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wintrwinchestr · 1 month

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strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places.

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks.

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again.

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you.

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up.

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear.

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms.

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now.

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump.

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside.

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive.

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones.

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been.

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch.

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen.

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive.

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female.

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him.

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs.

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears.

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.”

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole.

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them.

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time.

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so.

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.”

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway.

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget.

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another.

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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morbidsmenagerie · 9 months

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Making Better State Insects

So at some point I stumbled across a list of State Insects. Honestly I wasn't even aware states had "state insects", but as I looked down the list my disappointment grew. A vast majority of states had selected the European honeybee (which is not even native) as their state insect, with monarch butterflies and ladybugs being the two runner ups. I thought this was a damn shame because there's so many interesting insects in the US, so I'm making a better official new list of state insects.

For this list my criteria are:

Insect must be native to the state

No repeats

Insect must be easily observable to the naked eye

I also had general guidelines of picking insects that were relatively common (based on inaturalist heat maps of observation) and picking insects that were cool or interesting. Some of these insects I picked because I thought they were important parts of the areas culture and experience (lovebugs, toebiters, and periodical cicadas) and some insects I picked just to raise awareness that they exist in the US.

I also don't think I gave anyone huge L's, no mosquitoes, louses, cockroaches, ect, because my goal of this list is to get people interested in their native insects and I want it to be fun to find and observe your state insect.

Also some states get gold stars for picking state insects that already meet these criteria and are cool so they get to keep theirs. Some states also have "state butterflies" or "state agricultural insect" which for this list I'm ignoring, you can keep those I'm just focused on state insects. Slight disclaimer also, I've only ever lived in California, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, and South Carolina, and all these states are keeping their original state insect. So all the insects I'm choosing are for states I haven't lived in. Also I'm not including photos in this post just for my own sanity.

List under the cut!

Alabama

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Giant Leaf-footed Bug (Acanthocephala declivis)

Leaf-footed bugs are cute, they're big, they're stanced up, the males have big back legs, you've probably seen them. Being true bugs they have piercing mouthparts and suck plant juices.

Alaska

Four-spot Skimmer (Libellula quadrimaculata)

Alaska gets to keep their old state insect, it's a cool dragonfly and apparently was partially chosen to honor bush pilots who fly to deliver supplies in the Alaskan wilderness, so really cool!

Arizona

Two-tailed swallowtail butterfly (Papilio multicaudata)

Arizona also gets to keep their state insect. Kind of a shame because Arizona has a lot of cool species, but it did meet my requirements and they get points for choosing a different kind of butterfly.

Arkansas

Old: European honeybee

New: North American Wheel Bug (Arilus cristatus)

One of the largest assassin bugs in the US, these guys are appreciated by gardeners for their environmentally friendly pest control. They also look badass.

California

California Dogface Butterfly (Zerene eurydice)

Endemic to California and on a stamp! Again, kind of a shame because there's a lot of cool insects in California, but I respect this choice, especially since California was the first state to designate a state insect (1929).

Colorado

Colorado Hairstreak Butterfly (Hypaurotis crysalus)

Same deal as California, the state's name is in the common name, unique butterfly found in the four corners region. Just get a stamp or something soon!

Connecticut

Old: European Praying Mantis

New: Cecropia Moth (Hyalophora cecropia)

You picked a state insect no one else had but went with a nonnative mantis? Here's an insect that'll make you stand out and it's a native species. Lesser known than some of the other giant silk moths, the Cecropia moth is the largest native moth and has some truly stunning colors.

Delaware

Old: Convergent Ladybeetle

New: Periodical Cicada (Magicicada septendecim)

Cicada's had to be somewhere on this list and Delaware was one of the main hotspots for brood X, one of the largest broods of the multiple staggered brood cycles. Hey, they have a lot of history in America. Accounts go back as early as 1733, with Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin making a note of them.

District of Columbia

Old: None

New: Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus)

The Entomological Society of America is trying to get the Monarch Butterfly added as our national insect, so I think that's reason enough to let DOC claim it.

Florida

Zebra Butterfly (Heliconius charithonia)

Florida gets to keep their state butterfly, but the populations that have existed in Florida are in steep decline. Ideally I would want being the official state insect to come with some protections, hopefully people can get invested in reintroducing them.

Georgia

Old: European Honeybee

New: Horned Passalus Beetle (Odontotaenius disjunctus)

Also called bess beetles or patent-leather beetles, these cute guys are important for forest systems because they eat decaying wood, helping to break down felled trees. They're cute beetles that squeak when disturbed.

Hawaii

Kamehameha Butterfly (Vanessa tameamea)

An endemic Hawaiian butterfly named after a ruling dynasty of Hawaii. Their population is under threat, as with a lot of native Hawaiian species, so I think this is a good state insect to build protections and activism around.

Idaho

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Ice Crawler (Grylloblatta sp. "Polaris Peak")

Look Idaho, I have to admit that even though I've traveled extensively through WA, OR, CA, and NV I've never stepped foot in Idaho and I don't intend to. Your state exists in a weird liminal zone, not really the pacific northwest but not really whatever Montana is either. Your state isn't even all in one time zone. So look, I really wanted ice crawlers to be on this list, but they're exclusively found on mountains in the pacific northwest and Sierra Nevadas. Normally I would've given them to Washington or Oregon, but those states already have state insects that work for them. So your state gets ice crawlers, and they do exist in Idaho in the panhandle. It's not an L, ice crawlers are amazing extremophiles that crawl over snow in high elevation mountain peaks. They exist in their own unique order and theres only one genus in the US, with different species being region locked, sometimes onto specific mountains. Their thermoregulation is so delicate, the warmth of someones hand holding them causes them to over heat and die. They're cool, unique, and weird, and let's face it so is your state. At least I didn't take a cop out by picking the potato bug.

Illinois

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Red-banded Leafhopper (Graphocephala coccinea)

Leafhopper done Chicago style.

Indiana

Old: Say's Firefly

New: Common True Katydid (Pterophylla camellifolia)

I wanted to give you Say's Firefly. I really did. But when I looked on Inaturalist not A SINGLE OBSERVATION was listed for the species in Indiana. I'm even going to post pictures.

So even though this is extremely funny I'm giving your state the Common True Katydid instead. Large, loud, and easy to spot, these guys can frequently be heard chirping in trees. Not only do different populations have different rates of chirp, but the rate of chirp is also so predictably dependent on temperature that you could make an equation to tell the temperature based on chirp rate.

Iowa

Old: None

New: Westfall's Snaketail (Ophiogomphus westfalli)

Really cool clubtail dragonfly that's almost exclusively found in Iowa, Missouri, and Arkansas.

Kansas

Old: European Honeybee

New: Rainbow Scarab (Phanaeus vindex)

A kind of true dung beetle, they play an important role in removing waste. And although they don't roll waste like the stereotypical dung beetles, they are extremely pretty.

Kentucky

Viceroy Butterfly (Limenitis archippus)

This is fine.

Louisiana

Old: European Honeybee

New: Lovebug (Plecia nearartica)

Look, one of the southern states was going to get this one and Louisiana has a majority of the observations for them. Although annoying, it's things like having to scrape thousands of flies off your car that makes the Southern experience. Embrace it!

Maine

Old: European Honeybee

New: Brown Wasp Mantidfly (Climaciella brunnea)

I really wanted these guys to be somewhere on the list. Neither a wasp, mantis, or fly, these are predatory neuropterans related to lacewings. They have raptorial front legs (resembling a mantis) and their coloration resembles paper wasps that they live alongside. Weird, unique, and wonderful!

Maryland

Baltimore Checkerspot Butterfly (Euphydryas phaeton)

This butterfly might've been picked for the resemblance of the state flag. It's in decline in it's native range, so hopefully more awareness and consideration to state insects will help push conservation efforts.

Massachusetts

Old: Ladybug

New: Hornet Clearwing Moth (Paranthrene simulans)

Hornet mimic moth, the caterpillars feed on chestnuts and oaks. All lepidopterans (moths and butterflies) have modified hairs on their wings that form the "scales" that give this order their name. For this moth though, parts of it's wings don't have any scales so it more convincingly resembles a hornet. Underneath the scales, butterfly and moth wings look pretty much like any other insect's wing. Cool!

Michigan

Old: None

New: American Salmonfly (Pteronarcys dorsata)

The biggest salmonfly in North America. They make excellent fishing bait, and several fly fisherman use salmonfly lures to catch trout. Their nymphs are also an important indicator of water quality, with them being one of the first species to disappear in the presence of pollution or contaminants.

Minnesota

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: American Giant Water Bug (Lethocerus americanus)

Also one of the ones that had to be on the list somewhere, and the Inat heatmap says Minnesota. Toebiters are part of the experience, and they are cool and ferocious looking.

Mississippi

Old: European Honeybee

New: Eastern Eyed Click Beetle (Alaus oculatus)

Click beetles have a cool adaption that allows them to launch themselves in the air to avoid predators. This makes an audible sound, hence their common name. The Eastern Eyed Click Beetle is one of the largest and most striking click beetles in the US, with large false eyespots on their thorax.

Missouri

Old: European Honeybee

New: Goldenrod Soldier Beetle (Chauliognathus pensylvanicus)

A soldier beetle that feeds on aphids and small plant pests, these beetles also eat pollen and nectar from flowers. They don't harm the flower, and though their common name reflects their preference for goldenrod flowers, they're also an important pollinator of the prairie onion (Allium stellatum). This is a native species of onion that grows from Minnesota to Arkansas.

Montana

Old: Mourning Cloak

New: Western Sheep Moth (Hemileuca eglanterina)

Mourning Cloak butterflies do technically work for my criteria, but I wanted to showcase some more regional insects in this as well, as Mourning Cloaks are found throughout North America and Eurasia. The Western Sheep Moth is an absolutely stunning giant silk moth, found throughout the western United States. Although not as big as some other silk moths, the bold orange and black coloration on these make them absolutely stand out.

Nebraska

Old: European Honeybee

New: Blowout Tiger Beetle (Cicindela lengi)

A tiger beetle with unique patterns, these guys are active predators and are particularly difficult to spot because they run extremely quickly. They seem to be pretty cold tolerant and exist from Colorado up into Canada.

Nevada

Vivid Dancer Damselfly (Argia Vivida)

This damselfly was picked as Nevada's state insect because it's widespread throughout the state and matches the state colors, silver and blue. That gets my seal of approval!

New Hampshire

Two-spotted Lady Beetle (Adalia bipunctata)

This is fine.

New Jersey

Old: European Honeybee

New: Margined Calligrapher (Toxomerus marginatus)

A pretty hoverfly, they strongly resemble bees in both looks and behavior. Larvae feed on common plant pests such as thrips and aphids, while the adults sip nectar and pollinate flowers. These helpful attributes make it something the Garden State can appreciate!

New Mexico

Tarantula Hawk (Pepsis grossa)

New Mexico wins the official state insect list by a landslide. Not only is the tarantula hawk a super cool and formidable insect to showcase, but New Mexico's state butterfly (Sandia Hairstreak) was discovered in New Mexico. No notes 10/10!

New York

Nine-spotted Lady Beetle (Coccinella novemnotata)

A native species of lady beetle that's been in decline in recent years, New York is one of the last remaining states where they've been spotted. I also appreciate that New York designated a specific ladybug species instead of just saying "Coccinellidae species".

North Carolina

Old: European Honeybee

New: Eastern Rhinoceros Beetle (Xyloryctes jamaicensis)

A large native species of rhinoceros beetle. They breed in ash trees, and are under threat due to competition from the Emerald Ash Borer.

North Dakota

Old: None

New: Nuttall's Blister Beetle (Lytta nuttalli)

As with all blister beetles, these guys have a chemical defense. Unlike the more famous Bombardier Beetle thought, instead of being black and red they are iridescent red/purple and green.

Ohio

Old: Ladybug

New: Bald-faced Hornet (Dolichovespula maculata)

Look, when the one thing everyone knows about your state is that it sucks, it's time to lean into it. Bald-faced hornets, everyone knows them, everyone has opinions about them, and they get a lot of attention. I don't think I have to explain this one anymore.

Oklahoma

Old: European Honeybee

New: Giant Walking Stick (Megaphasma denticrus)

The largest insect in the United States. Being a native walking stick, they're less damaging than the imported invasive walking sticks that are heavily controlled.

Oregon

Oregon Swallowtail Butterfly (Papilio oregonius)

Oregon in the common name and in the species name, and also has a stamp!

Pennsylvania

Pennsylvania Firefly (Photuris pensylvanica)

Pennsylvania in the common name and species name. If fireflies weren't already on this list I would've made sure to include them somewhere.

Rhode Island

American Burying Beetle (Nicrophorus americanus)

When I saw this on the list I was worried. American Burying Beetles are one of my favorite insects, but they're extremely endangered now. I also thought they existed more in the midwest, so I was worried I would have to change this one because it violated the "native to the region" rule. But! To my pleasant surprise, not only did their historic range extend to Rhode Island, but there is actually a carefully maintained wild population on Block Island. They estimate between 750-1000 individuals live there, making it one of the few remaining places where the American Burying Beetle still exists. Excellent work Rhode Island!

South Carolina

Carolina Mantis (Stagmomantis carolina)

This is fine. I wanted to give South Carolina the Palmetto bug but they're actually not native.

South Dakota

Old: European Honeybee

New: Golden Northern Bumble Bee (Bombus fervidus)

"Save the bees" should really be focused on native pollinators, many of whom are in decline. There are a lot of species of native bee you can feature as a state insect, with the Golden Northern Bumble Bee being a particularly large and striking species.

Tennessee

Old: Firefly and ladybug

New: Black-waved Flannel Moth (Megalopyge crispata)

Seriously look them up, these guys are adorable.

Texas

Old: Monarch Butterfly

New: Rainbow Grasshopper (Dactylotum bicolor)

It was really hard to pick an insect for your state. The Texas Unicorn Mantis was a contender but I eliminated it because it's really only found in the southern part of Texas, so it was between the Rainbow Grasshopper and the Eastern Velvet Ant (or Cow Killer). I went with the Rainbow Grasshopper because it's more wide spread and common, and occurs everywhere except the east part of Texas. But the Eastern Velvet Ant only occurs on the east part of Texas, maybe you should get an East and West Texas insect? I also thought more people have probably already heard of the Eastern Velvet Ant than the Rainbow Grasshopper, which is a shame because they're super interesting to look at.

Utah

Old: European Honeybee

New: Mormon Cricket (Anabrus simplex)

Mormon Crickets are not true crickets, and instead closer related to katydids. Their common name comes from an early account of Latter-day Saint settlers in Utah. In 1848, a swarm of Mormon Crickets decimated the settler's crops, so the legend goes that they prayed for relief from this plague of insects. Later that year, a swarm of gulls appeared and ate the crickets, thus saving the crops. This is recounted in the "miracle of the gulls" story. To recognize their contributions, the California Gull is commemorated as Utah's state bird. I thought it was fitting then that the Mormon Cricket be recognized as your state insect.

Vermont

Old: European Honeybee

New: Long-tailed Giant Ichneumon Wasp (Megarhyssa macrurus)

A pretty wasp with an extremely long ovipositor, these wasps are common in deciduous forests across the eastern United States. They can't sting, and instead use their long ovipositor to stab into tree bark and deposit eggs on the horntail larvae that burrow into the trees.

Virginia

Old: Eastern Tiger Swallowtail Butterfly

New: Giant Stag Beetle (Lucanus elaphus)

A large stag beetle native to the Eastern United States. Although not as well known as their similar looking fellow stag beetles from Japan, these guys are a lovely chocolate brown instead of solid black. Like most stag beetles, they breed in decaying wood.

Washington

Green Darner Dragonfly (Anax junius)

I imagine this was chosen because it matches the flag.

West Virginia

Old: European Honeybee

New: Appalachian Tiger Beetle (Cicindela ancocisconensis)

This tiger beetle likes hilly terrain. As with all tiger beetles, they can be hard to spot because they run across the ground in search of prey. They are fast! But this can make it more rewarding when you finally catch up to one.

Wisconsin

Old: European Honeybee

New: Phantom Crane Fly (Bittacomorpha clavipes)

Don't believe old wive's tales about crane flies drinking gallons of blood, they are nonbiting. Those striking black and white legs are hollow, and are held out when they fly, making an extremely distinct sight that's been likened to sparklers or snowflakes.

Wyoming

Sheridan's Hairstreak (Callophrys sheridanii)

This is fine.

#insect #insects #state insect #long post #list #text post #entomology #bugblr #invertebrates #invertiblr #inverts #invert

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tumbleweed-writes · 4 months

Text

Scorned: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Three

Previous Chapter HERE

18+

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For Y/N the friendship she’d developed with one Venus Van Dam had been a blessing in more ways than one.

She could admit she’d been taken with Venus the moment the woman had entered her antique shop and began looking over the selection of jewelry Y/N had recently acquired from an estate sale.

Venus had been difficult not to notice for more than one reason. Y/N had gotten the sense that Venus was accustomed to being noticed and more often than not receiving negative attention. It was clear that Venus was accustomed to a wide array of reactions to her.

Y/N had quickly grown to adore how quick witted Venus seemed to be always having a smart comeback to any negative comments she received about her appearance.

For Y/N, Venus was hard to dislike. Y/N was sure it was the accent. There was something comforting about the Southern drawl. Y/N had lived in the South for a brief period of time, it being one of the many states she’d bounced around over the past ten years. She’d enjoyed her time in the south, but it was not meant to be.

Much to her surprise Venus had become a regular customer and a friendship had bloomed.

For Y/N it was a relief to have a friend. She could admit that she had struggled to form any genuine lasting friendships given her tendency to be forced to pack up and move so often.

Her life over the past decade had become almost nomadic though not by her own choice.

She never felt as though she had the opportunity to truly settle down and place any roots before it was time to pick up and run again.

Y/N had almost lost count of the amount of times she’d been forced to pack up and flee. She had taken to not even really having bank accounts at times finding it easier to pack up and move when she only had cash to her name.

She had spent ten years constantly looking over her shoulder, her eyes peeled for any sign of danger or discovery by her ex husband.

When she spotted signs that her ex had once again found her location she had no choice but to pack it up and run.

She had thought that with all the time that had passed that he would just give up and move on to a new victim, but it seemed that her ex husband was determined to win back his first love.

Though she could admit that the thought of her being his first love made her feel queasy. There had been very little that had been loving about their partnership.

She had been barely eighteen years old when they’d married and only twenty one when she’d finally worked up the nerve to divorce him even if the move had been so risky.

She had been naive enough to believe at first that she could remain in her hometown right outside of Juneau, Alaska post-divorce, but a thorough beating that had put her near death gifted to her by her ex husband had been all the sign she had needed for her to realize she had to get the hell out of dodge.

The ten years that followed had been filled with constantly jumping from state to state across the country, always hoping and praying that she could finally find some place to settle in and find peace.

Her ex husband had the resources and the determination to always find a way to track her down though.

He always made it known that she’d been located with mysterious little presents arriving on her front steps. Deliveries of roses with cryptic little love notes had shifted from being a sign of romance to being a dreadful sign that it was time to run.

When her grandfather, her last remaining relative, had passed on leaving her a small but substantial enough inheritance Y/N had decided to take the money and finally pursue her dream career.

She was sick of running.

She’d decided on Charming, California telling herself that the quaint Northern California town seemed like a beautiful place to finally find some peace. It seemed like somewhere she could truly disappear. She’d only taken one visit to the town to really set her heart on it being her safe haven.

There was something about it that had just felt so special. It was like something out of a movie; all the little mom and pop stores had seemed so cute. She’d appreciated seeing a place free of Starbucks and Wal-Marts. The cheap cost of living especially for California had also been alluring.

So, she had made the move hoping and praying that this time would be different.

Y/N was determined to make Charming her permanent home. She had been determined enough to take the plunge and put her inheritance into renting a retail and living space and opening up the antique shop she’d dreamed of opening up for almost a decade now.

It was a huge risk putting her eggs into one basket with this business venture, but she was desperate to make something of herself.

She was sick of dead end jobs and the sense of loneliness that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She was sick of being afraid.

She was now in her thirties and the thought that she had nothing to show for it made her feel uneasy.

She was sick and tired of letting her ex husband control her future.

So, she had settled in and told herself that she was not running again no matter what.

When Y/N had signed the lease on the retail and living space down the street from the building sporting an old faded sign reading Scoops and Sweets, her new landlord Jacob Hale had added on a small comment once the paperwork had been signed and dated “There’s a motorcycle club renting the retail space down the street. Nothing to fret over. They can be a wild bunch, but they keep to themselves. Just be aware that there might be some noise, Harleys and the occasional party. Like I said, they keep to themselves though. If there’s any trouble just come to me. No need to involve the police.”

Y/N had not thought much of the comment even though it had been waving red flags directly in her face. She had told herself that this little motorcycle club would not be an issue.

She had told herself that the cheap rent on her new business and apartment space was well worth any noise from Harleys. The rental on a retail space where there was living quarters overhead included was a steal.

She had not thought anything of how reluctant Jacob Hale had been to sneak in the comment once the ink was dry on the rental agreement she’d signed.

The little motorcycle club had been ever present directly down the street from the small antique shop she was setting up.

She had noticed the harleys passing by as she’d painted the walls of her retail space and made her way up and down the stairs leading up the small apartment space above her shop.

She had of course noticed the kuttes the men who rode those Harleys sported Sons of Anarchy.

Still though, she had not paid them much mind. She had been too giddy over the promising new future she was hopefully setting up.

Venus Van Dam had been one of Y/N’s very first customers and it seemed that Venus had become just as fond of Y/N as she was of her.

After a few visits to the shop the two women had gotten to chatting and a friendship had easily blossomed.

Y/N got the sense that perhaps Venus was just as lonely as her. She had gotten the sense that perhaps Venus did not have many people in her life who genuinely accepted her.

The friendship between the pair had brought some interesting characters into Y/N’s life.

Venus’ boyfriend had been a surprise. Y/N had spotted the man before seeing his Harley pass by her shop. She could admit that Tig Trager had made Y/N feel uneasy at first, but that sense of unease had disappeared upon seeing Venus and he interact.

Another biker had been brought into her life via Venus Van Dam, another man she had spotted passing by on his Harley, but had paid little mind to.

This Scottish biker had certainly thrown Y/N for a loop when he’d come into her shop searching for the perfect birthday gift for his daughter.

Venus Van Dam had seemed to take notice of the loop.

Chibs Telford seemed to be the focus of the conversation between Y/N and Venus as they sat in her bedroom Y/N rolling her eyes at the mountain of clothing on her bed. “I seriously have nothing to wear.”

Venus snorted at the comment over her glass of wine. “I highly doubt that. I can see into your closet, Dear. There are more than a few things you could wear.”

Y/N practically stomped over to her closet, a groan leaving her as she gazed up at it, no potential outfit striking her as a good fit for tonight’s plans. “What do you even wear to a biker party?”

Venus dared to say the words knowing just the reaction it would earn from Y/N. “I don’t think Chibs Telford cares what you wear. Pretty sure you could show up wearing what you’re wearing right now and he’d be delighted. In fact I know he would be absolutely thrilled about what you’re wearing under that little robe.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush staring down at the yellow silk kimono she’d thrown on over her bra and panties.

She cleared her throat trying and failing to sound nonchalant though she knew her flushed cheeks gave her away. “What do I care about what he thinks of my outfit? I just have never been to a freaking biker clubhouse for a party before. I just want to dress for the right atmosphere. Are jeans and a casual looking top okay? That’s probably a safe bet, right?”

“If the top shows off those lovely breasts Chibs is always pretending he’s not staring at, then yes it's a safe bet. I would suggest a skirt though. Maybe that little suede black mini skirt you wore last week when we swung by the clubhouse after grabbing lunch and he practically broke his neck craning it so he could get a good look at your legs. Trust me, the man wants to eat you up and you are blind to it.” Venus offered, the comment only making Y/N’s cheeks flush all the darker.

Y/N would never quite grow accustomed to how blunt Venus could be about things of the sexual nature, though it made sense given Venus’ line of work.

Y/N had been a little wary when Venus had felt comfortable enough to open up about her line of work, but Y/N had valued their friendship far too much to let her reservations about the world Venus seemed to live in shut down any growing friendship.

Y/N let out a huff shaking her head and staring anywhere but at Venus. “You’re ridiculous. He did not. He’s not leering at me like I’m a piece of meat. He’s been a perfect gentleman to me everytime we interact. If he has somehow checked me out without me noticing I’m sure there’s nothing to it. He’s a guy; guys look. Filip and I are just friends, nothing more.”

“Sure, just friends. That’s why he insists on you calling him Filip, despite the fact that everyone else doesn’t get that privilege. Trust me my sweet little lamb, he is a man obsessed. He looks at you more than you know and it isn’t just because he’s a hot blooded male. You have SAMCRO’s club prez all flustered and you don’t even notice it. Tig has filled me in on just how sugary sweet Chibs Telford is on you. That new prospect the boys took on looked a little too longingly at your backside last time you stopped by and Chibs practically ripped his head off the second you left. He does not appreciate anyone looking at what he’s got his eyes set on. He got quite flustered when I mentioned I was bringing you to this party tonight. Like I said, you make him nervous. It’s something to be proud of.” Venus offered the comment earning another huff from Y/N.

She spoke again before Y/N had another chance to protest. “You wear that mini skirt tonight and watch how he reacts. If you don’t end the night with a date lined up with him then I will eat my words.”

Venus Van Dam had not had to eat her words.

That night had ended with a request for a date and Y/N had to go through the annoying task of admitting to Venus that she was right.

