#gibson girl..... like do i need to explain

[sunblud]

i hate being that bitch that applies an album across all of their blogs but preacher's daughter is so so sookie coded like---

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 3

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦"

summary: After the incident, where past traumas resurface and threaten to unravel your fragile sense of security, Joel steps in as a protector. His presence becomes a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 3

masterlist of the series!

Previous | chapter 2

Next | chapter 4

The night when Jamie took your virginity by force felt like the moment the light within you was extinguished. It was as if the divine spark that once illuminated your soul was snuffed out, leaving behind a darkness that clung to you like a second skin. The purity you had cherished as a good Christian girl was shattered, and in its place, you felt an overwhelming sense of dirtiness. It was as if you had been marked, branded with an invisible scarlet letter that only you could see, yet you believed everyone else could see it too.

The past two months had been a relentless descent into a personal hell. You had become a ghost of your former self, your once vibrant spirit now a flickering ember. Physically, you were a shadow, your body wasting away as if your soul’s torment had seeped into your flesh. The weight of your violation bore down on you, leaving you with no desire to eat, to engage, to exist. Every day was a struggle against the ever-present feeling of disgust, the conviction that you were tainted beyond redemption.

In the eyes of others, you felt exposed, as if the sin of that night was etched into your very being. It was as if the words “dirty slut” were emblazoned across your skin, a silent condemnation that followed you everywhere. No matter where you went, the eyes of judgment seemed to follow, their silent accusations piercing your already wounded soul.

At school, you had withdrawn into yourself, a stark contrast to the lively girl you once were. You spoke to no one, even when you went to church, you avoiding Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. After class, you would rush home, seeking refuge in the solitude that had become both your sanctuary and your prison. Only Joel knew the truth of what had happened that night, and he had been your anchor in the storm.

After that night, you stayed at Joel’s. He had been nothing but gentle, his touch a stark contrast to the violence you had endured. He cleaned you up, gave you a bath, and ensured your privacy by standing near the tub with the curtain drawn, only intervening if you needed something. The care he showed you was the kind of protection you had longed for all your life. His presence was a balm to your wounded spirit, his protectiveness a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you.

The morning after, you insisted on walking home, despite Joel’s offer to drive you. Your house was nearby, but in your daze, you had forgotten to inform your parents where you had been. As you walked through the front door, your father’s fury was immediate. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous roar. "You didn’t tell us you were staying out. Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"I stayed at Ellie’s," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "If you don’t believe me, you can call Joel."

Without hesitation, your father dialed Joel’s number. You stood there, heart pounding, as Joel answered. "Yes, she stayed with Ellie here last night," Joel confirmed, his voice steady. He kept his promise not to reveal the incident with Jamie, but your father’s anger was far from assuaged.

"Even so," your father raged, "you didn’t inform us. What’s next? You’ll become a whore, wandering the streets? Is that what you want?" His words cut deep, each one a dagger plunging into your already shattered heart. He berated you about the virtues of Christianity, reminding you of the sanctity of purity and obedience.

"You need to understand the importance of your faith," he lectured, his voice a relentless drone. "You must remain pure and obedient, not fall into sin like this."

You stood there, numb, the weight of his words adding to the already unbearable burden on your shoulders. The guilt and shame threatened to overwhelm you. Every word felt like another chain, binding you in your own personal hell.

"Take off your shirt and face the wall," your father ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

With trembling hands, you did as he said, the shirt you borrowed from Ellie slipping to the floor. You turned to the wall, feeling the roughness of the paint against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness you craved. Your father took his belt, the leather a familiar implement of punishment, and began to strike.

Each lash was a searing reminder of your perceived sins, each word of his condemnation a nail in the coffin of your spirit. "This is for your disobedience," he spat, the belt cracking against your skin. "This is for the whore you’re becoming."

You bit back your cries, the tears streaming down your face silently. You were too exhausted to scream, too broken to protest. The pain was overwhelming, but it felt deserved. In your mind, this was God’s punishment for your unholiness, a penance for the dirtiness you couldn’t wash away.

Your mother watched from the doorway, her eyes filled with helplessness. She didn’t intervene, just as she never had. Instead, she retreated to the living room, turning up the volume on the gospel music to drown out the sound of your father’s anger and your silent suffering.

With each strike, you closed your eyes, the pain coursing through you like fire. You envisioned yourself as a fallen angel, wings torn and bloodied, cast out from the grace you once knew. The purity you had cherished was gone, replaced by a deep, unending shame.

When it was over, you collapsed to the floor, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. You felt like a martyr, bearing the weight of your father’s righteousness, the gospel music a cruel hymn to your suffering. You were unworthy, unholy, and the punishment was your penance.

As you lay there, tears mingling with the cold floor, you prayed. Not for forgiveness, but for strength. "God, if You’re listening, help me endure this. Help me find a way to survive." Your prayer was a whisper in the storm, a desperate plea from a soul that had known too much darkness.

In that moment, you understood the depth of your isolation. Your purity was gone, your light extinguished, but a spark of defiance remained. You had survived this night, just as you had survived Jamie. And somehow, you would find a way to keep surviving, to reclaim the light that had been stolen from you.

***

The days that followed were a blur of silence and shadows. You moved through the house like a ghost, your presence barely acknowledged by your parents. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of your perceived worthlessness. Every glance in the mirror revealed the invisible brand of shame you felt etched into your skin. You had become a stranger to yourself, lost in a labyrinth of guilt and self-loathing.

At school, you withdrew further into yourself, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Ellie noticed your absence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. The weight of your secret was too heavy to share, the fear of judgment too great. You walked the halls with your head down, each step a reminder of the burden you carried.

A month had gone by, and now it was Sunday. The weight of another church service loomed over you. You had managed to somewhat regain a semblance of normalcy, but the shadows of that night continued to haunt you. Despite the slight improvement, you had been avoiding everyone, including Joel. His calls went unanswered, and you took alternate routes to avoid passing his house. The shame you felt was overwhelming. You had developed feelings for Joel, but you believed he would never want you now that you felt so dirty.

Joel, on the other hand, was deeply worried about you. His concern grew with each passing day. He would occasionally ask Tommy if he had seen you at church, but Tommy’s answers never provided the comfort Joel sought.

The night before Sunday, Joel decided to visit Tommy and Maria with Ellie, hoping to have a casual movie night. He needed an excuse to ask about you without raising suspicions.

As they settled in the living room, Tommy was setting up the movie. Joel took a seat next to him, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. Ellie and Maria were chatting in the kitchen, preparing snacks.

"So, how’ve things been?" Joel asked, trying to keep his tone light. "Busy with the kid, I bet."

Tommy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, you know how it is. Little one keeps us on our toes. What about you? How's work been?"

"Same old, same old," Joel replied, leaning back in his chair. "Ellie's doing good in school, keeping me busy with all her activities."

Tommy smiled. "That’s good to hear. She’s a great kid."

Joel nodded, then took a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation. "Yeah, speaking of kids... you seen Gibson girl around lately? Maybe at church? Haven't seen her passing by my home."

Tommy frowned, scratching his head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at church either. And she's usually always around."

Joel tried to keep his voice casual, not wanting to raise suspicion. "Right," Joel answered, but his thoughts were far from the conversation at hand. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind—the pain in your eyes, the way you had avoided him, the way your voice trembled when you last spoke. Every unanswered call, every sight of your empty path gnawed at him, filling him with a deep, gnawing worry.

He replayed that night over and over, the way you had clung to him, the way he had tried to provide comfort without crossing any lines. He had never felt so helpless, so desperate to protect someone, yet so unsure of how to do it. His heart ached with the thought of you suffering alone, believing you were dirty or unworthy.

"Joel?" Tommy's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Joel blinked, realizing he had completely zoned out.

"Huh? What?" Joel said, shaking his head to clear the fog of worry. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Tommy gave him a curious look, tilting his head slightly. "I was asking if you wanted more popcorn, but you seemed a million miles away. Everything alright?"

Joel forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety that churned within him. "Yeah, sorry just got a lot on my mind. But yeah, more popcorn sounds good."

Tommy didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it go, standing up to refill the bowl. Joel watched him go, taking the moment to gather himself. He needed to find a way to reach you, to make sure you were alright without raising too much suspicion. The worry gnawed at him, a constant presence in the back of his mind.

As the movie continued, Joel found it hard to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, hoping that you were finding some measure of peace, even as he felt his own slipping further away.

As the sun rose on Sunday, you prepared yourself with a painstaking precision. The morning light seemed to cast an unforgiving glow on your efforts, illuminating every detail of your attire and makeup. You adorned yourself in a soft yellow dress, a stark contrast to the stained white dress you had left behind—a symbol of a past tainted by invisible scars. Your hair was styled meticulously, and a light touch of makeup tried to mask the weariness in your eyes. It was as if you were trying to paint over the shadows that clung to you, hoping that the brightness of the yellow might somehow wash away the stains of your recent past.

Your father was adamant about you joining the service, and the pressure of his expectations weighed heavily on you. The town would be present, as it always was for these occasions, their curious eyes a stark reminder of your recent absence. You could feel their gazes, and you braced yourself for the inevitable scrutiny. The anticipation of stepping into the public eye once more was almost suffocating.

When you arrived at the church, you noticed Tommy and Maria’s car parked nearby, a sight that barely registered in your anxious state. But as you turned, your heart seemed to freeze. There, behind Tommy’s car, was a familiar truck—a vehicle you hadn’t expected to see in such a context. It was Joel’s truck.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Joel had decided to return to church after years of absence. The scene before you was a tableau of mixed emotions: the congregation’s whispers, the look of surprise on Tommy’s face, and your father’s exuberant welcome of Joel. The church buzzed with curiosity, and every eye seemed to turn toward Joel and the unexpected presence he brought with him. Your father’s enthusiasm was palpable as he greeted Joel, his gestures warm and welcoming. Tommy smiled, clearly pleased to see his brother, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming urge to disappear. The thought of facing Joel was almost too much to bear. The last time you had seen him, everything had been different. The thought of him seeing you in your current state, a mix of shame and unresolved feelings, was unbearable. You moved swiftly to avoid his gaze, slipping through the crowd like a wisp of smoke.

Joel's presence was a silent declaration of concern and hope. His return to the church was more than a gesture; it was an effort to reconnect, to understand why you had vanished so abruptly from his life. He couldn’t risk coming to your house and questioning your parents directly, as that would have been too conspicuous. Instead, he chose this public setting, hoping it might offer a chance to see you, to gauge your well-being without drawing undue attention.

Tommy and Ellie had been startled by Joel’s decision to attend church after all these years. To them, it was an unspoken mystery, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit with the past patterns they knew. Tommy’s curiosity was evident, though he kept his questions at bay, respecting Joel’s unspoken wish for discretion.

As the service began, the room was filled with the familiar hymns and prayers. The sounds of the congregation’s voices blended into a backdrop of solemnity and devotion. You sat through the service, your mind a turbulent sea of emotions, while Joel’s presence at the back of the church was a constant, heavy reminder of your own turmoil.

Joel, despite his own feelings of discomfort in this sacred space, kept his gaze low, trying to remain unobtrusive. His concern for you overshadowed the solemnity of the service, his heart aching with the desire to reach out, to offer solace, but restrained by the fear of overstepping. The echoes of the sermon, the rustle of prayer books, and the collective murmur of the congregation seemed distant, as if you were trapped in a bubble of your own distress.

After the Sunday service, the church transformed into a space of community and fellowship. Tables were set up with an array of homemade dishes, and the congregation gathered for a communal meal. The aroma of comfort food filled the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of plates. It was a time for members of the congregation to connect, share news, and strengthen their bonds.

You moved through the gathering with practiced grace, helping your mother and father arrange the food and interact with the attendees. Your smile was a well-practiced mask, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath. You greeted old friends and acquaintances, your responses polite but distant. The effort to maintain this façade was exhausting, but you felt it was necessary to avoid further scrutiny.

As you made your way to the storage room in the church, a quiet refuge away from the bustling hall, you found yourself alone. The clamor of the gathering seemed a world away, and the space was filled with the scent of dust and old paper. You were organizing a stack of donation boxes when you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

Turning around, you saw Joel standing in the doorway. His presence was like a sudden storm cloud on an otherwise clear day—unexpected and overwhelming. He looked at you with a mixture of concern and apprehension, his rugged face lined with worry. The weight of his gaze was almost palpable, and it seemed as though he was struggling to find the right words.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The usual gruffness in his tone was softened by the underlying worry.

You shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by his appearance. “Joel,” you managed to reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions welling up inside you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Joel looked around the small room, as if searching for the right way to start the conversation. “Yeah, well,” he began, his gaze falling back on you. “I’ve been—” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been worried about you. Haven’t seen you around much. I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of his genuine concern. Joel was a man of action rather than words, and his struggle to articulate his feelings only highlighted how much he cared. He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of how you were really doing.

“Joel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “did you come to church just for this? I’m fine. Really.”

Joel’s expression softened, but his concern remained palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you, and you’ve been avoidin’ me. It’s not like you to just disappear. I need to know—are you really okay?” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his worry. You looked away, struggling to find the right response. “I’ve just been dealing with things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed some time.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening. " You’ve been missin’ from school, from church, from everythin’. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been keepin’ your distance."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, the truth of your situation pressing heavily on your heart. “I'm fine, Joel” you said, struggling to keep your composure.

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into his features. “Why’ve you been avoidin’ me?” he asked, his voice a blend of urgency and care. “You can’t keep runnin’ away from this. You keep pushin’ me away.”

You felt a sharp pang of guilt at his words, your heart twisting in your chest. The shame and the weight of your feelings made it difficult to meet his eyes. “I just—” you began, your voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to see how... broken I am.”

Joel’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and tenderness. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not broken. You’re still you. You don’t have nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, yet the weight of your shame still felt suffocating. You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “But I’ve changed,” you said, your voice cracking. “I feel like I’m not who I was before. I feel... dirty. Like I’m not even me anymore.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he noticed the tremble in your voice, the tears that began to fall. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. His touch was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold grip of your shame.

As he held you, Joel let his guard down, something he rarely allowed himself to do. The strength in his arms was a shield against the world, a sanctuary where you could momentarily escape the torment you had been living through. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, provided a grounding comfort. This was more than a physical embrace; it was a silent promise of protection, akin to the way he had once shielded Ellie and Sarah.

“It’s alright,” Joel murmured into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not your fault, it's not your fault. Everything's gonna be alright, babygirl."

His words were like a balm to the raw wounds of your spirit, yet the weight of your emotions still felt heavy. You could sense the sincerity in his voice, a quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the tumult of your inner world. In his embrace, you could almost imagine the weight of your shame lifting, if only for a moment.

After a while, you slowly pulled away from Joel’s comforting hold, grateful for his presence. “Thank you, Joel,” you said softly, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Joel, ever the pragmatist, decided to lighten the mood with one of his characteristic jokes.

“You know,” he said with a crooked smile, “cryin’ like that might just mess up your makeup. And we wouldn’t want you lookin’ like a raccoon now, would we?”

His playful jest brought a genuine smile to your face, a rare and fleeting moment of joy. Joel’s eyes softened as he saw you smile, his own expression a mix of relief and affection. “That’s right, like that, doll,” he said, his voice warm.

He gently cupped your face, his rough fingers brushing away the last traces of tears. “You’re stronger than you think. Just gotta give yourself some credit. You ain’t broken, not by a long shot.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached, and your mother appeared at the doorway of the storage room. Her cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Sweetheart, what’s taking so long? Did you find everything?”

You and Joel quickly pulled away from each other, making a show of straightening up and wiping your faces. “Umm, yes mother, I-I found it,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Your mother’s eyes fell on Joel, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Joel? What are you doing here?”

Joel cleared his throat, trying to mask the unease in his voice. “Hey, Evelyn, I, uh, just looking around the church again. Almost forgot how it looks from the inside, you know? It’s been a while.”

Your mother, ever the bubbly personality, clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! We’re so glad to see you back. You know, you should come more often. It’s always nice to have you around. It’s been such a long time!”

Joel nodded, his eyes flicking back to you with a hint of concern. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Just felt like catching up with old times.”

Your mother beamed at Joel, her enthusiasm unwavering. “Well, that’s fantastic. You must join us for some of the refreshments afterward. It’s a potluck today, and there’s plenty of food. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

Joel gave a polite smile, trying to hide his discomfort. “Sure thing. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

As your mother continued to chat with Joel, her cheerful demeanor filling the room with a lightness that contrasted sharply with the earlier tension, you took the opportunity to discreetly collect yourself. You adjusted your dress and smoothed out your makeup, trying to regain your composure.

Joel, noticing the change in your demeanor, shot you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to your mother.

Your mother excuse herself to go out but lookback to you, “Oh, sweetheart, I almost forgot. We need help with the setup for the refreshments,”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ll take care of it, Mama." and she went to outside.

You and Joel moved outside too, where the atmosphere of the church’s potluck was in full swing. The laughter and chatter of the congregation filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked goods and savory dishes. Joel, despite his unease, tried to adapt to the social scene, engaging with the women who flocked to him. He was a striking figure, with his salt-and-pepper beard and intense brown eyes that had a rugged charm to them. The women, clearly drawn to his distinguished appearance and the success he embodied, tried to catch his attention, though Joel’s discomfort was palpable. He offered polite smiles and brief responses, all the while his gaze frequently wandered back to you.

You moved among the congregation, offering refreshments and engaging in small talk, your presence like a breath of fresh air amidst the busier, more boisterous interactions. To Joel, you appeared as a serene vision—an innocent beauty despite everything. There was something ethereal about you, a delicate grace that made you stand out among the crowd. Your yellow dress seemed to shimmer with a soft glow, as if capturing the very essence of spring's first light.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you, the sight of your genuine smile and the way you interacted with others tugging at something deep within him. You were like a lone daisy in a field of wildflowers, untouched by the wilting sun. His admiration for you was undeniable, though it was mingled with concern and protectiveness.

Suddenly, as you were handing out refreshments, he noticed a boy approaching you. He moved with a kind of familiar swagger, and Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized him—Jamie Lee. The sight of Jamie sent a shiver down Joel’s spine, and a protective instinct surged through him. He watched, tense and alert, as Jamie neared you.

Jamie’s presence was like a shadow falling over your radiant light. Joel’s gaze hardened, his focus narrowing. He could see the unease in your posture, the way you instinctively took a step back. The fear in your eyes was palpable, and it made Joel’s fists clench at his sides.

Joel, unable to stand idly by, started making his way towards you. His movements were deliberate and calculated, every step driven by a fierce determination to protect you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before turning back to Jamie. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you approached him with a cold, composed demeanor.

Jamie, noticing your icy response, shifted uncomfortably. “Hey,” he started, his voice trying to sound casual but laced with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know, I was just—”

"Get off from my face," you said quietly doesn't want to make a scene.

amie’s face twisted into a desperate mask of fear as he took another step closer. “Look, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just... just listen to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get off from my face,” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper but sharp as a blade. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to push him away, but Jamie persisted, his fear morphing into a desperate, unsettling urgency. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Jamie’s panic grew. He began to reach out, trying to grab your arm. “You don’t understand. I need you to—”

Before he could touch you, Joel’s imposing figure appeared, his presence radiating a quiet, intimidating authority. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, the protective instincts within him coming to the forefront. “What’s goin’ on here?” Joel’s voice was steady, yet carried a dangerous edge that made Jamie freeze.

Jamie’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mr. Miller!” he stammered, backing away slightly. “I—uh—”

Joel’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the fear and distress on your face. He took a step closer to you, his body language radiating both calm and control. “Gibson, you alright?” he asked softly, his voice a reassuring balm amidst the tension.

You nodded, though your face was pale and your eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “Yes, I’m fine. Just... I need to go," You trying to gave Joel a smile and then walk away continue what you were doing.

Joel watched you walk away, his protective instincts still simmering beneath the surface. Once you were out of sight, Joel turned his full attention back to Jamie, his expression hardening.

“Hey, Jamie,” Joel said, his voice low and controlled. “How’s your old man? Still keepin’ busy with the firm?”

Jamie seemed to relax slightly, though his eyes still flicked nervously between Joel and the direction you had gone. “Uh, yeah, he’s doing alright,” Jamie replied, trying to sound casual. “Still busy as ever. You know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a subtle intensity in his eyes that Jamie seemed to sense but couldn’t quite place. “And what about you? What’ve you been up to lately?”

Jamie fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, just... you know, school and stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

Joel nodded slowly, maintaining a calm exterior while his mind worked through his options. “Right, right. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Thought I’d come back to the old church, see how things are goin’.”

Jamie’s eyes darted nervously. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said, his voice faltering. “So, uh, what brings you back? I thought you hadn’t been around for years.”

Joel’s smile was tight, the warmth of it not quite reaching his eyes. “Just felt like it was time to reconnect. Thought I’d check in on the old place, you know?"

Jamie seemed to relax a bit more, although his discomfort lingered. “Yeah, well, it’s good to see you,” he said awkwardly. “Things are... different, but you know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a quiet storm of thoughts behind his calm facade. “Yeah, I know how it is,” he said, his tone measured. “Well, Jamie, I’m glad we had a chance to catch up. I'll see you around,"

Jamie’s face was a mask of confusion and relief as he nodded quickly. “Yeah, see you around, Mr. Miller.”

As Jamie walked away, Joel’s eyes followed him, a thoughtful frown settling on his face. He knew there was more beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover it, but for now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze returning to where you had disappeared. He knew that protecting you and making sure you felt safe was his priority now. The façade of casual conversation was just that—a façade.

Joel watched you slip away from the crowd, a cloud of worry settling over him. His thoughts were a maelstrom of concern and determination, but before he could follow, he was waylaid by several familiar faces. They were eager to catch up, their questions and greetings a barrier he couldn’t easily cross. He tried to be polite, nodding and offering half-hearted responses, all the while his mind remained focused on you.

Meanwhile, you navigated the church grounds with a heavy heart, your steps driven by a desperate need for solitude. You approached your father with a feigned urgency. “Papa, I need to leave early. I have a test tomorrow and I need a book from the library,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but with a determined edge.

Your father, engrossed in the after-church festivities, waved you off with little more than a distracted nod. “Alright, just be back before dark,” he called after you, his attention already shifting back to the conversation he was engaged in.

With a sigh of relief, you made your way to the edge of the church grounds, your thoughts a tangled mess of despair and shame. The path to the lake felt like a journey through an emotional wilderness. Each step seemed to echo the emptiness inside you, the trees and underbrush closing in like the walls of your own confinement.

As you walked, the weight of your thoughts felt like an oppressive fog, obscuring any sense of clarity or peace. The forest surrounding the path seemed to mirror your inner turmoil—dark, tangled, and impenetrable. The chirping of distant birds and the rustling leaves became a muted symphony to your solitary reflection, their sounds like distant whispers of a world you felt disconnected from.

Reaching the lake, you sank down onto the grassy bank, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on your shoulders. The water’s surface was a mirror of your own fractured soul—rippled and distorted, reflecting the tangled mess of your emotions. You fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a flask from beneath your jacket, your hands shaking slightly. The cigarettes were a crutch, a way to cope with the stress that had become almost unbearable.

Lighting a cigarette, you took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the air like a wisp of your own troubles being released. You retrieved the flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the whiskey you had managed to sneak away. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, a fleeting comfort in the midst of your turmoil. It was a bitter solace, a way to dull the sharp edges of your pain, but it never truly erased the deep ache within.

The lake, now dimming in the encroaching twilight, seemed to embrace your solitude. Its surface reflected the last rays of sunlight, shimmering like scattered fragments of hope amidst the darkness. You leaned back, the grass beneath you soft and cool, the calmness of the lake providing a deceptive sense of tranquility.

As you looked out over the water, your thoughts drifted like the gentle ripples across the lake’s surface. The recent events played out in your mind like a series of shadowy figures, each one a reminder of how your life had spiraled into this moment of isolation and despair. You clung to the fleeting moments of numbness provided by the whiskey and smoke, trying to drown out the crushing weight of your reality.

Joel, meanwhile, managed to extricate himself from the crowd of well-wishers. His concern for you was a constant pull, a magnetic force guiding him towards you. As he scanned the area around the church, his eyes caught sight of your disappearing figure, and he felt a renewed urgency to follow.

The lake stretched out before you, its surface a placid mirror reflecting the fading light of day. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds seemed like distant echoes compared to the chaos in your mind. You lay on the grass, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath you, and the weight of Jamie Lee’s presence still heavy on your soul. Each ripple in the lake's surface seemed to mimic the turbulent waves of your thoughts—crashing, receding, only to rise again with relentless force.

You had managed to slip away from the crowd, the world around you feeling far removed from the comforting isolation you sought. As you stared out over the lake, the thoughts of Jamie’s unwelcome reappearance, the haunting memories, and the crushing fear of being trapped in this endless cycle of pain and shame twisted through your mind. You were desperate for a way out, a new beginning, a place where you could shed the weight of your past and start anew. But for now, all you could do was lie there, the whispers of the forest around you a faint consolation against the storm within.

Then, breaking through the oppressive silence, a voice reached you. "Thought I found you here."

The sound of Joel’s voice was a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You turned slowly, your heart pounding as you saw him emerging from the trees. His presence was a tether to reality, grounding you amidst the chaos. His gaze was soft but intense, filled with a concern that seemed to pierce through the veil of your anguish.

Joel walked over to you with deliberate steps, his expression a mix of determination and empathy. He settled beside you on the grass, his body language a silent promise of protection and understanding. The familiarity of his presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the stark contrast between your own inner darkness and his unwavering support.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with genuine worry.

You didn’t immediately respond, the weight of your emotions rendering you almost speechless. The silence stretched between you, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between your fractured state and his steady presence. Joel’s eyes, dark and intense, held yours with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read the secrets written in your sorrow.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I keep trying to run away from it. But every time I think I’m getting away, it all just catches up with me.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of deep concern and frustration as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. “I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of earnest reassurance.

As Joel reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flinched as though struck, your body reacting involuntarily to the touch. Joel pulled his hand back, a flash of confusion crossing his face. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly shook your head, trying to mask the truth. “It’s nothing, Joel. I’m fine,” you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your distress.

Joel’s eyes narrowed with concern. It was clear to him that there was more to your reaction than you were letting on. “You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “You're hidin' something, let me see your back,"

“I’m fine, Joel,” you insisted, trying to back away from him. Your voice was steadier now, but your heart was racing.

Joel’s face was set in grim determination. “No, you’re not. If you don’t show me, I’m gonna keep pushin’. I can see it in your eyes—you’re in pain, and I need to know why.”

When you continued to resist, Joel’s frustration reached its peak. “You gotta trust me,” he said, his voice harsh but filled with a desperate edge.

Unable to bear his insistence any longer, you shouted, “Joel, stop! I said I’m fine!” The raw pain and fear in your voice were undeniable, and Joel’s eyes softened for a moment, but his resolve remained unshaken.

Joel’s expression hardened. “I’m not lettin’ this go,” he said firmly. He gently but firmly reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it down further to expose the scars on your back. His movements were deliberate and careful, but his eyes were filled with a cold intensity that brooked no argument.

As he revealed the cruel marks etched into your skin, his anger became more apparent. His gaze swept over the scars—long, angry lines, some still raw and others faded but no less painful. Each mark told a story of suffering, and Joel’s jaw clenched in response.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his voice strained with barely controlled rage. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone growing colder with each word. “Who did this to you?"

"It's... It's my father," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. The confession felt like a stone lodged in your throat, its weight choking you.

Joel closed his eyes momentarily, fighting to contain the storm of anger threatening to erupt. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw working as he muttered curses under his breath. The fury simmering just below the surface was palpable.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “How long have you been dealin’ with this?”

“Since forever,” you said quietly, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your admission.

"Does your mother know?" Joel asked, you nodded.

“My mother knows, but she’s too scared to do anything. It’s... ironic, really. Just a few months ago, he was giving advice to Tommy about parenting, acting like some holy figure, but he's nothing but a hypocrite.” You try to lighten up.

Joel’s face contorted with a mix of disbelief and disgust. He stood abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive.

You scrambled to your feet, desperation gripping you. “Joel, where are you going?! please,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t do anything. Please, just let it be. This is my fault. I made him angry. I deserve this. Please, don’t make it worse. I can’t handle more trouble.”

Joel’s gaze was intense, his anger still visible but mixed with concern. “Are you fucking crazy?!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the still lake. “This ain’t your fault!” His outburst was raw, his frustration spilling over.

You flinched, your body instinctively drawing back from the intensity of his anger. The sudden surge of emotion was overwhelming, and you could feel the fear rise in your chest, a cold shiver racing down your spine.

Joel’s expression softened as he saw your reaction, his own anger faltering in the face of your fear. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough but gentler now. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... seeing what he’s done to you...”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know, I know, Joel,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how to handle this. I’m scared, and I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Joel’s eyes, usually so guarded, now reflected a rare vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared,” he said, his voice softer, like a steady hand in the darkness. “I’m here for you."

The night air felt colder, but Joel’s presence was a warm, unspoken promise. His rough exterior hid a well of compassion, and though he struggled to find the right words, his actions spoke volumes. He gently pressed his forehead to yours, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “I’ll keep you safe,” he vowed, his voice a low murmur. “I promise,"

The contact of his forehead against yours was a silent, grounding connection. It was a gesture filled with the weight of his resolve and the depth of his commitment. The orange sky seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to the two of you in that fragile moment of solace.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with confusion and vulnerability. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching for the right words. He honestly didn’t know, not really, why he felt this way. Why the protective instinct was so strong, why his heart ached with a depth he hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t like his feelings for Ellie or Sarah; it was different, an enigma wrapped in the folds of his hardened exterior. He was trying to piece it together, to make sense of the emotions that seemed to defy all his usual defenses.

Inside your head, the sensation was equally foreign but profoundly powerful. It was as if, for the first time, you were standing on the edge of a cliff, gazing at an ocean of comfort and care you had only ever dreamed of. The feelings you had longed for, the protection and the tenderness, were now here, enveloping you like a warm, protective cocoon. The stark contrast between this new sense of safety and the pain you had endured made the emotions even more intense.

Joel’s presence was like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon that cut through the darkness of your fears and insecurities. The connection between you was electric, a thread that wove itself into the very fabric of your being. It was as if every touch, every glance, was an echo of a deep-seated need for solace and understanding. In his gaze, you found not just protection but a promise of something more, something you had never allowed yourself to fully believe in.

As the sky deepened around you, the intimacy of the moment became undeniable. You wanted to close the distance, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours, to make this bond even more tangible. But there was a hesitation—a barrier of years and experiences, a chasm you weren’t sure you could or should cross. Joel was older, a figure who had always seemed out of reach, yet now he was the focal point of a desire that was both thrilling and terrifying.

In your mind, the longing was like a fragile flower blossoming in the dark—a tender, delicate thing that had been waiting for the right moment to bloom. You felt a pull toward him that went beyond mere comfort; it was a magnetic force that drew you closer, promising a kind of connection you hadn’t thought possible.

You wanted to kiss him, to bridge the gap between what was and what could be, but the uncertainty lingered. Would he reciprocate, or would the age difference and the complexities of your feelings stand in the way? The desire was there, shimmering like moonlight on still water, but you were unsure if this was a path you should walk or a dream too fragile to grasp.

Joel's presence was an anchor, grounding you in a moment of clarity and vulnerability. The depth of what you felt for him was new and frightening, like navigating a starless sea in search of a shore you hoped existed. In the silence that followed, you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, a testament to the complex dance of emotion and need that neither of you could fully understand but both could feel.

Driven by the raw need to bridge the chasm between what was and what could be, you made a sudden, bold decision. You leaned in, closing the distance between you with a desperate and trembling kiss.

The moment your lips met his, Joel’s eyes widened in shock. He had not expected this, and for a heartbeat, he was paralyzed, caught between instinct and confusion. It felt like an electric jolt had surged through him, awakening something deep and primal. His heart raced, and his breath hitched as he processed the reality of your kiss.

But as the shock wore off, something else stirred within him—a burgeoning need that mirrored your own. The kiss, so raw and honest, ignited a flame that Joel had long kept buried under layers of grief and stoicism. He felt the world narrow to just the two of you, a universe where the complexities of age and propriety faded into insignificance.

Without fully realizing it, Joel responded with a fervor that surprised even him. His hands cupped your face gently but firmly, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate, a dance of newfound desire and connection. It was as if each touch, each movement, was a revelation, a discovery of a shared longing that neither of you had fully acknowledged until this very moment.

Joel's kiss was eager, almost desperate. The way he pulled you closer, the intensity of his touch—it was as if he was trying to anchor himself to this fragile but profound connection. His initial shock gave way to an overwhelming need to reciprocate, to explore the emotions that had been unearthed by your bold move.

For both of you, this kiss was a turning point, a leap into a new realm of intimacy and understanding. It was more than just physical; it was an acknowledgment of the depth of feeling that had been building between you. The night around you seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for this moment to solidify into something undeniably real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty. Joel’s gaze was softer now, his eyes reflecting a blend of awe and desire. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender.

“Doll,” Joel said, his voice a rough whisper as he pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry, Joel.” The realization of what had just happened washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Joel shook his head gently, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his tone firm yet tender. “It’s okay. you're alright, you'll be fine, I promise."

You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The sky was growing darker, the first hints of night casting long shadows across the lake. You knew you needed to head back before your father’s anger took a new form, a punishment you feared more than the quiet storm that had just passed between you and Joel.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip warm and steady. “Do you want a ride back?” he asked, his concern evident.

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, shaking your head with a small, weary smile. “Just… go back to the church. Say goodbye to everyone, Joel.”

Joel hesitated, his expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. “Alright,” he said, but before turning to go, you couldn’t help but add a touch of humor to lighten the mood.

“Hey, are you gonna become a regular at the church again?” you said, forcing a grin. “You’ve been MIA for years, and now you show up just to connect with me? What’s next, a testimonial about divine intervention?”

Joel chuckled, the sound a rare and genuine escape from the weight of the moment. “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he replied with a wry smile. “But maybe I’ll drop by once in a while, if only to make sure you’re still alright.”

You both shared a brief, understanding smile. It was a fleeting but comforting connection amidst the chaos of emotions and revelations.

Before parting ways, Joel gave you a warm hug, his embrace firm yet tender. He pulled back slightly and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a gesture that carried more warmth and affection than words could convey. It was a promise, a silent vow of protection and care, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of his own feelings.

“Stay safe,” Joel said, his voice gentle but earnest. “I’ll see you around.”

As Joel walked away, his figure blending into the shadows, you turned and began your journey back home. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that Joel had left behind. The path ahead was dimly lit by the moonlight, each step resonating with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

In your mind, the night’s events replayed like a vivid dream. The touch of Joel’s hand, the tenderness of his kiss, and the tangled emotions you felt were all swirling together, creating a new and unfamiliar reality. You felt like you had crossed a threshold, where the lines between safety and danger, affection and fear, had become blurred.

The lake, once a silent witness to your sorrow, now seemed like a distant memory. It was as if you had left it behind, stepping into a new world where the echoes of the night and the promise of something different lingered like a soft whisper.

As you entered your home, the weight of the night’s revelations settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like a delicate balance between the pain you had known and the uncertain hope that now lay ahead. Today had ended with its own kind of twilight, a space between the darkness of the past and the uncertain dawn of the future.

[lacydollette]

pov: you’re jensen ackles’ controversially younger girlfriend ! pt. 2

youruser 17min

jensenackles

Liked by misha and others

jensenackles last night was.. WILD 👀 shoutout to @/youruser for being the best hype woman and amazing paparazzo!

view comments

vampzgirl STOP he looks so fucking hot

flora97 y/n really lucked out 😩

virtualfairy both of em tbh

girlblogger she is the definition of living the y/n life

fory/n do y’all need a third?

youruser drawing you like one of my french girls next 😛

jensenackles you want to see me naked so bad huh?

spnfan123 guys i think we’re interrupting something here 😭

jesswinchester why did no one tell me they were coming to my city..gonna go cry now 😣

gibson-g1rl y/n serving so bad

ari4president her style is literally everything

youruser

Liked by jensenackles and others

youruser it’s giving rockstar gf 🫦 @/radiocomusic

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girlztea living your best life, literally

j2stans wanna lick the sweat off him

gibson-g1rl girl- that’s weird 😭

mishabear y/n keeping us fed all day every day

jaredpadalecki you’d make a good lead singer

youruser right? I think the current one is a little old anyway 🤥

destiel4ever not them ganging up on jensen LMAO

jacklesfan1 i need him in ways i can’t explain

yourbestiesuser oh she singing 👀

youruser she might 😎

ev1lprincess 7TH PIC HAS ME GOING FERAL

beausling they’re the new it-couple, calling it rn

jensenackles

Liked by youruser and others

jensenackles quick september recap 🏇🏼

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j2stan4ever him with the cigar?? HELLO?!?!

y/n_defender 6th pic is giving true directioner

youruser found my people #1Dforever

girlwithablog @/youruser name your favorite in 3..2..1..

youruser louis, duh 🙄

forjackles i just know jensen adores her so much

jacklesfan1 stop is that y/n with arrow?? 🥹

destielcore yes so adorbs !!

deanlcver imagine saying “my boyfriend is jensen ackles”

jackles_3 how does he get hotter and hotter??

youruser

Liked by genpadalecki and others

youruser could get used to this 🫂

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familybusiness99 look at gen and y/n being all cutesy

spnlover1 i adore them together

girlblogger very demure very mindful

genpadalecki now im craving 🦞 again

youruser i remember you literally devoured that poor thing 😭

genpadalecki he was basically begging to be eaten with those round black eyes

y/nfan10 need me a man who gets me flowers every week

jacklesfan1 she is literally the best step mom

secretuser123 more like step sister

beausling lmao get a life 😭

jaredpicz THE KISSING BOOTH?? I’M OMW

casmybeloved real

lucifersdaughter never been so jealous in my life

already planning the next one atp 🎀 hope u enjoyed! part one.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated.

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @nuemanfilms @angelicjackles @alluvthegurlz @nxptvn @lailawinchesterr

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Tronco

Chapter Thirty Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Both bands, staff, and Gibson

Word Count: ~2475

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, rockstars, Emma is a Red Herring don't worry there, uncle-ness and a big decision

Series Masterlist

“SAN DIEGO! You’ve been amazing!” Dean professed into the mic, breathing heavily and sweating from effort. “We’re gonna do a couple more for y’all tonight— since you’ve gone and made us feel so welcome. We gotta show that love right back to ya--- Sound good?”

The crowd erupted.

Dean grinned. God, it was so easy up there, so freeing. He looked around to see the pride and amusement shining back at him in his team’s eyes. His family. His band. 

Sam smirked and rode a note down his A string. 

“Sammy’s ready!” Dean teased, playing to the crowd. “Kev-o?!”

Kevin started on the high notes, tinkling them like fairy bells then crashed down into the basement, thundering into a paralleling rattle. 

“Oh, I’d say he’s ready. PAMMY! Let’s hear it, girl!” Dean bellowed, barely remembering to use the mic.

She kicked the bass drum, setting the beat, pulsing as she pushed it faster, the heartbeat of the night. 

Lee answered with a wail.

Dean wagged a finger at him comically and gestured back to the kit, as if to say ‘it’s the lady’s turn.’

Lee shrugged and held up his hands.

The crowd ate it all up.

Then the cymbals crashed and Pam arrived, bass still pumping in everyone’s ears, high hat and snare collided and her sticks ricocheted across the set like an avalanche. It was times like this that Dean could have sworn she had more than two arms. Her instincts always bordered on precognition, but when she was left to her own devices, she soared.

“PAMELA! FUCKING! BARNES!” Dean bellowed.

And the audience lost whatever ounce of voice they had left. It was sheer pandemonium.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh, the amount of joyous energy had to go somewhere. She just kept going. “GOD, WOMAN, OKAY! We hear YOU!” 

Lee cackled and shook his head at Dean, it was his funeral.

It didn’t matter, up there, they were all invincible.

“Well, I guess she’s ready, Lee? Buddy? Should we join her?”

Lee didn’t say a word, instead he tied a fresh bandana around his head and waited for Dean to start the opening riff for ‘The Sword’ from their second album, then flew above him on an ominous chord.

Pamela dropped the beat, silence rang out for a single moment. On cue they all jumped in place and crashed back into the fan favorite song. 

The crowd sang along and Dean couldn’t hear himself a single bit, but he also couldn’t care less. This was it. 

This was rock’n’roll.

And he was a fucking star.

They all were.

The hotel in San Diego was fantastic, but staying in one place for too long was dangerous. Fans started clocking them and it wasn’t too far of a drive for Paps to be on the prowl. They kept the tour buses at the venue and got cars back to the hotel after the trip down, it just wasn’t practical to drive around town in those gas guzzlers.

But they had a full week to kill before they were due to take on Vegas.

So they improvised. Sam called ahead and rented a restaurant on the older edge of town, somewhere that wouldn’t draw attention. Someplace normal people went on payday or special occasions, not a random Thursday in March.

Their hostess guided them to a small banquet room with its own private bar, clearly confused on who they were and why they were suddenly closed for a private party. The staff hadn’t gotten much warning, but Dean knew Sam made sure everyone scheduled would be making more in tips than they had averaged since probably the holidays. 

That’s the way they did things, they took care of the people who took care of them.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Uh, we’ve still got a dozen or so more people showing up and we’ll need one kids’ menu if you’d be so kind,” Dean explained as he took in the room and the simple layout of round tables of eight.

“Of course, anything else you need right now?” She seemed like a good kid, probably a college student, with bright eyes and long, light brown hair.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know—?”

“Emma.” She smiled, moved the extra menus she was holding, and held out her hand for him to shake.

“Emma, of course. Thanks. I’m Dean. I’m the brother of the idiot paying for this whole thing.”

“Well, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back when the others arrive.”

Dean grinned and turned back to the first carful of folks, which had also held Sam, Donna, Nancy, Bobby and Annie. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, everybody trickled in. Dean tried not to flinch when Victor and you came in together, but Jody and Kevin were so tight on your heels that Dean could tell you were all in a shared conversation. You hadn’t been alone with him on purpose, probably.

Gibson rushed in, hair slicked back and new bracelets from the merch stand proudly thrust out for Dean to comment on.

“Alright buddy! Bad ass! Here, you’re next to me for dinner.”

Dean fist bumped him and pulled out his chair, where the four-pack of crayons and outlined placemat-style menu waited.

“You get any sleep last night?” Dean asked after seeing Pamela drop like a brick into the seat on the other side of Gibson.

“A little,” Gibson said offhandedly as he ripped into his art supplies.

Pamela shook her head. “He had to tell me all about the show— in detail— the entire ride back to the hotel. Then he was hungry.”

“Well, you’ll sleep in tomorrow. Me too, if I’m lucky. Then again I’ve got nothing planned until we head out for Vegas. You guys?”

“Probably get to an aquarium at some point, if nothing else catches his eye,” Pamela said. “No solid plans, except I’m taking a day for myself tomorrow. So if you want to hang with your awesome nephew, call Lee.”

Dean chuckled and went to ruffle Gibson’s hair, but caught himself once he remembered all the product and care put into the ‘do. “I can do that.”

Everyone slowly got situated, taking up three of the tables closest to the bar. Each table had two servers at their disposal, adding to the seamlessness of the process. The food was amazing, Dean couldn’t remember when he last had a steak so well cooked outside of Bobby’s backyard.

Gibson picked at his food, carefully wiping off his hands between each bite so as not to sully his masterpiece.

Dean’s family talked around them, Donna and Benny seemed to be hitting it off across the table, discussing their favorite places to visit in New Orleans. Benny promised to show her where to get the real gumbo and she made him pinky promise not to forget. Bobby, Cesar and Kevin were laughing at the table on Dean’s right, while Annie and Trouble were sneaking pictures of the trio. Probably for blackmail later, Bobby did look a little tipsy after all.

Patience stood behind Lee massaging his scalp, it was unclear if this was a relaxation technique, a haircare discussion, or a potential mindmeld. With the two of them, nothing would surprise Dean anymore. The servers were bringing out a dessert cart and Dean leaned down to whisper to Gibson that he better finish his broccoli pronto.

Which the kid actually did without complaint, though sugar was always a good motivator.

The group grew more casual, standing and playing musical chairs when someone got up to grab drinks, or find the restroom. It was an easy night out with just the bands and their support staff, nights like that would grow further apart the longer the tour went on. After living in each other’s pockets for the next few months, they’d get sick of everyone else’s faces soon enough. But it was still early days and they were all still getting to know one another. 

Nancy plopped down on the seat Pamela had vacated without so much as introducing herself to Gibson.

“Hey! Can I color too?”

Gibson didn’t even look up, he only nodded and said, “you gotta find your own paper, though.”

Dean smirked. “Trouble’s probably got a legal pad or something, if you want. Or I’m sure the hostess could grab you a menu too.”

He liked Nancy, there was something innocent about her that made him instantly equal parts protective and endeared. Kinda like when he first met Charlie, though he learned quickly that the redhead was far from innocent, just earnestly nerdy. Speaking of Charlie, Dean quickly glanced around the room, he hadn’t clocked where she was during dinner, he was too involved with his plate.

Nancy didn’t get up, she just pulled a little notepad out of her bag and commandeered the blue crayon that Gibson had set down.

Dean leaned back and continued to take in the room and all the good energy while he looked for his best friend to harass. Eventually he spotted her, chatting up the bartender and decided he was too comfortable to go and mess with her just yet. A swaying blob in the corner caught his eye, and all too late Dean realized the instrumental music playing in the background. It was Pam and Lee getting cozy in their own little world, their song playing over all the comfortable chaos.

Something inside Dean ached.

He didn’t want to come off judgemental, both Lee and Pamela had gotten their share of rants about their relationship from Dean over the years. But he also couldn’t look away. Here were two people so in love, that they found their way back together time and time again. He swallowed when he realized he was tearing up and cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Dean muttered as he left Gibson with Nancy and beelined to the restaurant proper, empty as it was.

He rubbed his face and tried to clear his thoughts. Something had been building inside of him this past week, and even though you still hadn’t given him a finish line, a reasonable hurdle to clear before calling this thing with Bela off, Dean knew he had to end it. It wasn’t helping anymore, in fact, it only seemed to stack more worry onto his plate.

Besides, at the end of the day, he didn’t want to be posting selfies with all the right hashtags with her. He wanted to be having a drink and a laugh with you, or doing literally anything else with you.

He pulled out his phone and dialed before he could guilt himself out of it.

She answered on the third ring.

“Dean, hi! Let me guess, she told you to tell me to shove it?” Bela said breezily.

Confused by the greeting, Dean fumbled. “Uh— no? I’m calling for me.”

“Are you now? And Y/N didn’t tell you I’ve been a bitch and that you shouldn’t play with me anymore.”

“No. But, actually, that is kind of why I’m calling. How do you feel about having an amicable break up?”

Bela hummed. “Are you sure you aren’t just trying to get her out of taking my calls?”

“What?! No. Look, you guys can work out your own shit. I have no idea why she’s ignoring you or if you were actually being a bitch or anything. I just need out. For me.”

There was a menacing patch of silence. “I see.”

“Oh don’t be like that, we’ve had a good run. You’ve even gotten more flashy names on the guest lists for any foreseeable fundraiser between all the suits you charmed and their significant others.”

“That is a good point. But, Dean, this was all about your image. What happens to that if you break my heart?”

“You’ll survive.”

Bela laughed. “Thrive, you mean. I know. But what is worth all the runaround this is gonna cause? Especially while on tour?”

Dean hadn’t thought she’d need a reason. They weren’t invested in one another emotionally. His brain spun its tires trying to come up with something other than the truth.

“Is there somebody else?”

Dean huffed. “Technically, you’d be the somebody else.”

Bela decided it was best to start toying with him. “Now I know it can’t be the drummer and the redhead’s like a sister to you— so that means—”

Dean groaned. “Shut up, like you didn’t already have some sort of idea.”

“Oh, no, Dean, you wear your heart on your sleeve quite nicely. But Y/N on the other hand is much harder to read.”

Dean felt his steak threaten to make a comeback. 

“She hasn’t said anything about me?”

“Oh, she’s said plenty. But nothing that tells me anything you want to hear at the moment.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re certainly welcome. See the truth comes out eventually and I think this little nugget of information could settle whatever it is that has Y/N firmly in the avoidance zone.”

Dean felt the icy chill of panic drag down his back. “You can’t tell her— I should be the one— I need to see her face when she hears it— from me.”

Bela tisked. “Dean, I’m not gonna ruin the surprise. I mean the break up. I want to tell her. Hell, I’ll even take the blame if you’d like. But all the sentiments and grand gestures are in your hands. I promise.”

Dean exhaled. “That sounds fair. What am I missing here? Why does this feel too easy?”

Bela hummed with mirth. “Because what we’re doing is easy. But in practice—”

“We’re just giving Trouble more work to do! FUCK!” Dean kicked himself for the late realization. “You sure you’re good to pile this on her, too? Especially while she’s all catty with you?”

“Dean— we’ve been friends since college. We lived together for like two and a half years. Y/N and I have come back from far worse than me calling you a manchild who used her as an errand girl.”

“Ouch!”

“There was the time she ruined my Louboutins on spring break.”

“Not exactly the same thing here.”

“Probably not, but still, we’ll be okay. Just gotta let each other breathe a bit. Plus, we are missing like twenty brunches while you whisk her away all summer.”

“I’m not doing shit— it’s the job.”

“Well, maybe, you should think about the whisking and the wooing, then?”

Dean sighed and turned back toward the banquet hall. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see if this puts me in the doghouse first.”

“I’ll save you some room on the rug if it comes to that.”

“Thanks, Bela. For everything.”

“You too, Dean. Never contact me again.”

Dean laughed at that. “Deal. Be good.”

He could still hear the smirk in her voice. “Ta-ta!”

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 33: Stronello

[saltyskeletonkidpasta]

Prepared to get backlash on this but I dont understand why anyone likes jack gibson? He Literally ruins EVERYTHING then doesnt even feel the need to apologise then just gets given the chance to swoop in and be the hero or the nice guy and people seem to fall for that?

He slept with andy in s1 knowing it was against the rules and they could've broken the whole teams trust, slept with maya knowing andy would probably be hurt and let maya take all the blame for that and didnt defend her or have the decency to explain to andy himself, went out of his way to make maya feel worse for crying after Ripley died all bc he found her tears "a little distracting" and just kept going even after she told him to stop making her feel worse, threw a hissy fit the entirety of s3 at her bc he was bitter abt being dumped and had no problem ganging up on her with andy as if he wouldnt have taken the job if he was offered it, broke the code and slept with his teammates wife multiple times despite knowing she was married and then when Rigo found out he continued to lie to his face like right before he died he said he didnt know (which he did after the first time), then after being given therepy by diane and the team forgiving him very easily and he was preaching abt how he was trying to be better then had absolutely no problem helping maya self sabotage her new rl despite him knowing she was in one and that she'd been abused by her dad and threw that in her face then didnt leave when he was asked then picked her up and took her to the bunk while maya was clearly emotionally distressed, thus making the exact same mistake again after the rigo and eva situation and after treating maya terribly all season and constantly whining abt how she chose her career over him as if she ever made any promises to him or did anything with him other than hook up then SHE was one to apologise to HIM, he didnt apologise to the team for breaking the code, or to carina for getting with her gf knowing she was with her.

Then got with inara after saying he wouldnt, who was previously abused in a relationship who he helped get out of. Broke the code AGAIN in S5 by making out with vic knowing she was with theo and didnt even apologise to him and told vic she could ruin her life and that he didnt care, the writers then gave him this redemption arc with helping set up the clinic, and giving people medical care which he is literally paid to do, and stripped carina of any dignity and turned her into his fan girl with that stupid donor crap, his motivation to be it wasnt at all abt helping out his friends all his reasons were selfish then he butted into everything, literally fetishised them and was straight up just creepy, then blurted out marinas private information to the first person he next saw (andy) without permission, then ditched the station without a word after Andy's charges literally JUST got dropped and leaving marina with absolutely no warning, also bailed on marsha who has basically been a mother to him, lied abt where he was to andy for like 3 months knowing how triggering lies were for her, was blatantly rude to maya and disclosed her private info AGAIN infront of vic, didn't even apologise to her for leaving or to andy for lying all carina got was "oh sorry by the way" then went with the victim complex. Everyone on the team showed up for him and tried to help him ben, vic and carina gave him advice rigo came back from THE DEAD for him and andy constantly bent over backwards trying to help him and she was met with rudeness.

He made maya's injury all abt himself and confided in her literal WIFE abt how hard it would be for HIM to lose her then didnt even ask if either of them were okay nor did he visit maya in the hospital, then when carina came back to the clinic he followed her around like a creep trying to peer into a private cubicle then started accusing her of all sorts and gossiped abt her to ben despite knowing she was going through such a difficult time as if he has any right to criticise given his track record and used the excuse that "he didnt want the family to fall apart" and said he'd do the same with ben and miranda which is just rude and not his place anyway and also that he'd "worked hard to be back there" when he really didnt he was instantly given his job back the second it was announced that maya was injured.

When he slipped and smacked his head in 6x14 he got a concussion he still went on the call and didnt tell anyone until he literally passed out in the beanery which if he had collapsed on the call he could've hurt himself even worse or left a team member exposed in a fire and got them hurt or even a civilian. Extremely irresponsible of a paramedic then was suprised it lead to permanent brain damage. Then when everyone tried to do something nice and throw him a party he was like "they are only doing this bc they are obliged to" like seriously? People on the team are constantly there for him and he is so coddled by them. He has marsha and his sisters yet still mopes around like "I have no one who cares abt me :(" I get hes been through alot but so has everyone else they dont whine nearly as much and some dont get half as much support as he does. He has made so many mistakes and has put in the least amount of effort to make up for them yet everyone still loves him? I dont get it..

Also I think the actor is so bad. I'm sure grey is a nice person and this is purely criticising acting capabilities. I literally can't watch his scenes without cringing. In the first 3 seasons I thought he was bland and emotionally stiff then after that it looked like he was almost trying to hard as his face was constantly twitching and eyes squinting, all his sentences were stuttery and couldn't get one out without an "uhhh", also his HANDS omg I particularly noticed this in S5 and a bit in s6 (however it looked like the directors made an effort to get him to tone it down after s5) WHY is he always flailing? They're constantly moving and it doesnt look natural AT ALL and it is SO distracting. I known for a fact that makes the editors lives so much more difficult bc that's hard to edit in post..and emotional range is not good. It never has been. If you pay attention pretty much all of the crying scenes he's has he covers his eyes. There is no tears. It doesnt seem like grey is very comfortable with doing them he doesnt really do it very well imo

[she-wolf09231982]

Bill Hoosier Smith

“There, I said it!”

Summary: It’s a chore getting anything out of Hoosier that isn’t sarcasm or jokes. But when it comes to his favorite medic, he’ll say it.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, FOREVER FLUFF

*Able Grable = Girl with low morals

*The Ichiki = Japanese Soldiers

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

August 1942

Ever since you’ve been assigned to H Company, you were accepted by most of the guys. You had an addictive personality and had a whimsical way with your presence. You dished out whatever the guys threw at you, and they loved that you were a bit rough around the edges.

You weren’t afraid to get dirty and break a sweat. You’ve earned your place amongst them when you showed them your worth when bullets started flying. The moment “Medic!” was called, you were running like a bat out of hell to get to them.

In the beginning, you didn’t always get along with Hoosier. The man had it out for you in the worst way the day you arrived to board the carrier to the Pacific. For weeks the guys made such a fuss about you and it annoyed the hell out of him…especially Chuckler. He went on and on about you and Hoosier was over it.

“Goddamn, Lew, if you want her so bad, then go fucking get her or shut the fuck up.” Hoosier barked at him one day.

“Damn, Bill, what’s got you snapping your cap?” Runner asked.

Hoosier glared at him then went back to cleaning his rifle.

“He’s just jealous that I saw her first.” Chuckler teased.

Bill slammed his weapon down, “You know what it is, Lew? It’s that women don’t have a place on the front lines because they’re nothin’ but a distraction.” He snapped.

“Come on, Hoosier, we don’t get to see nothin’ pretty around here. It’s something to look at that isn’t a Jap or Leckie’s face.” Gibson explained.

The guys laughed including Bill.

“Now that I can go along with.” Hoosier agreed.

Just then, you approached the group.

“Hey guys-“ you began.

The guys always lit up when you came around.

“Hey, Y/L/N!” Runner, Leckie and Sid greeted.

“Hiya, doll!” Lew added.

You smile at each of them, but noticed once again Hoosier avoiding eye contact with you. You knew he didn’t like you. You usually made it your daily routine to bust his chops by starting small talk with him to make it awkward for him. The guys found it entertaining when you give him a hard time. Bill, however, couldn’t stand it.

“Hey, Hoosier.” you say sweetly.

He side eyed you with a scoff while he function checked his rifle.

The guys watched intensely with mischievous smiles painted across their faces.

“You’re looking extra rugged this morning.” You dared to continue.

The guys snickered. Hoosier looked around at each of them with vigor, then looked at you.

“You think you’re fucking funny, Y/L/N?”

Your friendly smile softened into a cocky grin.

“They seem to think so.” You returned, gesturing to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, well, they’re only siding with you because you’re a broad. If you weren’t a medic, you’d be useless.” Hoosier jeered.

You furrow your eyebrows at him as you cross your arms, “Oh, is that what you think?”

His mouth curled into an evil smirk, “It’s what I know, lady.”

You feel your anger boiling over.

“Well, your opinion is noted, Smith. Not that your opinion matters.” You retaliate.

He narrowed his eyes at you, then redirected his attention to polishing the barrel of the rifle.

You look at the others, “If you guys need anything, I’ll be at the aid station.”

You turn around and walk off. They waited until you were out of ear shot.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Bill?” Sid asked hitting his shoulder.

“What?” Hoosier replied.

“You know, she’s gonna be the one helping you out there if you get hit.” Leckie pointed out.

Hoosier remained silent. He didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to kill some Japs, and go home.

~~~~~~~

You avoided Hoosier like the plague. You haven’t poked fun at him for a few weeks and whenever your paths crossed while he was waiting in line for chow or he needed medical attention, you looked right through him like he didn’t exist.

“Shit, Bill, if looks could kill-“ Runner had said.

“Yeah, she hasn’t said a word to me in a few weeks. ‘Bout damn time.” Hoosier commended.

Runner rolled his eyes.

“You got so much piss and vinegar in your veins towards her, Hoosier, I don’t get it.”

“We’re all here to do a job. There ain’t no female that’s gonna stop me from doing it,” Bill affirmed, “maybe if ya’ll focused more on the war it would be over already.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” Runner humored Bill by agreeing.

~~~~~~~

Lt Corrigan addressed H company one morning about the next mission.

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter,” he explained pointing in the direction along the road outside their camp, “The Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. Leckie, figure out the five Marines for the first watch for two hours at sunset and make sure a medic goes with each shift. So six total, got it?” He finalized then trudged off towards headquarters.

“Aye, sir.” Leckie acknowledged.

Bob looked around at the guys, “Any volunteers?”

No one answered.

“Come on, guys, don’t make me pick.” Leckie pushed.

“Fucking fine, I’ll go.” Hoosier muttered.

“We’ll go.” Sid and Gibson voiced.

“Ok since you’re being good sports, I’ll take the first watch with you guys.” Leckie supported.

“Fuck it, I’m in.” Runner added.

“Good man. Ok, we head out at 1730. It’ll give us enough sunlight to get to the posts before it gets dark. Get your gear together and meet me on the edge of camp at 1725.” Leckie ordered.

Hoosier walked to where he had his weapons and gear before Leckie pulled him aside.

“And won’t you be happy about this.” He said a little too excitedly.

Hoosier looked at him skeptically.

“What?”

“Your favorite little medic is coming with!” Leckie replied with a wide smile.

Bill shook his head, “Fuck you, Bob.” He spat before stomping off.

Leckie chuckled as he gathered his rations for the shift.

~~~~~~~

It was bad enough that Leckie had requested that you be on the first watch that Hoosier was part of, but he also arranged that you and he also shared a fox hole together. You were absolutely fuming sitting there next to him.

The trench was 6 feet long and 3 foot wide, leaving very little personal space between the two of you. Although he could see perfectly over the edge of the foxhole when he stands, you had to place an ammo case in the hole as a stepping stool because the depth of it was a little too deep, and it was an obstacle for you to climb in or out or see the line when you stand.

You almost opted to sit on the wooden case instead of on the ground of the foxhole, but you didn’t want splinters on your butt, so you had to sit relatively close to Hoosier.

Leckie’s face appeared over the edge.

“Cozy?” He mocked.

You both scowl at him.

“Do you need something, Leckie?” You asked exasperated.

“Nah, just checking on everyone.”

“Yeah, just having’ a grand ol’ time with Able Grable over here.” Hoosier uttered.

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes.

“Excuse me!?” You shrill.

Leckie laughed, “Best idea I had all day posting you two together! Have fun, kids.” He said as he disappeared.

Hoosier only shook his head, laughing to himself about his snappy insult towards you.

“You think I’m some bimbo out here lookin’ to get laid do ya?” You propose.

Hoosier didn’t bother looking over at you.

“If the shoe fits.” He simply replied with a leering expression.

“Ooo you pompous pig!” You growl through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been called worse.” He dismissed.

“I fucking believe it!” You shot back turning your back to him.

You’ve never been so disrespected in your life. You always tried to be a good person because of how you were raised. And because he had such an arrogant opinion on where women belonged in this war, he treated you like dirt regardless of how good you were to him or his buddies.

You keep your back to him because your rousing anger caused tears to build in your eyes and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that anything he said affected you. But Hoosier wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were crying. He felt a tinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach, but his pride always got the better of him, so he sat there quietly and tried his best to ignore your silent sobs.

~~~~~~~

The relief crew showed up, and before they could say anything, you hopped out of the foxhole to get away from Hoosier.

Hoosier, Leckie, Sid, Gibson, and Runner walked together as you walked ahead of them alone in the dark.

“Jeez, Bill, what did you do?” Sid accused.

“What the fuck, why does it have to be something I did?” He defended.

“She was fine before the watch.” Runner identified.

“If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame Leckie for posting us together.” Hoosier suggested pointing at Bob.

“Hey, Corrigan said five Marines and a medic. I had to have two people in each trench. It’s just how it worked out.” Leckie clarified shrugging his shoulders.

You heard them bantering behind you, trying to shut them out. You suddenly heard a distant whistling noise, quickly recognizing it was incoming artillery. You turn to the guys in a panic.

“INCOMING!!” You shout back to them.

The shell landed behind them, sending many palm trees to the ground around them. They all dove to the ground to take cover.

“Get those mortars up! Runner! Hoosier! Set up further that way and rain hell on ‘em! Stay where I can see ya!” Leckie ordered motioning towards the area you all just walked away from.

Hoosier and Runner rush back up the road then hastily set up their ‘Goon Guns’ facing where the threat was coming from.

You find a spot behind the pile of fallen trees to take cover, peeking over the top to make sure you can see and hear if the guys needed you. Watching them work out there left you utterly awestruck.

There were obviously more of the Ichiki out there than you could see. Although there were more of them, their aim was terrible. The Japs plotted their targets all around you and the guys, mainly hitting palm trees and rocks. You watch sharply as each shell made its mark.

You tactfully maneuver closer to Runner and Hoosier until you see a streak of enemy gun fire trailing closer and closer towards them. They, too, see the danger approaching and jump start into a sprint towards the tree line.

Runner finds cover behind a pile of gravel while Hoosier runs towards the stack of fallen palms you were hiding behind. A mortar dropped in his path causing him to double backward as he tried shielding his face from the debris.

As the remnants of the explosion clears, you see his silhouette crouched over, rubbing his eyes. You look past him seeing the approaching stream of enemy fire coming straight for him. The fragments of dirt and sand had obscured his vision leaving him unaware of the jeopardy he was in.

“Shit!” You huff as you hurdle over the mound of trees darting towards Hoosier.

A split second before the enemy can make contact with their target, you tackle Hoosier, projecting you both a few feet out of the line of enemy fire onto the jungle floor.

“Ooof!” Hoosier exclaimed when you knocked the air out of him.

The attack continued a few more minutes, then died down to an unexpected silence. You hear rapidly approaching footsteps of your comrades racing towards you and Bill.

Hoosier on his back and you on your stomach with an arm draped across his chest, you feel seeping warmth soaking through your uniform just around your hip and down your thigh.

Thinking you lost bladder control, you look over your shoulder down your left side and see a crimson red stain on your shirt and pants pooling onto the sand beneath you. Hoosier sat up quickly, causing you to wince when your arm slipped off him.

“Fuck, Y/F/N, you’re hit!” Hoosier announced.

“Well no shit, Bill!” You replied annoyed.

Leckie and the rest of them encircled you and Bill.

“Oh, God.” Leckie choked when he saw you were bleeding.

“Get her bag!” Runner told Sid.

As gently as he could, Hoosier flipped you onto your back, untucking your uniform top from your pants on your left side,

“Y/F/N, tell us what to do!” Hoosier said when Sid came back with your medic satchel.

You take a deep, ragged breath, “First see if there’s an exit wound. Prop me up on my right side and see if the bullet went all the way through.”

They did as they were told.

“There’s an exit wound back here, doll!” Leckie confirmed.

“Ok that’s good,” you reassure through a cough, “Get the big gauze from the bag, pack the entry and exit wounds to—absorb the..blood…and then…then-“

Tunnel vision sets in and you start to black out.

“NO! No no no no, stay with us, Y/F/N!” Hoosier bellowed, “Goddamn it, get her wrapped up we gotta get her to the aid station, NOW!”

~~~~~~~

The boys got you back to the aid station just in time. Luckily, a supply drop was made a few days prior to you being wounded, and the nurses were able to get you hooked up to plasma. You remained unconscious for three days.

Hoosier, internally battling his agonizing guilt for treating you the way he had, visited you everyday while you lay asleep on your cot. On days he wasn’t on patrol or on post, he set up a blanket and pillow on the floor next to you to sleep so he wouldn’t miss you waking up.

While he slept on the ground next to your bed, a whimper emitted from above him disturbing his slumber, alerting him that you were waking up. His eyes snapped open as he swiftly pushed himself up from the floor to kneel next to the side of your bed. With the morning sun illuminating your face, he admired your angelic features as you began to stir.

All he could do was stare, wanting nothing more than to see your beautiful eyes open. Your lashes flutter before your eyelids fully reveal the color of your eyes to him. You look side to side, doing your best to figure out where you were and how you got here.

“Good morning.” Hoosier bid you.

You slowly look over to him.

“Oh. Hoosier.” You reply softly.

You try to sit up and suck in air through your teeth when you feel a sharp pain on your left side.

“What the ffffffuuu-“ you start to say lifting your left arm up to look at your side.

Your mid drift was wrapped in dressings like a mummy. You lightly run your hand over your covered abdomen. You tried to remember the last thing that happened in the field. Hoosier saw you struggling to recollect the events that happened three days before.

“Those Japs got you right above the hip. But it only went through the muscle, Doc said. Nothin’ important was hit. It was a clean shot.” He explained.

“Right.” You whispered staring into space.

Hoosier paused, looking down at his hands folded in front of him on your blanket.

“Why did you do it?” He finally asked.

You looked at him perplexed, “Do what?”

“Why did you save me?” He clarified.

You looked down at your toes under the sheets.

“Because it was my job. I wasn’t about to just let you die.” You rationalized.

“After how much of an asshole I was? After what I said to you in the foxhole before that?”

“Well-“ you started before allowing yourself to briefly slip into your thoughts, “..yeah.”

Hoosier stared at you as confusion screwed up his facial features. His eyebrows drew inward as he started to shake his head at you.

“So, you’re welcome.” You added.

“Ha!” He huffed, “I should be grateful!?” He asked sarcastically.

“Well yeah! I did take a bullet for you! You ungrateful piece of-“

“Hold on, there, pal. I didn’t ask you to do that-“

“-You don’t have to! It’s my fucking job!” You bark back before he could finish.

You grimace from pain from over exertion by raising your voice.

“Just go, Bill. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“I wanted to make sure you woke up.”

You look down on the floor next to your bed and see his blanket and pillow.

“You slept here?” You asked amused.

He nodded. The pieces started to come together in your head.

“Why don’t you just admit you care?” You prompted.

“Fucking what??” He fired back, slightly embarrassed.

“You heard me.” You retorted.

“You’re a dizzy dame, you know that?” He grumbled.

“Whatever, Hoosier, just leave. I can’t stand to hear your voice anymore.” You conclude as you shift to your right side to once again face your back to him.

Bill was bewildered. He leaned back on his heels not knowing what to do next.

“Just go.” You repeat, knowing he was going to try to push the conversation.

He stood, hovered over you for a few seconds then start to slowly back away. He turned on his heel to walk away, but his intrusive feelings stopped him in his tracks, and he abruptly returned to your bedside.

“Ok, so you want to hear it?” He blurted out.

Startled, you return to your back placing your head upon the pillow awaiting his speech.

“I care! Ok?? There, I said it!” He confessed with his arms raised then slapping them down to his sides before he continued,

“As a matter of fact, you’ve had me fucked up for weeks, that’s how much I care. When you stopped sassing me after you got mad at me, I thought I’d be relieved, but I wasn’t! It killed me slowly inside when you refused to look at me or even acknowledge my presence! I couldn’t sleep because everytime I closed my eyes, I saw your face. I couldn’t concentrate on patrol because I constantly wondered if you’d be ok without me around!”

You gaped at him, completely baffled by his outburst of affection for you.

“I got it so bad for you, I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore.” He professed calmly after taking a breath. He looked down at his boots.

You close your mouth and also look down at his boots.

“I’m gonna go. The guys will wanna know you’re ok.” He muttered as he turned to leave.

“Um, Bill?” You call after him gingerly.

He stopped right at the threshold of the doorway to look at you. You wave him over.

He hesitated at first but came back to you. You began to move your legs off the bed to sit on the side.

“What the fuck are you doing?? You shouldn’t be-“ Hoosier tried to reprimand.

“-Bill, shut up, and sit with me.” You directed patting the surface of your cot next to you.

He begrudgingly sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

You swallowed hard, unsure you could speak after what he just told you. You look over to him and catch him nervously side eyeing you, waiting for you to say something. The ends of your mouth curve into a faint smile.

“Bill?”

“Hm.”

“Look at me.”

He reluctantly meets your gaze.

“Did you mean everything you said?”

His eyes widened, “Every word.” He purred.

You beamed at him and before you could stop yourself, you pulled him by his shirt catching his lips with yours. He cupped the side of your face as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

He snaked a hand around your side,

“Ah-ah-ah ow!” You pull back in pain when his hand touched the tender part of your wound.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away from your side.

“Oh shit! I’m so fucking sorry!” He said alarmed, “Are you ok?? Did I hurt you bad??”

“It’s ok, Bill. It was the heat of the moment. It was worth it.” You justify with a wink.

His look of concern melted into admiration.

He tucked a stray strand of hair from across your forehead to behind your ear, then placed his palm against your cheek. You lean into his touch, placing your hand over his. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Will you stay with me again?” You implored.

His smile widened, “Of course.”

“You can sleep up here with me.”

Hoosier laughed, “We ain’t gonna fit up here together, sweetheart.”

“Then I’ll come to the floor with you.” You insisted.

Hoosier shook his head, “How about I pull another cot over here and we push ‘em together?”

“See? You’re smart and pretty.” You teased with a wink.

He kissed you delicately, his mouth forming into a smile against your lips.

~~~~~~~

Just for you @awaterfalls Let me know if you like it! ❤️

[milfjagger]

one thing about the “cannibalism as a metaphor for love/desire” spike on this website is that there really aren’t that many examples of this trope. you can say it all goes back to hannibal but that is fundamentally not how hannibal lecter operates - he doesn’t care about the people he kills and eats even a little bit and he says as much in the show. in the terror, most of the heroes literally do NOT resort to cannibalism - even though james begs francis to use his body after he dies (selfless love?), francis (as well as the other men) cannot bear to do it and bury him instead. goodsir, probably the most saint/martyr coded character, also refuses to eat human flesh and even weaponises his own body against those who do, killing himself and the perpetrators of cannibalism rather than continue living like that. and no matter how you look at it, hickey does not kill and eat gibson (or anyone else for that matter) because he loves them. he is literally asserting dominance in a survival situation to avoid becoming a victim himself.

yellowjackets is complicated because of the specific homoerotic nature of the relationship between shauna and jackie, and you could argue there’s a certain seduction that happens when jackie’s corpse is “talking” to shauna. the frenzied scene when the girls eat jackie is portrayed as some kind of dark force taking them and there are a lot of emotions tied up in it but it’s not straightforwardly “they love jackie and jackie loved them and would want them to live”. ravenous has a similar homoerotic tone and ives’ seduction of boyd into a life of cannibalism could easily be a metaphor for gay desire, but the film also explicitly critiques “manifest destiny” and colonial greed through the lens of physically consuming anyone who stands in your way.

now let’s talk about actual examples of this trope. in raw, cannibalistic desire IS actually combined with the emotions of sex, and the most moving scene in my opinion is the ending in which the dad reveals a heavily scarred torso from his wife’s bite marks, indicating that he still loves her in spite of, or maybe because of her nature. in society of the snow, and indeed in actual accounts from the survivors of the andes plane crash, many of the boys who initially hold out from eating the dead are persuaded by the comparison to the eucharist - jesus gave his body so they could have spiritual life, and their friends died so they could have physical life. the dead and consumed are conceptualised as ultimately loving and selfless; if everyone had survived the crash, all of them would have starved to death. and in my personal favourite cannibal movie, bones and all, it’s kind of a mixture of all of the above. the first time maren consciously bites someone with intent to eat them, it’s framed as this sexual awakening (again tied up in gay desire with the way it evokes fear and disgust in others). lee is also presumably bisexual and faces homophobic comments from his family. one of his early experiences with cannibalism was eating his own father (do i need to explain this). there’s so much i could say about maren’s mother and how she is portrayed as an “addict” who physically cannot control her impulses to eat people. and then of course there’s the ending where lee dies and begs maren, who has been denying her true nature for so long, to eat him and have him become part of her forever. because he literally loves her and he wants her to eat well

tldr is that hannibal and the terror aren’t even close to portraying cannibalism as love and idk what you guys are talking about half the time

[billpottsismygf]

73 Yards

I have slightly mixed feelings on this one, but what it did well it did brilliantly. The episode was beautifully shot with a fantastically creepy atmosphere throughout. The Welsh landscape, the close shots, the out of focus semper distans, the mystery of what was being said. Millie Gibson's performance throughout was stellar and this is the most invested I've felt in her character so far. I did miss Ncuti's presence somewhat, but it says a lot that she was able to carry the episode on her own and I do love when the format gets shaken up occasionally and we get a Doctor-lite episode.

I loved Kate's brief appearance and the way it sold the fact that this was a very serious situation. You think UNIT might be able to help here, but Ruby is once again left alone. The themes of abandonment in this one were incredibly potent and really tie into the themes of the series. Unsurprisingly, one of the most effective and upsetting parts of the episode was Ruby's mum also being affected by the mysterious woman. Her anguished screams for her mum were really quite harrowing, as was that awful comment about her birth mother not wanting her.

It also got far darker than I would expect in a Doctor Who episode. The far-right politician and the threat of nuclear war was plenty, but what was done to Marti was absolutely chilling, as was Ruby's apology for not doing anything. It gets away with it because it's all through implication, but that almost makes it more hard hitting. You don't always need to see the monster in action to know what it's doing. It also reminds me of my much younger self not picking up on the Master beating Lucy Saxon until I was a teenager.

The way time began to speed along was actually quite shocking to begin with - I actually gasped when we saw the 25th birthday cards - and it kept bringing to mind various other episodes where companions have been abandoned either in the real world or another timeline/reality, especially things like The Girl Who Waited, Turn Left, Forest of the Dead, The Lie of the Land, World Enough and Time etc. That things get undone at the end was again a little reminiscent of a few of them, but this is also where we come to my criticisms of the episode, because - while I loved the experience of watching it - the ending feels tacked on in a way that is very unsatisfying.

There were a number of things that just never get explained. For a minor example, why did the Doctor disappear? Disturbing the fairy circle released Mad Jack (I'll come onto him) and also made the Doctor disappear? And also made the TARDIS lock in a way that couldn't be opened with Ruby's key? I'm not as bothered by this as the below, but it feels messy and like an attempt to do a Turn Left without an actual reason for the Doctor to be gone.

A bigger gripe is Ruby being the following lady. That on its own would have been fine, but that combined with other elements just frustrates me. Mainly, if the following lady was Ruby, what is it she says to get people to run away? I don't mind things being left to the imagination - for instance, I quite like that we don't get an explanation for why she has to be 73 yards away; I can infer that that's got something to do with the fairy circle - but it appears that whatever she says specifically makes people think there's something horrifying about Ruby.

What could Old Ruby possibly say to that end and why would she? And why would the same thing make a Prime Minister resign? If we had never found out who she was, I would have been perfectly happy to infer that she was a force of some kind that drives people mad, but it's Ruby! Knowing who she is but not what she does or how or why she does it is the worst way round. I want to know neither or both, or possibly the latter but not the former, but this way round just frustrates me.

On that note, the friend I was watching with pointed out that, as she was dying, elderly Ruby had very short hair and suddenly has long hair when she becomes the semper distans lady. A small detail, perhaps, but one that further muddles the conclusion. Why did her hair change? Where did the coat come from? It's a different actress as well and, even at that distance, you can kind of tell. Did Old Ruby just end up embodying an existing spirit to do with the fairy circle? If so, I would have liked that to be a lot clearer. If not, why does she look so different?

Okay, so, Mad Jack. Who or what is Mad Jack? Is he a spirit of some kind that possesses Roger ap Gwilliam? Was he always Roger ap Gwilliam? Does Roger ap Gwilliam exist without him? If Roger ap Gwilliam does not exist without Mad Jack, how come the Doctor still mentions him? If Roger ap Gwilliam does exist without Mad Jack, what is changed by the Doctor stepping on the fairy circle?

In the version of the timeline we end up on (where the Doctor doesn't step in the fairy circle but Roger ap Gwilliam is still mentioned by him as a dangerous Prime Minister), here are a few possibilities and why they don't work for me:

Does he still become Prime Minister and get taken down another way? Perhaps, but it's not like Turn Left where we know the problems would have been stopped by the Doctor (who's not here). Without Ruby's infiltration and semper distans lady, what stops him? And why was that not able to stop him in the timeline we witnessed?

Is he less dangerous? The second time around of the opening conversation we don't get the line about the brink of nuclear war, though only because Ruby interrupts him to point out the woman, but maybe we can infer that this time he's a dangerous Prime Minister but not that dangerous? That seems quite weak and unclear, though, and seems to disregard the horror of the Marti stuff.

Does the timeline only change after the Doctor's comments about him being a dangerous Prime Minister? He does say that before stepping (or not stepping) in the fairy circle both times. I might be happy to assume that Roger ap Gwilliam never comes to power after that diverging moment has passed, except that things have already changed before the Doctor mentions him because Ruby says she's been to Wales three times. Maybe they've changed a bit but not enough until the moment she stops him from stepping on it, but that is not at all clear.

If it's any of these (or none of them), that's really confusing! It's just so messy and unclear. It would have been a simple fix, too! Keep everything the same and just add in a line as they're walking away at the end along the lines of "thank goodness he never got into power; people never found him that convincing". That would have clarified a) things have changed since a few seconds ago b) that Mad Jack is what allowed him to get to power and c) in this timeline, that won't happen and Ruby won't need to stop him.

Despite all my complaints, I did really love watching this episode. It's just so carelessly wrapped up, as if they didn't think about the implications of the otherwise very well told story. I'll be interested to rewatch it and see if my complaints bother me more or less on second viewing. I really want to love this episode because there were so many fantastic elements, but it just makes all the inconsistencies and loose threads and muddled logic particularly frustrating because they were only another draft or two away from being solved.

Misc small things

No theme tune! I feel robbed! Maybe it was meant to be part of the vibe that we're not in the usual timeline, but come on. It could easily have been slotted in when she left the TARDIS the first time or before she got to the pub!

Other episodes I thought of: Extremis with warning other versions of yourself; The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood with waving at future versions of yourself that disappear when things change; Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS with weird timelines and future selves and things being undone; Last Christmas with the companion becoming elderly; Turn Left for the vibes of "there's something on your back"; Under the Lake/Before the Flood with a silent message, since it looked like the woman was trying to sign things to Ruby; and The Sound of Drums/Last of the Timelords with the triple whammy of the companion having to 1) set off on their own to 2) take down a prime minister and 3) have time reverse.

It's also got a good old bootsrap paradox in it, which doesn't bother me in the way of the above complaints, but for the sake of completionism: How was Ruby warned about the future when that future hasn't happened? Would have loved Twelve to briefly pop his head in and explain it for us.

It's interesting that the snow stopped throughout this version of her life. It also seemed to snow while she was on her way to the pub.

Kate's comment about how "this timeline might be suspended along your event" was interesting and I wonder if it connects with the snow stopping.

For the first time I actually recognised Susan Twist when she appeared, but I'm not sure I would have done without Ruby realising she recognised her. I liked that! It felt very Boom Town and recognising Bad Wolf coming up again.

There was a little cameo from Mrs Flood.

[skeletonmoths]

Ethel Cain fans

Incoming rant

I don’t typically post anything on my blog that I’ve created or written but I feel the need to comment on something this fandom needs to understand. Hayden does not owe us anything as fans, she has told us time and time again that we have been making her feel uncomfortable, not all of us but you know who you are. Ethel Cain is a character and stage name, and I know Hayden does not mind being called Ethel by fans but that’s not just what I’m taking about, there’s also “Ethel Cain Core” Hayden has explained quite a few times not that this makes her uncomfortable, Ethel Cain and “Preachers Daughter Aesthetic” is weird at best, the aesthetic she uses in her music is Southern Gothic, and Hayden has even had to explain how this aesthetic can be problematic and needs to be used with caution and care, But on top of that I’ve seen people romanticizing the dark topics in her music the same way we did with Lana Del Ray and Nicole Dollaganger , and I can understand to a certain extent why, but again these topics need to discussed with caution and care and not romanized, same with the romanization of poverty and old farm houses I’ve been seeing, and I completely understand that these buildings and images can bring a sense of comfort and nostalgia, but I have seen people who have grown up in comfortable situations typically people who grew up “upper middle class” romanticizing poverty and dirty homes , old farm houses, which I find very strange. Let’s not even get in to the romanticization of the songs “Gibson girl” and “Unpunishable” and the “female rage” title that “Ptolemaea” got Now onto the subject of how fans are treating Hayden. Stop demanding she release new music Hayden recently confirmed she has had to scrap the B-sides and start over, Hayden is a perfectionist with her music and lyrics so CONSTANTLY demanding more from Hayden is going to make the process last longer and don’t forget people were demanding Hayden to work on the B-sides while she was ON TOUR. Hayden has been consistently releasing new ambient music on SoundCloud. And has featured in TWO new songs THIS YEAR yet fans are still demanding more. And the memes and constant “mother” calling and the jokes and out of pocket comments said directly to Hayden is becoming too much. And has said to us multiple times it makes her very uncomfortable. Hayden is not our best friend we do not know her personally and we need to start acting like it. Treat her like a person and a friend when it’s appropriate. Don’t forget about all the transphobic comments and doxing Hayden has been receiving, being deadnamed on tumblr, Hayden has talked about her hate for online culture, and I’ll miss her online presence like the rest of us, but it was only a matter of time for her to delete her tumblr as well. She has given us many warnings to smarten up but we haven’t so she has shown us the consequences. I love Hayden and I love Ethel Cain. But I’m happy she is stepping back and taking the peace for herself instead of snapping at us fans for pushing her to the limit. Thank you for taking your time to read my ranting. And Hayden if you ever come across this post on way or another and take time out of your day to read this, Thank you for everything, Thank you for sharing your art for us fans to enjoy, I hope being away from us fans for awhile brings you a sense of peace and control we keep interrupting

[holden-caulfield]

Hi honey! It's been four days since the shadow and bone season 2 was released and I immediately fell in love with Paddy Gibson's Nikolai 🤭 (you can't blame me 💔) and since I'm feeling a bit smutty today.. Let's say that Queen Tatiana had a beautiful lady-in-waiting, she was a beautiful girl yeah? And then one day when the queen realized that she had too much ladies in waiting she decided to give one to Nikolai as a servant, thennn one evening (oh god here it goes) the servant went to Nikolai's chamber to ask if he needed anything else before she goes to bed, BUT NIKOLAI GREETED HERE WITH ONLY A BATHROBE (THAT SCENE IN EPISODE 3 WHEN ALINA SAW NIKOLAI SHIRTLESS) and then she was looking down trying not to make it awkward, thennnn after a long time having a crush on her he pulled her inside his chambers and then they ykk... And then after some time after doing IT they were like cuddling, and she was like 'aren't you worried that your mother will find about us?' And he was like 'Nah I don't give a fuck, I love you and that's all I need to know'

I'M REALLY BAD AT EXPLAINING BUT I SAW THAT ONE REQUEST BY A BLOG ABOUT NIKOLAI AND HIS SERVANT GETTING CAUGHT AND I CAN'T RESIST IMAGINING NIKOLAI IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A SERVANT 🤭

this request was lovely and i really hope i got it right :'))))) (paddy's nikolai slays😩)

-> ridiculous, right?

[babymyleopard]

I’m gonna rent a little

I used to be fat. fat baby, fat kid. and I always knew that, because everyone would come at me saying how sorry they were for me. because I was fat. because “no one would ever want” me -- I was 5.

so I did what most fat ppls do. developed an eating disorder. by the time I was 16 I had already tried a lot of “natural” meds for losing weight and became anorexic. I went at least 12 hours a day without food.

and food in my house was always at the center. because we were (are) very poor. my mother pride herself in making ends meet, in not wasting resources and in being a very good cook. to have a treat was really something special and I started to believe I should deserve food, because it is not only for nourishment, but something that can make you feel good and special.

I did not deserve to feel that way. I was dieting since my 6th birthday and haven’t lost that much. I wore a size 14 or 16 while my friends (and even my mother, who was happy to tell me she wore the same since I was born, when she got “fat”) would wear a 0 or 2.

many years passed and I’ve got it under control, I’m eating regularly and healthy. I do exercise and I *know* I’m the thinner I have ever been. but I don’t feel like it. it’s like I’m faking it. and I don’t deserve to be skinny, because now I don’t starve myself anymore. it’s like I am cheating and that all the suffering was not “worthy”.

I’m trying to accept my body. since forever. and I feel weird for still having to rationalize it, 29 almost 30 years-old, wearing a size 4/ 6. I do not recognize myself as the image I see in the mirror at all.

the other day I got a dress from an asian shop (let’s not talk abt the danger of fast fashion for a sec) and I was looking through the comments and everybody was saying that one should make sure of the measurements bc we all know asians are “smaller” and for no one’s surprise but mine, their size S was perfect on me. when I tried on the dress I felt ashamed and I cannot even explain why.

on the same spirit, just yesterday I was watching some historical videos abt edwardian fashion and the gibson girl and again, for my surprise only, my waist is smaller than their ideal 26 inches -- mine’s 25. and my waist was always small, even when I was fat. that was the only thing ppl would point out in a “nice” way abt my body. so much so that when I started losing weight and y thighs and hips got smaller I felt that no one would notice my small waist, bc I didn’t have the contrast anymore (breasts never were a thing for me).

I really wanted to just be. not gonna lie and say that aesthetics aren’t important. they are and I like to feel and be perceived as beautiful, to be desired. I just wish I could without the guilty and the shame. without thinking that I betrayed myself, the little one who thought no one would want her, the one who didn’t eat so she would fit in a pair of jeans.

now that I have the body I always wanted, I don’t know what to do with it. and I don’t think I deserve it. but it is the same body I’ve always had. it is the only one I will ever have. I need to accept it.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 12

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If it's meant to be, then it will be,"

summary: you and Joel preparing to hot the road

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 12

previous | chapter 11

next | chapter 13

masterlist!

The days at Bill and Frank's had passed in a quiet rhythm, each one a small piece of normalcy that felt almost surreal after everything you and Joel had been through. You'd been here five days now, but it felt like you'd known this place much longer. Tomorrow was your birthday, and it also marked the beginning of your journey across the country with Joel—a journey that felt like the start of something new, something hopeful.

Joel had left earlier in the day, telling you he needed to get some supplies for the trip. He kissed you softly before he left, the kind of kiss that lingered on your lips long after he was gone. You had a feeling there was more to his errand, but you didn’t press him. Joel wasn’t one for surprises, but when he did plan something, it was always thoughtful, always meaningful.

In the meantime, you found yourself in the garden with Frank, helping him plant strawberries. The sun was warm on your back, the earth cool under your fingers as you worked. There was something soothing about the repetitive motion, the way the world seemed to shrink down to the small patch of soil in front of you.

“Ever done any gardening before?” Frank asked, breaking the silence. His voice was warm, with a hint of curiosity.

You smiled, shaking your head as you wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Not really. I mean, I helped my mom with her flowers when I was little, but nothing like this.”

Frank chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced over at you. “It’s good work. Honest work. Helps you clear your mind.”

You nodded, feeling the truth in Frank’s words as you pushed another seed into the earth. The simple act of planting, of giving life to something, grounded you in a way nothing else could. It narrowed the world down to the soil beneath your nails and the warmth of the sun on your back, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside you since you and Joel arrived.

“So, what did you do back in town?” Frank asked again, his tone light but tinged with curiosity. He worked beside you, his hands as steady and sure as his voice.

“I’m a senior in high school, but my dad is a preach--” you began, focusing on the task at hand. But before you could say more, Frank froze, his eyes widening as he turned to you with a look of concern.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re 17?” His voice held a mix of surprise and alarm.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the misunderstanding. “No, I’m not. I’m turning 20 uh soon,"

Frank let out a breath of relief, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Thank God. I almost wanted to strangle Joel if I found out he’d run off with someone underage.”

You laughed again, the sound lighter this time. “No, Joel’s a good man."

Frank nodded, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but he’s kind of stupid for running away with a girl younger than--” His tone was playful, but as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how they might come across. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You quickly shook your head, waving off his concern. “No, it’s fine. I get it too. Why would Joel risk everything for me? A girl way younger than him, and basically fucked up,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Frank’s expression softened, a mixture of empathy and regret. “Hey, don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said gently. “We’ve all got our shit. You’re just two people trying to make it in this messed-up world.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “I know, but sometimes it just feels like… I’m dragging him down. He could’ve had a normal life, maybe even with someone appropriate for him,”

Frank looked at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. “You really think he’d be happier with someone else?” he asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like Joel would move mountains for you. He doesn’t care about anything, or what anyone else thinks. He cares about you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand, but Frank wasn’t done.

“Love makes you do crazy things,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost reflective. “I’ve seen it. People in love… they’ll give up everything just to be with the person they care about. They’d tear down their own world for the person, they’d walk through fire, go to the ends of the earth, just to keep them safe.”

"It’s not always logical, or easy, but it’s real." Frank said again.

You swallowed, feeling the truth of his words sink deep into your bones. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm worth all that risk."

Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Trust me, kid. If Joel’s willing to risk it all for you, then you’re worth it. And maybe, you’re exactly what he needs.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that let you breathe, let you think. You realized then that Frank understood more than you’d given him credit for. He knew what it was like to love someone so fiercely that nothing else mattered. And in that moment, you felt a little less alone.

Frank seemed to sense that you were lost in thought, so he gently steered the conversation back to where it had been. “You said your dad’s a preacher?”

“Yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in topic. “I help him out with the church. It’s a small town, so everyone knows everyone. My dad’s been the preacher there for as long as I can remember.”

Frank nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “No wonder you're so religious," he said with a small smile, though his tone carried no judgment, just observation. "Growing up in a preacher's household, I imagine faith is second nature to you."

You shrugged lightly, fingers still playing in the soil, your thoughts a bit more tangled. “I guess so. It’s always been a big part of my life—going to church, helping out with the community. My dad… he has a way of making it seem like everything revolves around it.”

Frank gave a thoughtful nod, his hands pausing as he considered your words. “And what about you? Do you believe in all of it?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy and complex. You hadn’t expected such a direct inquiry, especially not from someone like Frank, who had seen more of life’s darkness than many.

You sighed, the weight of his question settling in your chest. “I don’t know,” you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“I used to believe in it all, every word, every sermon. But… sometimes I wonder. Why is it that someone who tries so hard to do right, to follow God’s teachings, ends up with a life full of pain and hardship?”

Frank watched you, his expression patient and understanding, the rhythm of your conversation slowing as if he knew you needed the space to sort through your thoughts.

“There were times,” you continued, “when it felt like no matter how much I prayed, how much I begged for things to get better, it was like my words just floated off into nothing. I’d ask for help, for some kind of sign that I wasn’t alone, that I wasn’t forgotten, but… nothing. It made me question everything. if God is there, why doesn’t He answer me? Why doesn’t He take away the pain?”

“I still pray, though” you said after a moment, your voice tinged with a fragile hope. “Because a part of me still wants to believe. Maybe God’s not silent. Maybe He’s just waiting for the right moment to answer. And maybe… He did answer, in a way."

"He gave me Joel. Maybe that’s God’s way of telling me that I’m not alone, that I haven’t been forgotten.”

Frank nodded, his gaze steady, absorbing everything you said. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” he said gently. “But you’re still here, still standing. That’s something.”

"I'm thankful for it," you smile.

Frank’s smile grew, his eyes warm with encouragement. “And don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re still young, still figuring things out. Life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, the weight in your chest easing. “It does.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the garden around you humming with life. The earth beneath your fingers felt grounding, as if by planting these small seeds, you were also planting a piece of yourself, nurturing the hope that you could one day find peace, find home.

Frank broke the silence with a soft sigh, turning his gaze back to you. “So, what’s next for you and Joel? Do you have a plan?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” you said, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice. “We’re going to travel across the country, see the states. Joel said he wants to show me everything.”

Frank’s eyes twinkled with a mix of curiosity and warmth as he listened. “That sounds like quite the adventure,” he said, his tone gentle but encouraging. “Do you know where you’ll head first?”

“We’re thinking Kansas or Louisiana,” you replied, your mind drifting to the vast, unknown roads ahead. “After that, we’ll just go where the wind takes us. Eventually, we’re planning to settle down in California.”

Frank tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “California, huh? Big state. You aiming for the coast?”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, nothing like that. Joel’s always talked about wanting a ranch, somewhere quiet and peaceful. Maybe a place like Davis, where we can have some land, grow our own food. It’s… it’s like his dream, you know? Something simple, something ours.”

Frank smiled, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes. “A ranch in California… I can see that. Sounds like a good life. Quiet, surrounded by nature, away from all the chaos.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, the thought of that quiet life with Joel filling you with a sense of peace. “It’s what we both want. A place to finally call home.”

Frank chuckled, breaking the moment with a lightheartedness that was infectious. “Well, if you two end up with a ranch in California, I’ll expect a fresh batch of strawberries in the mail every month,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And if Joel starts getting grumpy, just remind him he promised to bake pies, not just grow the ingredients.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I’ll hold him to that. He’s got a lot of promises to keep.”

Frank’s smile softened, and he looked at you with a kind of admiration. “You know, it’s really good to see Joel like this,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “He’s been through a lot, and for the first time in a long time, he seems… happier. You’ve done something to him, and I don’t just mean in the obvious way.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Do you know much about his family? His late wife and daughter?”

Frank’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his features. “Wait, Joel hasn't told you that?"

You shook your head, feeling a slight twinge of concern in your chest. Frank's brows furrowed, clearly surprised that Joel hadn’t shared much about his past with you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, then sighed, a mix of hesitation and empathy in his eyes.

“It’s not really my place to tell you,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s something Joel needs to share with you himself. It’s… a part of his life that’s really hard for him to talk about. When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The unanswered questions lingered in your mind, but you knew better than to push. If Joel hadn’t brought it up yet, there had to be a reason.

***

After dinner, the house had settled into a calm quiet. Frank and Bill had retreated to their own space, leaving you and Joel alone in the cozy guest room where you’d been staying. The room was softly lit by the gentle glow of a bedside lamp, casting a warm and inviting light over everything.

You were curled up on the bed, absorbed in reading The Catcher in the Rye. The novel’s pages whispered tales of youthful rebellion and existential musings, a soothing contrast to the day's activities. The sound of Joel’s footsteps drew your attention, and you looked up as he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a comforting familiarity.

Joel had changed into a more relaxed outfit—simple trouser and a well-worn shirt—his rugged look softened by the evening’s relaxed atmosphere. He moved with a quiet grace, as if aware of the calm that enveloped the room.

You patted the space next to you on the bed, a silent invitation. “Come here,” you said softly, setting the book aside and making room for him.

Joel settled beside you, his weight pressing down gently on the mattress. He let out a contented sigh as you began to massage his shoulders, your fingers working out the tension from the day. The warmth of his body against yours was reassuring, a gentle reminder of the closeness you shared.

As you continued your soothing touch, your curiosity got the better of you. “So, what did you get for the supplies for tomorrow?” you asked, your voice a mix of casual interest.

Joel chuckled, his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “Brought some extra food, a few things we might need for the road. Should be enough for a couple of weeks if we need it. If we run low, we can always pick up more.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “And what time are we heading out tomorrow?”

“We’ll be hitting the road early,” Joel replied. “Trying to get a good start. We’ll be making our way across state lines, and we’ll probably stay in motels or hotels along the way.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation and adventure bubbling up inside you. “Where are we starting from?”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a spark of excitement in his gaze. “First stop is going to be Louisiana. We’ll decide as we go along, just see where the road takes us. We’ve got a route planned out, but we can always adjust it as we go.”

You smiled, the thought of your upcoming journey filling you with a blend of excitement and nostalgia. Tomorrow was supposed to be your graduation day—a milestone that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Instead of celebrating with friends and preparing for college, you were embarking on a journey across the country with Joel. It felt like you were stepping into a new world, leaving behind the familiar safety of the past.

As you lay there, your mind drifted to the life you were leaving behind. The road stretched out before you like a ribbon of possibilities, each mile a promise of new experiences and uncharted territories. The contrast between the expectations of a conventional future and the reality of your spontaneous adventure was both exhilarating and daunting.

Joel’s voice brought you back to the present. “You okay?” he asked, his tone gentle as he noticed the thoughtful look on your face.

You nodded, shifting closer to him. “Yeah, it’s crazy to think where we are now. I was supposed to graduate tomorrow,” you said, a wistful edge to your voice.

Joel's eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of your words sinking in. He remembered the first time he’d seen you by the river near the church, your solitude painting a poignant picture against the backdrop of your small town. Back then, you’d seemed like a fragile bird on the cusp of flight, your future an unwritten story stretching far beyond Texas.

A flicker of guilt crossed Joel’s face, his brow furrowing slightly. He knew he had taken you away from that life—the dreams and plans you had woven for yourself. The vast expanse of your potential future lay before you, like a sky brimming with stars, each one representing a possibility now momentarily eclipsed by your unexpected journey.

Joel’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. You had plans, dreams. I feel like I’ve taken you away from everything you were meant to do.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s cheek. “No, Joel, don’t say that,” you said softly. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault. I’m the one who feels like I’ve ruined your life. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, left everything behind.”

Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. You continued, your voice tinged with confusion and concern. “No one will notice I’m gone, but you—” you looked into his eyes, searching for the answer to a question you couldn’t quite grasp. “You have a family, a job, a life. Why risk it all for me?”

Joel's eyes held yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, his jaw tightening slightly before he spoke.

“It’s not about risking it all, darlin’,” Joel finally said, his voice low and steady. “It’s about choosing what matters most. Yeah, I had a life before you came along—a job, people I cared about—but none of it made me feel alive like you do. You’re not a risk; you’re a chance at something real, something worth fighting for.”

You could hear the sincerity in his words, but it was still hard for you to fully grasp why someone like him would put everything on the line for someone like you. “But I’ve caused so much trouble, Joel. I’ve taken you away from everything. How can you say I’m not ruining your life?”

Joel shook his head, his hand coming up to gently hold yours against his cheek. “You haven’t ruined anything. My life was already broken. But then you came into it, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a purpose again. You didn’t take me away from anything—I chose this. I chose you."

Your heart ached at his words, a mix of guilt and gratitude swirling inside you. "I'm sorry," you said once again.

Joel’s thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand as he held it against his cheek. His eyes softened, reflecting a depth of emotion that made your breath catch. “You don’t need to be sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice tender but firm. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his eyes making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before. It wasn’t just that he was here with you—it was that he chose to be, every day, every moment.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to let you down.”

He sighed softly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “You could never let me down, sweetheart. We’re in this together, okay? No more apologies, no more guilt. Just us, figuring it out as we go.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. “Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “Just us.”

Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back slightly. “That’s right. Just us.”

For a moment, you both stayed like that, the world outside your small room fading away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “Joel... do you ever think about them? About Jane and Sarah?”

Joel’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his body tense under your touch. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice low. “Every day.”

You hesitated, your heart heavy with the weight of what you were about to ask. “What... what happened to them, Joel? I want to know. If it’s just going to be the two of us from now on, I want to be able to trust you with everything, and I want you to trust me too. Completely.”

Joel let out a long sigh, his hand running through his hair as if he were trying to smooth out the tangled thoughts in his mind. He looked at you, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. “I’ve never really talked about it,” he began, his voice rough around the edges. “Not with anyone.”

You squeezed his hand, silently encouraging him to continue. “You can talk to me, Joel. I’m here."

He took another deep breath, then started to speak, his words slow and deliberate, as if each one carried a heavy burden. “We were driving back home that day. It had been a long day, and we were tired. Jane and I... we’d been arguing about something, I can’t even remember what it was about now, but it was heated. Sarah was in the back, just trying to ignore it all like she usually did when we fought.”

Joel’s voice faltered for a moment, but he pressed on. “I lost control of the car. It all happened so fast... one minute we were arguing, the next... we were off the road, and then everything just... stopped. I woke up in the hospital. They told me Jane didn’t make it. Sarah... she held on for a few days, but... she was gone too.”

His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down the pain that was rising in his throat. “I blamed myself. Still do. I was the one driving, I was the one who lost control. I was supposed to protect them, and I failed.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you listened, your heart aching for the man who had carried this pain with him for so long. “Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry. It wasn't your fault,"

He shook his head, his expression conflicted. “I should’ve done better. I should’ve been better.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your tears mingling with his. “You did everything you could, Joel. You loved them, and that’s what mattered most.”

As you held him close, Joel’s thoughts drifted into the shadows of his mind, a place where the past and present collided in a tangled mess of emotions. The memory of that day, the sound of metal crunching, the silence that followed, haunted him like a ghost that refused to be exorcised. It was a wound that never healed, festering beneath the surface, a reminder of everything he’d lost and everything he could never get back.

Losing Jane and Sarah had shattered him, leaving him hollow and broken. They were his world, his purpose, and when they were ripped away, it felt like the universe had punished him for daring to love too deeply. Since then, he’d built walls around his heart, thick and impenetrable, to keep the pain at bay, to protect himself from ever feeling that kind of loss again.

But then you came along, with your soft smiles and tender touch, and those walls began to crack. You found your way into his life, into the parts of him that he’d thought were dead and buried. And now, the thought of losing you was unbearable, a terror that gripped his soul with icy fingers. If he lost you, it would be like losing Jane and Sarah all over again—only this time, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

God knows what he would do if that happened. The thought alone made his heart race, his breath catch in his throat. You were his lifeline, the one thing that kept him tethered to this world, and the fear of losing you gnawed at him, relentless and unyielding. He couldn’t bear it—not again. He couldn’t survive another loss like that.

Joel knew he wasn’t perfect. He was rough around the edges, scarred by years of pain and regret. But with you, he wanted to be better. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved. And yet, the fear lingered, whispering insidious doubts into his ear—what if he wasn’t enough? What if he failed you, too?

But as you leaned into him, your warmth grounding him in the present, Joel felt something shift inside him. He didn’t have to be perfect; he didn’t have to have all the answers. All he needed to do was hold on to you, to this moment, and trust that you could face whatever came next together.

The night stretched on as you and Joel stayed up, talking about your lives, sharing pieces of your pasts that you had never revealed before. Joel's voice was a steady, comforting presence in the dim light of the room, and though he opened up about so much, he skillfully avoided any mention of your father. It was a delicate line to walk—Joel had been his best friend, after all—but tonight wasn’t about reopening old wounds. It was about the two of you, building something new together from the ruins of what had been.

As the hours passed, your eyes grew heavy, the weight of the day and the depth of your conversation pulling you towards sleep. You were just about to drift off when Joel's voice, soft yet insistent, broke through the haze of your exhaustion.

“Baby, stay awake for a while for me,” he whispered, his hand gently guiding you to sit up and face him.

Confused but trusting, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and let him maneuver you, your heart skipping a beat at the tender way he looked at you. Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, the sight of which immediately piqued your curiosity. You glanced at him, your tired mind struggling to piece together what was happening.

“Joel…?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just opened the box to reveal a delicate gold necklace. The pendant was a beautifully crafted sun, its rays shimmering in the faint light. It was simple yet breathtaking, and as you stared at it, something inside you stirred, a warmth spreading through your chest that chased away the last remnants of sleep.

“Happy birthday, doll,” Joel said softly, his voice tender and filled with affection.

For a moment, you just stared at him, stunned. No one had ever done something like this for you before. Not your parents, not anyone. You’d never been surprised or celebrated like this—never had someone put so much thought into making you feel special. The shock of it all brought a lump to your throat, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Oh, Joel…” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s eyes softened even more, and he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “You like it?”

You nodded quickly, reaching out to touch the pendant again, feeling its smooth, cool surface beneath your fingertips. “I love it,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve never had anything like this before. No one’s ever… done anything like this for me.”

Joel’s smile faded into a more serious expression as he gently took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Well, you deserve it,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You deserve to be celebrated, to have someone make a fuss over you on your birthday. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important person in his world—it was almost too much to bear. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best possible way. For the first time, you felt truly seen, truly loved.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck, burying your face in his shoulder as the tears finally spilled over. “Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Thank you so much.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words—gratitude, love, a deep, unspoken connection that went beyond anything you’d ever known.

Joel kissed you back, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’re welcome, doll,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He gave you a small smile before pulling back slightly. “Now, turn around. I want to put the necklace on you.”

You did as he asked, turning your back to him as you gathered your hair to one side, exposing your neck. You could feel his fingers gently brushing against your skin as he fastened the clasp, the cool metal of the necklace resting against your collarbone. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he was handling something fragile and priceless.

“There,” Joel said softly, his voice warm with affection. “Perfect.”

You felt Joel’s fingers gently adjust the necklace, the cool metal resting comfortably against your collarbone. The delicate sun pendant seemed to radiate a quiet warmth, a perfect complement to the emotions swirling inside you.

As you held the pendant close to your heart, savoring the weight of the gift, Joel’s touch lingered. His lips brushed softly against the exposed skin of your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The sensation was tender and soothing, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his love and devotion.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate space. Joel’s kisses continued, moving slowly along your neck and back, each touch a silent declaration of his feelings for you. His hands were warm, his touch reverent and filled with an unspoken tenderness.

The air between you was thick with emotion, the depth of your connection more tangible than ever. As Joel’s kisses grew more insistent, more passionate, you felt a powerful surge of desire and love. It was as if every touch, every kiss was a way for him to express the feelings he found difficult to put into words.

You turned slightly to face him, your body still trembling with anticipation. The look in his eyes was filled with a mix of love, longing, and an almost primal need to be close to you. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a recognition of the depth of your bond and the comfort you found in each other’s arms.

As the night deepened, the room was filled with the quiet sounds of your shared intimacy, each moment a beautiful blend of passion and tenderness. It was a celebration of your love, a testament to the journey you had taken together and the future you were building side by side.

***

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you quietly gathered your belongings. The guest room that had become your sanctuary with Joel felt strangely empty now, a bittersweet reminder of the safety and comfort you had found within these walls. You took a deep breath, running your fingers over the bedspread, smoothing out the wrinkles, as if by doing so you could somehow hold onto the memories you had created here a little longer.

Outside, you could hear the muffled sounds of Joel and Bill talking, the low rumble of voices mixed with the occasional clatter of supplies being loaded into the truck. Joel had insisted on helping with every last detail, making sure that everything was perfectly arranged for the long journey ahead. Bill, ever practical, had offered them one of his newer trucks—a vehicle more suited to the months on the road that lay ahead. Joel had tried to argue, offering to pay, but Bill had waved him off with a gruff laugh, saying, "It’s on me. Just don’t come back knockin’ on my door, you hear?"

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, the warmth of Bill’s gruff generosity reminding you of how much you’d come to appreciate these two men who had given you and Joel a safe haven. As you moved around the room, making sure everything was in order, a soft knock at the door drew your attention.

It was Frank, standing in the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. "Mind if I come in?" he asked, his voice kind.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him enter. Frank’s presence had always been a source of quiet comfort, and now, as he stood there, it felt like the closing of a chapter you hadn’t realized was so dear to you.

"I wanted to say goodbye," Frank said, his tone a mix of affection and sadness. "Take care of yourself out there, kid. You’ve got a long road ahead of you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. "Thank you, Frank. For everything."

Frank held out two items, both of which caught you by surprise: a well-worn Bible with a cracked leather cover, and a small handgun that looked like it had seen its fair share of years. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected combination.

Frank noticed your hesitation and chuckled softly. "Happy birthday, kid," he said, his voice tinged with warmth and something almost fatherly. "I figured you might need both on the road. One to keep you safe from the world, and the other to keep you safe from yourself."

Your breath caught in your throat as you accepted the gifts, your fingers brushing over the rough texture of the Bible’s cover, feeling the weight of history it carried. The pages, yellowed with time, whispered of stories and lessons that had been passed down through generations. It wasn’t just a book; it was a relic, a piece of someone’s life, and now it was being entrusted to you.

"How did you know it's my birthday?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Frank gave you a knowing smile, glancing over his shoulder towards where Joel was finishing up with Bill. "Joel’s not great at keeping secrets," he said with a smirk. "He came to me, asking for advice on what to get you. He wanted it to be special, something you’d never forget. I had to pull it out of him, but he finally admitted that today’s your birthday."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Frank’s words, a deep appreciation for the man who stood before you. "Thank you," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. "This means more to me than you know."

Frank nodded, his expression softening. "I’m not a religious man, but I know that faith is important to you. This Bible—it’s been with me for a long time, and I figured it might bring you some comfort, maybe even some guidance when you need it most."

You held the Bible close to your chest, its presence both comforting and grounding. "I’ll cherish it, Frank. Truly."

Frank’s gaze shifted to the handgun, still resting in your other hand. "And that," he said, his tone more serious, "is for when things get tough. I know Joel will do everything he can to protect you, but it doesn’t hurt to have something of your own. Just in case."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the gift. The world outside was unforgiving, and as much as you believed in the power of faith, you knew that sometimes, survival required more than just hope. "Thank you, Frank," you repeated, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Frank’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re a good kid," he said softly. "You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and I can see how much you mean to Joel. Take care of each other out there, okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of his words. "We will," you promised.

Frank gave you one last, lingering look before stepping back towards the door. "I’ve packed some food for the road," he added, his voice returning to its usual warmth. "Figured you two could use it."

"Thank you," you said again, your voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

As Frank nodded and stepped back, you carefully tucked the Bible into your bag, nestling it among your few belongings like a piece of home you could carry with you. The gun, however, felt heavier in your hands, not just in weight but in the responsibility it symbolized. You found an old handkerchief in your bag, wrapping the gun tightly within its folds, along with the bullets. This was a secret meant for emergencies only, something you hoped you'd never have to use. You knew Joel wouldn’t approve—his protective nature would have him shielding you from this harsh necessity. But you felt a strange sense of empowerment as you hid the gun deep in your bag, a quiet resolve settling in your chest.

After making sure nothing was left behind, you and Frank stepped out of the room. The hallway felt longer now, each step echoing with the finality of your departure. When you reached the front door, the sunlight greeted you, warm and bright, as if trying to dispel the lingering shadows of the past few days.

Joel was already standing by the truck, his strong frame leaning casually against the door as he spoke with Bill. He looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately finding yours, and a small, comforting smile tugged at his lips. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with the same bittersweet undertone that seemed to hang in the air.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. This place, these people—Frank and Bill—had given you something invaluable: a sanctuary, a place where you and Joel had found a moment of peace in a world full of chaos. It was hard to say goodbye.

Frank and Bill stood together, their figures silhouetted against the morning light. There was an unspoken understanding between all of you—a recognition of the bond that had formed in such a short time, and the knowledge that it might never be repeated.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft yet filled with gratitude. "For everything. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you."

Bill waved off your words with a gruff, yet warm, "Just keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid. And remember, this truck’s got a lot more miles in it than that old rust bucket Joel was driving. Don’t come back knockin’ on my door for a replacement, you hear?"

Joel chuckled, the sound carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there in days. "We won’t," he assured them, though the words carried a weight of their own.

As you and Joel prepared to leave, Frank turned his attention to Joel, his eyes filled with a quiet seriousness that hadn’t been there before. He stepped forward, pulling Joel into a firm hug, the kind of embrace that spoke volumes without needing words.

"Take care of her, Joel," Frank murmured into his ear, his voice low but carrying the weight of his words. "She’s a good kid. She’s gonna need you."

Joel held onto Frank for a moment longer, his hand gripping Frank’s shoulder in silent acknowledgment. "I will," Joel replied, his voice steady and full of conviction.

Frank pulled back slightly, looking Joel in the eye with a mix of trust and understanding. Then, with a final pat on Joel’s back, he stepped away, leaving the space between them filled with the unsaid, but deeply understood, responsibility that now rested on Joel’s shoulders.

Joel walked back to the truck, you could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—stronger, more resolved. With that, the two of you climbed into the truck, ready to face the road ahead, knowing that whatever challenges awaited, you’d face them together.

As Joel drove away from Bill and Frank's place, the truck rumbled softly beneath you, its engine a steady heartbeat in the quiet of the early morning. You waved through the window, your hand lingering in the air as the two men faded into the distance, their figures shrinking until they were just specks on the horizon. The road stretched out before you, endless and inviting, bathed in the soft glow of dawn. It was like something out of a dream, a scene so perfect it felt almost surreal.

Here it was—your dream, the one you’d held onto through all the nights of despair and longing, the one that had kept you going when everything else seemed lost. Just you and Joel, no one else. He had saved you from the misery of your past, pulled you out of the darkness, and now, here you were, embarking on a new life together. A life that felt like it was finally yours to live.

As the truck moved down the road, the landscape began to shift and change, like scenes from a movie rolling by outside the window. The sun was rising higher, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, as if God Himself had brushed the heavens with His divine hand. It felt like a sign, a message from above that this was your path, that this was where you were meant to be.  If it’s meant to be, then it will be. And it felt true, truer than anything you’d ever known.

You didn’t need anything else right now—just Joel. His presence was all the reassurance you needed, all the comfort you’d ever craved. As he drove, his right hand reached across the space between you, fingers finding yours with an ease that felt like second nature. You looked over at him, your heart swelling as you watched him—his eyes focused on the road, but his grip on your hand firm, protective. It was as if he was silently telling you, I’ve got you. As long as I’m here, you’ll be okay.

And in that moment, you believed it with everything in you. This was your sanctuary, not a place but a person. The love that pulsed between you was more than just an emotion—it was a lifeline, a tether to something bigger than the both of you, something that had been written in the stars long before you ever met.

The road ahead was uncertain, the future a vast, uncharted territory, but it didn’t scare you. With Joel by your side, you felt invincible, as if the world could throw anything at you and you’d come out the other side stronger. You didn’t need anything else—no wealth, no fame, no worldly possessions. Just Joel. He was your beginning and your end, the sun that lit up the darkest corners of your soul.

As you squeezed his hand, a silent promise passed between you. You would face whatever came together, hand in hand, heart to heart. Because if it was meant to be, then it would be. And right now, in this moment, it felt like everything in the universe had aligned to bring you here, to this place, to this man.

And as the miles melted away beneath the tires of the truck, you allowed yourself to lean back, to rest your head against the seat, knowing that for the first time in your life, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

[sushiwriterhere]

OKAY. I saw that I got tagged and immediately had to prepare myself for this masterpiece!!!

first off. Seb. SEB. you absolute genius I cannot express enough how brilliant and how incredible of a job you have done with the Preacher's Daughter theme and how well you have handled the darker themes it really is incredibly masterful.

He needed you, and it came out in the most frustrating way he knew how. - okay okay maybe i'm reading too much into this, maybe my analysis is off, but the theme of rhett loving in this twisted way and the air of innocence about the reader because like obv the ending of PD but i truly love the way the reader explains this stuff away, and i really like watching the development of them being like.. in the palm of his hand without really realizing what that means??

“Do y’ want to hurt me?” Your voice wavered and babbled out before you had even registered what you’d said. - this is just so... *grits teeth* ugh!!! the cracks in the facade!! the moments where you see the flash of something sinister across his features!!!

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You mused Rhett with a small smirk gracing your features as you straddled his waist. - CLASSICCCCCCCCC!!!!

The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to. - this is so.... me hearing gibson girl on repeat in my head while reading this fic and just here... Seb you're magic

OKAY. This fic set me on fire put me out and then burned me to an ash again Seb you're a genius you're so talented I cannot wait for the rest of this series ILYSM thank you for sharing!!!!

MY LOVE 💐💐

new layout looks SO good!!!

thinking about preacher Rhett bringing his film camera to a dingy motel room…. thinking really hard

ptolemaea. | the thoroughfare motel tapes.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you and rhett are nearing the end of the line and he has a sinful idea to document the beginnings of your time out west.

￫ word count: 9K.

￫ c/w: heavy and dark religious themes, sex, p in v, rough sex, cnc, derogatory sex, derogatory names used towards reader, swearing, kissing, thigh riding, pussy spanking, spanking, spanking with a cross, boot riding, edging, blowjobs, deep throat, skull fucking, aftercare, bruising, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, nipple pinching, corruption and innocence kink and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ a/n: it’s here! i would highly suggest listening to wrestling in dirt pits, gibson girl, western nights and thoroughfare by ethel cain, in that order, whilst reading! a huge shout out to @bobfloyds @beachbabey @sunblchdfly @lewmagoo and @bradshawsbitch for brainstorming the most filthy and precious ideas. i love you all dearly. this is for you all <3 this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

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Rhett had guarded his heart like a fed from the moment you met him. Through the times he had you bent over his wooden desk in his back office at the Church, to lying with him at night in a Motel bed. On occasions, such as the other night when he chased you through the woods as a game, you thought you saw into him. You thought you saw something real, but it was quickly faltered back to the Preacher you knew. None the less, you were getting closer to the end of your destination with each passing Motel and tin shaped diner as you made your way out West. Perhaps it was the force of proximity, or that Rhett knew your journey was coming to an end, but one night on the passing roads, Rhett opened up to you.

“I was twelve years old ‘nd son of a Preacher. I loved him and the love he had for my Mother. Subsequently, he made me fall in love with America. But, my Mama, she was always good for makin’ me cry,” Rhett shook his head and scoffed, his tone gritting between his teeth. “Everythin’ in that fuckin’ town wanted me dead, ‘till I was holdin’ a gun to my head and I knew I had to go.” The sound of his truck hummed through the blackout night and you turned in your seat to watch with intent as he spoke. “I was seventeen ‘nd I knew I had to see it all. I had to get out and go chasin’ its sweet call,” Rhett motioned forward with his hand, then paused. “But I was scared of the world. I ended up standin’ over my Ma’s casket, thinkin’ I was next. I was scared I’d end up like my Pa. I looked in a mirror and I was beggin’ myself for more time.”

Rhett paused for another moment, but his eyes were still fixed on the dim lit road ahead. You could see him replaying it as a ghost of a memory behind those tired eyes and you felt for him. You realized you were no less different compared to him.

He let out a defeated and tired sigh, and then his demeanor switched as he recalled something else behind those cobalt blue eyes. “But then I met, well caught, you.” He had a grin on his face now. “Y’ came in to my Church lookin’ like a backwater girl and America’s sweetheart.” He reached over and squeezed the flesh of your knee with a grin still on his face. You squealed in response and playfully swatted at his hand to stop the sensation that caused your nerve endings to turn into television static.

“Y’ didn’t trust no one.” Rhett huffed out a laugh as you fought to keep his hand away from the pressure points on your knee.

“That’s because the whole town found me suckin’ the Preachers cock.” You quipped back at him with amusement in your tone.

Rhett hummed in pride as he recollected the memory. “I remember though, what you said to me.”

You looked down towards your lap where your fingers intertwined and busied themselves with one another. You were trying to avoid Rhett’s curious gaze at your admittance of remembering something so fondly.

“You said, don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere. I mean fuck, we were both outta luck, but at least your truck beats walking to the fuckin’ West.” You looked out of the truck window as you spoke. It was dark for the most part, only with a couple far off city lights pathing the way, but it helped with the silence that fell heavy over the truck.

You heard Rhett exhale deeply and shift in his seat. “Before I came to your town, I was in Florida. I had no one to worry about leavin’ for and no one left to love. But now that I’ve met you, fuck. I finally know jus’ where I’m headin’. Remember when I was all alone in my house and I was fuckin’ your guts like I hated you? I didn’t hate you, sweet lamb. I just kept prayin’ you’ll save me. You made me fuckin’ crazy.”

You felt a sense of clarity clear your head at Rhett’s admission. Your whole body shuddered at the physical memory. It was the first time he invited you round to his house. It was no more than a week after your run in in the Church toilets and the first time he fucked you in his back office at the Church.

He snuck you in. He was careful not to let anyone spot you visiting the town Preacher’s house during the dead of night. Rhett had claimed he’d been alone all day and he needed someone to kill his loneliness with. He had your legs doubled over and his cock hitting your cervix so furiously, that you could see him bulge in your lower abdomen. At the time, you thought you’d done something to warrant such loathsome sex, but it became clear as Rhett explained to you in his truck, that this night was because he didn’t know how to control himself anymore. He spat in your mouth for the first time that night. Your own mouth salivated as you recalled the animalistic action. You understood now that he was spitting his love into your mouth. He needed you, and it came out in the most frustrating way he knew how.

“I think I’ve found a way to show y’ how much y’ mean to me, when you’re lookin’ all pretty, lyin’ in those sheets undressed.” Rhett motioned to the backseat in his truck as he kept his gaze fixed ahead of him. You leant over and retrieved the plastic bag. You reached inside and fished out an old film camera. It was still in its box with the cardboard tattered around the corners. “I wan’ remember everythin’ when we get to the West.” Rhett reached over again to touch your knee, but this time his hand skimmed higher and squeezed at your thigh. You felt a million and one butterflies swarm your stomach at what your Preacher was implying.

“When?” You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the selfish grin spreading across your face.

“Tonight, once we reach this Motel. Wear that pretty set I got you. I wan’ get alone with you, sweet lamb.”

“Yes, Father.”

Your son of a Preacher, sinful as ever. You were all over him like a burning rash as he drew closer to the Motel. Your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt and your lips placed chaste kisses over his neck. Occasionally your tongue would dip out and soak up the salty taste of his sweat that had been simmering for a day or two. It was heaven to you. A concoction that you would go back for time and time again. Eventually, Rhett parked up at the Motel. He paid with the cash he stole from the Church and guided you to your Motel room, with his hand placed firmly on your lower back. He never strayed far from his precious lamb. It was as if to guide his lamb to the slaughter.

Once inside, you fished out the set Rhett had bought you a couple of towns back and slipped it on in the en-suite. The set was simple. It came from a town that hadn’t seen much of the newest century and you wondered momentarily if someone could have been murdered in it. It was cream and white, but a perfect white. Lacy details that had tiny flowers embroidered on, ran around the base of the bra. The underwear curved perfectly and the straps from the garter belt ran over the swell of your ass that was still tinged a baby pink colour from Rhett’s hands two nights before. The garter belt was attached to cream coloured stockings, and it made your thighs look like a place Rhett wanted to hide his face away in for the rest of eternity, until the end of Armageddon if he had to.

“You look like a virgin born again, my sweet lamb. Or, a lamb brought to the slaughter. Shall we find out which?” Rhett’s index finger lazily pointed to the ground beneath his boots. He needed no definite command to tell you exactly where you were to end up. You moved as gracefully as you could to stand in-between Rhett’s wide spread thighs at the edge of the bed. His calloused hands made contact with the backs of your thighs and your body jolted alive at his fervent touch. As if to elicit this image to memory forever, Rhett’s hands moved up and over your legs, finding their home on your ass. He issued a light, yet solid slap, to the soft flesh that made an easy moan fall from your lips, your skin still tender from before.

“I’m in love with your body, that’s why I’m fuckin’ it up, y’ know?” In sequence, as if Rhett had the rhythm of a hymn playing in his head, he delivered five more curt slaps to your supple flesh, each of them burning a fire on your skin. Instinctively, your palms reached out to grip at Rhett’s plaid shirt, with your body wilting forwards against him. Something of a merciful groan left your lips, as if to beg Rhett to stop, but you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to—

“Baby,” Rhett’s tone warned you. “If it feels good, then it can’t be bad.” Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say to discourage your doubt, and you let him continue to welt the supple flesh of your ass with his calloused palm.

“Turn around.” Rhett ordered with a gruffness in his voice. He planted his palm on the round of your ass and curved your thigh to direct you towards the blinking red light in the corner of the Motel room. You tiptoed on your feet to position yourself. His hands snaked along your hips and squeezed the soft flesh of your stomach, before leaving your body momentarily and picking up the small cross he’d packed with him.

The camera had the view finder flipped around so you could watch as Rhett didn’t let up his ministrations of marking your ass, yet this time, using the harsh material of the wooden cross. His stern gaze was fixed directly on you through the screen and you squirmed under his touch. You were unable to break away from his damning gaze and you were completely at his mercy. From however far away you were from Rhett, he would always pull you under with his cold-blooded stare and let it bleed all over you. At the back of your mind, doubt started to cloud you senses. You wondered if you had read this all wrong, especially that night when he chased you through the woods. That was something different entirely. What if he hated you? What if it was too late to—

“Do y’ want to hurt me?” Your voice wavered and babbled out before you had even registered what you’d said. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes from the painful pleasure shooting through your lower back as his cross continued to meet your ass, before it came to a sudden halt and was dropped on the bed. His hands ran soothingly over your now deep rouge coloured flesh.

“Hurt you?” Rhett twisted you by your waist to face him as you stood still in between his thighs. His hands didn’t leave you and the warmth of his palm spread over you to dull the ache that he’d created with the hand of God. “My sweet lamb, I never wan’ to hurt you. I wan’ to love you.”

You looked down at him and blinked away your tears in a flurry. His thumb came up to smooth over your cheeks and wipe them away, feeling your baby hairs on the corner of your jaw. The cobalt blue of Rhett’s eyes reflected in the dim lighting of the Motel room and his prior hardened gaze, had softened entirely. You watched as his eyes traced over your face and every feature you wore. Time stood completely still in this moment, in this particular Motel room, now not far from the West. You started to see Rhett differently, and for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

“You wanna… love me, right now?” You questioned with hesitation in your voice. You and Rhett had disclosed your love to one another time and time again, but this time, it was different and you weren’t familiar with the sincerity in Rhett’s tone.

“I wan’ fuck you, I wan’ see you on your knees, I wan’ rip this fuckin’ piece off,” his index finger tugged at the band of your garter belt and let it slap against your thigh. “But more than anythin’, I wan’ make love to you.”

“You wanna see me on my knees?” A playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you bit down gently onto your bottom lip when Rhett let out a grumbled growl. He delivered one more smack to your ass before pointing over to the camera that had since been forgotten about in the corner of the room. You understood what Rhett was silently implying.

You handed it to him and descended to your knees at the bottom of the bed. You situated yourself neatly in-between Rhett’s thighs and felt the rough tapestry of the Motel carpet scratch at your knees. He brought the lens of the camera up to point directly at the sinful sight below him. He leant back ever so slightly on one arm to allow the view finder to take in every angle of your poised position. “Smile for the camera, my pretty little lamb.” You gazed up at him through your lashes and smiled a sickly sweet smile. A groan got caught in his throat at the sight below him and his cock strained dangerously tight against his jeans. Rhett didn’t have a spare hand and he gestured for you to take the reins. Your hands slinked up his tense thighs and un-did his large belt buckle. It fell to the side with a clang! against the metal. You could already see the bulge outlined underneath his boxers. You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the salvia pooling already in your mouth from dribbling out.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. Lord knows you’ve had this cock a million times.” Rhett snarked in response to watching your pupils double the size.

“I- I know, it’s just,” you pointed to the camera in Rhett’s hands and stifled a giggle. He cooed and brought his hand to smooth around your cheeks and hold your chin upto him. How his sweet lamb had strayed so far from the flock and ended up in the Lord’s arms, wearing white that barely hid the temptations of your own body. You had come alone into Rhett’s maliciously corrupt arms, from however far away you were before, and he thought it sweet how you were now getting shy.

“Do what your Preacher tells you.” Rhett’s tone was firm and you knew it was the beginning of a stern warning from him. The previous ache on your ass twinged and you were swiftly reminded of the consequences that would follow if you didn’t obey your Preacher.

Your fingers made quick work of freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. A quiet grunt escaped him as he felt your hand clasp around him and squeeze him lightly. He was hot and heavy under your touch and his broad tip was glistening an angry red colour. He momentarily removed your hand and spread your palm in front of his face. He pursed his lips together and a direct line of his spit came into contact with your palm. You wrapped yourself around him again and in steady motions, you ran your lubricated hand over his length, remembering to work your thumb over his sensitive tip, just as he had showed you before.

A now louder grunt bubbled up through his throat, but he was steady enough to still hold the camera in focus of you. Up until this point, you had focused on the engorging sight before you, but Rhett wanted to see you become immoral in his lap. His hand reached up to cup your chin again and tilt your face upwards. His thumb ran along your bottom lip and pushed itself past to press down forcefully on your tongue, jolting your jaw open.

“Out.” Rhett barked. You instinctively pushed your tongue past your lips and let it hang freely. He lowered his head and pursed his lips together again. Another splat of his salvia fell onto your tongue and ran down to the back of your throat. “No more excuses, my pretty whore. Drink down your communion wine.” A shudder ran up the bones of your spine and settled at your neck, with warm beads of sweat already breaking out. A measly whimper came up and out from your throat, but you were left spluttering around the head of Rhett’s cock as his hand gripped onto your head and tugged you down. You swallowed once around him and let the mix of your salvia’s coat his length before sinking down a further few more inches.

The first real groan left him, followed by a greedy curse of your name. The base of your tongue ran under his shaft and traced along a protruding vein. He shuddered at the sensation and resumed his position as before. He was leaning back on one of his arms with the camera angled perfectly against you. You had now sunk down completely to his pubic bone and his soft brown curls tickled at the tip of your nose. You ran your lips back up his length to swirl around his tip a handful of times and then sunk back down. Over and over you repeated this motion, and pride swelled in your chest when the sound of Rhett’s pleasure met your ears.

“Look at me.” Rhett croaked out in-between his stuttered breaths. You peeked up through your lashes and gazed directly into the camera. “Jesus. Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned at the messy sight. Your lips were stretched around his thick girth and your cheeks were painted a rosy blush. Although you were looking up at him and you moved your mouth over his cock, your eyes had crinkled in the corners with your lashes fluttering occasionally. You were clearly trying to keep your eyes on him as instructed, but the tears stinging at your waterline were becoming more prominent, and you were blinking in flurry’s to hold them back.

“‘memeber when I first had y’ in the confessional booth. Look at you now, too far gone on your Preacher’s cock. God made you for me himself.”

A loud moan from yourself vibrated around his cock, although it was muffled as your mouth was currently stuffed full. The guiding praise from Rhett was giving you a new found confidence and you wanted to put on a show for your Preacher. You continued to run your lips all the way down his length and let his tip push at the back of your throat. You could start to taste the bitter salt of his pre-cum forming at his tip, and on each shove to the back of your throat, you let out a crude gagging sound. At each push, Rhett would groan himself and follow with his sweet praises.

“Good girl. That’s it, take your Preacher’s cock. You were made to take me.”

More of your salvia was gathering in your mouth and you let it freely fall from the corners of your lips. It dribbled down your chin and dripped onto the stockings. More would pool and each time your mouth dragged up to Rhett’s tip, his cock would glisten wet.

You had made the best of your efforts to hold your fluttering gaze towards the camera. He looked again into the screen, but this time he let out a low, almost mocking, chuckle. He watched as one or two tears finally spilled over your eyes and streaked down your burning cheeks. The camera could catch everything from his laid back view and he noticed how your thighs were starting to chafe against each other. His lips quirked up into a sly and all knowing smirk.

“Need somethin’?” He berated down towards you. Your eyebrows turned upwards as if to plead for your Preacher. “If you need somethin’, you must pray for it.” You let out a defeated whimper, but Rhett only raised one of his eyebrows as if to question if you were about to become a whiny little brat. “The Lord worked hard to earn His followers respect. You must do the same.”

You pulled off the tip of his cock with a string of salvia connecting from his head to your bottom lip. You started to quietly mumble out, “our Father in heaven—”

“Louder.”

You swallowed down what little left of your pride you had left and raised your voice and octave higher.

“— hallowed be your name;”

“Look ‘ere,” Rhett grabbed a tight fistful of your hair and pulled your head upwards to look at the camera. You quickly blinked back the next flow of tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks and continued.

“Allow me to press my Preacher’s pussy to my Preacher’s boot and feel some relief.”

You decided the cooling stream of your tears over your cheeks would be better than anything right now, as your cheeks flushed in heat with embarrassment from your words. You stared directly into the camera and in unison with Rhett, you finished your fleeting prayer with, “Amen.”

“Good, little lamb.” Rhett grunted and pushed your mouth back down and onto his cock. You felt his boot come between your knees and forcefully kick your thighs open. You accepted the wide girth of his boot greedily and caught your clothed clit on the tip of his boot. Your mouth sank back down to Rhett’s pelvic bone and you ground your hips down eagerly onto the worn leather.

The pressure felt delicious on your aching clit, as you rocked your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion, similar to the one your mouth was making. You could no longer stifle your needy moans and you let your throat wail in muffled sounds around his strained length.

“I know, angel, I know,” he purred with his hand still coursing through your hair and guiding you. “Feels s’ good, doesn’t it? My pretty pussy got s’ needy.”

The rhythmic motions you were providing Rhett caused him to groan your name softly with each flick of your tongue around his head. His body was hurtling closer towards his definite release, but he still had more that he wanted to capture on camera. With a final grunt, he pulled you off his cock by your hair. You let out a protested cry. The sudden movement had jolted your body and re-directed the ecstasy inducing pressure off your clit.

“Hush, lamb.” Strings of salvia trailed from your lips, with your glassy eyes swimming in your own tears. “You gon’ let your Preacher have you? From the fuckin’ mess you’ve made on my boot, it’d be a sin not to feel my cunt squeezin’ me tight.” You nodded eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly for Rhett, as it caused him to bark out a laugh, mocking you.

He stood up and you moved with him. He momentarily dropped the camera to the bed as you helped him pull off the rest of his clothes in a flurry. His chest was flush a bright pink, and as he removed the final item of clothing, his cock slapped against his abdomen between your bodies. You followed him like a lamb would to the slaughter, as he lay back on the bed and picked up the camera. He positioned himself to rest up against the pillows so he could hold the camera and keep his gaze fixated on what he was recording. He patted his bare thigh and motioned for you to come over.

“Bet my pretty little pussy was so desperate to come,” Rhett mocked as you pouted ever so slightly. He was right. “C’ ere and sit on your Preacher’s cock. If you put on a good enough show, I’ll let y’ come.”

You let out a languid moan. Your thighs were already burning from the constant grinding on his boot, but like your Preacher had already told you as he marked your ass shades of black and blue, if it feels good, then it can’t be bad. Having a sweet thing like yourself be completely immoral in a stranger’s lap would be something any man would want, yet you could only share this with Rhett. It was something only you, could have the power over.

With this new found confidence, you climbed atop of the Motel bed and slid your underwear off, with the garter belt and stockings still firmly attached. You were going to put on a show that anyone would wish they had.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” You mused Rhett with a small smirk gracing your features as you straddled his waist. You raised your eyebrows to await his response. His spare hand reached round to give a fleeting smack to your ass, causing you to yelp in response, partly due to the already residing marks from earlier.

“Atta girl, you’re learning.” Rhett was quick to quip back at you as you braced one hand on his chest and your other hand reached to grab at his cock. It was silky and warm under the base, and you had no issue gathering the pre-cum that was beading at his swollen tip with your thumb and smoothing it over. You guided his tip to nudge at your entrance, catching your clit on the way and letting out a whimper.

“‘member who’s in charge ‘ere,” Rhett taped at the camera pointing your way and you submitted to putting on an immoral show in your Preachers lap. Both your hands were now bracing his chest as you sank yourself all the way down on his length. Guttural groans escaped you both as Rhett filled you whole. He could feel your warm walls squeeze around him, warmer than usual, yet still all encompassing that it made his toes curl. You squirmed your hips down to meet his, taking his cock all the way to the base and feeling his swollen head nudge not so far from your cervix. Once your walls had fluttered around him and emitted the feeling to memory, you made work of your thighs and bounced gently at first. If it wasn’t for your hands bracing Rhett right now, you would’ve toppled over on him.

Rhett peered through the view finder and watched with his bottom lip gripped tightly between his teeth at the Heaven shattering sight before him. Your eyes were pinched tightly shut, but your lips were parted and letting out an endless string of needy moans. From this angle of you leaning forward, he could register your tongue just teasing at your bottom lip, threatening to fall from your mouth completely as he fucked you closer towards that teetering edge. Your breasts were moving in time with your rhythmic bounces, and your nipples had turned into stiff peaks. The soft colour that matched against the inside of your pussy made drool pool in Rhett’s mouth. From this angle, he couldn’t have a taste, but he could do what he adored most. Make you squirm and whine.

His free fingers reached out and pinched at your hardened nipples to earn a shriek being torn from your throat. He twisted at your right nub harshly and even though cries were tearing from you, you pushed your chest forward to keen into the painful pleasure. He wanted to see more from you, but his ears were zoning in on the sounds you were making and he trusted in his gut feeling to check on you. He removed his hand from your swollen breasts and placed them on your hip to still your rocking motions, the camera going down with it.

His thumb ran soothing circles over your hip bone as if to signal to you to stop for a moment. A soft look had replaced his hardened gaze. “Y’ okay, little lamb? Y’ need to tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded as you panted heavily. You wet your bottom lip to speak, “promise, Rhett. Feels s’ good, p-please, need you.” A beat went by.

“Safe word?”

“Bull riding.”

Rhett wore a smile to match his softened gaze and he leaned up to press a admiring kiss to your swollen lips. When he pulled away and came back to resume his previous position, picking up the camera in tow, his face shifted back in a flash. It made your cunt clench as it resembled something close to the Devil himself. That something you had seen in the woods.

You resumed your previous ministrations and your hips continued to bounce rhythmically. Rhett wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around your tender nipples and pinching at them gently to elicit further cries from yourself. With one particularly harsh twist from his index finger, your head was thrown back and your hips pushed further. You ground your hips into Rhett’s and you could feel the tip of his cock slide neatly along the sweet, spongy spot, inside of you. The sensation of after burn on your nipples stung deliciously in combination. To soothe yourself you brought one of your own hands up to toy and stroke over your nipples. Your jaw had now gone slack, as your head was thrown back and your chest was rising and falling erratically.

Rhett let out a guttural grunt in response to this sight and shifted his hips to lazily meet yours. “Look at you,” he matched with a lazy drawl in his tone. “Preacher’s best girl, puttin’ on a show for Daddy.” He focused the camera directly onto the sight before him. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this.

With every shift of your hips bouncing on his cock, you could feel your clit bump against his soft curls and occasionally provided a teasingly millimeter of friction. You needed more, but no matter how deep you grounded your hips down, it provided no release and you were left edging yourself. Your thighs were starting to give in entirely, with a thin veil of sweat coating your flesh and chafing against Rhett’s own. Mumbled nothings were falling from your lips with silent cries.

“I- I… Daddy,” you managed to usher out. It was a pitiful plead of mercy for your Daddy. You needed him now. Your own body was failing you with exhaustion. You needed him to take care of you.

Rhett could hear your soft plea, how your voice was failing you and how your hip movements were becoming sloppy. Your mind was teetering on the edge of complete nothingness. It was about to break and run it’s course into a headspace that made you entirely susceptible to causing more harm to yourself than you could really take. But Rhett was there to slow down your de-railing. As God loved him, Rhett was to love and care for you. You were his responsibility and therefore it was his responsibility to catch you gently when you fell softly into that headspace that rendered you completely, fucked, dumb.

The camera was placed on the bed and his hands came up to still your shuddering body. He shushed you gently and breathed out, “alright, my sweet lamb. Let Daddy take care of his best girl.”

His broad palms gripped at your torso and picked you up as if you weighed nothing. He lay you down on the bed with your head facing the end. He carted his fingers through your hair that was falling haphazardly over your forehead and getting stuck in the beads of your sweat that was pooling. He gently cradled your supple cheek and the baby hairs that lay there. His thumb soothed over the heat rising in your cheeks and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your parted lips.

His own hair tickled at your skin and you hummed into his mouth. Your giggles bubbled to the surface and Rhett reacted with his own. His familiar warmth was surrounding you and encompassing you whole as his lips didn’t stop moving against yours. A taste of a cigarette and lukewarm beer were fading on his tongue, but it was still there, something that ground you closer to your Preacher. Yet, at the same time, it had you falling through the mattress to somewhere safe.

Rhett parted from your swollen lips momentarily and you let out a disappointed whine, turning them into a small pout. You wrapped your hands around the base of his neck and toyed with the damp licks of hair, in an attempt to draw him back to you, but he resisted for a moment. His thumb lifted between you both and ran along your pouted lips, smoothing them out.

“Need y’ to tell me, my sweet lamb. Can you continue?” He purred.

You replied with a, “yes,” and barely above a whisper, with a small nod of your head. To anyone else, your admittance of submission was feeble, but Rhett had you mapped out on the back of his hand. He could read every inch of your body and how it responded to him. He could read this clearly and he followed through by slipping his thumb passed your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut and suckled down greedily, eager to have anything of Rhett inside of you and filling you whole. He nudged his knelt thigh between your legs and pressed up against your cunt. Your clit was left painfully un-touched by this point and he could feel it throb as you instinctively rubbed yourself up and over his tight muscle. There was a lewd sound of your wetness squishing against him and something of a growl left his throat.

“Jesus, fuckin’ soaked for your Preacher, aren’t you? Nasty, needy, little harlot.” Rhett sneered down at you. His demeanor had switched back to cold-blooded, but you knew you were safe with this version of Rhett and his venomous words only sent shocks to your swollen bundle of nerves. You were desperately chasing your high once again on his thigh, but it was ripped away from you coldly as he pulled away and issued a direct, smack! directly onto your cunt.

This was your fall from grace and two tears finally slipped over your waterline and stung at your warm cheeks. He smoothed them over with his thumb, but in contrast, he only cooed mockingly at you.

“Cry all you want, darlin’. You’re takin’ what I give you. Now—” he got off the bed and retrieved the camera that had fallen to the side. He placed it on the worn out and chipped desk facing the bed and came back to position you. He slid his arm under your back and twisted you so you were now on your hands and knees, facing the camera. He tugged at your scalp and then pinched your chin to direct your gaze directly ahead to the camera. “— smile for your Preacher, sweet girl. You are Daddy’s best girl, after all.”

His words made you squirm and without direction, your back was arched slightly to show Rhett the curvature of your ass. Two of his calloused hands ghosted down your spine and lay at their final resting place on your hips. He squeezed at your tender flesh and let a groan slip at the sight of your glistening cunt.

One hand was removed and fisted at the base of his throbbing cock. He slapped his heavy member against your lips and let it drag through your folds and nudge at your clit. It made lewd sounds, the sounds of your own wet cunt causing your cheeks to return to a dusty red colour. You both moaned together as he let his tip slip past your folds and tease at the beginning of your entrance. You immediately clenched down on him as he slipped the first inch in. You were unable to hold back the string of pathetic whines, and you bucked your hips back to try and chase his length that he was slowly inching in.

“Daddy, p- ‘lease!” Rhett hushed you in an attempt to soothe you, but it was broken by his own grunt as he eventually bottomed out completely inside of you.

“S’ fuckin’ tight for your Preacher, lil’ lamb. Y’ were made for me, weren’t you?” You nodded feebly at the camera ahead of you.

You wrapped yourself warmly around him and clenched tighter as Rhett slowly started to move his hips against you and build a steady rhythm. At each push back in, he nudged deeply at the sweet spot inside of you and it had your knuckles turning white, gripping the thin Motel bed sheets below you and carting you forward with each thrust.

He found a comfortable grip with one hand on your hip as the pace picked up. His other hand found itself buried at the base of your neck and his fingers intertwined to the base hairs that lay there. He grabbed a tight fistful, pulling harshly on your roots with a yelp from yourself. This new found position caused your back to arch further and your hands scrambled on the bedsheets below to try and hold yourself up. That, combined with Rhett’s now brutal thrusts, his thick tip was waging no mercy on your sweet and abused cunt.

It caused you to hold direct eye contact with the camera in front of you, as it documented clearly to anyone who would watch, how your Preacher would ruin his little lamb inch by inch. It was as though he was pulling you apart thread by thread and weaving himself a new found pleasure. You caught a glimpse of Rhett himself in the corner of the mirror, that was situated off to the side of the desk where the camera was sitting and dear God, you had never seen such a prettier sight.

His hair was mused and tussled stray strands of hair fell against his forehead and tickled against his rosy cheeks. There was a small layer of sweat forming already, and nestled deep in the creases of his forehead as his eyebrows knitted tightly together in concentration at sight before him. His piercing eyes that always had you clenching, were trained directly at the sight of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, your own arousal already slicking him and layering at the edges of your lips.

His jaw was set firm, but his lips were slightly parted in comparison to allow for hot puffs of air and guttural grunts. His shoulder muscles, and all the way down to his forearms, were compacted tightly together and bulging. Prodding veins in his forearm were shadowed perfectly in the low light of the Motel room, dusted by his arm hair that grew thicker at the base of his hands. His chest was flush and the rosy pink dusted over his tattoo on his peck, blending into one.

His lips parted further to speak, “look at you, my pretty Western sunshine. I’ve found heaven in you, little lamb.” His voice was hoarse and yet his Southern drawl was still low and boldly coming through, wetted by the gasps of air he was currently letting out. He had found heaven in time where your own Western sunshine met his deep Southern wet. He was lost in it, lost in the feeling, lost in the taste, and he found himself hard-pressed for air and sweating.

The concoction of the reek of sex and sweat hung heavy in the dingy Motel room. Rhett’s pin point accurate thrusts were pushing you closer to the edge that you had so desperately been craving all night. The knot that was settled deep in your lower abdomen was threatening to snap anytime soon, but there was something else missing. Like clockwork, and how well Rhett knew your body like the back of his hand, his hand from your hip slipped down and his rough padded fingers found your aching bundle of nerves. You let out a broken sob and your eyes squeezed tightly shut at finally relishing in the feeling. His thrusts became sloppier as he let your hip go, but his thick cock that was still moving in and out of you, gave no room for error. His fingertips ran calculated circles and you continued to let out broken sounded moans. You were getting louder with each swipe, but you didn’t care. You paid no mind to the other Motel dwellers next door. You were completely unaware that Rhett heard a couple of thuds on the wall next to you. For him, it only added fuel to the Hellfire you were currently drawing him down to.

“Y’ wan’ to come, angel face?” You pathetically whined out a, “yes,” and let out a louder cry when Rhett tugged harshly on your hair to signal at you to open your eyes. Your eyes peeled open and at this admission, the tears that had been stinging on your waterline fell freely. Your pleasure was heightened to a tipping point so high, that you had no idea what would happen when you fell. “Y’ can come, but watch yourself. Watch your fuckin’ pathetic self.” Rhett seethed with condescension laced thick on his tongue.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou…” You babbled out repeatedly in a weak attempt to show your gratitude. You could feel yourself ready to fall. Your skull felt as though it was full with cotton and your eyes completely glazed over as you stared mindlessly into the camera.

Rhett let his fingers swipe continuously over your now completely abused clit, and he felt you clench and twitch around him. “Come. Come for y’ fuckin’ Preacher.”

The mix of his cock still moving with pin point accuracy inside of you, and the swipe of his fingertips, caused you to fall helplessly with the only cord attached to Rhett. Your jaw went slack, unable to hold the drool that cornered in your mouth and it slipped down your chin as your orgasm came and washed over you like a furious tidal wave. The all encompassing and pleasurable feeling started in your abdomen and blossomed outwards to reach each point of your body, setting your nerves alight. It caused your toes to curl tightly inwards at the base of Rhett’s knees and your chest heave furiously, trying to catch up with the labored moans you were currently letting out.

You weren’t aware how tight you were squeezing around Rhett. Whilst caught up in your own storm, you heard him behind you groan and curse your name with a sinisterly sick tone. “Gon’ fill you up, precious lil’ lamb. Gon’ make y’ full of me, y’ want that?” You were vaguely aware of Rhett’s own begging behind you. “Fill this womb with God’s spend, give y’ children of God.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for at this point. Anything to keep this euphoric feeling going you would settle for. His thrusts became sloppier than before and his cock twitched inside of you. His fingers were still lazily working around your clit and you mewled out at the overstimulation he was causing you. His thrusts were deep and he let out an even deeper, guttural groan, but they turned shallow as you felt his own spend leak inside of you. You squeezed him tightly at this point, as to milk him for all that he was worth. You wanted God’s children to blossom in your womb.

You had admitted defeat and your arms were shaking to try and hold yourself up. You fell forward on the mattress with a pitiful whine. Rhett gulped down air behind you and let out soft groans as his cock soften inside of your wet walls. You winced as he pulled out and you felt a mix of fluids drip from your swollen and puffy lips. Your body thrummed with the coming downs of pleasure and you let your hips fall to the bed when he let go of your frame. You squirmed into the bedsheets, rubbing your flesh over the material in a weak attempt to ground yourself, but there was no need. Warm hands of your Preacher slinked around your waist and drew you up from the mattress.

“My sweet, sweet, beautiful lamb. C’ ere.” His voice was like honey in your ear. The warmth of his breath was causing goosebumps to flesh over your neck. His large, yet damp with sweat, arms encased you against his. You could feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat match up to yours as he held you tightly against his chest for a moment. Skin on skin contact like a baby would have with their mother. Your own sweat was mixing together and puffs of his breath coated your warm cheek.

He maneuvered himself to sit against the headboard with one arm wrapped around your trembling body. Tender fingers from his spare hand slinked upwards at the base of your neck. They were far softer in contrast to the ones that were cruelly tugging on your hair before. They reached upwards and brushed the strands of hair that were stuck to your forehead, tucking them gingerly behind your ear. His thumb and index finger cautiously caught your chin and titled your low hanging head to look at him. Your eyelashes fluttered open and you met Rhett’s face with a weary and blissed out smile.

