pulls his hand away, “I’m not fuckin’ you so you better take care of yourself, baby.”

You pout, sighing in disappointment, but you don’t hesitate to unzip your jeans and slide your hand into your panties. You’d rather have Joel’s cock inside you or his fingers on your clit, but you’re not going to bed. “Probably jerked off in the trees.” You huff quietly, pressing the pad of your index finger against your clit and moaning softly.

Joel doesn’t respond, deciding to just press against you. “You can feel how hard I am. Feel like I jerked off thirty minutes ago?” He scoffs, “I’m too fuckin’ old, baby.” He rolls his eyes and reaches up to squeeze your breast.

Closing your eyes, you push your ass back against him again, grinding slightly. He is getting older but that doesn’t mean he can’t fuck you like he’s still young when he wants to. It just means that his recovery time is longer. You circle your clit and start rubbing it quickly, wanting to cum before you go to sleep. “St-still can get it up.” You murmur quietly. “Still good.”

He chuckles, burying his face in your neck to breathe you in so he can hear your whimpers while you try to keep quiet. He loves it. “Fuck baby. You sound so sweet.” He rasps into your ear, “rubbing that little clit like that. Feel good?”

You know that it’s risky, that Ellie could hear or someone could sneak up but you think that the first option is more likely. Especially as remote as you are. “Y-you’re b-better.” You admit breathlessly, your cunt clenching and your hips rocking slightly to chase the pressure.

He snorts when you say he’s better. His cock is hard and he is desperate to touch himself, touch you, but he can’t risk it. His ears are honed in on the surrounding while you bite your lip to smother your whimpers. “You need fingers inside of you?” Joel asks, knowing he can help you if you need him.

“Fuck yes.” You moan quietly, eyes rolling at the thought of his thick fingers curled up inside you. He always manages to press against your g-spot perfectly. It makes sense due to knowing your body as well as he does. He chuckles quietly against your ear and squeezes your tit once more before he slides his hand across your tummy and into your panties where you are still rubbing your clit.

He presses your hand against your clit, almost unable to move your fingers, and he pushes two of his thick digits inside of you, curling them. “That better?” He whispers, pumping them in and out of you and groaning softly at how wet you are.

His cock would be so much better but you whimper your agreement. Loving how immediate your reaction is to him and the arousal floods his fingers. You push back, wanting his fingers deeper inside you and twist your head so you can kiss under his chin and along his jaw.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, biting down on your earlobe. “Always so good for me.” He grunts, working his fingers inside of you, pressing his palm into your hand to force you to rub your clit a little faster. “I need you to cum for me. Clench around my fingers.”

“Joel.” You whine softly, rolling your hips down against his hand. You want him inside you. You want him to roll you onto your stomach and push your jeans down, pull out his achingly hard cock and fuck you into the hard, forest floor. “Fuck,” you feel your walls start to flutter, body tensing up to cum as he curls his fingers and yours rub your clit.

Joel turns your head to press his lips to yours, wanting you to be quiet, to not wake Ellie. You cry into his mouth, smothered and muted, while your walls clamp down on his fingers, soaking them, and it ignites something inside of him. He pulls his fingers out of you, pushing you onto your back and it’s tight but he manages to push your jeans down to your knees, fumbling with one hand to open his pants and he pulls his hard cock out. “Need you.” He grunts, pushing inside of you while you are still shaking from your orgasm.

Your hands curl into Joel’s shoulders, biting down on your lip to smother your moan at his intrusion. It’s so good, having him fill you up like nothing else can. You can fill him twitch inside you and you whimper. “Fuck me.” You beg quietly, knowing it will be quick and rough.

He groans softly, pressing his lips against yours and sliding his tongue into your mouth so he can start to fuck you. He grinds deep, barely pulling out of you as he rocks his hips. Reassured that you’re beneath him. After losing Tess, losing Bill and Frank. He’s on the edge, desperate, not his usual self. Too many people have died, left him, and he won’t let you join that list.

Ellie snorts, shuffling in her sleeping back and Joel freezes inside you. Both of you listen for any other movement or indication that she’s waking up. The silence ticks by and Joel’s cock is throbbing inside you at the same beat of his heart, making your cunt clench around him. You exhale softly, relaxing when Joel starts to move again. Kissing him desperately in order to recapture the moment.

He is slow, grinding deep, and he allows himself this time to enjoy the fact that you’re here, in his arms, and alive. “Fuck baby.” He grunts into your mouth, loving how wet and hot you are around him. You both listen for Ellie, making sure she doesn’t wake up, and the sleeping bag doesn’t allow for a lot of movement.