Venus had not been smug about it…at least not too obnoxiously smug. It seemed that Venus could see right through Y/N’s claims that Chibs was not interested. Venus was not afraid to call it like she saw it. Venus was not afraid to call Y/N on her bullshit.

So, it should have been no shock that the offer for a lunch courtesy of Tig Trager and Venus Van Dam would be another chance for Y/N to be called out on her bullshit.

Y/N poked at her salad a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she sat in a booth across from her lunch dates. “I can feel you two staring at me. I can practically hear the annoying buzz of your brains hyperfocusing on me right now.”

“We’re just worried about you, Doll.” Tig blurted out exchanging a quick glance with his ol lady, the two apparently having some sort of mental conversation that Y/N was not privy to.

Y/N let out a soft sigh daring to ask the question. “Do you two have a reason to be concerned?”

Tig blurted the words out before he could stop them. “I mean, Chibs stuck his dick in crazy with a badge.”

She internally cringed remembering her comment to Chibs the night before as they laid in bed discussing the subject of his ex fling. She’d told him that they both had crazy exes. She had only been half joking but it seemed that perhaps her attempt to give some humor to an uncomfortable situation had reflected reality a little too clearly.

Venus gave Tig’s shoulder a nudge she fast to speak. “What Alexander is trying to say is that Chibs’ ex fling is a cop and that’s enough of a reason to show concern alone. Her being still stuck on him doesn’t help matters.”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh, her eyes cutting around the diner they sat at, taking notice that no one seemed to be listening in on this conversation before she dared to speak. “I mean you guys are legit now, business wise, so is it really that big of a concern?”

“The past isn’t so legit, Doll.” Tig provided making a chill run down Y/N’s back she well aware of the history of SAMCRO.

Chibs had been pretty blunt when explaining his past. It was only fair that she knew what and who he was, he’d claimed when their relationship had gone from friendship to romance.

She had been surprised how easy it felt to accept that past.

She guessed it had just been hard to feel too endangered when she thought back to her first meeting with Chibs Telford; how sweet he’d seemed when he had been fretting over the perfect gift for his daughter.

She thought of how much love had been evident in his voice when he’d spoken of his Kerrianne, and it had felt nearly impossible to feel as though she was in danger by associating with him nor any of his brothers.

It was something she’d grown to notice about Chibs; he had a way of making her feel incredibly safe. It was a sense of safety she’d not known ever in her life; especially given her past with her ex husband.

She chose her words carefully knowing it was a fair question. “And what do I do if she approaches me with questions about that past?”

Tig thought back to something he’d heard the late Gemma Teller Morrow tell more than a few ol ladies. He swallowed a lump developing in the back of his throat at the thought of the deceased former matriarch of the Sons shoving thoughts of his complicated emotions for the woman. “You tell her that you open Chibs’ beers and suck his dick and that’s it. You don’t know shit beyond what his favorite beer is and just how deep he likes his dick sucked.”

Y/N rolled her eyes a small huff leaving her at the words her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Real classy Tigger.”

Tig shrugged his shoulders fast to respond. “It gets the point across. It kills two birds with one stone. It tells her you aren’t giving her shit and reminds her of who you are to him.”

Venus decided to speak up before Tig continued; she clearly able to see that Y/N was flustered by the lewdness of the suggestion. She could admit that Y/N’s shyness was refreshing given her line of work. That was part of why she enjoyed their friendship. “What he means to say is we both know Chibs had prepared you for those types of questions. Don’t let the source of those questions unnerve you. Treat her like you would anyone with a badge if she asks anything about the club. You have a responsibility to go with the company line no matter what the sheriff pulls. You are the First Lady of SAMCRO, my darling.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head, tempted to point out that she’d not quite signed up to be the Queen of the local bikers. She zipped her lips though realizing that in a way she had. When she had fallen for Chibs Telford she’d signed up for whatever his life brought her.

Venus spoke again deciding to just jump into the question. “How are you feeling about it? I can’t imagine its enjoyable to have someone from his past taunt you with that past?”

“I mean…we all have pasts. It’d be ridiculous to be upset about something that happened before I even met him. I’m sure she thought she was really striking a nerve by mentioning their history, but it’s just that…history.” Y/N pointed out, rolling her eyes.

She spoke again, shaking her head knowing she was in safe company to spill her innermost thoughts about this entire mess. “I just hate that she’s even pulling anything, jumping into our lives and dragging up the past…from what Filip has said about their entire thing they had going on, it was miserable for him most of the time. I mean it’s over, I just wish she’d take the hint that he’s moved on. If she thinks I’m going to be scared off she’s got another thing coming. I’m here to stay.”

She cringed at her own comment knowing she should know better than anyone about exes who wouldn’t take the hint that the relationship was over given her own past.

Tig shook his head, Venus and he exchanging another glance. “It wasn’t ideal. It was a rough miserable time for everyone in the club. It was a deadly, violent time. We lost a lot of brothers and a shit ton of other people. A lot of trust was broken and tested in the club. There was a lot of loss for us all. The shit that followed was just as rough. Chibby took it hard. He’s a loyal man. A lot of his trust in some people was shattered. And then there was the responsibility of the Prez patch. I mean, the gavel went to him, Jax’s choice. It was a lot of pressure. I know it's still a lot of pressure for him.”

“I know, he’s talked a little about the past, he’s told me what happened. I know he’s worried about the club, about the future of the club. I think he worries about everyone before thinking of himself. He has this habit of taking care of everyone before even considering himself. I both love and hate that about him.” Y/N offered taking a sip of her soda.

Tig was quick to offer reassurance. “You take care of him. You’ve been good for him, given him some peace. He seems lighter since meeting you.”

“I feel lighter too.” Y/N provided keeping the response vague knowing no one aside from Chibs was entirely aware of her past and just what she’d spent so long running from.

Venus was quick to reply to the comment. “And that is why you two are going to be just fine. Don’t worry about little miss sheriff. Just keep taking care of each other.”

“And if she gives you shit, I’m always one phone call away.” Tig offered earning a slight smirk from Y/N.

She remembered her comment to Chibs the night before, unable to stop herself from repeating the statement she’d made. “I won’t need to make any phone calls. I will handle it if she tries me again. If I’m First Lady of SAMCRO then I guess that means I just don’t protect the club…I protect him too. I’m not letting some psycho ex stop me from protecting any of you.”

Tig gave her a smile that seeped pride as he spoke, reaching out a nuzzling her hair earning an annoyed huff out of her. “Spoken like a true ol lady.”

She smoothed back out her hair fixing the silk scarf she’d used as a headband, shaking her head ever so slightly.

She couldn’t hide the small smile from crossing her lips.

She guessed she really was a true ol lady.

==================================================

Sheriff Jarry’s previous interaction with Chibs Telford had taught her that she had to be a little more subtle about looking into her ex’s new love.

Though a more sensible voice in the back of her head told her that she was crossing a line, a louder more jealous voice exclaimed about the unfairness of it all.

Althea Jarry could not shake her annoyance that Chibs Telford was clearly not going to be interested in resuming their previous arrangement.

It would be one thing he if simply just wanted to continue to play outlaw and live a life of debauchery in SAMCRO.

It felt insulting to see that he had zero interest in throwing himself into croweaters. He was taking up with some cute little antique store owner and being perfectly domestic.

The fact that he was happily moving on into some sense of domestic bliss unnerved Jarry.

She hated to admit she’d thought of him more often than not during her sabbatical. She had reflected upon their tryst and had regretted allowing him to finally accept her attempts to push him away.

When they’d had that final confrontation she had not expected him to so readily agree to end things. Though at the time she’d felt unnerved by all that had happened around them; she had not anticipated that he’d want to end things and to threaten her as well. When she had told him she was putting an APB on Jax Teller she had not entirely anticipated that he would go along with her insistence on ending things between them.

She had made similar comments before. She knew she had commitment issues. Chibs’ world had made her feel uneasy and as much as her heart and her body wanted to commit, her mind had been less than willing.

She had found the danger surrounding him to be exciting and sexually appealing. The sex was amazing. Deep down inside though she had known that he was not willing to be as open with her as she’d hoped and she resented it. She resented the fact that he could not forget the badge she wore.

She could admit she knew deep down that they were using one another at least at the start. She got money and he got intel for the club. The sex was a nice bonus.

She hated to admit that her heart had gotten involved in the process though. Her heart was a possessive beast. She had begun to think that she could love him. She had been uncertain of what to do with that love.

She could still remember the words Chibs had said to her when he finally went along with her threats to break up their partnership; that cops who got on the wrong side of SAMCRO tended to disappear.

It had told her that Chibs had no love for her if he was able to threaten her so heartlessly.

The threat felt like a slap to the face.

Seeing him give love so willingly to someone else had felt like an even bigger slap to the face.

She felt herself seethe all the more as she sat in her parked car her eyes trained on her ex and the woman he’d so happily replaced her with.

Chibs and she walked hand and hand outside of the entrance to the Sons clubhouse, Chibs pulling her hand up to press a kiss to it.

She turned to face him leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Jarry felt a jealous sense of rage bubble in her gut remembering how he had always shied away from touches to the scars embedded upon his cheeks anytime she herself tried a similar move.

She had tried to coax him into opening up about the cause of the scars but he’d not been open to the coaxing. She had to wonder if he’d been more open with little Miss Y/N.

She felt even sicker as she watched his hands slide down Y/N’s body caressing her finally resting against her backside.

The pair spoke quietly to one another seemingly lost in their own world only able to focus on one another.

Jarry glared at the pair even more certain she wanted to destroy their little world.

Chibs Telford may have threatened her when they broke up, but he didn’t know just how much of a threat she could be.

====================================================

Her nails dug into his chest, her brow furrowed as her hips rocked over his. Chibs groaned, his hands pressing to her hips his own blunt nails digging into the soft flesh.

He managed to speak his voice low and filled with reverence. “That’s my love, yer almos fuckin there, aye?”

She only managed a soft uh huh in response, her hips continuing to roll over his having found the perfect rhythm; up and down back and forth.

Y/N was certain that no one had a more exquisite dick than Chibs Telford. She was quite certain she may have told him so though in far less elegant words. She had a feeling he got the message all the same though.

He groaned as he watched her pull a hand from his chest running it down her body her fingers pressing down to her center finding her clit.

He kept his eyes on her fingers as he watched her rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves the sight of her touching herself so intimately and his cock sliding in and out of her soaked center enough to make his balls ache signaling that he was just as close as her.

He moaned digging his feet into the bed and bending his knees working up the force to rock against her increasing the sensations washing over with rougher thrusts more determined than ever to get her there.

He gazed up at her knowing that in times like these he was more lovesick for her than ever.

He wasn’t just saying that because his dick was currently buried somewhere so wet and hot either.

He adored her more than he was sure he could possibly ever fully express. She really had been so healing for him.

He had never believed upon their first meeting that he’d be lucky enough to not only take her to bed but to have her love.

She really was his one sense of serenity even with as stressful as taking the gavel had been for him.

She spoke her voice broken and high pitched. “Oh fuck, Filip. Please, Baby, please. Fuck.”

He groaned having loved her more than enough in more than enough positions to know just what it looked like when she was right on the edge. He was always proud that he was able to get her there occasionally more than once in one session.

He knew that he was sadly not getting any younger. He did have at least a decade on her after all. He knew the silver in his hair was a sign that most would assume he could not keep up with a cute little thing like her. He was proud to say that he was more than capable of it.

His refractory period may be a little lengthier than he’d like and he might not be able to go as many times as he may have in his twenties and his thirties, but he was still capable and creative enough to please her.

He groaned as she fell over the edge cries of his name leaving her, her body shuddering and her center contracting around him.

He moaned his accent growing all the thicker the feel of her falling apart around him enough to force him to reach his end as well. “Fuckin take it, perfect Love, shite lass. Take it so good. Love ye. Perfect pussy, all fuckin mine, takes my cock so good.”

She whined collapsing against him as he released into the condom spilling ropes of his release shaking just as much as her.

She felt weak against him as he thrust up against her throughout his end groans of her name spilling from his lips.

She whimpered as he wrapped his arms around her holding her tight against him unwilling to allow her to pull up and off of him even as he spilled the last of himself, his body coming down from his own end.

He caressed her back lovingly, his lips pressing to any bit of skin he could reach. She laid against him, having to admit she was just as unwilling to pull from him.

He sighed as his cock softened sliding from her against his will. He’d once told her he could spend forever buried inside of her and each time he had her he was more than certain of it.

She sighed cringing a bit as the ac in his dorm room flipped on cooling their sweat damp skin making them both feel clammy.

She reluctantly pulled up and off of him rolling over onto her back. He allowed her to do so, having to admit he was unhappy to have her out of his arms for even a moment.

He made quick work of removing the condom, tying it off, shoving it in a tissue, and tossing it in a waste basket he kept by his bed just for this purpose.

He rolled over to face her, she turning to her side to face him. She spoke a drowsy smile crossing her features. “Hi.”

He chuckled, leaning forward, his lips pressing to hers as he spoke. “I jus made ye cum all over my cock and all ye have to say is hi.”

She replied pulling her lips from his, her hand reaching up to smooth back his hair. “I love you.”

He smiled at the statement, it always making him preen. “I love ye too.”

They laid in silence for a moment, his arm sliding around her pulling her close to him the feel of pressing his nude body to hers always pleasurable even if they were not making love.

He dared to speak, asking the one question that had been dancing around in his head all day. “So how was yer day? Tig and Venus took ye to lunch?”

She shook her head knowing the question he was really asking. “My day was fine…Venus and Tig were helpful if that’s what you’re asking.”

He gave her a crooked grin, a sigh leaving him. “I got in my head a wee bit last night before I came to yer place, vented to Tig. He offered to take ye to lunch. Venus an he jus wanna look out fer ye. They love ye. All my brothers love ye.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I love them too.” She reassured him, wanting to make it clear that she didn’t see the lunch conversation as anything other than care.

He felt a small smile cross his lips at her insistence that she loved his brothers. It meant a lot to him; her acceptance of his brothers.

He knew that accepting the club could make or break an ol lady. Part of accepting the club was accepting everyone in a patch and seeing them as family.

He had realized that Y/N was willing to accept all that came with him, even his dysfunctional criminally prone SAMCRO family.

She continued to run a hand through his hair, a soft pleased noise leaving him, she long ago having discovered that he enjoyed scalp massages especially if he’d had a long day. “They reminded me of what to say and do if anyone should have any questions about the club and I reassured them that I know exactly how to handle it. You taught me how to handle questions about SAMCRO.”

She paused a soft sigh leaving her as he responded to the comment. “Aye, ye already know how to handle the cops love. Nothin bout that changed.”

She spoke, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her voice soft. “I know, protect the club, play dumb.”

She pulled her hand from his scalp pressing it to his back, her words sounding so full of determination. “I am not going to let her intimidate me if it comes to it.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her voice still so sure her eyes growing heavy. “I refuse to let her intimidate anyone, not this club, not you. I’m your ol lady, pretty sure it’s my job to protect you”

He gave her a soft smile, the words sounding so perfect his heart aching with absolute adoration for her. “Aye an I protect ye Mo luaidh. It goes both ways.”

She snuggled against him, her eyes growing heavier, more certain than ever that they had to be okay.

She knew that no matter what Sheriff Jarry pulled that they were all going to look out for one another.

========

Mo luadiah = My darling.

#chibs telford #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #Chibs Telford x reader #Chibs Telford smut

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