“You okay?” He moved his hand to cradle your jaw as if it was made of glass. His thumb brushed over the stained tears above your rosy cheek.

“Did I do good?” You voice was hoarse and it caused Rhett’s heart to twinge in his chest. You were his responsibility to take care of and he would be damned to Hell if he didn’t.

“M’ love, you did s’ good. M’ s’ proud of you.” Your weary smile was still there, but you seemed to appear proud. “Can I kiss you, sweet lamb?”

“Please, Rhett. Need you.” You called out to him. He was right there in front of you, but you needed your Preacher to wrap you tightly in his arms and wash away your sins down the basin of the Motel sink drain.

Rhett moved his face to be millimeters away from your lips. Barely above a whisper, he reassured you faintly, yet his words were set in stone. “M’ always here. Never goin’ to leave you. You’re mine forever. I love you.”

Your lips brushed against each other when you replied. “Love you too, Rhett.”

He did exactly as you needed. He cleaned you up with his ever tender and cautious touch. He never left your side and you clung tightly to him when his lips met your ears with honeyed words of praise. However, through a force unknown to you, your body was startled and you awoke from the throws of sleep, wrapped tightly up in Rhett’s arms.

Your bleary eyes adjusted to the dim bedside lamp that was still on. The two of you were too exhausted to switch it off after. The sight of the soft light electrified something in you and you were frustratingly, now wide awake, for lack of better word.

You un-tangled yourself from his arms and he shifted against the pillows to lie on his back. One of his arms came up to stretch behind his head, with his bicep muscles contorting shadows in the light. His hair was tousled, and soft strands fell and framed his face in such a way that made your town Preacher look angelic. The ends of his hair tickled at his hardline jaw, with the four day old stubble coming through. The thin cotton Motel bed sheet was falling haphazardly over his frame and his soft curls with the base of his cock, peeked out from underneath. You retrieved the camera and it whirred to life, clicking in places inside as the flashing red button on the front focused on his sleeping frame. Rhett had never looked more beautiful as he slept naked, due to the air con in the Motel room failing you both once again, and you wanted to remember this serene moment for as long as you lived.

You caught your own reflection in the mirror with bleached corners and tainted glass. You let out a quiet gasp in response and zoomed in on the picture through the tiny screen. Painted over your hips and the back of your thighs, were shades of black and blue. They showcased the way Rhett knew how to show his love.

You were oblivious to the fact he heard the room next door beat on the walls while you were face-first down in the bed mere hours ago. You also weren’t aware of Rhett pummeling a stranger to the floor outside the bar across the street from the diner, because the stranger called you a sickly name. The lovesick haze that clouded your vision entirely with Rhett was unforgivable.Trouble was always going to find him and weather you were aware of it or not, so would you with his guidance. If Rhett loved you like he said he did, you would hold a gun to someone’s head if he asked you to.

On some nights, you were alone in the Motel rooms when Rhett was out. You’d sit on the edge of the bed, facing the television, with tears falling over you cheeks and reflecting in the television static. Yet, your tears came from a place of happiness. You had him to hold you each night as you crossed every state line to reach the West. You knew you’d be alright, as you turned off the camera and slid back into the familiar embrace of your Preacher.

He had now rolled over onto his side and you pressed yourself into his bare back that emitted the warmth of a furnace. Your arms wrapped themselves over his ribs and you could feel the steady rhythm of the rise and fall of his lungs. You would cling to him like some love blind addict. You were always itching for your next fix. Always awaiting the dopamine induced high to flood your senses when you were next to him. You wanted to feel him run hot through your veins and hit the sweet spot in your head that would leave you with your eyes rolling back into your skull and begging for more. Always desperate to scream his name as you drove by the gas stations and trailed down the interstate.

“I’m never gonna leave you, baby.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and your lips brushed against Rhett’s flesh on his back, muffling the sound of reassurance. Even if Rhett was to lose what’s left of his depraved and fortified mind, you’d still be right there besides him. You’d ride with him through every Western night you departed on, and you knew that one day, you and Rhett could be ok.

Rhett pulled his truck off to the side of the road and pulled up on the dirt track. You had finally reached the edge after all this time. You wasted no time and flung open the passenger door, inhaling the near costal air deep into your lungs. You had reached the coast.

Rhett joined you and got out to lean against the front of his truck. He hovered slightly as it was still burning hot from the hours of driving. You both took in the view and spotted the far off shoreline in California from the cliff side he was currently parked up at.

“End of the line.”

You spun around from the cliff side railings and walked back to Rhett as he spoke. You had a spring in each step and you planted yourself between his thighs. His arms came round to encase you against his chest with the warm sun beating down on you both. You looked up at him with hope shining in your eyes for the first time in months, “we made it this far.”

Rhett’s eyebrows quirked upwards, before furrowing slightly as he gazed outwards at the land in front of him. The sun caught in his eyes and caused him to squint. This was a new town, a fresh start, where people wouldn’t know either of you and no one would truly know if you went missing. He looked back down at you and his face broke out into an animated and electrified smile. “‘nd look at what I’ve got.” His hold on your waist became tighter and you felt your feet leave the ground. A squeal, followed by laughter, bubbled out from your chest as Rhett span you around. He placed you back down to the dust eventually, “love’s out there, and we can’t leave it be anymore.”

You craned your neck upwards and pressed your palms against his chest to steady your lips that were now millimeters away from his. You whispered, as if no one else was privy to your agreement, “I'll come with you if you're sure it's what you need.” Because you knew, in Rhett’s pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place you’d ever want to be.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch

tagging those who may be interested: @peachystenbrough @sunblchdfly @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbitch @bobfloyds @lewmagoo @sushiwriterhere @sugarcoated-lame

[madaboutmunson]

The Drive-In Part 13

Part 1 | Part 12 | Part 14 | Links to all Parts | AO3 Link

Taglist: @2btheanswertothequestion @cr0w-culture @panicatthediaz @rhyswritesreadsandcries @weirdspaceowl @duraffinity

Eddie knows this was probably stupid. He didn't have to make banana pancakes from scratch. He could be on his way to his van now and home, but he knew that shitty feeling after a meltdown only too well.

His reasoning being if he could see Steve eat something relatively healthy, he wouldn't worry all day. He knew that wasn't the only reason. He'd done this a lot of times.

Pancakes the morning after. The girls rarely stayed. Maybe realizing their mistake, or perhaps being uncomfortable in a trailer, he'd usually be up early making them because he'd been too excited to rest properly and had probably already spent a good hour watching them sleep peacefully next to him.

Now the emergency was over. He was trying to keep eye contact with Steve to a minimum because now Steve was wide awake and sober. Eddie was worried about how much his own eyes would give away. He never was that good at hiding his true feelings on his face. So he kept his head down and ate.

Eddie notices Steve is picking at his food,.moving it around more than actually eating it, "You haven't gotta eat them if you don't like them. No offence taken," Eddie says with a little false laugh.

The clang of Steve's fork against the plate makes Eddie look up from his food. Eddie tries to remember to look as calm as possible, like he did when he hid a secret during a hellfire campaign. But this time, he was full of dread instead of harbouring a feeling of excitement for the final reveal. He didn't know if Steve could remember everything, nothing, or something in between. His eyes go back to his food.

"Listen, Eddie," Steve starts, and Eddie feels his stomach churning, but he continues to eat and responds with a hum and absolutely is not going to take his eyes off his plate. He isn't. Nope.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I just...um...a few years ago. I was at my friend's house, and this guy broke in, and I think that maybe that's kinda stuck with me," Steve explains.

"Well, that must have been fucking terrifying. No need to apologize, man. I've had a few meltdowns in my time." Eddie looks up for a moment and tries to give a comforting laugh, "Nowhere near as violent though. I'm more a yelling, screaming, fainting kinda guy".

Steve's eyes look up to his, and Eddie couldn't look away for all the Gibson S.Gs in the world.

"Really?" Steve asks quietly, and though his mouth doesn't smile, his hypnotic eyes read hopeful, and they are searching for it in Eddie's eyes.

"Yeah, really," Eddie replies gently. Maybe more gently than he should have because Steve looks away.

Eddie clears his throat, reaches for his glass of juice, and takes a sip. Then, he nervously thumbs at his rings with his free hand under the table.

"I don't really remember much of the details after the pool last night," Steve starts, "But I feel like I had fun, and I hope I didn't do or say anything dumb, you know?"

"Same," Eddie laughs. Of course, it's a complete lie; he remembers everything, every look, every word, every touch, every move, but the laugh is genuine and of nervous relief.

To Eddie's surprise, Steve also laughs, and it's music to his ears. As he looks up, Steve discards his fork and picks up a pancake like a taco and bites it clean in half and then the other. His cheeks are packed like a hamster.

Eddie feels a warmth in his very soul, and he feels a huge grin split his face, "Don't ever let it be said that I don't bring good shit to the party," he says happily.

"Munson, I will never doubt you again," Steve replies, mouth partially full before he drowns a pancake in syrup and devours that one too.

A little warmth spreads across Eddie's face. He knows he's blushing, shakes his hair in front of his face to hide it, and eats a small, precisely cut square of pancake. He didn't always eat this delicately. More than anything, he wasn't hungry. Which he really should be. He should be ravenous, but his stomach feels full already of a billion butterflies.

It was already blowing his mind he was feeling this way about a guy, but not just any guy. Steve Harrington. But not just Steve Harrington. Mentally unhinged, I-thought-he-was-going-to-kill-me-this-morning Steve Harrington.

Maybe, if he'd just made his apologies and walked out of that room, Eddie wouldn't have seen that look in his eyes. He was broken and fragile underneath it all, and Eddie was a fixer and protector.

"I can't believe you found pancake mix. I didn't even know we had any," Steve laughs, demolishing pancake number four.

Eddie isn't sure whether to tell him, so he changes the subject.

"So, besides chauffeuring me back to my old lady, what does Sunday hold for, Steve?" Eddie was mainly making polite conversation, but part of him wanted to know. Not so much to know Steve's plans, but that sensible side of Eddie wanted to hear a mention of a date, a girl's name, or something that would kill his dreamy impossible hopes where they stood to nuke those billion butterflies.

Steve laughs, covering his still full mouth, "Pretty funny you think I have any plans other than recovering"

"Haven't partied like that in a while, huh?" Eddie smirks back.

"The last time I partied, even close to last night, there were a lot more people around, and my girlfriend told me I was bullshit" Steve laughs and shakes his head, wiping the last of his stack around his plate.

"Well, that sound like it sucked," Eddie says with a frown.

"Oh, it absolutely did, and you know what else? I think she cursed me. Since then, I've been having issues I didn't even know I had!" Steve gestures to himself animatedly. "I mean, I don't have issues getting dates. But, once on a date, I'll do something and think, Was that me, or was that bullshit? You know? Like it's constantly there, just waiting" Steve puts his hands up, imitating a bear.

"Sounds like you got sucker punched to me, dude," Eddie says supportively.

Watching Steve talk animatedly like this flashes Eddie back to being called smart, and his stomach isn't just somersaulting. It's doing an entire gymnastics routine as he looks up at Steve.

Steve is out of his seat, hand pointed at Eddie, "Exactly! Exactly this" His hands go to his hips as he paces around, and for a second, Eddie's eyes follow them.

Eddie should really go home now.

"You know, I've had a fun time and all, but I think I better get to my van before someone who hates me gets there first" The speed at which Eddie gets out of his seat makes everything on the table clatter as he bumps it.

Eddie quickly starts clearing away the dishes, "That's a no!" Steve says with authority, taking the plates from Eddie, "You've done enough today."

Eddie puts his hands at the small of his back and blurts out, "I'm not great at measuring, so there is like another stack and a half in the oven" then his fingers find a string, and he realizes he still has the apron on. He whips it off at lightning speed, quickly collects his jackets and lunch box, and waits in the hallway nervously.

Hurry up, Steve, Jesus!

It's only a minute or two before Steve appears, keys and jump cables in hand, but it felt like hours to Eddie.

"Figured I'd bring these just in case" he holds them up proudly. Eddie nods and smiles, not having the heart to tell him he's holding two positive ones, but Eddie has some in his van anyway.

When they get in the car, Eddie puts his seat belt on straight away, and as soon as he starts the engine, Steve puts a tape in the stereo, switches it on, and turns it up a little. Eddie looks at Steve from the corner of his eye, and he swears he's smiling at him.

Eddie can hear Steve's fingers tap the steering wheel as the intro of some familiar piano chords kick in, and Steve taps along before singing along in a mumble.

Just take those old records off the shelf

I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself

Today's music ain't got the same soul

Eddie joins in

I like that old time rock 'n' roll

"Whooooo," Steve exclaims, as he slaps the steering wheel at the sound of Eddie's voice.

The irony of the following verse is not lost on Eddie, who starts laughing, earning him a gentle backhanded tap from Steve, "Hey, don't laugh at my singing!"

"I'm not, I swear!" Eddie protests and secretly smiles happily out the window, "I just enjoy being right. I did say you probably liked Seger."

"No!" Steve playfully tries to deny it, "Wrong. I just happen to like this song." Steve laughs and says excitedly, "Oh, it's on now."

"What's on?" Eddie turns to Steve in confusion.

"I'm gonna annihilate you singing this song, Munson" Steve grins over at him, rewind's the tape, and hits play again.

They attempt to outsing one another all the way back to the drive-in, and Eddie, in his element, entirely forgets anything troubling his mind and lets himself enjoy the moment.

Eddie jumps in the van, and she starts up on the first try. He laughs, "That's my girl," he says, patting the outside of the door.

He looks down at Steve leaning against his car, like a fucking movie star, cigarette hanging from his lip, one leg hitched up against the door, one hand on his hip, the other playing with his hair as he looks out into the distance.

Jesus Christ, this is really bad, but at least it was nearly over.

"Well, Harrington, it's been a pleasure. Thanks, I owe you one," Eddie says with a smile.

Steve's head snaps to Eddie like he just woke him out of a daydream, "Don't worry about it. I'll see you around, yeah?"

Eddie forces a grin and a little salute before he drives away.

He brakes to give way at the drive-in exit and catches a glimpse of the back of Steve in the mirror, and his heart sinks. He plants a kiss on his two fingers, presses them on Steve's reflection, and quietly says, "See you around, Steve."

[disasterfandoms]

Car Accident || A Jack Gibson Imagine

Anonymous requested: “ Could you write an imagine for jack Gibson whet he has to respond to a car accident you are in and you get badly hurt. He’s like freaking out bc it’s his girl but ends all cute/fluffy? “

A/N: hope you like it!

Tw: car accident, injuries, hospitals, IV, needle sticks, medicine, description of blood

It had been a calm shift. There had been minimal calls, only a few medical calls, but most of the shift had so far been cleaning the firehouse and making fun of each other. Travis, Vic, and Jack were all watching Forensic Files in the TV room as the others were milling around the kitchen, making dinner, when the call comes out.

“Engine 19, Aid Car 19,  4 car pile-up on Route 5 Northbound, exit 233″

They run to the trucks, and within minutes they’re on their way to the scene. Jack was excited, he had been itching for some action, a juicy call to make the time move faster so he can come home to you.

Jack loves you more than he thought he could love anyone. The way you dance in the kitchen when you’re cleaning, the way you lose yourself in a book, the look you give him when he says something that you couldn’t believe came from his mouth. As he was nearing the sight of the crash though, his heart dropped.

Your car was smashed between two others, the engine completely pancaked. A door was ripped off of the driver’s side, the passenger side was smashed against the guardrail. Jack could tell it was your car because of the sticker on the bumper, or what was left of your bumper. It was one he found for you when you two had taken a vacation to California for a week last year, and was the easiest way to find your car.

“Shit.” He heard Andy swear, but he didn’t respond, he couldn’t accept it, not yet. 

“Is that-”

“It’s Y/n’s car.” Jack said, interrupting Dean. You all quickly got out of the trucks, and rushed over to you. Dean and Travis stopped him from going over to you, he knows he can’t be involved because he’s too close to this. He didn’t stop trying though, they made him lean on the truck while Bishop and Vic looked you over.

“That’s Y/N, Miller. What if it was Sasha, or JJ? What if that was Grant, Travis?” He was yelling at them now, but they didn’t take it personally. They knew how much you meant to him. 

“Gibson, we get it, but I know you know why you can’t be over there right now. If you go over there, they’re going to be distracted and that takes away from Y/N being cared for. They’re the best at their jobs, you have to let them work,” Travis reassured him, and he finally complied until you were out of immediate harm’s way.

Vic put a c-collar around your neck, while Ben checked your airway, breath sounds, and your pulse. Vic got to work on an IV in your forearm to give you fluids, but it worries them that you haven’t gained consciousness yet. The rest of 19, minus Jack, Helped quickly and carefully get you out of the car and onto stretcher. As they were loading you onto the ambulance, Bishop gave the okay for Jack to ride with you. 

“Hey baby, I’m right here, okay? You’re going to be okay,” Jack tells you, although you don’t hear him, nor do you see the tears rolling down his face.

He lets Ben work, checking your vitals and assessing your injuries, and calls Grey-Sloan to give report. While he does all of this, he watches Jack gold your hand, occasionally brushing your hair away from your face, like he was completely lost into taking care of you.

Once you got to Grey-Sloan, they made Jack wait in the waiting room while Miranda, Amelia, Link and Owen started working to take care of you. Ben and Vic sat with Jack, but he couldn’t sit still. He was pacing back and forth, and they knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew you were okay.

They eventually had to leave for another medical call, but Bishop let Miller go sit with him in just in case. They waited at least another hour before Bailey came out with an update.

“Y/N is going to be fine. They had a skull fracture, but there doesn’t seem to be any lasting brain damage. They do have a grade 2 concussion, and a broken nose from their head hitting the steering wheel. They have several broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. Pierce repaired it, and they have a chest tube in to drain any excess fluid. You can go see them if you’d like,” she finished explaining, and when Jack nodded she lead him to see you.

You were just waking up from surgery, and god your head was pounding. The nurse came in a few minutes ago to give you your pain medicine, so the pain in your side had started to subside. Jack came into your room, and you can tell he had been crying. His eyes were red, his hair was a mess, and he was still in his uniform.

“Hi love,” you offered and tried to smile, but just about everything hurts your head at the moment. He smiled lightly, then sat in the chair next to your bed and grabbed your hand.

“I thought I lost you. You can never do that again. Understood?” He said roughly, his throat was raw from crying, but he needed to make sure you knew just how much all this scared him.

“I love you too, Jack. And this wasn’t my fault, by the way. Those two idiots in front of me gave me no warning that they were going to crash.” you said lightly, eliciting a giggle from Jack as he rubbed his eyes.

“Alright smartass, glad to see you’re back to your normal self,” he laughed, you always knew how to cheer him up, even when it’s pretty morbid.

You sent him away to go finish his shift, promising him if anything happened the hospital staff would call him. He would come back in the morning, and wouldn’t leave until you were ready to leave a few nights later.

[thebellekeys]

🎃 my Halloween book recs 🎃

my Muslim ass doesn't even celebrate Halloween or Samhain or any related festival but we in dis bish for the aesthetic, so here are 6 season-appropriate book recs for October

1. The Wicked Deep by Shea Earnshaw

Okay so back in the age of the pilgrims and shit, the Puritans accused these three sisters of witchcraft and drowned them cus they were on too much hot girl shit and so every year in the bitchass town where it happened the sisters return to reap the souls of three persons. And like, the location of the town is by the seaside and the protagonist gets whipped for a guy and also knows how to work a boat by herself!!! (this impressed me, shut up) and she’s basically tryna hunt down the sisters before they kill someone and it’s also got a pretty neat ending mwahaha.

2. Works of Poe… by… Poe

The man who got SONS. There is no Halloween without Poe, idc. So to appropriately pay homage to (one of) THEE bestest writers of all time, I’ll recommend some of the essential spookee works from him:

- The Tell-Tale Heart

- Annabel Lee

- Masque of the Red Death

- The Raven

- The Cask of Amontillado

- The Fall of the House of Usher

3. The Burning Girls by C.J. Tudor

Okay so here we're heading to the frickin bushlands of England or whatever and there's this church that's supposedly haunted by a couple of Protestant girls that Queen Mary killed during the Protestant Purge and the villagers are all batshit crazy nutjobs who're all super sus and maybe murderous and so this reverend woman and her daughter need to get to the bottom of things, and also there's some other girls missing and it's all linked up and a major adrenaline surge but also a *theological* psych horror.

4. House of Hollow by Kristal Sutherland

Okay so there's these three daughters that went missing for like a month when they were wee lassies and then they mysteriously returned, unharmed and *changed* and weird and it’s like everyone either wants to screw them or kill them because, you know, something super sus happened when they were kids and they're *alluring specimens* and such. There's also murderous shenanigans and a decaying-blooming fairytalescape in this book, like I can't explain it without spoiling, but just imagine Holly Black on crystal meth writing a book.

5. Night Film by Marisha Pessl

You want horror? This book is horror. As in the reading experience is like mediocre drugs in that like, it gets exhausting and physically starts hurting you after a while but the plot is also just leading you on against your will and you can't stop and it goes on and on, and with each chapter you're rewarded with an adrenaline boost only for it to then lure you into the next chapter and then the cycle repeats like 50 times. This book is like doing shrooms while watching a Criminal Minds marathon and I highly recommend it if you wanna mess with your psyche a bit.

6. A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson

You know what's really scary??? ABUSE!!! Blood-sucking emotional abusers!!! So, this is a retelling of how Dracula came to be so magnanimous, but from the POV of one of his infamous brides and it's about how he acquired his power and emotionally and physically abused his spouses and the descriptions of his manipulation are just so visceral like it's definitely bloody and creepy and cathartic and also *vampires* and historical fiction so all good spooky vibes.