It’s easy to forget everything when Joel is deep inside you. The slow grind of his hips keeps his cock buried deep and it’s like he’s making love to you. Whatever is between you isn’t defined and you won’t ask him to put a label on it. You just are, but you love this tempo.

He kisses you, keeping his mouth fused to yours to smother the way you cry out his name. Not wanting to wake the kid or alert anyone to your presence. His hands slide under you, gripping your shoulders to help him thrust a little harder inside of you.

Every gasp is poured into his mouth, urging him on. The thrusts aren’t sharper, but you love that he can push into you with a bit more force, making your walls flutter around him and the roughness of his jeans grinding against your clit. The fact that your jeans are pulled down but still on your legs only allows for you to take his pace, unable to wrap your legs around him and urge him on.

He wants you to cum, needs to feel it, so he pushes deeper inside of you, thrusting a little harder, and he groans your name into your ear, shifting one arm out from under you to cover your mouth with his palm.

Joel being vocal always does it for you. That gravely, raspy voice sounding wrecked makes your cunt lock down around him as your core twists even more until you are gasping his name against his palm. Shaking underneath him as you come apart in perfect, shattering pleasure.

Joel hisses your name, loving how you feel clamping down around his cock, and he hisses your name again, pushing deep a half a dozen times until he’s spilling inside of you. Thanking God for the umpteenth time that he got a vasectomy after Sarah was six and he and his ex had decided against having more kids. “Fuck.” He pants, kissing your forehead then he pulls his palm away from your mouth. 

You hum quietly, aware that this isn’t the safety of your apartment in the Boston QZ. He can’t sleep inside you or just lay here basking in the afterglow for too long. You kiss his lips and along his jaw before he shuffles to the side, both of you trying to put yourself back to rights under the cover of the sleeping bag. “You actually gonna sleep?” You as Joel as you pull your panties and jeans up.

Joel shifts to the side, tucking himself away, and he offers you a look, knowing that you know he won’t sleep. He never does when he’s on the road. “You get some sleep.” He orders, kissing your forehead and he shuffles out of the sleeping bag, grabbing his rifle. He will keep watch tonight over you and Ellie. It’s his job to keep you both safe and he’ll be damned if he fails. He’s lost everyone but he won’t lose you. He will keep you and Ellie safe, even if it’s the last thing he does.

You shuffle slightly, turning so you can see Joel as he stands guard, eyes ever watchful for any approaching danger. You sigh slightly and close your eyes. You’ll let him sleep while you take the first shift driving tomorrow morning. And make some coffee for him to drink. He would like that. For now, you drift off to sleep, feeling protected since you know he is watching.

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thanks for the tags beloveds @wikiangela @daffi-990 @loserdiaz 🩵

—here’s more from author!buck (i forgot to mention before that buck writes smutty firefighter books 😏)

“It started because I needed inspiration. I wanted my books to feel authentic, you know? I know they’re mainly just porn, but I wanted them to have plot too. I wanted the firefighters to know what they were doing in and outside of the station.”

Eddie swallowed thickly, the cab suddenly feeling warmer than it had a few moments before.

“And part of your classing required you to visit a real fire engine?”

Buck shook his head as he chewed at his lower lip.

“No, not really. I just uh, well I sort of talked one of the guys on the team to give me a tour, and…” Buck paused, clearing his throat. “Well let’s just say he gave me more than just a tour of the engine.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a little at that. Why was it so hot in there?

“So, you’re saying book two’s inspiration came from,” Eddie gestured vaguely. “That encounter?”

“You’ve read my books?”

Shit. That would be the part Buck latched onto.

“Sure, I was um…I guess you could say I was curious, after our shoot.” Eddie played it off, pretending he’d only read Buck’s books after their photoshoot.

“Well what did you think?”

Buck sounded serious, Eddie unsure of how to answer.

“It was good. Um, not my usual book of choice, but you definitely—know how to add plot with smut.”

What was he even saying?

Eddie was suddenly praying for the alarm to sound off. He considered throwing out the Q word as well, even if that was all a bunch of hooey.

Buck was suddenly in his space, that mischievous grin and bratty tone from the shoot back in place. His heated breath ghosted over Eddie’s ear as he moved closer, Eddie suddenly feeling like he was in a five-alarm fire. Buck whispered out to him, sending goosebumps down his spine.

“Tell me Eddie, how many times did you get off to it?”

tagging: @redlightsandicedtea @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @onward--upward @buddierights @barbiediaz @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @santadiazz @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck